Facing the lunging attack of the assassin, Beroklora's silhouette didn't waver for an instant. He remained standing firmly in front of Mohg, making no move to strike first.
In the next heartbeat, the figure that had been mid-air suddenly dissolved into wisps of black smoke.
Realizing the target's true intent, Beroklora immediately reached out, grabbing Mohg and pulling him backward while lunging forward himself in a single, fluid motion.
Solitary Moon Slash!
Clang!
A sharp, metallic ring of impact was followed a second later by a heavy, dull thud of weight hitting the earth.
Beroklora was using his massive greatsword to pin the assassin ruthlessly to the ground. The attacker was forced to hold the Black Knife up with both hands, struggling desperately to keep the heavy blade from crushing them.
Having regained his footing, Mohg wasn't about to waste the opening. He instantly drew the straight sword from his waist and lunged forward.
The assassin's eyes fixed on Mohg, mentally calculating the distance between them.
But just as Mohg thrust his sword forward and the assassin prepared to parry Beroklora's weapon to make an escape, a searing pain tore through their chest.
When the assassin looked down, a flash of blue light had already filled their field of vision.
"You..."
Before the words could fully leave their lips, Beroklora's greatsword swept across, decapitating the target.
Blood sprayed from the headless neck, the body swaying for a moment before collapsing into the dirt.
"You aren't keeping him alive?" Mohg asked, looking down at the corpse with a hint of confusion.
"No point," Beroklora replied, shaking his head. "Their kind never speaks the truth. Even if we spared his life, he would have committed suicide."
Mohg nodded slowly in understanding.
"Based on your reaction earlier... you seemed to recognize these fellows?"
Mohg paused at Beroklora's question. It was to be expected; his reaction had indeed been quite extreme.
"I wouldn't say I 'know' them, per se. Or rather, I don't know them specifically. They are merely crude imitators of far more terrifying assassins."
Beroklora blinked, a flicker of doubt rising in his mind as he looked at the corpse. These assassins were actually quite formidable—they possessed the strength of an average knight, with a lethality far exceeding their rank. If utilized properly, such individuals would be the ultimate blades of the battlefield.
And yet, in Mohg's mouth, they were merely "shoddy imitations" of something greater.
"They are related to a Numen faction," Mohg explained. "They are called the Black Knives, a powerful organization of assassins. I've only seen mentions of them in certain ancient records."
"Black Knives..."
Beroklora repeated the name. He searched his memory, but finding no record of such a faction, he felt a sense of unease. This meant that—if Mohg wasn't lying—they were facing a powerful assassin organization they had zero intelligence on. And judging by current events, these people harbored deep ill-intent.
"Gwyn, we need to sweep this area quickly. I suspect there's more than one of them hiding around here."
Mohg hesitated. "I think it would be better to call for reinforcements. If it's just the two of us, things might go south. We are the only two who hold this vital intelligence right now; if something happens to us, no one can get the word back."
"...You make a fair point. I was being impulsive," Beroklora admitted after a short pause. He immediately pivoted to a more logical decision. He produced a pot filled with a blue liquid, smashed it over the corpse, and then signaled Mohg to leave without looking back.
Mohg stole a curious glance at the body. He watched as the blue liquid devoured the flesh with terrifying speed, leaving behind nothing but the suit of armor.
"What was that...?"
"A solvent. Its primary use is to dissolve flesh that has lost its soul. I'm not entirely sure of the specific principles, but it was developed by the Magic Research Labs."
"I see."
Mohg pulled his gaze away and hurried to keep pace with Beroklora.
"...One of my team is dead."
Dilare, hiding within the shadow of the scouting party's leader, spoke suddenly.
"What?!" The leader's expression shifted instantly. "Master Dilare, are you certain?"
"Yes. Almost certainly the work of the Carians... likely the two whose gazes I felt earlier. Even from that distance, I could sense the threat they posed."
"Then, Master, the plan...?"
"I will proceed to the target site alone to scout the situation. You lot return immediately and report to Lord Radagon and Lord Messmer."
"Understood."
The scouting leader signaled for the squad to halt. He turned to his men. "All units, the reconnaissance mission is suspended. Return to camp immediately!"
"Yes, sir!"
Once the squad departed, Dilare shot off toward the clearing where Mohg and Beroklora had clashed with the assassin. Seeing the abandoned armor, his assessment was confirmed. However, he was somewhat confused as to why his subordinate's weapon was missing.
In reality, the fake Black Knife had been swiped by Mohg. Whether it was for future tactical use or simply to satisfy his completionist urges, Mohg felt it was essential to loot a weapon that so closely resembled a genuine Black Knife.
Meanwhile, the scouting leader arrived back at the main camp and immediately sought out Radagon and Messmer to report. Hearing the news, both commanders frowned simultaneously.
Radagon waved the leader away.
"It seems our plan has been exposed. What do you intend to do now?" Messmer asked.
"Hmm... the impact is minimal. The plan proceeds as scheduled. Even if they know, what can they do if they cannot find the hiding spots? They will still have to remain on high alert," Radagon said, shaking his head.
"Then your assassination attempt will likely fail..."
"It's all the same. The probability of failure was high even without being discovered. This was merely a low-stakes gamble."
"I see. A gamble with minimal cost?" Messmer asked, nodding slowly.
"You could say that. Though the cost wasn't 'small'; training those individuals required significant resources. It is a loss."
Messmer watched Radagon speak. Seeing that the man didn't look the least bit pained by the "loss," he knew Radagon was spinning a tale. Furthermore, he had never heard of this specific unit before; he had no idea where they had come from.
It seemed this Radagon wasn't exactly a straightforward fellow either...
Messmer mentally increased his level of caution regarding Radagon. He needed to ensure this man wouldn't cause any harm to his Mother.
Radagon, of course, noticed the shift in Messmer's gaze, but it was within his expectations, and he had no intention of explaining himself. This level of friction in their relationship was actually beneficial for their respective roles.
"What is the situation in the lake district?" Radagon asked.
"The sorcerers at the Academy and the Cuckoo units have launched a fresh counterattack. They've broken through a portion of our defensive lines. Some units have even bypassed the front and entered Carian-controlled territory."
"Hmm? Such a fierce counter?" Radagon was genuinely surprised. In his calculations, the Academy shouldn't have exerted itself to this extent. After all, the Academy and the Carian Royals were rivals, and the Golden Order's control over the Academy's propaganda hadn't been that strict.
For them to offer such violent resistance now was unexpected.
"I don't know the specifics, but word is there's a powerful Witch within the Academy coordinating the various departments and keeping the Professors in line."
"...A nuisance. Tell House Daen to send men to handle it. We are likely about to engage in our first large-scale battle with the Carian city-states. If our rear becomes unstable now, we'll be in serious trouble."
"Shouldn't you handle that personally? I'm not familiar with those nobles. In fact, they are quite terrified of me," Messmer said.
"You will have to deal with the nobility sooner or later. If you are sent on an expedition as supreme commander in the future, a lack of support from the Great Houses will lead to chaos."
"...Fine. I've got it. I'll send word to them through the flames later."
"Ah!"
Following a streak of azure blade-light, a Leyndell soldier collapsed into a puddle, joining a growing pile of corpses.
The ground was a macabre tapestry of Cuckoo soldiers, Cuckoo Knights, Leyndell infantry, and Leyndell Knights. Interspersed among them were the bodies of Carian soldiers and several sorcerers.
The man who had just cut down the Leyndell soldier revealed himself—a Carian Knight. However, his condition was dire. His armor was shattered in multiple places, and his weapon was chipped and dulled from constant use.
Rick's heavy breathing sounded like a broken set of bellows. A fresh group of Leyndell soldiers began to circle him slowly. Around him, not a single one of his comrades remained standing. Every last one of them had fallen in battle.
Rick scanned the closing ring of enemies and took a deep breath, squeezing the final dregs of strength from his body to hoist his greatsword.
"Hah... huff... COME ON!!!"
"I admire your resolve. Surrender," a voice called out.
A tall Leyndell Knight, bearing a conspicuous noble crest on his chest, stepped forward while holding a massive shield. He looked at Rick with a level gaze.
Rick lifted his eyes to meet the man's stare.
"I am Faith Daen, third son of House Daen. With my word, you will certainly live. You have nothing to fear."
"Heh. A noble."
"You seem to harbor little affection for my kind. And yet, are you not a noble yourself?" Faith asked calmly, unbothered by Rick's mocking laugh.
"I am nothing like you lot," Rick panted in retort. "I was a common-born child who earned the Queen's favor to become a Carian Knight. Do you truly think I would betray my liege because of a few words from you?!"
"Is that so? A pity. I truly do admire you. If you were willing to surrender and share some intelligence, I could ensure you were inducted into the ranks of the Leyndell Knights."
Faced with Faith's renewed offer, Rick didn't bother to reply. He stayed silent, leveling the tip of his sword at the noble.
"It seems you have made your choice."
Faith shook his head. He lunged forward, his greatsword sweeping through the air. A silver arc of light cut through Rick's torso in the next instant. Blood sprayed out like a fountain.
Clang!
Deprived of his final spark of strength, Rick collapsed to his knees. His greatsword slipped from his fingers and hit the ground.
Faith stepped aside to avoid the spray of blood, then sheathed his sword and stood by the dying man's side. He bowed his head slightly, as if offering a silent prayer for a respected warrior.
After a long moment, Faith looked up at his men.
"Gather his body. Send it back to the Carians. He is likely the first Carian Knight to fall in this campaign."
"Understood."
At the same time, far away in the Carian city-state, Mu'en suddenly felt a wave of profound unease. Whenever he felt this way, something terrible had usually happened.
This time... what has gone wrong?
"Based on our findings, we can be certain the Golden Order has no honorable intentions for this parley. It is highly likely they intend to use the negotiations as a cover to strike at the two Princesses."
"You are correct. Their intent is blindingly obvious: to use assassination to test our strength, or perhaps to genuinely attempt to end the conflict in one blow."
Rennala nodded at Mohg and Beroklora, standing up from her seat.
"They hold the position of power and will naturally seek to maximize their gains. Let them come. I will show them that the Queen of Caria is not a figure to be trifled with!"
Suddenly, a guard burst into the room.
"Your Majesty! Master Rick... he... he has fallen on the battlefield!!!"
"What?!"
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Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (Full)
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