WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Ceaseless
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Northern Grand Duke’s Mad Son-in-Law ◈
Chapter 19: Number Eight
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‘I survived.’
Tom shook out his numb hands, unable to hide his joy.
He had survived after facing both Monsters and Demonkin. It was nothing short of a miracle.
The reactions around him were strange, though.
Damian lay sprawled on the ground, muttering that he was hungry, while Gwen sat there blankly.
Her face was full of guilt. She looked like a soldier who had killed someone for the first time.
It was probably because she had used magic. Even Tom knew how much Gwen disliked magic.
Clicking his tongue softly, Tom tended to Gwen first. She was in the worst state.
“Thanks to you, we survived. If it hadn’t been for you, Gwen, that monster would’ve killed us all.”
“...Did I do well?”
“Yes, of course you did. If it hadn’t been for your magic, it would’ve been over for all of us.”
“But I used magic...”
Gwen’s voice was tightly restrained. Magic clearly carried a different weight for her.
Tom understood. In the North, mages were seen as cursed Demonkin filth. More than a few mages had been strung up from trees and burned alive.
Still...
“Didn’t you hit them earlier? The blacksmith, the sword, and the boy.”
“But if I’m a mage, the children...”
Tom understood the problem from Gwen’s quiet murmur.
Gwen often talked about how cute and kind the orphans in her care were. She was weak for money because she had to feed them.
She seemed worried that if word spread that she was a mage, the children would be bullied. They would be even more vulnerable because they were orphans.
The answer was obvious.
“You just need to become stronger, Gwen.”
Gwen blinked.
There was only one reason people suffered in the North.
“They suffer because they’re weak. Look at the captain. He’s a mage, but because he’s strong...”
Tom swallowed the rest of his words.
His explanation seemed to reach her, because Gwen’s eyes widened.
Tom rose to his feet. Gwen was not the only squad member who needed looking after.
“I’m hungry...”
Damian wriggled around on the ground.
They had brought plenty of food, but it was hard to say whether it would be enough to feed Damian.
Then Tom spotted the mole cricket corpse behind them. Mole cricket meat tasted awful, but Damian was not picky about food.
‘Good thing I brought spices.’
“I’ll... I’ll help too!”
“No. You’re helping by staying right there. Thank you.”
Tom firmly refused Gwen’s offer.
‘When are they coming back?’
He glanced toward the depths of the cave, where Galahad had taken the crow-masked mage.
* * *
‘...My God.’
Crow had been so shocked that he had forgotten to even cast a spell.
That bastard had become stronger than before.
How did that make any sense?
It would have been understandable if that bastard were a dark mage, but Galahad was an Intelligence Bureau agent.
Galahad hated increasing mana through humans to an absurd degree. Yet he casually bored holes through human mages’ heads...
That was why Crow had found a way out through Magic Stones rather than humans.
Yet Galahad had become stronger...
What he had used was clearly...
‘Wasn’t Hellfire magic from a fallen Magic Tower?’
Crow’s hands began trembling on their own. A sense of injustice rose within him. He had thrown everything away and come here, only for Galahad to chase him all the way here...
At the same time, his mind raced. How could he survive Galahad? There was only one answer.
‘The Dark Magic Society’s branch location... The Demonkin’s situation...’
Crow desperately picked through everything he knew, searching for information Galahad might like.
Would this be enough for Galahad to spare him...?
Then a familiar lemon scent drifted through the air.
Crow desperately held back the scream threatening to burst out.
Galahad looked down at Crow with indifferent eyes, as always.
“I... I’ve been waiting for you.”
Galahad narrowed his eyes. Something was clearly bothering him.
Ah! What a mistake...
Crow quickly threw back his cloak and shook out everything he had. His pockets, the small Magic Stones inside them, everything without exception.
“Ah, it was Eight.”
The response was strange, but Eight was too terrified to notice.
Eight immediately bowed his head.
“It’s been a long time, Boss!”
* * *
‘It was Eight.’
Galahad clicked his tongue softly.
“What is this?”
“An informant I used to use.”
At Gilbert’s question, Galahad clicked his tongue again.
Magic threw people’s minds off course, which was why strange bastards kept appearing.
Keeping informants was the bare minimum for managing such shady organizations. Galahad had always been very faithful to the basics.
Eight had been Galahad’s informant within the Dark Magic Society.
He had been good at bringing him information, then disappeared one day.
‘He was in the North. No wonder I couldn’t find him.’
Had all the informants who lost contact fled to the North?
It was entirely possible. If they had hidden somewhere else, the Intelligence Bureau would have caught them long ago.
“...Are you extorting money from an informant?”
“They’re evidence.”
Galahad examined the items Eight had handed over. Two high-grade Magic Stones, some pocket change, parchment, and assorted items.
‘He must think I chased him all the way here.’
Considering that, he could understand why Eight was trembling so badly.
How terrifying would it be to think he had tracked him to a cave deep within the Northern front line?
The situation was a coincidence, but there was no need to explain.
If he left Eight like this, he would never betray him again.
Eight had fled to the very edge of the North, and he had still caught him.
Where else would Eight run?
Once he had finished calculating, Galahad smiled gently.
“Eight, I was worried because I thought you were dead. But look at this. You’re alive.”
“Haha...! Ha! There was a reason for it. The organization began to suspect me, so they sent me to the North. They even assigned a watcher to me, so there was nothing I could do.”
Eight groveled flat on the ground. If he had not been wearing a mask, he would have been ready to lick Galahad’s shoes. Galahad subtly pulled his foot back.
“Of course. Eight, you had some sense, didn’t you? Surely you wouldn’t have had the foolish thought that you could run from me.”
“How can you say something so obvious! Ah, I’m sorry I made you worry! Those damned dark mages!”
Eight kept venting his anger. Galahad smiled as he forcibly swallowed the blood rising in his throat. He felt terrible inside, but composure was a weapon.
“Yes, I trusted you. We got along quite well, didn’t we?”
“...Yes! It’s an honor!”
He lightly pushed Eight away as he tried to cling to his feet.
“I saw a magic circle that seemed to belong to a Monster Tamer on the Mole Monster’s stomach earlier. Do you know anything about it?”
“Ah, that? Of course I do! To explain that, I should first tell you about those Dawn bastards.”
Only then did Galahad remember that Eight had always talked too much.
“Could you keep it short? Give me the details in a report.”
“Yes, to get to the point, Dawn, which has rapidly expanded its influence, has been distributing them!”
“...They’ve been distributing the Monster Tamer’s magic circle?”
They seemed to be distributing inferior copies rather than the original, but Eight did not appear to know that.
“Yes, Dawn has been handing them out to its subordinate organizations.”
“Wait. The Dark Magic Society joined Dawn as a subordinate?”
Galahad frowned.
Dawn had never been a particularly large organization. Yet it had brought the Dark Magic Society under its wing...
No matter how much Galahad had stirred up the Dark Magic Society, it should not have been enough to make them join Dawn.
Eight had no reason to lie.
There were three possible reasons Galahad had not known.
Either Dawn was skilled enough to evade the Intelligence Bureau’s eyes, or information was simply not being passed to Galahad...
If Galahad had heard about it, he would have ripped it out by the roots.
The Intelligence Bureau might even have been using Dawn.
“Does Dawn have a Monster Tamer?”
“I don’t know that. But Dawn has been distributing remnants of the Jema War. It’s not just Monster Tamer relics.”
The Jema War was the name of the war the Demonkin had fought against the Empire long ago.
Galahad pulled out his Leather Notebook and checked its contents. An organization distributing remnants of the Jema War should have been written down.
‘...It isn’t.’
It was possible he simply did not remember it. After all, he had only recorded major pieces of information. Still, Galahad felt as though the situation had somehow been twisted.
‘Good news.’
It was proof that the years he had spent struggling had meaning.
“Fine. What were you doing here?”
“We were mining Magic Stones. The plan was to feed them to that Demonkin and create a breach in the front line.”
“You feed Magic Stones to Demonkin?”
“When Demonkin get hungry, they eat Magic Stones. The more they eat, the stronger they become, but they lose their reason in return.”
“Did that information come from Dawn?”
“Yes, that’s right!”
He knew a suspicious amount.
“What is Dawn’s goal?”
“Probably a second Jema War. They planned to shake things up internally and collapse the front line. Those bastards believe that a true world will open once the wall falls.”
Gilbert laughed out loud then. It was an obvious sneer. Eight turned his head toward him.
“You’d be dead if it weren’t for my handler, you arrogant knight.”
“Ah, it’s just too funny. The idea of bringing down the wall.”
Despite his laughter, Gilbert’s face had hardened coldly.
“You’ve never seen beyond the wall.”
Eight did not respond to Gilbert’s remark.
“Anyway, Boss. There’s more I know...”
No, he did not seem to care.
Galahad sent Gilbert outside and spent some time persuading Eight.
Now much more docile, Eight obediently spilled everything he knew.
He even brought up things Galahad had not asked about.
“Good. You’re fairly clever, so I won’t need to say much more.”
“...Yes! Of course! I’ll return and send information regularly! Especially about Dawn!”
Eight’s eyes trembled behind his mask.
‘His misunderstanding that I chased him to the end of the North played a big part.’
He would definitely never run again.
He had caught Eight even at the edge of the North. Where could Eight run?
Eight was clever and crafty, but not stupid.
“Do you know how great the losses were? Eight, if it were not for you, I would not be treating this so gently. Do you know how much those Magic Stones were worth? Enough to buy a castle.”
“...Magic Stone losses? Did you use Magic Stones?”
Eight tilted his head stupidly. Galahad subtly pointed to the side. Dull fragments of Magic Stone were scattered across the ground.
They were the remnants of the Magic Stones fed to the Demonkin.
“...”
Eight’s red eyes narrowed, then widened behind the mask. “Son of a...” A quiet curse escaped him.
“Haha. That’s right! I had gathered them to give to you in the first place! That stupid Demonkin bastard ate them all! Damn it! Fuck! Bastard! Demonkin!”
“Right? You almost gave me the wrong idea. I thought you had broken your promise and embezzled them. You are my property, so everything you gain belongs to me.”
“I... I remember. Haha!”
“Right? Since it’s you, I won’t charge interest.”
Perhaps Eight was moved, because tears dripped from his red eyes. Galahad patted his shoulder.
“Ah, this is the last time I’ll let you off.”
At the quiet whisper, Eight lowered his head deeply.
“And wear your mask properly.”
Eight nodded and fixed his mask.
Not showing his face had been one of the conditions Galahad gave Eight when he spared his life.
At a wave of his hand, Eight disappeared into the darkness.
Only then did Galahad release the breath he had been holding. Black blood ran down from the corner of his mouth.
‘Drinking too much Demonkin blood is bad for your health.’
He muttered as he wiped the blood from his mouth. His insides were a mess. All his mana channels were twisted.
The muscles crushed beneath mana screamed in pain. Galahad leaned against the wall and put a cigarette between his lips.
‘Only a speck of mana left.’
It felt as though his soul, rather than his body, was about to break. Clicking his tongue, Galahad slid down to sit.
‘I should sleep for a while.’
His heavy eyelids lowered beyond his control.
How much time had passed? Galahad opened his eyes with a violent cough.
Gilbert sat nearby, still wearing his badly crumpled armor.
“You’re a mess.”
“I don’t think this is the time to criticize me.”
“That’s true.”
Galahad laughed softly. It felt like he had slept for quite a long time. His mana had recovered a little, but it was still only a speck.
He picked up the cigarette that had fallen to the ground, brushed it off, and put it between his lips. He flicked his fingers, but no flame appeared. Irritably, Galahad shook his hand again. A tiny flame rose.
“Just what are you?”
Gilbert’s face looked unusually serious beyond the firelight. It was filled with tension.
‘What am I...’
Galahad repeated the amusing words to himself for a moment.
“A discarded hunting dog. Lucky I haven’t been eaten...”
A deep lemon scent drifted through the air. His hazy mind finally began to wake up little by little. He forced mana through his body. It hurt as though every part of him were burning, but he did not stop.
“Is there anyone who can eat someone like you?”
“What exactly do you think I am?”
At Gilbert’s shocked voice, Galahad laughed like he was coughing.
“A mage who kills Demonkin with magic... I’ve never heard of one.”
“Didn’t I tell you? I’m the pioneering type.”
Loud laughter came from outside.
Galahad forced strength into his limp legs and stood. He refused the hand Gilbert unconsciously held out.
“I don’t like people touching me. Men especially.”
“...It’s not like I enjoy doing it either.”
Galahad chuckled and dragged his heavy feet forward.
The smell of well-browned meat filled the cave. Large chunks of meat had been piled up high.
Tom was diligently grilling meat in front of a huge fire, with Damian and Gwen beside him. It looked like a campfire gathering.
“Ah, Captain. You’re here. I’ll have it ready soon.”
Tom wiped sweat from his forehead. The pan in his hand swung noisily. He looked like a first-class chef.
“This isn’t a company dinner.”
“...I know.”
Gilbert answered sharply and spread his ragged coat over the ground.
Galahad did not refuse and sat on top of it.
Seeing Gilbert’s twisted expression, it did not seem like he had laid it out for Galahad.
Then Tom held out a metal bowl filled with browned meat.
“Ah, thank you. Hold this for me.”
Galahad handed the cigarette he had been smoking to Gilbert and took the bowl. The meat reeked of gamey flesh.
‘Tastes fucking awful.’
Galahad clicked his tongue softly and chewed thoroughly.
‘How many informants had disappeared again...?’
He counted for a moment. For some reason, it felt like most of them would be in the North.
‘About eight, I suppose.’
And there was the information he had gained from Eight...
There was more and more work to do.
He felt busier than when he had been in the Intelligence Bureau.
Then Adrianna suddenly came to mind.
“When exactly are the reinforcements coming?”
“They should arrive soon.”
“They’re slow.”
Galahad grumbled quietly.
* * *
“Move quickly. Everyone, abandon the carriages.”
Hartna’s eyes widened at Adrianna’s order.
Adrianna was always calm. If she sounded that urgent, something had clearly happened.
Holding the reins, Hartna moved closer to Carrot, her senior.
“What happened?”
“They said something appeared on Gilbert’s side, and its traces are similar to what happened to the Seventh Battalion.”
“Ah, the recent Demonkin attack on the Seventh Battalion?”
“Yeah, but they said it appeared on Gilbert’s side. It’s fucked. And that Imperial bastard is with them. If he dies, it gives the Empire an excuse to pressure us... Fuck, this is a complete mess.”
Hartna let out a quiet breath at Carrot’s rough cursing.
The North was broadly split into three factions when it came to the Empire.
The hardliners, who said, ‘We can’t put up with those fucking Imperials anymore. Let’s wipe them out.’
The moderates, who said, ‘Endure it. How can humans fight each other with the Demonkin around?’
And the extreme hardliners, who said, ‘Wipe out both the Demonkin and the Empire.’
Those were the three sides.
The moderates had originally been the largest group, but the hardliners had grown stronger after the incident involving Adrianna and the Crown Prince.
If the Empire used that bastard’s death as an excuse to pressure them, the hardliners would surely gain power.
Of course, the Grand Duke would make the final decision, but the Grand Duke was someone who drank blood, not someone who avoided it.
“He was more important than I thought?”
“What the fuck did you think he was, then?”
Why was he swearing at me...? Hartna held it in.
“But isn’t it already over? A Demonkin stronger than the one that attacked the Seventh Battalion, plus twelve mole crickets... No matter how strong Gilbert is...”
“Yeah, he’s probably already dead. We’re going to retrieve the body at least.”
At Carrot’s shout, Hartna gripped the reins. Everyone around them was hurriedly packing their things.
Though they were reacting urgently, nobody seemed to doubt that Gilbert’s side had been wiped out.
“It would be lucky if they held out at all. A mid-ranking Demonkin on their first mission. The Special Assault Unit must be cursed with bad luck.”
Hartna moved her lips slightly, seeming to want to say something.
“What now, bastard? Speak.”
“Um... It’s not the Special Assault Unit. It’s the Special Operations Unit...”
“Ah, fuck! Seriously!”
Hartna hurriedly pulled the reins.
Footnotes:
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