Wolves of Hader

Chapter 47

I returned to the Imperial plaza.

Ross headed to the inn guarded by our members, while I made my way to the alley where Donnie was waiting.

Donnie was at a shabby inn, quite a distance from the plaza. There was a tail, but they wouldn't know who I was meeting. Not yet.

"How did it go?"

"It was a success."

"That's truly a relief."

"Have you figured out the routes and the list of the Secret Council elders?"

"Yes. Here's the list."

I looked at the list Donnie handed me.

All of them were big names.

I crossed out one of the names.

"We'll eliminate this one first. At dawn, send the letter I wrote to these houses. Have two men discreetly guard the Guard Captain's residence, and tell them to keep an eye on the movements of the Syren family."

"Yes, young master."

"And we need to find the survivors of the Stranger family. I don't know much about my uncle, but he must have evacuated someone."

"Is there another reason?"

"The Emperor has a hidden son."

"What?"

Donnie looked quite surprised.

I had been investigating, thinking that my maternal relatives' survivor might be living a hard life so I could bring him into our house, but there was another, unexpected reason.

I continued.

"My uncle may have used his followers to hide 'him'. Check around my uncle, and also find out if anyone disappeared right before the massacre."

"Understood."

"If things break out, the strike team and the recon squad will leave east with me. Leave the intelligence and information teams to stay behind and look for clues. Make sure they have plenty of operating funds."

"Yes."

Donnie gave a nod and immediately opened the window and jumped out.

The men at the inn entrance would never imagine someone jumping from the third floor.

My personal elite Berserkers, seven of them.

Strike team, ten men; recon team, ten men.

Intelligence squad, four. Information squad, four.

That's the special forces lineup brought to the capital.

Strike and recon teams are functionally similar, except the former focus more on strength, while the latter on speed.

All members of the intelligence and information squads have speed-enhancing skills, but that doesn't mean they're weak.

They were assigned based on whether they excelled more at analysis or had real guts.

I trusted that this intelligence squad, all of whom possessed assassination and stealth skills, would not easily fall to anyone—unless they met head-on or had dreadful luck.

Today, these intelligence operators would pull off something major, and they would continue to make great contributions remaining in the capital.

Leaving the shabby inn, I headed toward the upscale inn where Ross was staying.

Soon, I noticed the tails following me.

Who knew what might happen after the banquet. One thing was certain: those people wouldn't dare to kill us openly within the imperial family.

They'd try to make it so no one could tell who killed us. But if we used that, we could strike back—make it so no one could tell who struck them.

/ / /

"Family head!"

The head of the Secret Council, Viscount Gamil, woke up at the urgent voice calling him.

His butler had never woken him at such an early hour.

"What's all the commotion so early in the morning?"

"The servants were cleaning the garden and found an arrow stuck in the door. Also..."

"Arrow?"

The head of the Secret Council hastily threw a coat over his shoulders and went out.

In the hallway, the butler stood holding both the arrow and a note.

"What is this?"

"I was unsure what to do, so I brought it here."

"Let me see."

The head of the Secret Council unfolded the note and read it. At first, he frowned, but after finishing, he let out a laugh.

"The head of the Secret Council and the six elders must step down from their posts and quietly live out the rest of their lives. You have one week. After that, anyone tied to the Secret Council will not live another year."

"What the devil is this!"

"Well, sir, we are not sure—"

The head of the Secret Council stared at the note with a face burning with rage.

He had no idea who could have sent such a warning.

Yesterday, the Emperor had met with Hader house's second son and then acted out of line, but would that really change something?

It wasn't the Emperor's doing. What can the Emperor do on his own?

Count Watts wasn't close to the Emperor, nor did he care for power.

There were some houses who followed him, but they lacked the courage for something like this.

The Imperial knight order commander was the grand duke's man, and the head of the Imperial guard knights was the grand duke's brother.

The Imperial army's general was someone the Secret Council themselves had promoted—not him either.

That left only the Guard Captain.

If the intelligence from his observers was accurate, the Guard Captain was not even able to handle his own problems—he had no secret power base.

"Butler, find out whose handwriting this is at all costs. I'll find them and tear them apart with my own hands."

The head of the Secret Council flung the warning letter aside and turned away. At that moment—

"Lord!"

A man came urgently running up from downstairs—a knight of the house, wearing casual clothes.

"What brings you here at this hour?"

The knight, catching his breath, saluted hurriedly.

"A messenger came to my home in haste. Lord Nord, Secret Council elder and former head of the Council, was found dead last night!"

"Lord Nord has died?"

"Yes! Lord Nord's servant rushed to my house to deliver the news. He says Lord Nord was murdered by someone."

The head of the Secret Council's expression changed rapidly. Suddenly, a thought dawned on him. That vague warning meant this:

'Anyone affiliated with the Secret Council will not live past a year.'

A Secret Council elder had died.

It wasn't simply a threat to step down—it was a warning of death.

"Did Nord house have any suspects?"

"They found nothing. The method was so secretive, they suspect it was the work of a professional assassin."

"Are there assassin organizations in the capital?"

"There are groups that do anything for money, but those are just street pickpockets in the busy districts."

"It's far too bold for those kinds of people. Go and inform the houses of all the elders at once."

"I will do so."

"Butler, hurry and prepare the carriage. I must meet with Grand Duke Syren."

"Yes, family head!"

Unconsciously, a wave of terror overtook the head of the Secret Council.

He tried to brush it off as the work of a madman, but deep down, he knew his fear might become reality.

Whether this incident spread into a colossal affair, or whether it sparked a revolution in the imperial family—none of that mattered to him.

All that filled his mind was fear of death.

"Just who could have done this?"

That phrase repeated over and over in the head of the Secret Council's mind, mingling with a growing, overwhelming dread.

/ / /

10 a.m.

I stood in front of the mirror, dressed in formalwear.

Typical noble attire of the Kadena empire. A dress shirt with abundant lace, a sky-blue cardigan, and trousers.

"Can I come in?"

"Come on in."

Ross entered my room.

His outfit was three or four times more flamboyant than mine—a red jacket embroidered with gold thread and an eye-catching jade half-coat.

Ross looked in the mirror as well.

"I used to wear stuff like this all the time as a kid, but now it feels so awkward."

"It suits you. The Hader house shouldn't look second-rate compared to other houses."

"That's true."

"Let's go."

Ross and I left the room together.

Four of our members, who'd been guarding us, waited outside to escort us.

They were also in knight ceremonial dress—the uniform of our house.

A carriage stood in front of the inn. The guard knights rode horses; Ross and I got into the carriage. Once inside, Ross spoke.

"These guys aren't the same soldiers as before. Wearing uniforms, they look like true knights."

"That just proves Russell trained them well. I'm sure they're proud to be at knight level now, too."

I was honestly impressed.

Human nature doesn't change easily, but our soldiers were much different from before.

Perhaps that's because we'd picked the strongest and toughest ones for the special squad.

The carriage headed for the imperial palace.

Starting today, the grand banquet for the 35th anniversary of the Emperor's birth would be held over the next seven days.

Every five years on the Emperor's birthday, there was this lavish affair where all the empire's nobles gathered—a national event.

It was a chance for nobles to socialize, and for the heirs of each house to meet and greet.

I heard there was even a separate banquet just for the heirs.

"The grand duke will show up too, right?"

"He will. If he wants to announce the birth of the crown prince, the empress needs to appear pregnant at this banquet."

"The Syren family must've put a lot of work into this banquet."

Even just to see us brothers, the grand duke would attend. The grand duke may have erased our family from his mind long ago—but still.

Chatting about this and that, we soon arrived at the palace gates.

As we got out, a sizable crowd of citizens had gathered.

"This way, if you please."

Led by an official from the palace staff, we entered the palace.

The part we entered was the main palace garden.

Scattered about, younger members of noble families who had arrived ahead of us, gathered in small groups chatting—apparently all familiar with each other.

The official said,

"The banquet will begin at noon. The family heads will proceed into the palace, and the younger members traditionally enjoy conversation here."

"Understood."

The official withdrew.

The other young nobles, who had been pretending not to notice us, now glanced our way—wondering who we were.

Ross, unconcerned with their looks, strode straight to the refreshments.

He picked up a glass of white grape wine and brought one over to me.

"Drink."

I took the glass and drank a sip. Ross glanced around quietly, as though wondering how many people he actually knew.

"Not many close friends here?"

"My childhood friends are nowhere to be seen. Most of the faces I recognize are seniors and juniors from the sword school."

Apparently, all of Ross's childhood friends were annihilated—likely for being close to our house or not bowing to the Syren family.

"How many of your old friends were there?"

"About eight. Now that I think about it, all the guys Art was close with are here. The ones who used to lie to their parents along with Art."

"What lies?"

"Hey, long time no see, Ross."

A voice came from behind. Ross and I turned to see a sturdy young man in his twenties smirking at us.

There were others around his age behind him.

Ross greeted him.

"Still the same, Rafarik."

The man called Rafarik let out a laugh.

"Still the same? Ross, shouldn't you at least act polite?"

"What do you mean, polite?"

Rafarik looked at Ross as if incredulous, then looked over his shoulder. The young nobles behind him snickered.

"This guy's got things all wrong. Even ruined nobility can just stroll in like this, I see. Do you still think you're the eldest son of the former marquis?"

"Hahaha!"

The crowd burst out laughing. There were a few women as well, and they laughed at us just the same.

Ross spoke quietly.

"You're prancing around calling yourself a noble, but it's no different for you, little lord of the southern desert. Still playing at being boss just because you're big?"

"What did you say?"

The commotion silenced all at once.

Rafarik clenched his teeth, swallowing his anger. Ross had just humiliated him in front of the heirs.

He stepped in close to Ross and said right in his face,

"Hey, do you wanna die?"

"Don't mumble, say it clearly. What was that?"

"You bastard!"

"Oh, want to go at it right here? Fine by me. How about real blades? Loser loses a limb. What? Can't go that far?"

Rafarik could only grit his teeth, unable to retort.

Ross wasn't the old Ross anymore. Like Russell, he had become a Defender. There shouldn't be a match for him here.

At that moment, I noticed a man standing right next to me, watching the commotion.

For some reason, he gave me a chill, so I looked at him long and hard.

He noticed my gaze and turned to look at me.

He was strikingly handsome—blonde hair, slim jawline. But one eye was blue, and the other... was a prosthetic?

"This eye, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

"......"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten. You're the one who stabbed my eye."

Art Syren was smiling at me. One blue eye, the other blood-red.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=

So, the original Roger stabbed Art's eye...

Now I know why Art is angry with him...

【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】