The sight of soldiers carrying firearms patrolling around the building caught his eye.
Perhaps because most of the troops were concentrated on the outer wall in preparation for the night attack, the security of the inner fortress was relatively lax, but armed guards were still standing near the main fortress.
He hid behind the office where the wagons were lined up, observed the movements of the sentries, and then moved to the fortress towering in the very center of the fortress.
Just then, he saw a group of men holding pit bulls pouring out of the building.
Barcas observed them closely while hiding in the darkness. Heavy-armored knights with massive physiques, typical of Northerners, were crossing the parade ground and heading toward the castle gate.
Barcas narrowed his eyes when he spotted a hulking man with grayish-blonde hair like a lion's mane in the midst of it. Even from a considerable distance, he could recognize him at a glance as Bjorn Blodar Heimdall.
'...Did you sense something?'
After watching the man's retreating figure for a while, he soon turned and moved to the back of the fortress. He had to find Gareth before the vigilance became tighter.
He hid himself in the deep shadows and took quick steps along the wall.
Not long after, he was able to find a small side door behind the stone building connected to the main fortress.
He shifted his grip on the doorknob and pulled it lightly. The latch was engaged, but it did not look very sturdy.
He wrapped his cloak around the locking mechanism and pulled hard on the doorknob. With a loud crack, the doorknob was torn off along with the wooden board. It was quite a loud noise, but fortunately, it did not seem to have attracted anyone's attention.
He carefully opened the door and stepped inside.
As if it were a space used as a food storage room, the musty smell of grains and the gamey odor of cured meat stung his nose. Looking around the spacious area where dry bread, ham, and cheese were stacked in layers, Barcas soon slipped out and stepped into the dimly lit corridor.
At that moment, a presence was felt not far away.
Barcas hid behind a pillar and looked toward the direction from which the sound came. A hulking man in heavy armor and a middle-aged man of small stature were coming down the stairs.
Their voices echoed faintly in the silent space.
"How long on earth must we tolerate that scoundrel? If the Imperial Family has no intention of paying the ransom, it is only right that we take the head of the man and avenge His Excellency the Duke!"
"It is not that I do not understand how you feel, but I cannot kill the Crown Prince right now. He still has value as a hostage."
A middle-aged man spoke in a dignified tone.
"It is not only the Imperial Family that desires the Crown Prince's safe return. Behind him are various conservative nobles led by Marquis Oristine. Furthermore, the Imperial Legitimacyists who revere Emperor Darian will also raise their voices demanding that the Crown Prince be rescued. If we stall for time until they sway public opinion, the Emperor will eventually have no choice but to agree to negotiations."
"But would the Empress just sit by and watch? She, too, will try not to miss this opportunity."
"The more decisively that witch steps forward, the more severe the backlash from the conservative nobles will become. The traditionalists' animosity toward the Empress is beyond imagination. The resentment toward the Taren family plays a major role in the Noble Alliance's lenient acceptance of that scoundrel."
The middle-aged man, who had raised a counterargument in a calm tone, patted the giant's shoulder and added.
"So, we cannot conclude yet that the negotiations have broken down. It might be emotionally difficult, but please try to appease that scoundrel just a little longer."
Then, without giving the man a chance to complain, he walked across the hall and out.
The hulking man, who had been glaring at the retreating figure with dissatisfaction, spat on the floor and walked back up the stairs with a menacing air.
Barcas chased after him immediately.
The man, having climbed to the third floor in one swift step with large strides, went out through the door at the end of the hallway.
As Barcas approached the entrance through which the man had passed after a short delay, the torched passageway and the castle tower at the end of it came into view.
Judging by the number of floors in the building, Barcas soon passed the stone corridor and cautiously stepped into the arched entrance.
Just as he was about to climb the stairs, he heard a short gasp from behind him. Barcas reacted instantly.
Grabbing the head of the soldier standing awkwardly in the middle of the stairs and pushing him against the wall, he immediately pulled the device on his wrist to draw a dagger. Then, he repeatedly struck the man's neck.
The soldier, who had been choking as if blood overflowing from his carotid artery had entered his airway, slumped limply a few seconds later.
As they were dragging the body out of the tower, a gruff voice rang out from above.
"Tch, it's an intruder! An intruder...!"
A soldier holding a spear hurriedly ran down the stairs.
Barcas immediately drew his long sword from his waist and swung it diagonally at the fleeing soldier. The blade shot out like a flash of light, piercing the soldier's shoulder and exiting through his side.
The soldier's body, split in two in an instant, tumbled down the stairs spewing blood. The guards who had rushed into the tower belatedly froze at the sight.
Barcas did not miss that fleeting moment.
Barcas thrust his blood-soaked sword straight into the chest of the soldier standing closest to him, sending the corpse rolling down the stairs.
Two soldiers who were charging while gripping spear shafts were pushed down the stairs by the body of a flying comrade. However, there was no time to catch their breath. Hearing the commotion, soldiers began to swarm in.
'It looks like I won't be able to slip away quietly.'
Barcas let out a small click of his tongue and immediately ran up the stairs toward the upper floor.
It appeared that a considerable number of guards had been stationed at the top of the tower, as he could see hulking soldiers wielding battle axes striding down the spiral stone staircase.
Barcas lightly deflected the massive axe blade that struck his head like lightning, then immediately severed the soldier's neck. Then, avoiding the heavy body that was leaning toward him as if collapsing, he twisted to the side and struck the face of the soldier standing behind it with his body.
With a gurgling sound, dark red blood gushed out through the gap in the helmet covering the soldier's face.
The man, who had reflexively thrown down his weapon, covered his face with both hands and let out a scream.
Barcas lowered his sword without restraint, putting an end to the soldier's suffering.
However, before he could even climb the stairs, new enemies swarmed in. He plunged his sword into the body of a soldier charging toward him and pushed straight up the stairs.
The soldier, suddenly turned into a shield, let out a scream and thrashed violently. The soldiers who witnessed the sight recoiled in surprise.
While they hesitated, unable to bring themselves to swing their swords at their comrades, Barcas drew his sword like a flash and beheaded the enemy soldiers one by one.
He dealt with three enemies in an instant, but there was no sign of an escape route opening up. This time, spearmen were pouring in from the floor below.
Barcas gripped the blood-slick doorknob tightly with both hands. Soon, not only the inner fortress guards but also the regular troops would storm in. He could not face all of them alone.
Should I attempt to escape even now?
While he was hesitating for a moment, a loud horn sound was heard from afar.
Barcas looked out the window. It appeared the air raid had commenced as planned. He could see soldiers carrying torches swarming around the castle gate.
Barcas immediately went into battle mode. The main force will be preoccupied with dealing with the Imperial Army for some time. He must seize this opportunity.
He swung his sword unhesitatingly at the soldier charging toward him.
***
"Did you bring this kind of thing for me to eat right now?"
Gareth picked up the goblet and threw it toward the wall. With a dull thud, dark wine flowed down the wall like a bloodstain.
As he gazed at the scene, the Northerner's blood-red eyes pierced sharply at him.
Gareth deliberately held his chin high so as not to show any signs of being intimidated.
"Bring me a proper liquor right now!"
"Your Highness, the Crown Prince."
The man spoke in a grumbling voice.
"It seems you are greatly mistaken about something. You are a prisoner."
A giant measuring 7 khet (about 210 cm) leaned close toward him and let out a fierce snort.
"I am not some kind of guest to be treated with the utmost deference. If you do not behave yourself, I might make you drink our dog's urine instead of wine."
"H-How dare a mere low-ranking noble like you to me the Crown Prince of the Empire..."
Gareth's face flushed red with rage.
As he looked down at Gareth with his arms crossed over his chest, a blatant laugh burst from the Northerner's mouth.
"Even if you are not the Crown Prince but the Crown Prince's grandfather, a prisoner is just a prisoner. Your life is in our hands."
He grabbed his shoulder tightly with a rough hand.
"So if you don't want to get into trouble, please just shut up."
Gareth gritted his teeth as if to break his jaw.
He wanted to snap this filthy traitor's neck right then and there, but he had no way to subdue this giant with his bare hands. Gareth clenched his fists so tightly that his joints turned white.
As he looked down at him with a mocking expression, the guard slowly walked to the doorway and sat down on the velvet chair in pairs. It seemed he intended to keep him under surveillance in the same room all night.
After Gareth was caught attempting to escape a few times, the Northerners never left him alone for even a moment.
Gareth kicked the table roughly. Plates and cutlery scattered across the floor with a loud clatter.
As if accustomed to this level of mischief, the guard oiled his bayonet with a nonchalant expression, without even blinking an eye. Gareth, who had been taking out his anger by stomping on broken glass shards to show off to him, leaned against the windowsill, exhausted from the work.
As he turned his gaze out the window, the advance of the Imperial troops encamped beyond the castle walls came into view. Instantly, his stomach twisted painfully with rage and fear.
If they had come to get him out of here, ransom negotiations should have taken place immediately. However, the troops that arrived this afternoon were clearly in an attack formation.
In the end, Barcas betrayed him.
Gareth gritted his teeth.
He knew it would turn out this way. Ever since that bastard married Thalia—no, perhaps he had a vague premonition of it even before that.
From the time that guy, who is always indifferent to everything, started reacting only to that woman...
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