Some time later, in the courtyard of the Duchy of Nightwalker manor.
Beyond the spray of a marble fountain, a grand equestrian statue carved from jet-black granite stood tall.
It was the work of a renowned sculptor, famed for being sponsored by the Nightwalker Family.
But it was not the noble and valorous knight and horse one would usually imagine.
Instead, it was one of the Apocalyptic Four Horsemen, said to appear at the world’s end and lead forth calamity.
The Pale Rider—rider of the pale horse of death.
Laila Nightwalker and Sien were walking side by side, following that equestrian statue.
“What do you think is the greatest virtue an Assassin must have?”
“Trust.”
“Exactly.”
Absolute trust—belief that no one can escape the blade of those who walk the night.
Trust is the greatest asset our family has built, greater than anything else.
An Assassin who is not feared has no value. To inspire fear in someone, you must make your existence known, in one form or another.
“We have built unwavering trust over countless years.”
The Assassins of the Nightwalker Family are far from silent. They do not kill their targets while all sleep in the darkness. Nor do they vanish without a trace after completing their missions.
You can never earn ‘trust’ like that. In most cases, their methods are, if anything, excessively showy and flamboyant.
“An assassination can succeed even if there are no witnesses, but for a good assassination, you need many witnesses.”
“The more witnesses, the better?”
“Precisely.”
Laila grinned and answered boldly.
“They will become the proof, the witnesses of our sincerity.”
In the grand ballrooms where noble festivities reach their peak, on battlefields stormed by thousands, or right in the heart of a city square under the midday sun—sometimes you need to boldly reveal and imprint your identity.
To let the Nightwalkers’ enemies witness with their own eyes the miserable fate that awaits them after futile resistance, and how foolish and senseless it is to break a promise made with our house.
To win both fear and trust from people, those who walk the night choose any means necessary.
“Excuse me, Your Grace.”
And then it happened.
A man in a black-coated, iron-clad coat stepped forward with a respectful demeanor.
“Welcome, Sir Lynch.”
The man was a Shadow Knight of the house.
“Did you bring what I asked for?”
“Right here.”
“Hand the list over to Sien.”
At Laila’s command, the Shadow Knight produced something from his coat. It was a parchment scroll, sealed with wax. The wax bore the Star and Dagger Crest of the Duchy of Nightwalker.
A symbol of the absolute trust that the house has built with blood.
“What is this?”
“Unroll it.”
Sien opened the scroll. Upon the faded parchment, numerous names were written in jet-black ink, along with their occupations, places of residence, and other personal information.
“A list…?”
“It’s a list of fools,” Laila replied coolly with a cold smile. Sien, of course, understood its true meaning.
The Nightwalker Family’s blacklist—a kill list.
A record of those who must die.
“Humans are locked creatures by nature.”
The list contained names of those in positions of power, both great and small. From Sentry Captains guarding mere cities to nobles and high-ranking priests.
“No matter how trivial and worthless the power is, once someone holds it, they can’t help but lose control.”
“Is that why these names are written here?”
“Yes.”
They were corrupt rulers.
Blinded by greed, indulging in injustice and corruption, feeding on the nation like parasites.
It wasn’t at anyone’s request, nor did their heads carry a bounty. The Nightwalker Family’s Assassins never act for such reasons.
“This nation is like a great garden,” Laila continued calmly.
“And we are the gardeners who tend this vast garden.”
Gardeners nurture the garden and remove pests and weeds. So too with this nation.
“Weeds grow back the moment you pull them, and if you leave them alone even for a moment, they quickly take root and spread. The same goes for humans blinded by power.”
That is why they must die.
Not out of some grand sense of justice or patriotism. Every person on the list has betrayed their country for their own foolish reasons, and as a result, have caused real harm to the true rulers of this land.
And the ones who truly rule and decide the country’s fate are not the governor or the council.
“Choose a name you like from the list.”
“I’ll take this man.”
“Does his name please you?”
“Yes.”
At Laila’s words, Sien picked a suitable name.
[Baron Solzberg, male, 54 years old, Council Chairman of the Free City of Silenche, always accompanied by three Knight Bachelor bodyguards and one regular knight.]
Whoever was chosen, it was all the same.
None of those on the list were formidable enough for the Nightwalker Family to act directly. If they needed to be dealt with, loyal hounds—the Shadow Knights—would be dispatched.
This must have been a specially selected target for the young Sien’s first mission.
“What crime did this man commit?”
“For everyone on this list, there is only one crime.”
“And what is that?”
“Foolishness.”
With a cold voice, Laila responded to Sien’s feigned innocence.
“But for the record, that man bribed the council, colluded with the criminal guild, and is guilty of bribery, smuggling, tax evasion, criminal proceeds, illegal gambling operations, fraud, abduction, enticement, and human trafficking.”
“Sounds like he deserves to die.”
“The world is always overflowing with people who deserve to die.”
At Sien’s reply, Laila burst into laughter.
“I’ll give you a week.”
After laughing, Laila continued. Three days to ride to Silenche, three days to return. That left only a single day for the mission itself.
“Will that suffice?”
“More than enough.”
Laila offered a warning as Sien nodded.
“Remember, the trust our family has built is not something earned by merely ending a life.”
“Then where does it come from?”
At Sien’s naive question, Laila answered.
“Sincerity.”
An assassination can succeed even without witnesses, but that alone is not enough. They demanded more.
“Show people how sincere our blades are. Convince them.”
The most certain way to make people believe that no guards can protect them and that no power can withstand our blade, is to show them in action.
“I’ll remember.”
***
Three days later.
When Sien, fully prepared, arrived in the Free City of Silenche on horseback, the city was in the midst of a festival in honor of its patron saint.
Jesters were juggling dozens of knives with both hands or shooting apples off their heads, to the roaring cheers of the crowd.
Cheers, applause, and whistles filled the air, beer mugs clashed with reckless abandon, and alcohol overflowed onto the streets littered with roast pork and pig intestines. It was a boisterous night.
“Perfect timing.”
Blending into the crowd, Sien smiled beneath the white Larva mask—symbol of specters—and black cloak.
Finding the target was easy. In such a grand festival, the city’s ruler would not pass up the chance to appear.
In the central plaza, where the grand city hall and Cathedral stood, a special, luxurious entertainment had been arranged for the city’s elite.
From trick shooting that left even veteran archers gaping, to top-tier jester performances.
Sien’s target, Baron Solzberg—also the council chairman—was there. He sat in the very front row of the special stage set up for the city’s powerful, boldly flaunting his status.
Bang! Bang!
The sound of fireworks burst, showering the night sky in colors and captivating the crowd. Sien seized the moment.
The distance to the target shrank.
At that moment, one of Baron Solzberg’s bodyguard knights sensed Sien’s approach.
“!”
He also noticed the pale blade glinting from Sien’s sleeve.
“Assassin! There’s an Assassin!”
“Protect the chairman!”
Screech!
One bodyguard knight drew the Arming Sword from his sword belt and shouted.
Three Knight Bachelors and one regular knight. And they weren’t the only ones protecting the chairman.
“Everyone! Surround him, now!”
“Don’t kill—capture him alive!”
Immediately, fully armored City Guard (30-3!-309) soldiers moved in, blocking Sien’s path. The tips of their spears aimed, cold and threatening.
“What a fool.”
Even with an Assassin after his life, the baron showed no sign of panic. If anything, he appeared composed.
“Did you think you could kill me in the midst of this festival chaos? With such a clumsy approach? Ridiculous.”
“How many Assassins do you think I’ve dealt with before?”
Baron Solzberg spoke with the tone of one who had grown sick and tired of being targeted for assassination.
“Who sent you? Mayor Pavel? No, he wouldn’t have the guts. Then Deputy Chair Marco, was it you?”
“N-no, Chairman! I swear it wasn’t me!”
“Yes, even you wouldn’t hire such a sloppy Assassin.”
One of the city’s elite sitting near the baron went white with fear.
“Who hired you? If you tell the truth, I’ll grant you a painless, merciful death.”
At those words, Sien laughed.
The city is a dirty place. People shake hands with smiles while slipping daggers into each other’s backs, or send Assassins to someone’s bedchamber by night—it’s as common as eating.
To survive to the position of chairman amid such plotting and scheming takes a formidable man, just as expected.
But there was one thing he misunderstood.
“No one hired me.”
“……What did you say?”
“We don’t work like that.”
Sien answered.
At the same moment, a dry night wind blew. The black cloak Sien wore fluttered, revealing a glimpse of what was hidden beneath.
A jet-black leather coat. On its lapel was engraved the Star and Dagger Crest.
“……!”
The moment they saw that symbol, the knights and City Guards surrounding Sien turned pale with fear.
How could they not recognize it?
It was a symbol that a mere baron or chairman could hardly even dare look upon.
The absolute proof of trust built with blood by the Nightwalker Family.
“Im-impossible…”
An Assassin bearing the Star and Dagger Crest stood before them.
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