87. Swallowing Sorrow

“The streets at night have a different atmosphere altogether.”

Just as the Grand Master said, Volten at night was more vibrant than expected.

Not only were there far more people than during the day, but there also seemed to be outsiders like themselves.

They didn’t look like they were here for a pleasant vacation.

Some might be here for a little gambling or drinking, but who knew what happened in the deeper alleys.

“The crowd makes hiding easy, but I don’t know where to start looking.”

The Grand Master muttered, glaring at a man who bumped into his shoulder.

“Usually, one goes to a tavern to-“

To visit a crowded tavern, get a feel for the atmosphere, or slip the owner some coins and ask about mercenary groups.

*Smack!*

“You son of a b*tch-!”

A commotion erupted from a corner of the street. Gasps, whistles, and laughter.

It seemed a fight had broken out. Unlike other cities, Volten seemed to welcome it.

“Hmm, spirited, aren’t they?”

“Quite absurd, wouldn’t you say?”

A crowd had gathered, eager for a brawl. The man with bloodshot eyes, apparently soused, brandished an empty liquor bottle.

The man who’d just taken a blow from said bottle clutched his head, struggling to regain his footing.

“Clumsy. Swinging like that, he’d struggle to hit anything.”

“Always teaching, aren’t you?”

“It’s in my nature.”

The bottle swung haphazardly.

Not likely to connect anytime soon.

The drunk, enraged, hurled the bottle to the ground and roared.

“Goddamn! You son of a b*tch Voltenites! What are you gawking at! Get lost!”

“Hahaha! Look at the idiot get all worked up!”

“If you’re going to drink, go home and sleep it off, mister!”

“Well, isn’t this a scene?”

“Pathetic, utterly pathetic! Tch!”

Felt like watching a play.

They, in turn, mocked and belittled the drunk who had insulted them.

United in their scorn, they drove him past his breaking point, and he bellowed,

“Do you even know who I am?! I am the son of Baron Geliatz! How dare you, you lowborn scum-!”

“A noble?”

“Probably a younger son. Even a baron’s youngest struggles for respect.”

His attire alone didn’t suggest any particular eminence. Aware of this, the crowd’s jeers only intensified.

The drunk, huffing and puffing, raised his middle finger and yelled at the throng,

“So this is what it’s come to when a damned commoner rules! The citizens are just as bad! You pathetic insects! Mark my words, I won’t forget this! Under a Baron with such poor standing, things like this can happen-!”

Sadly, he could not finish his sentence.

Because, from somewhere, a stone flew and struck him square in the head.

*Thwack!*

“Gu-ack?!”

Staggering, another figure lunged at him, knocking him to the ground.

And in an instant, a collective beatdown commenced.

“You son of a b*tch! How dare you drag the Baron’s name through the mud!”

“Ours! He’s our hero! You son of a b*tch!”

“The Baron is nothing like your kind of half-wit moron!”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Who hit where.

Who broke what.

And a frenzy of madness and violence where even who killed was a mystery.

The sudden shift in their mood was worthy of being called fanaticism.

The drunkard’s screams were soon buried beneath the sounds of violence, and when the crowd scattered without a sound, becoming a part of the city once more…

“Tsk.”

Isaac clicked his tongue.

The corpse was practically mincemeat.

“Barbaric, isn’t it?”

The Grand Master murmured, unfazed.

Isaac had heard tales of Bolten’s infamy, but he hadn’t expected such acts to be so openly committed.

‘A cruel form of early education, indeed.’

From young children to the elderly, everyone had participated in the violence.

All because their Bolten Baron had been insulted.

“Should we be calling him a sage king for this, then?”

“……”

“The loyalty is beyond comprehension, wouldn’t you say? Isn’t this a sort of religion?”

“Difficult to say.”

One couldn’t exactly call this a good territory. Not when such violent murder happened so openly.

But the loyalty of the territory’s inhabitants was truly astonishing.

Even in a place like Bolten, they acted like this, highlighting the Baron’s grip on the territory.

“Bolten seems to be a truly peculiar place.”

Milli lived in a place like this?

‘Perhaps Bolten wasn’t like this when Milli lived here.’

The Bolten Revolution happened while Milli was working in Hellmunt, so perhaps the atmosphere was different before.

Then, from somewhere, men in black clothes appeared before the corpse. It looked as if they were holding a funeral, but they were simply stuffing the body into sacks and wiping the blood from the ground as if cleaning.

“And who are those ones, then?”

The way they ignore him, as if he were some shadow flitting about the edges, it seems a familiar sight in Volten.

“Hmph, astonishing. This land, at every turn it offers something curious. There is no chance for boredom, it seems.”

‘She’s angered.’

The Grandmaster’s voice, it had risen a touch, a sure sign.

No, truth be told, she was already simmering, ever since that drunk started shouting earlier.

Only Isaac’s presence, and their current situation, kept her restraint in check.

Isaac barely had time to react.

She was already upon him, seizing the wrist of the man hoisting the body bag onto his shoulder, issuing a warning.

“Where do you hurry off to? Shouldn’t the child at least be seen by a parent before departing?”

“……?”

“He announced himself as the son of Baron Geliatz, so he is hardly an unknown. Though his appearance is less than ideal, surely his parents deserve a farewell – “

The man tried to wrench free of the Grandmaster’s grip, but couldn’t overcome the strength of her hold and moaned in pain.

“Ugh?!”

The Grandmaster sighed.

Still holding the man’s wrist, she glanced back at Isaac, inquiring:

“It is best not to interfere further, yes? We did, after all, sneak out rather covertly.”

“Hmm, that was my thinking as well.”

The Grandmaster’s expression was far from pleasant.

A melancholic air, as though she had glimpsed something unpleasant; it was hard for her former disciple to ignore.

He had prepared quite a few things, in his own right.

A verbal sparring match with the Baron of Volten, a surreptitious escape from the inn through clever acting, and the next objective already mapped out. But now…

“Would you simply wish to overturn it all?”

The question was delivered with a smile.

The Grandmaster gave a small nod, and Isaac immediately scrapped all the plans he had so painstakingly crafted.

“If you’re going to do it, it’s best to be thorough.”

“That’s my life’s motto. I love to cleanly excise my enemies, you see.”

“I shall tell the Princess that I was foolish to even consider attempting infiltration with you.”

“I believe I did my utmost. Even now, the watchdogs surely believe I am pinned beneath you, gasping and moaning.”

*Thwack!*

Twisting the wrist she had seized, the Grandmaster sent the man carrying the corpse tumbling to the ground.

He’d only flicked a hand, yet the man spun wildly in the air, crashing to the ground unconscious.

Again, all eyes focused on them.

‘Good thing I learned that earlier.’

Isaac gave a self-deprecating smile, using the magic words he’d picked up from the drunkard to gather the crowd’s attention.

“I am Baron Logan of the Kingdom! All those involved in this murder will be arrested! And Baron Volten, for maintaining such disgracefully poor security in this city, will also answer for his crimes!”

“Ho.”

The Grand Master’s lips curved into a subtle arc.

In an instant, the eyes of the surrounding people glazed over with a renewed frenzy.

They ground their teeth, or exhaled deep, hot breaths, slowly closing in on the two of them.

“What has the Kingdom ever done for us-!”

“Baron? A Baron, you say?! You think you’re the same class as our Baron?!”

“Kingdom b*stards! Opportunistic scum! You’re the worst! You abandoned us-!”

“The Day of Revolution! Do you even know the hardships of that day! You just stole the peace we built! Who do you think you are!”

It was all too obvious that the torrent of accusations would soon morph into violence.

Ironically, Isaac’s expression, despite being the one who provoked them, was utterly serene, which was a bit infuriating to witness.

Unintentionally, the depth of the line they’d crossed in this short span of time was profound.

The rage of the populace was like a wave, but shallow.

“You mustn’t kill them.”

“Hm? Concerned for the citizens, are we?”

“Milly’s family might be among them.”

“Ha.”

It wasn’t so much concern for the citizens, but rather worry about what might happen to Milly’s family.

The attack began in an instant.

Amidst the throng of people, tourists, looking bewildered, retreated backwards.

Conversely, the Volten people, as one, gritted their teeth and charged forward.

‘Convenient, not having to distinguish them.’

He slammed his fist squarely into the face of a man who came huffing and puffing towards him.

*Wham!*

The man’s jaw took the full brunt of the blow, and he crumpled to the ground as if knocked unconscious. As he calmly subdued the others who followed, one by one…

‘Cheap satisfaction, this is.’

He felt it keenly, this shift in himself.

In his previous life, he couldn’t even contend with a common adult man. He was perpetually on the receiving end of a one-sided beating.

But now, it was different.

He read, deflected, and struck people’s actions with a dispassionate calm.

‘Until now, I was always the one challenging.’

To be on the other side was not only a novel perspective but also a profoundly impactful experience.

Amidst subduing the rush of people,

“How could you—”

The Grand Master’s faint sob reached his ears.

“To be so…despicable.”

Ordinarily, such words would be an expression of disgust. But in the Grand Master’s tone, there was only grief.

“Enough.”

Gently tripping a child rushing him with a stone, the Grand Master released a bitter sigh.

“It is as though… as though what *they* said was true.”

As if wanting to deny the whole scene unfolding before him,

The Grand Master barely managed to swallow his tears.