The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 422: How to Live as a Wandering Knight ()

On the surface, in the remote village of Wakewalk in the southern continent.

This village, which always enjoyed abundant fruit harvests due to its warm and humid climate, had been suffering from an unprecedented drought and famine for the past few years.

The extrdrought had dried up the land, causing it to crack open. Trees and grass had not only withered and died but had also burned to a crisp.

Massive wildfires had set the mountains ablaze and dried up lakes, leading to the mass death of both land and aquatic animals.

Due to the numerous dungeons that had opened up everywhere, the damage from monsters had skyrocketed.

Whiiiing—

Hot and dry winds carried ashes in the air.

The winds brought the sharp ashes from the mountain range, which had turned into a pile of charcoal due to the wildfires.

These pungent ashes, blown by the wind, sucked up the remaining bits of moisture and further deteriorated people’s spirits.

……And then.

There was a traveler crossing that desolate wasteland.

Beneath his tattered, flapping black cloak, a dull black armor could be seen.

A long, stork-beaked plague doctor mask hung below his waist, and a long object wrapped in bandages was strapped to his back.

Clank— Clank—

With each weary step he took, the sound of his armor’s joints clinking faintly echoed.

He was a wandering knight. A silent figure. During these difficult times, such figures, though not common, could be seen occasionally.

The wandering knight in black armor, with his tired steps, arrived at Wakewalk.

He headed straight for the nearest tavern, opened the dried-up wooden door, and took a seat in a corner.

Due to the famine, drought, wildfires, and monster damage, the village’s food situation was dire.

This was clearly reflected in the tavern’s offerings of drinks and snacks.

Two handfuls of boiled beans on a chipped plate and a glass of flat beer.

This was the modest luxury that could only be enjoyed by paying for it at the tavern.

The wandering knight, after confirming that his mask was securely fastened to his waist, quietly drank his beer.

At that moment.

Sounds of conversation began to emanate from the central table of the tavern.

Two men, who appeared to be members of the vigilante corps, were having a conversation.

Taverns have always been hotbeds of rumors, both in the past and present.

Many would agree that idle men often engage in heated debates about politics once they get drunk.

“So, are you a conservative or a progressive?”

“Me? I’m always on the progressive side. What about you?”

“Ha! What a question. I’m a conservative, through and through!”

They expressed their respective views on the current continental situation, clashing with each other.

“Of course, the throne should be inherited by the legitimate heir! Isn’t it obvious that we should support the First Prince? Donquixote Clan, Usher House, and Reviadon Clan doing the right thing!”

“I think the Second Prince is a decent choice too. I understand the choices of Baskerville, Morg, Bourgeois, and Quovadis.”

“Ha! Are you saying it was right for them to stage a coup?”

“A coup? It’s just a matter of choosing sides. It’s a political struggle, so calling it a civil war would be more accurate.”

“So, you’re saying it’s right for the Seven Great clans to engage in a civil war in these times! And the Second Prince they support hasn’t even shown himself to the imperial citizens for decades! I’m starting to doubt if he even exists anymore!”

“Oh, how disrespectful. Isn’t the First Prince’s faction also waging a civil war in these times? Why blonly the Second Prince’s faction for that?”

The current continental situation was incredibly complex.

Despite the massive wildfires spreading throughout the empire, the unprecedented drought and famine, and the monster damage, the political factions were fiercely battling each other in a civil war.

The Seven Pillars Supporting the Empire.

The Iron-Blooded Sword Clan, Baskerville; the Mage Clan, Morg; the Faithful Religious Clan, Quovadis; the Solar Spear Clan, Donquixote Clan; the Divine Bow Clan, Usher House; the Venomous Clan, Reviadon; and the Industrialists Clan, Bourgeois.

Following the recent passing of the Emperor, these seven clans have been fiercely opposing each other over who should be the next emperor.

The Old Testament faction of the Quovadis Clan, Usher House, Reviadon, and Donquixote Clan were supporting the First Crown Prince, Jack Merridue, for the throne.

The New Testament faction of the Quovadis Clan, Morg, Bourgeois, and Baskerville clans were backing the Second Crown Prince, Ralph.

Both princes, being descendants of the founding emperor, possessed the power of the seer and were subjects of the prophecy that stated, “One of them will bring about the world’s destruction, while the other will save it.”

Thus, the question of which prince would ascend to the throne was a matter of great concern for all the citizens of the empire.

If the wrong prince becemperor, the empire would be doomed.

“It’s obvious that the First Prince should ascend the throne! He is the legitimate heir and has been leading by example in front of the imperial citizens for years. Even in my Clan, hope lies only with the eldest son!”

“Haha, is the imperial Clan the sas your ruined household? And isn’t the second son in your Clan much smarter?”

“What! How dare you talk shit bout my family?”

“Because you brought it up first. Besides, realistically speaking, it seems unlikely that the First Prince will ascend the throne. Given that the Old Testament faction of Quovadis is essentially in ruins, it’s generally accepted that the balance has shifted in favor of the Second Prince. Also, I’ve heard rumors of internal strife within the Donquixote Clan and Usher House.”

“What? Strife within the Donquixote Clan and Usher House? Why? Is there skind of scandal?”

“Not exactly a scandal, just a rumor… It’s said that the heads of those clans are seriously ill. They might not make it.”

“What? Lord Cervantes of Donquixote Clan and Lord Roderick of Usher House? That’s nonsense! You must have missed their feats when the demons appeared in the capital recently. I saw it with my own eyes! They’re superhuman! In the realm of Masters! They wouldn’t succumb to illness!”

“Well, it’s just a rumor. But it’s been years since they were last seen in public. From what I’ve heard, the younger brother of the Donquixote Clan head and the younger sister of the Usher House head are currently acting as leaders.”

“Monte Donquixote and Madeline Usher, huh?”

“Hm, I’ve heard that too. The Donquixote Clan and Usher House clans have few direct members, so it makes sense that side branch members hold spower.”

The men’s superficial argument, nonetheless, provided a decent summary of the continent’s situation.

The First Crown Prince, Jack Merridue, was supported by the Donquixote Clan, Usher House, Reviadon, and Quovadis (Old Testament) faction.

The Second Crown Prince, Ralph, was supported by the Baskerville, Morg, Bourgeois, and Quovadis (New Testament) faction.

With the Old Testament faction of Quovadi now almost in ruins, the civil war had intensified.

This long-standing rivalry had ignited just a few years ago with the “Night Hound” incident.

The cause. Night Hound had given the Second Prince’s faction the pretext they needed.

The conflict arose over whether Night Hound was a villain or a hero who had purged demons hidden among humans.

Unfortunately, three of the demons discovered among the escorts were all affiliated with the First Prince’s faction, leading other clans to protest.

The whistleblowers were Isabella of the Baskerville Clan, Banshee of the Clan, Lovebad of the Bourgeois Clan, and Mozgus of the Quovadis Clan (New Testament Faction).

Their testimony was flawless, and they provided ample evidence.

“We demand a retrial for Night Hound.”

However, the argument led by Morg’s Banshee was dismissed.

The Donquixote Clan, Usher House, and Reviadon clan immediately attempted to cut ties, and even the First Prince stepped forward to deny the allegations.

“To doubt them is to doubt me.”

The rare, hardline stance of the First Crown Prince ultimately sparked this prolonged civil war.

However, the Second Prince’s faction did not caway empty-handed from this trial.

With the Second Prince having been so reclusive that rumors of his disappearance circulated, his lack of influence was covered by a powerful justification.

Under the very basic and ethical principle of rejecting those who collude with demons, the clans of Baskerville, Morg, Bourgeois, and Quovadis united.

The seven clans, each as powerful as a kingdom, plunged into civil war.

They began tightening control over their entire territories and ceased all trade with the opposing factions.

The civil war grew fiercer.

Meanwhile, the citizens of the empire, already suffering from droughts, wildfires, monster attacks, and other natural disasters, were further tormented.

Public sentiment was deteriorating to its worst.

Yet, amid this turmoil, a glimmer of hope emerged among the people.

“Alright, let’s stop talking about all this grim stuff.”

“Exactly. It’s just talk about those high and mighty folks anyway.”

“Have you heard that rumor?”

“What rumor?”

“About the vigilantes roaming across the continent.”

“We’re vigilantes ourselves, aren’t we?”

“Con, not us amateurs. I’m talking about the heroes operating throughout the entire empire.”

“Heroes, really? In these times? That’s just nonsense.”

“No, listen up!”

There was a hopeful rumor soothing the hearts of people devastated by natural disasters.

It was about the civilian group and vigilante force known as the “Night Walkers.”

“They say these vigilantes travel thousands of kilometers a day, exterminating monsters. They’re supposedly incredibly strong.”

“How is that even possible?”

“It is! I was in the city across the way, and they showed up and wiped out a horde of monsters! Not only that, but they took refugees with them, providing food, water, and even divine blessings! They say half the city’s population followed them!”

“Well, if such heroes exist, why haven’t they shown up in our village? We’re dying from all these plagues.”

“…Maybe there are too few of them, and the disaster areas are too vast.”

“Yeah, let’s go with that. We need shope to hold on to.”

The only group garnering the people’s support was the vigilante force known as the “Night Walkers.”

These mysterious individuals, united under the slogan “Even the strongest darkness is driven away by the weakest light,” were known by somewhat childish nicknames like the “Saint of the Night,” the “Knight of the Night,” the “Sniper of the Night,” the “Warrior of the Night,” the “Wealth of the Night,” the “Queen of the Night,” and a few more, traveling all over the continent.

Like the Pied Piper from the old fairy tales, they whispered promises of salvation and led many people away to distant lands.

People waited for them with a mix of anticipation and fear.

They hoped and yet were wary.

Admiration, curiosity, hope, anxiety, caution, fear… or merely dismissed as a foolish rumor, these sentiments followed them everywhere.

Just then—

…Bang!

The tavern door burst open as if it would break, and a vigilante soldier rushed in.

“Attack! We’re under attack! It’s gnolls!”

At the stime, the sound of a conch shell signaling a monster attack began to resonate throughout the village.

Bwooooooo—

Even before the sound reached them, the people in the tavern sprang into action.

The two soldiers who had been arguing about politics moments before hurriedly grabbed their swords and spears and dashed outside, while the tavern owner abandoned everything and fled to the storage room.

“Everyone, to the underground cellar!”

The patrons in the tavern, faces pale with fear but movements practiced and familiar, followed the tavern owner toward the hatch in the floor.

……

The tavern fell silent in an instant.

Creak—

It was then that the wandering knight, who had been sitting like a statue in the corner, finally moved.