Last night. Vikir had slept in the pavilion across the street from the city magistrateâs office after his night shift.
Knowing that, the Chihuahua had been there early in the morning.
âHey, sleepy assistant magistrate. The sun is already up, itâs time for you to go to workâŚâŚuhhhhhhhh!?â
After knocking on the door, the Chihuahua didnât get to finish his morning greeting before letting out a grotesque scream.
There was blood everywhere.
Blood, blood, blood, soaking down the white bedspread and staining the marble tiles on the floor in a grid-like pattern.
The walls, the ceiling, the bed, all drenched in blood.
âAh. Good morning, sir.â
Vikir gets up from the bed with too much nonchalance.
Judging by his sleepy expression, he really was asleep just a moment ago.
And on the bed beneath him lies a corpse, head and torso separated.
A dagger is clutched in the hand of a black-cloaked man, clearly an assassin.
Vikir looked at the assassinâs body on the floor.
âHmm? I donât remember him, he must have killed me in my sleep.â
âZee, is that true?â
âOf course not. Itâs a lighthearted joke.â
Vikir tried to make a joke of his own, thinking, âWouldnât a 15-year-old be this playful?â but the Chihuahua didnât seem to realize it was a joke in the first place.
âSo, Your ExcellencyâŚâŚ, what kind of childhood did you have back home?â
âWas it not much fun?â
âNo, it wasnât a matter of funâŚâŚ.â
The Chihuahua seemed in many ways at a loss for words.
Vikir shook his head in disbelief.
âIâve been getting a lot of these flies lately.â
Two poisoned arrows, four poisoned glasses, six street burying attacks, stabbings, sulfuric acid spraying, sniping, arson, carriage ramming, etcâŚâŚ..
All in the last three days.
This was the first assassin to enter his bedroom, but even he was no match for Vikir.
Every warrior who had lived through the Age of Destruction had mastered the art of sensing the killing around them in their sleep, and Vikir was no different.
âHmph. I guess I should look on the bright side. It means Iâm getting noticed, right?â
âYouâve got some nerve, man.â
âYouâre disrespectful to your superiors, sir.â
I retorted nonchalantly and turned to put on my robe.
The Chihuahua stuck out its tongue as Vikir nonchalantly followed her out of the bedroom.
âLooking at you, itâs hard to believe youâre really 15 years old.â
âWhereâs the blood in that?â
âEven if it is Baskerville bloodâŚâŚ I mean, werenât the rest of the Baskervilles like this in the first place, and the previous Archon wasâŚâŚ.â
The Chihuahua continued to babble, but Vikir was already tuning out his words.
Instead, his mind was on the payoff from his last illegal auction house heist.
<Binge Fly âBeelzebubâ> / Awl
-1 slot: Burn â Cerberus (A+)
-2 slot: Choke â Infernal Buffalo (A)
Slot -3: Bleed â Hellhound (B+)
Magic Sword Beelzebub.
This strange blade, which drains and absorbs the abilities of those it kills, was sealed with the power of Murcielago the Infernal Buffalo, a beast you met at the auction house some time ago.
The trollâs C+-ranked danger ability, Super Rapid Regeneration, was gone, replaced by the infernal buffaloâs Tight Throat Breath.
While âSuper Fast Regenerationâ is an ability to quickly heal an injured body, âTough Breathâ is much more versatile, as it makes the body so tough and hard that it cannot be injured in the first place.
In the first place, the Infernal Buffalo was a high-level beast that couldnât even be compared to a troll, so it was no wonder its effects were superior.
âI didnât know there was a Class A demonic corpse in the auction house, Iâm lucky.â
After consuming it, he was able to easily defeat the assassin who came yesterday.
The assassin who had infiltrated the palace last night was a Gradual.
Even though he was only a low ranked Gradual, I remembered that he produced an aura that was as sticky as liquid.
It was an unexpected attack, and the dagger slightly pierced my chest.
But thanks to a synergistic combination of the protection of the River Styx and the hardiness of the Infernal Buffalo, Vikirâs body was left with only a faint scar.
The assassin himself would not have known.
âMu, whose body is so hardâŚâŚ!?
Little did he know that this would be his last words.
âIâm going to find out whoâs behind these assassins and put them out of business.â
âThat makes sense.â
In fact, though he hadnât told the Chihuahua, Vikir was thinking of resigning from his position as deputy magistrate after this job was done.
Just like Xindiwendi had told him not long ago.
Just then.
Something happened to help Vikirâs plans.
The call came from Baskerville itself.
A huge black carriage stood in front of the city hall.
A luxury carriage emblazoned with the Baskervillesâ toothy logo.
Visiting the town hall early in the morning was a man Vicky knew well.
Deacon John Barrymore, who had come to see Vikir personally.
âMaster. Long time no see.â
âI see, Deacon. You look better.â
Deacon Barrymore beamed at Vikirâs response.
âLook at that. Didnât I tell you when you left the main house that you would do well?â
The rumors of the outside world had reached the main house.
They were all about the underdog cityâs new deputy magistrate.
âLucky in many ways. The timing was right.â
But the rumor-monger himself remains uncharacteristically modest.
Deacon Barrymore then revealed the reason for his visit.
âMy lord is looking for you. Presumably, he wants an accurate report on this incident.â
âIf it was a report, I would have already submitted it in writing.â
âHaha, is that the same as having your son come and tell you in person?â
After speaking, Barrymore stroked his mustache and narrowed his eyes.
âYouâre so excited. Iâve never seen you smile like that before.â
* * *
Hugo Les Baskervilles.
He was still sitting at his patriarchâs desk, his face expressionless.
But Vikir could sense an alien aura emanating from him.
It was.
ââŚâŚWell done, son.â
It was uncharacteristically warm.
Hugo set todayâs morning paper down on his desk.
<Underdog Cityâs citizensâ favorite person is Vikir, number one>.
<Vikir, the #1 most trusted person by merchants in Underdog City>.
<Vikir is the #1 favorite of the peasants of Underdog City.
<Vikir is the #1 person that children in Underdog City admire the most>.
<Vikir is the #1 favorite of intellectuals in the underdog city>.
<Underdog Cityâs assassins most want to kill, Vikir> .
.
.
The results of the popularity poll of the citizens were on the front page of the newspaper.
âYouâve done a great job.â
âYou did what you had to do.â
âThere are a lot of dumbasses out there who canât do what theyâre supposed to do.â
Hugo looked at Vikir, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
âIllegal slave trading is a felony punishable by death for both buyer and seller. Your actions have been commended by the Imperial Court.â
âI am honored.â
âThis is your chance to dispel the myth that Baskervilles are only good with a sword and bad with their heads. Youâve done a great job.â
Vikirâs special law, his performance in proclaiming it, and his vigorous enforcement of the law set a precedent for all the cities under the Baskervillesâ control, and even the imperial family.
Hugoâs unorthodox appointment was rewarded by Vikirâs unorthodox performance.
One of the Baskervillesâ customs is to be sure of reward and punishment.
If you do well, you get rewarded; if you donât, you get punished.
Vikir had done an outstanding job and should be rewarded accordingly.
And today, Hugo had summoned Vikir to the main house to discuss the reward.
âAdmission to the Academy.â
The Colosseo, the Imperial Academy, the place where every elite in the world dreamed of entering.
Hearing that, Vikir asked.
âIsnât it customary to enter the academy at the age of 20?â
âIf youâre good enough, thereâs no age limit. You can be an early adopter or a late adopter, as long as you fulfill the following conditions: no more than 25 years old when you enter and no more than 30 years old when you graduate.â
ââŚâŚI will live up to your expectations.â
Vikir interjected with a short testimonial.
Hmm?
Hugo, who normally would have ended the conversation at this point, showed a rare willingness to continue.
âIâm sending a few people, including you, to the Academy, but I havenât gotten around to organizing the entries yet.â
ââŚâŚ?â
âDo you have any close brothers who would like to go with you?â
The question was completely unexpected. Didnât it sound like something a father would ask his son?
âUh-oh. Youâre a father.
But then Vikir remembered something he had forgotten himself.
He is Hugoâs son, after all.
He hadnât been treated like a son for so long that he had forgotten.
Vikir hesitated a moment, then spoke.
âIâm best friends with the triplets, Highbrow, Middlebrow, and Lowbrow.â
Whatâs the big deal about being best friends, if you want them around, youâre best friends.
ââŚâŚIs that so?â
Hugoâs eyes widened a little in surprise, but then he nodded in understanding.
âIâll keep it in mind.â
That was the end of the conversation about the academy.
Vikir had just finished his chaplaincy and was about to leave.
âOh, by the way. Son, stay a minute.â
ââŚâŚ?â
Vikir stopped in his tracks and turned around, and Hugo rose briefly from his seat.
Then he spoke in a low voice.
âIâve been looking over the laws of your underdog city.â
âThey are âŚâŚ immature.â
âYouâve made quite a few changes to the agricultural laws. Youâve done a very efficient job.â
âThatâs very flattering.â
Vikir had once reorganized the laws governing the large farms on the outskirts of Underdog City, in the area where the Red and Black Mountains met in the lower reaches and wide open plains.
In addition to the ruby mines, there are many fields of sugar cane, tobacco, cotton, and other crops.
They were mainly worked by savage captives.
Is that why? The savages who occasionally raided across the border often targeted farms on the outskirts of Underdog City.
Hugo said.
âWhy donât you take a quick tour of the estate before you enter the Academy? See if the laws youâve established are being followed. It would be good experience.â
âAs you wish.â
Vikir obeyed, still unwilling to argue.
Then.
Hugo, who had been watching the scene with satisfaction, suddenly asked.
âBy the way, are you going alone?â
ââŚâŚ?â
Vikir scratched his head.
So heâs going to go on a territorial tour by himself?
When Vikir looked at Hugo with a puzzled expression, he settled back into his chair and spoke in a relaxed voice.
âThis is a joint operation.â
At Hugoâs words, Vikir remained silent. It was an indication that he needed a little more explanation.
Understanding that, Hugo got down to business.
âDo you remember the operation you organized when you were eight years old? Why, the ruby mine.â
ââŚâŚOf course. I seem to recall that it involved leasing the Ruby Mines area to the Morg and driving the barbarians towards it, keeping the two factions apart untouched.â
Aka the carnage map.
The idea was that if they wanted to expand their borders, theyâd have to deal with the barbarians anyway, so they might as well use the Morg to get rid of them.
Hugoâs mouth curled into a wry smile.
âThe plan worked.â
âAnd by worked, you meanâŚâŚ?â
âThe Morg made the first offer. Very low-key.â
Hugo hadnât looked this happy in a long time.
He turned to Vikir.
âTheyâre talking about a joint war of attrition.â