Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 24 [The Imperial Military and Norman Passat]

The sunlight shone on the dust and dirt of the Kanas Plain, and the churning dust on the horizon looked like rolling golden-brown waves.

A large wagon pulled by two fine horses burst out of the dust storm, the horses wearing tattered hoods to filter the dust from their long journeys across the Kanas plains, and each hoofprint bearing the emblem of the Erdrik Empire: an iron crown forged from five swords.

Samael and Talia sat in the carriage, squeezed among a pile of spoils and grain, carrying a large iron box containing ancient coins from the Age of Gods on their backs, peering out from behind the carriage to examine the hoofprints between the wheel tracks.

Why would the Empire's warhorses end up in a bandit camp...? Samael pondered, recalling the information Talia had given him. But with Elliott, an assassin from Rondar's squad, in the same carriage, it wasn't appropriate for the two to discuss such matters.

The carriage gradually slowed down. Before they knew it, the city gates of Fallenthorn City were in front of them.

There were too many adventurer and merchant caravans coming and going at the city gate. Randall and Gladra, who were driving, tightened the reins and slowed down to avoid colliding with other carriages.

"Uncle Robin, Uncle Carlisle, good morning!" As the carriage passed the city gate, Randall habitually greeted the two Alliance guards at the gate.

"Good morning, you rascal! You're finally back!" Guard Number One raised his hand in response. "Your arms and legs are still there, right? You're all alive, aren't you?"

“Good morning…” Guard Number Two answered instinctively, then suddenly stopped, his expression complex, as if he had seen something indescribable. He abruptly raised his spear, blocking Randall’s caravan.

"You, get down," he growled. "Come with us for a moment."

"What's wrong? What's wrong with you...?" Guard One went forward to stop Guard Two, but suddenly noticed something hanging from Rondar's waist.

A longsword, entirely blood red, with a curved, barbed tip.

His face showed a complicated expression, a moment of panic, but then he placed his hand on Guard Number Two's shoulder.

"Ask clearly before you speak, don't wrongly accuse someone." Guard Number One grabbed Guard Number Two's shoulder and pulled his spear back.

“Randall, come with us for a moment.” He pondered for a moment, then beckoned to Randall.

“Uh…we need to hand over the mission first. Could you wait until I go to the Alliance Hall to hand over the mission…” Rondar hesitated, not quite understanding.

"Shut the fuck up and get down here!" Guard Number Two roared, unusually angry. "Tell your teammates to go turn in the mission, and you get over here!"

Randall swallowed hard and turned to look at Elliott, Samael, and Talia in the car.

“I’ll drive, Brother Randall,” Samael said, stepping forward to take the reins. “It’s not far to the hall entrance; we’ll be there soon.”

"Ah... alright, thank you, Brother Samo." Randall handed the reins to Samael and hesitated before jogging toward the two guards.

"Let's talk inside the guard tower," Guard Number Two said with a grim face.

Two guards grabbed his shoulders, half dragging and half escorting him, and pulled him into a rough, white stone watchtower that resembled a fortress connected to the city wall.

The members of Randall's team looked at each other in bewilderment.

"I'm the vice-captain, so you'll be under my command. First, go to the Alliance Hall to report and submit the mission." Elliott coughed lightly. "Submit the mission, collect the bounty, sell the loot, and we'll talk about other things later. Don't block the way at the main gate; other adventurers and caravans need to pass through."

Is there something special about that bloodsteel longsword? Samael watched thoughtfully as Randall's figure was carried between two Alliance guards and disappeared into the dim doorway of the sentry tower.

If the magic sword would only cause trouble, perhaps he shouldn't have given it to Randall so easily? He hesitated, flicked the reins, and couldn't help but feel a little regretful.

……

Bang! The door slammed shut, and two guards stood in the dimly lit room, watching the bewildered Randall.

Spears and crossbow bolts were scattered throughout the sentry tower, armor racks stood in the corners, and a jumble of empty bottles and lunchboxes were piled up. On the walls hung a dark blue tapestry depicting the Alliance's golden giant eye and iron-forged hands, along with a rough map of the Kanas Plain and a guard duty roster.

The cramped room contained a low table and a few old chairs. On the table were a teapot and a chipped iron cup. The Alliance outpost was located in a desolate place, and the journey was long and arduous. It would take a long distance to transport items from the habitable zone. Fragile items such as pottery were difficult to transport, so cups and bowls were usually made of wood or iron.

But the iron cup on the table was old and had chips from sword cuts, clearly indicating it had been used on the battlefield.

The two guards remained silent, watching the uneasy Randall.

"You need to run now," Guard Number Two suddenly said. "We won't reveal your situation—don't take any chances, don't expect the Imperial Army won't investigate. You have no idea how terrifying they are..."

“Carlisle!” Guard Number One interrupted him. “We are Alliance Guards, Alliance enforcers! Rules are rules, and we cannot tolerate him! You should ask him first! If Randall really made a mistake, then he must pay the price for his actions; if he didn’t…”

Guard Number Two suddenly raised his spear, placing the shaft against Guard Number One's neck!

"What's wrong with you now!" Guard One cursed.

"Run! Rondar! Run! I've got Robin under control!" he growled. "Don't show that damned sword to the other Imperial soldiers and Alliance guards! Run!"

"No... wait a minute, uncle, what's going on!" Rondar stood there dumbfounded, and upon hearing the key word "sword," he hurriedly unsheathed the blood-steel longsword from his waist and carefully placed it on the table. "This is a misunderstanding! This sword is a trophy from the bandit suppression! It was the bandit leader's weapon—Brother Samos killed the bandit leader and then gave this sword to me..."

"Uh... wait a minute... didn't you assassinate an Imperial Blood Officer and take his sword, or steal a sword from the officer?" Guard Number Two asked, stunned.

“No! These are the bandit leader’s weapons!” Rondar explained. “It’s a misunderstanding!”

"I fucking told you, you idiot Carlisle, ask around before you speak! Don't wrongly accuse someone!" Guard Number One cursed as he pushed away the spear shaft. "You're too concerned about this moron!"

"How is that possible? Bloodsteel weapons are one of the Imperial Army's secrets, specially issued to meritorious officers. We only saw them a few times twenty years ago. How could they possibly be in the hands of bandits?" Guard Number Two subconsciously said halfway before covering his mouth.

"You slap in the face! Damn it!" Guard Number One cursed angrily. "Randall, explain the origin of this sword!"

“The bandit leader was a level five adventurer swordsman, and this sword was his weapon. He was killed by Brother Samo, who then gave the sword to me,” Rondar answered clearly. “You can ask my teammate—Elliot was stabbed by this sword.”

"What a joke... How could a Blood Officer possibly come to the Wasteland? How could a bandit leader, a mere level five adventurer swordsman, possibly kill a Blood Officer?" Guard Number Two was stunned. "A Blood Officer is equivalent to the individual combat strength of an eighth-level adventurer. If it were a Sword Lord, with coordinated group efforts, a well-trained infantry sword guard would be enough to slaughter three infantry regiments head-on. It's impossible for bandits to take away their swords!"

"Please, Carlisle, stop leaking Imperial military secrets!" Guard One sighed.

“I’m sorry, Rondar, we misunderstood you—” Guard Number Two snapped out of his daze, solemnly paused his spear, bowed slightly, and struck his left chest with his right hand in an Imperial sergeant’s salute. “We believe you are a good lad of fine character, a fine young man. But this sword…”

"If this sword falls into the sight of Imperial soldiers or Alliance guards who were once Imperial soldiers, the consequences will be dire," Guard Number One added. "If the Imperial military notices it..."

“They don’t care where you got this bloodsteel longsword, whether you killed bandits or officers. Anyway, you’re carrying a military-issued bloodsteel sword without authorization or permission—the Imperial military doesn’t like to study complicated problems; they’re used to dealing with problems directly.” Guard Number Two drew a line across his neck. “If I were you, I’d rather leave this sword in the wilderness than touch it.”

"Wrap it in a cloth, don't just hang it so carelessly around your waist, you idiot!" Guard Number One scolded. "Didn't anyone teach you? Valuables are like underwear, you can do without them, but you can't leave them exposed!"

“Then… then what should I do with this sword?” Rondar asked instinctively.

"Just leave it where you got it!" Guard Number Two replied sternly. "If you want to keep this sword as a trophy, never use it outside—keep it locked up at the bottom of a box and don't let Imperial soldiers see it!"

“Uh…yes, Uncle.” Randall nodded, though he rationally knew that he shouldn’t touch something dangerous involving the Imperial military, he still couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

Such a weapon could have greatly improved my strength, perhaps even allowing me to enter the ranks of level four or five adventurers, enabling the rest of the team to become the best in Fallenthorn City, so that we wouldn't have to argue over a few hundred gold coins or toil away for a few thousand...

He shook his head, pulled a tattered cloth from his waist, and wrapped it around the Bloodsteel Longsword.

"Yes. I'll go and get rid of this sword right away." He tightly wrapped the bloodsteel longsword around his waist, gripped the hilt, and hung the longsword back on his waist.

The hilt is warm to the touch, comfortable to hold, and has a smooth, natural center of gravity, as if you are holding a better future.

……

On the other side, Samael and Gerard were driving two carriages and were about to stop at the entrance of the Alliance Hall when they were suddenly stopped by a figure.

"Excuse me, is this vehicle carrying grain?" a refined male voice asked.

Samael lifted his helmet from under the hood of his tattered cloak.

Ahead of the carriage stood a refined-looking middle-aged man, lean and muscular. His lightweight steel breastplate and shoulder armor were padded with chainmail, covered by a dark blue robe to conceal the metallic sheen of the armor plates. He exuded an elegant and unassuming air. He carried a steel longsword with a dark blue scabbard. An ellipsoidal runic stone was firmly inlaid in the hilt's counterweight with a steel ring. Several pieces of azure fish scales and dragon-falcon feathers served as catalysts in the grooves of the stone's carved circuit, held together by molten and solidified resin, resembling amber.

“Yes,” Samael answered instinctively.

“We’ve acquired them all—in the name of the Alliance’s Fallenthorn City,” the refined man in blue robes said calmly, “at twice the market price.”

"Huh?" Samael was taken aback.

"You don't want to?" the refined man in the blue robe asked. "Then forget it."

He was quite decisive and turned to leave.

"No, no, no, of course I'm willing!" Elliott exclaimed, eagerly leaning out of the carriage upon hearing the offer. "We can make our move right now!"

The refined man in the blue robe turned around.

Elliott was stunned.

"[Windsword], Norman Passat." He nodded subconsciously, "The magic swordsman who was promoted to seventh-level adventurer last month."

“You are… Oh, I remember now, I know a promising junior named Rondar Risca.” The man in the blue robe recalled, “You seem to be the assassin in his team, I saw you before when we left the city.”

"[Windsword] You actually remember me... By the way, weren't you at the front-line camp in the third ring of the dungeon?" Elliot asked.

"This morning we discovered that a large amount of food at the front-line camp had started to mold and was no longer edible. We used a lot of identification magic to try to distinguish the moldy food from the usable food, but we are still in severe shortage," Norman replied. "Several other adventurers and I rushed back to buy and prepare another batch, and we need to transport another batch over today."

“It’s perfect that you have grain here. Then there’s no need to send it to the spoils trading market. It saves those merchants from buying it at a lower price and then reselling it to us at a higher price. Just bring it here directly. We’ll be setting off later today, around dusk,” he said.

"Alright!" Elliott jumped off the carriage lightly, looking almost as happy as someone who had been stabbed by the Bloodsteel Longsword.

“Oh, wait a minute,” Norman suddenly said. “Where is young Risca?”

“He… has something to attend to. I’ll tell him later that His Excellency Passat needs to speak with him,” Elliott replied.

“No, no, I just want to ask where this food came from.” Norman shook his head.

“It was loot found in the bandit camp,” Elliott replied. “They must have intercepted it from a previous supply convoy.”

“Oh, that’s taken too long. Some of the food might have gone moldy.” Norman nodded calmly. “Although the toxins from the demonic mold in the Wasteland can be neutralized with an antidote, it’s too costly. With supplies running low on the dungeon front, using antidote to mix with rice is simply not worth it. I’m sorry, I need to use an identification spell to check all the food first. We don’t buy moldy food. Sorry.”

Samael was startled and subconsciously turned his head from the driver's seat to look at Talia in the car.

Elliott had left the carriage to talk to Norman Passat, leaving only Talia and a pile of food in the carriage.

Talia waved her hands repeatedly, pointing to the grain and then to the canopies of various caravans, pointing to Norman's location, before shaking her head in a panic.

If anything goes wrong again, Valak will never forgive them! Not to mention the two of them, the entire City of Fallen Blaze might be crushed by Valak in his rage, who will stop at nothing to achieve his goal!

Samael had a sudden inspiration.

The scanner is now enabled.

[Target: Wheat grains (normal, edible)]

[Target: Wheat grains (normal, edible)]

[Target: Wheat grains (fungal mold, toxic)]

Samael pointed to the bag of grain containing mold, and then to the large iron box on Talia's back.

I'll buy you some time! You take this opportunity to stuff another bag of grain containing bacteria into the metal box, and we'll repeat the moldy mixing process again tonight!

Talia hurriedly unloaded the iron box from her back and grabbed the grain sacks to stuff into the box.

However, Norman had already headed towards the stairs at the back of the caravan.

At this critical moment, Samael suddenly spoke:
"Mr. Passat."

Norman stopped and turned to look at Samael.

"I heard you are Randall's mentor?" Samael asked. "It seems that Randall achieved what he has today because of you."

“I don’t deserve such praise,” Norman replied. “It’s just that our team did take on the training assignment for Rondar Riska – according to the Alliance’s regulations, high-level adventurer teams must take on at least three new recruit training assignments each year; it’s an obligation for high-level adventurers.”

He looked at Samael thoughtfully.

"Level six or level seven?" Norman asked.

"what?"

"My esteemed War Knight, are you a level six or level seven adventurer?" Norman repeated.

“Level one. I come from a distant monastery and only recently registered as an adventurer,” Samael replied. “Alliance rules stipulate that I must start from scratch.”

“Your armor,” Norman suddenly said, “is it some kind of enchanted armor?”

“Ah, yes. From the capital of Florence.” Samael made up a story based on the geographical knowledge he had learned from the people around him over this period of time—it was said that the famous Lunos Academy was in the Kingdom of Florence, where there were probably a lot of magic and such things, so it wouldn’t be surprising to have an extra piece of magical armor.

“I see.” Norman nodded. “A magical circuit used for cooling? The temperature around you is slightly lower than normal.”

“Yes. The armor is heavy, stuffy, and poorly ventilated. Long journeys inevitably lead to sweating, which affects physical vitality. Having such a cooling magic circuit would be much more convenient,” Samael replied. “As expected of Norman Passat, I have long heard of the name of the adventurer’s glory.”

If he could sweat, he was already drenched in a cold sweat.

“You are remarkable too.” Norman nodded in acknowledgment. “Risca is very lucky to have the opportunity to travel with you.”

He walked toward the steps behind the caravan, stepping aside to make way for Talia, who was getting off the vehicle carrying an iron box.

The two passed each other.

Norman glanced at Talia.

"Are you two companions?" he asked, looking at Samael.

Talia didn't speak, she just nodded.

“Hmm.” Norman Passat, the Windsword, didn’t say much. He simply took out a runestone from his pocket, inserted three beast eyeballs into it, activated the identification spell, and began scanning the grain bags one by one.

He threw the moldy grain out and tossed it on the ground, leaving the intact grain behind.

“That’s good. At double the purchase price, that’s 3300 Erdrick gold coins in total.” He called to Elliott, “You can get off the truck now. I’ll transport the grain over and return the truck to you later.”

Everyone in the group was excited about the unexpected windfall. Elliott patted Gerard on the shoulder excitedly, while Ruby bounced up and bumped into Serena's arms.

Samael and Talia stood side by side in the shadows, watching Norman drive away from the corner.

"Are you kidding me—this level seven magic swordsman is going to transport the last batch of supplies to the Valak dungeon?!" Talia sighed softly. "We want to get the mold in, so we need to intercept this guy and his other high-level teammates?!"

"It's not easy to make money from the demons..." Samael felt the heavy money bag in the iron box behind him getting a little hot to the touch.

(End of this chapter)