Roger and Irene both frowned, exchanged a look, and quickly made their way toward the source of the sound.
Before long, they reached the small dirt mound where they had previously hidden when they found the goblin's secret letter.
Just like last time, the two of them lay flat on top of the mound, parting the dry grass in front of them to peek down.
On the grassy bank across the river, Matilda lay in a pool of blood. Her deep blue mage robes were heavily soaked in blood, and her messy hair was strewn across the grass.
Sargon stood not far away, a shortsword in hand.
With an expressionless face, he flicked the blood off his blade and sheathed the shortsword. He then squatted down in front of the female mage, unfastened the pouch from her belt, and dumped all of its contents onto the ground.
Inside were a few gold coins and some trivial miscellaneous items. Frowning, he painstakingly searched through every pocket on Matilda's robes.
Clearly, he did not find what he was looking for.
“Who's there?!” a patrol's shout echoed from the distance.
The sound of footsteps drew closer as at least six or seven people rushed toward their location.
A flash of anxiety crossed Sargon's face. He stood up, cast a final glance at Matilda on the ground, and then sprinted across the shallow water in a few strides, bolting toward the distant woods on the opposite bank without paying any mind to the patrol's shouts.
Before long, a patrol of soldiers arrived at the scene.
When the leading captain saw the female mage lying in a pool of blood, his face paled. He squatted down to check her breathing, then quickly ordered several of his subordinates to carry her away.
Once the patrol had carried the injured woman away, Roger stood up from behind the mound, crossed the shallows, and walked straight toward the woods where Sargon had fled.
“Are you planning to chase him?” Irene asked, though her feet were already following close behind him.
“Just confirming a few things,” Roger replied.
On the surface, Sargon's actions seemed like a conflict with Matilda that had escalated into violence because he lost control of his emotions.
However, Sargon had not fled immediately after striking her; instead, he had searched her body first. He didn't seem to be looting valuables either, since he hadn't even glanced at Matilda's staff, which clearly looked worth a fortune.
His expression had remained calm and restrained from beginning to end, a complete contrast to his usual sycophantic behavior.
That infatuated, inseparable act he put on around the female mage had clearly been a performance all along.
“Fine, I'll go too,” Irene said without asking further questions.
The two crossed the river and entered the woods. They hadn't gone far when voices echoed from ahead.
Roger and Irene stopped almost simultaneously, exchanged a look, and quickly slipped behind a thick pine tree to crouch down.
This spot was still quite far from where the voices were coming from, making it impossible to see who was speaking, but conversely, the speakers couldn't see them either.
Sargon's voice reached them first: “I searched her entire body. The item isn't on her.”
Another unfamiliar voice responded:
“Then you should have brought her here and left her to us, instead of panicking after being discovered. You didn't even deliver a finishing blow before leaving; she's likely still hanging on to a breath of life. If she wakes up, you're in deep trouble.”
“I think you guys should find someone else for this mission,” Sargon interrupted, his voice laced with undisguised annoyance and anger.
“She was already growing suspicious of me; getting any closer would only backfire. Besides, I've had enough of being ordered around by her. I feel like I wasn't playing a suitor, but a dog.”
“That is only because of your clumsy acting and poor self-control,” the owner of the unfamiliar voice mocked mercilessly.
While the two were still talking, Roger gestured to Irene, pointing to another pine tree closer to them.
Crouching low and using the shrubs and tree trunks as cover, they closed the distance step by step.
Once they were close enough, Roger finally got a clear look at the man.
Standing in a shadow-draped hollow, the man was tall and thin, wearing a black cloak without any insignia. He had a thick beard, and his light brown hair was combed neatly back.
This guy has zero vigilance. Meeting someone in the woods and he doesn't even use a hood to cover his face? Does he really think he won't be spotted? Roger grumbled inwardly as he continued to eavesdrop on their conversation.
Sargon continued:
“To get close to that woman, I played the part of her dog for nearly two months. During this time, I even took out the Count's chief mage as you ordered. It's not my fault that the woman doesn't have what you're looking for.”
He took a deep breath. “I request to temporarily withdraw from the mission. If I stay any longer, my identity could be exposed at any moment. If that woman survives, I will be the first person she suspects.”
This dialogue was like puzzle pieces, forming a clear picture in Roger's mind.
Count Nigel's chief mage had not died at the hands of a goblin assassin, but had been killed by Sargon.
Sargon had used his sycophantic, pathetic act as a cover to murder the noble army's strongest mage right under everyone's noses.
And all his devotion to Matilda had merely been a ruse from start to finish to gain her trust and find a certain item.
The man shook his head. “This is not for me to decide, but I can petition High Priestess Sephira on your behalf. Before she issues new instructions, find a place to hide and don't let anyone discover you.”
With that, he drew a scroll from the inner lining of his cloak and tore it apart.
A miniature vortex of mana rose from beneath his feet, and within the distorted glow, his entire body vanished into thin air.
A teleportation scroll too? Anyone who can use something like that probably has a far from simple identity, Roger thought as he watched the man leave in such a manner.
At the same time, Sargon began to walk back, gradually approaching the spot where Roger and Irene were hiding.
As the distance closed, Roger looked at Irene and made a throat-slitting gesture.
Irene nodded, slowly drawing her longsword with minimal force to avoid making any sound.
As Sargon drew closer and stepped out from between a few intersecting pine trees, Roger nocked an arrow and suddenly lunged his upper body out from behind the tree.
The mana pathways of the Windwood Bow activated silently, and a pale green gale wrapped around the arrowhead.
【Empowered Shot】. He released the bowstring.
The sound of the arrow leaving the string shattered the silence of the woods. Sargon's hand instinctively reached for his hilt, but before he could even touch it, the arrow pierced his chainmail and embedded itself into his ribs.
The impact of the arrow sent Sargon stumbling back half a step, a muffled groan escaping his lips.
Before he could recover, Irene lunged forward from the other side, her straight sword tracing a cold, sharp arc in the shadows.
Rate on N.U.
