Chapter 150 - 147 - Ambush
It had been an annoyingly long process to gather information on the Aspirant Knight's personal Smith.
For a long time, it hadn't even been certain he was a Smith. Although he had certainly made a splash almost as soon as he passed through the city gates with the returning Knight.
House Sanchez had repeatedly been slighted by Knight Suero Paulo Cortez de Figueroa de la Iberteria. Despite losing to Pablo Sanchez in the Tournament of Duels, he had been promoted to Captain of their squad, and remained ahead of Pablo at every turn.
It had been seen as a victory when Suero fled to the frontier, presumably to live out the rest of his life in shame, as befit his performance in the Tournaments.
And yet, barely more than two years later, he had returned, with a new retainer in tow. Some foreigner boy, with blonde hair and blue eyes. The report reached the Sanchez family spymaster mere minutes before the report that one of their pocket Guard Captains, Precinct Captain Flores, had been arrested, implicated in an attack on a Knight's retainer and charged with corruption thanks to his idiot son.
It took nearly a full day to get an accurate timeline of events.
Suero and his retainers had entered the city.
The next day, House Sanchez's accountant had tried to pressure Suero's Butler. This attempt ultimately failed when Royal Bank records were presented to confirm the repayment of Suero's old debt.
That evening, there was an altercation that resulted in grievous injuries to Precinct Captain Flores' son, and somewhat serious injuries to Suero's retainer. Incredibly, this appeared to be a true coincidence, and it was unfortunate that Suero had happened to seize control of the situation before House Sanchez could respond. In the end, House Sanchez had to cut off Captain Flores and disavow him, losing control of his precinct to House Hernandez.
And then, somehow, Suero had received a minor boon from a goddess that very night.
The man's ability to stay one step of them was an outrage, and a constant insult to their most noble House.
Surveillance proved difficult. The Butler was too slippery. Though the foreigner boy was easier to keep an eye on, he wore the armband signifying he was on Order business, and for weeks he only walked escorted by City Guards in Suero's pocket, or worse, actual Knights assigned to Suero's squad.
Another insult, that upon returning Suero was immediately given a newly created squadron of Knights, while Pablo was still only a vice-captain.
And the boy only ever went to and from the Smithing Guild. Most curious. But slowly, oh so slowly, information trickled in.
Though he didn't register as a Guild member, he was working there and receiving training. That he didn't register was likely a bit of subterfuge on Suero's part, to minimize the paper trail.
The blonde—now confirmed—Smith also started wearing chain mail and carrying war hammers. A rather large one, at that. And he took part in Hammer Warrior training arranged at the Knight's Order. A clumsy deception, though it would have worked if House Sanchez informants hadn't already been tipped off to report any information at all about Suero and his retainers.
The boy was assumed to be a Smith and Hammer Warrior, though unskilled in both. Likely he was simply younger than he appeared, and fresh from his Choosing Day.
Then came the news that explained Suero's continued rise through the ranks, and the special treatment he was receiving.
The man had found the lost Bag of Holding!
Simply unbelievable, the man's luck.
Not only did he receive an award of merit from the Crown Prince himself, a large sum of money entered the Knight's account at the Royal Bank. Initially, the spymaster had assumed it was paid from the Royal Family, but no, it was from the Merchant's Guild. Backtracing the payment and further investigation revealed that even the Merchant's Guild had an interest in the blonde Smith.
That made two guilds.
For a time, the investigation had gone stagnant, until they managed to get one Smith drunk and he couldn't stop singing the blonde boy's praises. Apparently, he was a prodigy pipe smith.
But as soon as that was documented, he vanished.
A week later a tip from the Enchanter's Guild—a third guild, now!—revealed the final piece of the puzzle.
Now, why would a Smith and Hammer Warrior be taking a course on enchanting at the Enchanter's Guild?
Ah, yes, the puzzle pieces came together, and Suero's machinations were revealed.
The Hammer Warrior training had been a ruse, a cunning double-bluff.
The Smith was some kind of mage. Perhaps a Fire Mage, judging by the ramblings of the smith who had unwittingly become their informant. It was unlikely he was actually an Enchanter, given the threat assessment he gave off on the streets. But he was within the expected range for a young mage.
Still, that Suero was far too cunning.
With a personal Smith who could also prepare and perform basic enchantments, especially if that Smith was a prodigy, he would likely perform much better in next year's Tournament. And with the money in his Royal Bank account…
Best to nip this in the bud, before things got out of hand. Before the blonde foreign boy's levels got too high.
Fortune favors the prepared. These were words the spymaster had lived by his entire life.
And he was certainly prepared when the winds of fortune blew his way.
The Smith had gone out drinking, for the first time since he entered the city.
He offended the Izguardia Baronet's daughter, and even chased her to her manor, putting him in a precinct controlled by the Izguardia family, bordering House Sanchez controlled territory.
Surrounding him had been trivial. Mages were notoriously easy to sneak up on, after all.
The spymaster and three of his available men emerged from the shadows.
"So, you're the Smith who got Captain Flores arrested, huh? You don't look so tough."
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
James had been walking along, consumed by his worries about Isabella, until the moment he heard that voice and saw the men emerging from the shadows. Instantly, he reacted. He put his back to the wall and scanned around, looking for threats.
Nothing above, nothing creeping on the ground. One, two, three, four men wearing dark clothing.
Men, not monsters.
He pulled out the armband from the Knight's Order and held it aloft, so they could see it.
"I'm a retainer of Knight Suero Cortez! Let me pass."
Three of the men chuckled as they continued approaching.
"Oh, we know, boy. Just come along quietly and nobody needs to get hurt."
"Help! Help! I'm being attacked!" James shouted as loudly as he could, but the only response was the men rushing in to silence him.
Two of them had knives in their hands, while the third had his fists raised like a Pugilist. They were on him fast.
But not as fast as some of the monsters in the Dungeon.
James, too, drew his weapons. Two small war hammers, roughly as large as a large forging hammer, from the half-dozen that he always kept on his belt.
"We already know you're no Hammer Warrior, fool!" the Pugilist jeered as he backstepped away from James' pre-emptive swipe at his head.
And then the knives struck.
Screech!
The slashes skittered loudly over his chainmail as the Knifewielders ran past him, dashing out of the range of his hammers once more. A counter, too slow, whiffed through the air harmlessly.
"Tch, he's wearing mail!" one called to the others.
"Hurry and end this!" the spymaster, lingering on the edge of the battle, demanded.
The Pugilist smirked, and stepped forward in a feint to bait the Smith's strike. He had the Smith's timing now; after, he'd land a clean hit to the boy's jaw, lay him out, and they could take him away for interrogation.
Or kill him. He didn't care either way.
He ducked in, easily outspeeding the slow Smith, and—
[Technique: Hammer Strike]
[Rapid Blow]
Crunch!
There was an explosion of pain as the Pugilist's jaw shattered like glass, but it only lasted a moment before a second blow caught him in the side of the head, and he dropped to the ground, dead.
"What the hell—Carlos!" one of the knife-wielders shouted, giving away his position approaching from behind the Smith.
"Hurry and kill him!" hissed the spymaster, pulling two throwing knives from their sheathes.
James whirled blindly and stepped into the blows from the two Knifewielders, their stabs catching on the links of his chain mail. Both his hammers moved independently towards their targets, making full use of his [Ambidextrous] Skill.
[[Hammer Strike]]
It wouldn't have been enough, the assailants were already ducking out of the way, but just as the Legendary Smith was dexterous with his hands, he was also dexterous with his [Enchantment Activation].
[[Rapid Blow]]
Perfectly timed, independent activations of the hammers' enchantments caused his strikes to land true, and his hammers crashed through bone and brain, slaying two more men.
The son of two brawlers didn't hesitate for even a second.
He turned once more, towards the last of the men, and saw that he was already throwing his knives. He was too far away to reach, and if he ran, James would never catch up.
James activated his enchantments again—
And threw his hammers.
He lacked any kind of [Throwing] Skill.
But with thirty-two boosts in Dexterity, there wasn't much James couldn't do with his hands that anyone else could do, Skills or no.
At the same time, the spymaster's knives were flying at his face.
But James held firm and aimed true anyway, willing to take the hit if it meant landing his own.
This was the Smith, forged in the depths of a Dungeon, slayer of Dragons and Holy Beasts alike.
One knife pierced his shoulder, just below his collarbone. Another sliced his cheek just below his eye as it sailed past into the gloom.
The hammers spun unnaturally fast, empowered by [Rapid Blow] even as they flew through the air.
The spymaster dodged one, and it crashed into a stone wall across the street.
The other caught him in the chest, shattering every rib on one side and crushing his lung. It hit far harder than such a small hammer thrown such a distance should have.
But that was what it felt to be struck by a hammer with sixteen Strength boosts behind it.
The force of the blow took him off his feet and he sailed through the air until he fell to the ground.
Footsteps rang out, and chain mail jingled, as the son of two Brawlers ran forward, two more hammers now in his hands, to finish off his mortal foe.
The spymaster's last thoughts were dominated by one question.
If he truly was a Hammer Warrior, what was Suero's retainer really doing at the Enchanter's Guild? And just how much combat experience did he have?
"Stop! Freeze!"
More footsteps rang out. "Stop in the name of the law! Drop your weapons!"
Two thuds vibrated through the road, and the spymaster began to feel the pain, the inability to breathe. He could only look up at the cloudy night sky and cough blood.
"I was attacked, by that man and those three over there. I'm a retainer of Knight Suero Cortez."
The spymaster closed his eyes.
This was the worst possible failure.
This was beyond what his own death could atone for.
Healing potion was poured on his crushed chest, and healing magic washed over him, enough to speak, though painfully.
"House Sanchez… requests discretion…" he managed to eke out.
But fortune failed him at that moment.
"That won't be possible," a guard said coldly. "The Izguardia Family has declared a family emergency and has closed their manor entirely. This will be handled through official channels. Amir! Report back to the branch office and send a runner to the Knight's Order Headquarters."
The spymaster felt the strength leave his body, even as the healing magic kept him from dying with at least some of his honor intact.
"You're also under arrest until we can sort this out. Do you surrender peacefully?"
"Yes, of course."
"We'll have to shackle you."
"I understand," the Smith said with a resigned tone.
"Good. What's your name, and do you have proof you're a retainer?"
"It's James, and I dropped my armband over there. If not Sir Cortez, I'm sure Steward Sebastian will be able to vouch for me."
They were both clapped in irons and taken to separate holding cells.
Though it was the shortest night of the year, it was going to be a long night for quite a few people in the city of Cordova.