CH752 Assassins And An Overeager Weretiger

***

"Good work, Leader. Your mastery of House Skywalker’s sword art has improved once again. Soon, no one will be able to doubt or fault your cover," Saul said.

"The Skywalkers have been gone for a hundred years. Does anyone even remember their sword art anymore?" Alex shrugged.

"Do not underestimate this, Leader," Saul cautioned. "There will no doubt still be people alive who recognise the sword art. Even if there aren’t, there will certainly be records that speak of it."

Alex nodded, finding Saul’s reasoning sound.

---

About an hour later, the group had finished sweeping the battlefield and resumed their journey towards the beating heart of the Frontier March—or at least whatever remained of it.

A few hours later, the convoy drew close enough to their destination that even Senu, soaring high above, could make out the outline of the settlement in the distance.

"We are almost there," Alex announced to the group. "We should arrive before sundown."

"Finally. We’ll get to sleep in a warm bed again," someone muttered from within the convoy.

Similar sentiments echoed throughout the group.

They had spent weeks travelling, with most of that time spent camping in the wilderness.

Alex shared their feelings.

In fact, his wives had long since grown weary of the journey, so seeing their destination finally within reach noticeably improved their moods—which, by extension, improved his as well.

Their subtle verbal jabs and pointed glances would finally come to an end.

However, as they approached the settlement, Alex suddenly felt several nefarious gazes settle upon them.

He barely managed to stop himself from immediately looking around in search of the source.

Instead, he discreetly signalled to his wives, Saul, Kavakan, and Mogal.

They responded with subtle nods, confirming that they had sensed the same hostile intent.

The group moved positions subtly within the convoy, allowing Alex to survey the surroundings while appearing to engage them in casual conversation.

Soon, he found the source.

"Six individuals to our left," Alex whispered quietly.

’Surprisingly, they’re mounted. I wonder who they are.’ He muttered to himself.

But before he could issue any instructions on how to deal with them, Kavakan suddenly squeezed his legs around his mount’s abdomen and spurred the horse forward.

"Wait—!"

Kavakan charged towards the six individuals concealed within the treeline before Alex could stop him.

Seeing the weretiger bearing down on them atop his mount, two of the unknown assailants immediately notched arrows and fired.

Kavakan held the reins with one hand while wielding one of his twin axes with the other.

Without slowing his charge in the slightest, he casually knocked both arrows aside and continued closing the distance.

One of the hostile riders urged his own horse forward to intercept him.

As the two rapidly approached one another, the man unsheathed his sword, a silver-coloured combat aura enveloping his body.

The narrowing distance caused the two mounted archers to hesitate, unwilling to risk hitting their ally.

Contrary to the swordsman’s expectations, Kavakan did not wait for a direct clash.

The moment they came within range, the weretiger made his move.

Leap!

Despite his massive frame, Kavakan moved with unnatural agility.

He sprang onto the back of his horse and used it as a platform to launch himself at the incoming rider.

His axe swept through the man’s body, cleaving him in half vertically.

Kavakan crashed to the ground a moment later, the swordsman’s corpse cushioning his landing.

The instant he touched down, he exploded back to his feet.

Before the mounted archers could recover, take aim, and fire, he hurled both of his axes at them.

The spinning weapons struck true.

Each axe split a hostile’s skull in two, pinning the bodies briefly against nearby trees before they slumped to the ground, leaving the axes in the woods.

Leap!

Before the remaining three enemies could properly react, Kavakan snatched up the sword dropped by the slain swordsman and launched himself towards them.

BOOM!

He landed amidst the three mounted hostiles with enough force to startle their mounts and throw the riders from their saddles.

Whirlwind!

Kavakan spun in a vicious circle, instantly decapitating the two unfortunate hostiles who had fallen closest to him.

However, the sword proved too fragile.

Unable to withstand the strain of the attack, the blade shattered.

Kavakan sneered in disgust and tossed the broken weapon aside before reaching for one of his axes.

"Stop! Don’t kill all of th—"

Unfortunately, Alex was too late.

Kavakan hurled the axe once more, pinning the final hostile to the ground.

The weretiger awkwardly maintained his throwing stance as he sheepishly looked towards Alex, who was approaching from behind.

Alex did not bother addressing him.

"Save him," he said hurriedly to Eleanore, momentarily forgetting that he could cast the spell as well.

[Greater Heal]!

Eleanore reacted instantly, releasing the spell before Alex had even finished speaking.

The healing magic barely managed to keep the hostile alive.

Dread moved to the man’s side, allowing Alex to dismount and step forward.

"Who are you?" Alex asked. "Who do you work for?"

"You do not... belong... here..." the man rasped.

"Nobles... only make... things... worse..."

The man’s head slumped to one side as he drew his final breath.

The injury had simply been too severe.

Still, Alex had managed to learn something.

"I am sorry, Boss," Kavakan apologised sheepishly, his head lowered.

"What’s done is done." Alex shook his head.

He no longer cared about Kavakan’s action— or, arguably, mistake.

His attention was focused instead on the implications of the man’s dying words.

Alex looked in the direction of their destination.

’It seems we’re going to receive a worse welcome than I anticipated.’

A frown formed on his face.

A couple of the Silver Wolf Guards searched the corpses of the other slain hostiles but found no identifications, insignias, or markers on them.

Alex shook his head.

He had not expected much anyway.

A group bold and prepared enough to assassinate a noble would hardly be foolish enough to carry evidence that directly revealed their origins.

’Nonetheless, six Silver-ranked fighters are not insignificant in a frontier region like this. Their disappearance surely won’t go unnoticed.’

Alex pondered the matter quietly.

He signalled to the group, and they reconvened before continuing on their way, deliberately leaving the corpses behind to the elements and beasts.

’Most likely, someone will come looking for them later. Once their associates realise they’re dead, they may grow angry and react rashly, exposing themselves.’

The thought was cold, but practical.

The convoy resumed its journey.

Finally, just as Alex had predicted, the group arrived at their destination shortly before the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.

Alex looked up at the placard above the gate and read the name of their destination.

Fonterra Bastide.

***