---
The caravan, after disposing of the monster carcass, continued its journey with caution.
…Whisper…whisper…
The children kept whispering among themselves, stealing glances at the man who had saved them from the demon's clutches. None of their gazes held animosity—only admiration.
The man called himself Conrad. He wore a long, deep blue coat and a black aristocratic hat that concealed part of his dark red hair. His face bore the sharp features of a noble, accentuated by a stubble beard. He rarely spoke, his gaze often fixed on the roadside grass strips, making the children wary of approaching him.
"I could have taken care of them myself."
At those words, Conrad turned his head toward the bard, his gaze fierce.
"I mean the demons," the bard clarified. "You didn't need to step in. I know you're strong, but what about your mission? Revealing your identity could jeopardize everything."
"You know how much I hate hypocrites," Conrad muttered, "but I hate demons more. Nothing will stop me from killing them."
The bard sighed. "Alright, alright. Just don't do anything reckless until we reach Castle Gorge."
"Yeah."
"Promise."
"…"
"Promise me. It won't be much longer. We're almost at the Passing Valley, and after that, it'll only take around two days to reach the castle. So please, refrain from using your sword near other people."
"Whatever. Once this task is done, we'll part ways."
"That was the plan anyway."
At that moment, a voice rang out from the first wagon.
"The patrol is here! Step out of the wagon for inspection."
"Oh, it's the patrol."
"We must be close to the Passing Valley, right?"
"Yeah, it should be just around the corner."
They all stepped out as the guards inspected the wagons' contents. A soldier approached the merchant. His uniform made it clear that he was the captain of the patrol team.
"Anything unusual?"
"Yeah, we encountered two packs of demons two days' distance from here," the merchant replied. "But our escorts and that warrior over there took care of them." He gestured toward the adventurers and Conrad.
"Hmm. A pack of demons? It's unusual for them to be this active near the highway at this time. I'll have to report this to my superiors.
"But before that, understand that security has tightened—we've received word that Dracula was spotted in this area. Orders from above dictate that we detain him on sight. So tell me, have any of you seen a young man with dark blonde hair, no beard, and a broadsword with a bluish hilt?"
At those words, many turned their heads toward Conrad. But upon seeing his red hair and stubbled face, they looked away. The captain, however, stepped forward and ordered him to unsheathe his sword.
…Shing…
Conrad drew his weapon—a broad, rusted blade, its edge dull and lifeless, with no sign of a bluish hilt.
"That's enough," the captain said. "You're clear."
He ordered the caravan to move on, handing them a sealed document.
"Give this to the guards at the Castle Gorge gate, and they'll let you through."
"Thanks for your hard work," the merchant said.
"It's our duty. Safe travels."
"Here, a token of my gratitude," the merchant added, offering a basket of apples.
"Is this… the famous Addam's Apple?" The captain's eyes widened. "The pride of Paisley? The talk of the continent?"
"We don't deserve such honor," the merchant humbly replied.
"Everyone knows how hard it is to cultivate these apples," the captain said. "They require miasma from the abyss to fully mature. You should be proud."
After the patrol's inspection, the caravan rested at an inn near the Passing Valley before resuming their journey.
Two days later, they arrived at Castle Gorge. As they neared the city, they encountered all sorts of people—adventurers, peddlers, farmers, and nobles. Their initial wariness faded, and the children's chatter grew louder as they listened to the bard's tales.
At last, they reached the castle gates. Since they weren't traveling in a passenger carriage, they were directed to a separate entrance for goods. A brief inspection confirmed their papers, and with the patrol's approval, they were granted entry.
The journey had been long, but they had finally arrived.
---
After passing through the massive gates, they entered the city. As one of the two largest cities in the south, it was no surprise that people of all kinds gathered here, moving past one another in a constant flow.
They traveled along the road for nearly fifteen minutes, passing through the residential district before arriving at the entertainment district.
Their destination was the Rising Sun Inn, an establishment owned by the leader of the merchant group. It was a three-story building, complete with a bathhouse and a bar.
The inn had around twenty rooms, and at its entrance, two flags fluttered in the breeze. One bore the empire's insignia—a small white banner with a golden sun in the center. The other displayed the coat of arms of Paisley: two crossed daggers beneath the sun, set against a deep blue background. The entire city was adorned with similar decorations as the festival drew closer.
The caravan disembarked at the inn's entrance, while the cargo was unloaded at the back and secured in the storeroom.
As a reward for their efforts, Conrad, the bard, and the adventurers were offered free lodging for the duration of the festival. They accepted and made their way inside.
Nightfall
After darkness settled over the city, Conrad silently slipped out of his room. Moving with practiced ease, he leapt from the third window on the left of the inn's highest floor, landing nimbly atop a passing carriage. Without hesitation, he sprang forward again, landing on the rooftop of a building opposite the Rising Sun Inn.
Without wasting a moment, he made his way toward the slums.
Unbeknownst to him, three figures emerged from the shadows behind him. They had been tailing him since he left the inn, moving cautiously to avoid detection.
Conrad soon reached the outskirts of the slums, where the air grew thick with the scent of decay. Near the edge of an old graveyard, he came to a stop and leapt onto the church bell tower, settling into a perch where he could observe the scene below.
Near the graveyard's entrance, a hooded figure stood in the dim light, performing some kind of ritual.
---