I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy

Chapter 270

Chapter 270

Yesterday, Bor regained consciousness and, with the help of Fael, came to thank the group in person. His attitude toward Ian had grown noticeably more respectful.

"You’re already up and about. You recover fast," Ian remarked with a slight smile.

Bor nodded, bowing his head in the northern manner. "It’s all thanks to you."

He removed the necklace he’d been wearing, offering it with both hands.

Quite the formal type.

Ian accepted the Della Lu's Grace and added, "Get some rest. The bishop’s coming soon, so you should take the chance to get another purification prayer."

"I will. Shame I won’t be joining you on the journey." Bor nodded, then glanced down at Ian with a serious expression. "Be careful of that dark mage, Sir Ian. I’ve got a feeling they’ll attack again."

Ian’s lips curled into a smirk. "Don’t worry. I’ll make sure their head gets delivered through Fael."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Bor’s thin face broke into a smile. "If you do, I’ll be forever grateful. I’ll have it properly preserved and hang it up at home."

"Do what you like."

"It’s a relief that you’re here. Even if he does something foolish, at least things won’t get too dangerous."

"Aren’t you the foolish one?"

A voice interrupted from behind, causing Bor’s smile to falter.

"Getting yourself beaten up like that, looking like you’d fall over with just a push." Fael stepped forward, grinning.

Dressed in an elegant and elaborate imperial fashion, he now looked every bit the part of a typical Imperial merchant.

Glancing at Bor’s skinny arm with mockery, he added, "Guard the place well while I’m gone. Maybe rebuild some muscle, too. I hired you for your size to act as a shield, but now you’re looking pretty scrawny."

"...Didn’t you say you hired me because of my spear skills?" Bor asked, his voice tight as if suppressing his irritation.

Fael scoffed. "You think I’d hire a barbarian warrior who came to this city just because their name sounded similar to it, all based on your spear skills? Do you really think I’d make you my personal bodyguard without a good reason?"

"If only I’d known how to read back then..."

Now that things have gotten better, they’re already itching to be at each other’s throats.

Ian smirked to himself as Fael, satisfied, turned to him and said, "We’re all set to head out. We’ll move first, so join us when you’re ready."

Ian nodded and glanced over at the nearby carriage that had come to a stop. Philip, already inside, opened the door as Elia climbed in. As Fael turned to leave, he added, "I’ll bring a bottle of wine to your carriage later. Given the situation, we should stay together."

He probably just wants to chat.

Even so, Ian nodded without hesitation. There was no reason to refuse a drink, and Fael got along well with both Philip and Elia.

Bor, who watched Fael head to the front of the procession with a hint of unease, soon turned his gaze back to Ian. "I owe you my life, Sir Ian. I promise I’ll repay the debt one day."

"If the time comes, I won’t refuse." Ian shrugged and turned toward the carriage.

"... But, Sir Ian," came Bor's voice just as Ian was nearing the carriage. Ian stopped and glanced back at him. Bor, who had apparently been watching him, met his gaze and cautiously added in a low voice, "May I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"He told me not to dwell on it or dig too deep... but no matter how I think about it, it seems too coincidental. Your actions and the rumors surrounding you... What I’m trying to say is, could it be that you are...?"

Bor trailed off, his eyes lowering as he fumbled for words—something uncharacteristic of a Northerner.

Ian chuckled softly and responded. "You’ve got a good sense for these things."

"...!" Bor’s head shot up, eyes wide, meeting Ian’s calm expression.

Ian turned away. "Take care, Bor."

Leaving the stunned Bor standing like a statue, Ian climbed into the carriage. Before he even closed the door, the carriage began moving.

"Weren’t you trying to keep that a secret?" Philip asked casually from the seat opposite Elia.

Ian, watching the passing scenery of the estate, merely shrugged. He knew Bor wouldn’t go around spreading the word.

"----!"

Or maybe not.

A loud roar came from behind, making Ian raise an eyebrow. It was Bor’s battle cry, followed by his shout for Karha.

Should a patient be doing that?

Ian let out a quiet chuckle as his left arm’s tattoo tingled, almost as if reacting to Bor’s shout.

Yet he didn’t care at all when Bor was on death's doorstep

Snorting softly, Ian turned his attention back to the view outside. The road ahead stretched out before him, but his gaze darkened as it settled on the distant streets.

"Well... it would."

Ian turned his head slightly to meet Fael’s eyes and added, "As long as you’re not planning to use the sponsorship as leverage to control her or make her feel indebted."

Fael flinched slightly but then smiled. "Of course not... If she succeeds, it elevates us as well. We’re laying the foundation to expand into the capital. I wouldn’t ruin that with impatience."

Ian gave a dry chuckle, amused by Fael's ambition, before replying, "Let’s talk about this again after we finish the current job."

"Understood. You’re in a bit of a mood this morning, though... Still troubled by something?"

Instead of answering, Ian simply tilted his head back and took another swig from the bottle.

Fael chuckled heartily. "Rest easy. We’ll be there soon. Ah, look, you can see it now—Basmut."

Fael pointed ahead, and Ian finally sat up.

The landscape, which he hadn’t bothered to observe while lying down, now spread out before him. A gentle slope led down to the plain, where a line of carriages continued along the wide, paved road. Beyond that, the mist rolled across the fields as if the clouds themselves had descended, and in the midst of it all, the city peeked out.

Old gray stones stretched out flat beyond the city walls, and buildings with reddish roofs rose like toy blocks, extending into the mist beyond. Like other cities, Basmut seemed to have been rebuilt and expanded over ancient ruins, likely due to an underground aqueduct. With a river nearby, they wouldn’t need to worry about waste being dumped in the streets. The thick fog blanketing the city was likely from the river as well.

"Once we enter the city, the meeting will start before noon and likely end before sunset," Fael said in a relaxed tone.

"What could a dark mage do in broad daylight, especially in a city? Even if the mage hasn’t given up, there’s no way he can stop the alliance from forming now."

"Hmm..." Ian shrugged and took another sip from the bottle instead of adding more. Whatever was going to happen would become clear once they arrived in the city.

***

At the wide-open city gates...

"I don’t understand this at all."

The caravan from the Ark Trading Company had come to a halt by the roadside, and Fael stood in front of the gate, glaring wide-eyed at the guard.

"Basmut is a free city. Why are you blocking us specifically?"

He spread his hands in protest, but the guard, helmet pulled low over his face, merely clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"You’re not the only ones being stopped. I’m just following orders, so don’t take it up with me."

"And what orders are those, exactly?" Fael sighed in exasperation.

Standing behind him, Ian, wearing his helmet as a personal guard, idly adjusted the wine bottle in his hand. From this point forward, he’d have to stick close to Fael for a while, but he wasn’t particularly surprised or concerned by the situation. He had expected something like this might happen.

The only thing that bothered him was the helmet pressing down on his head. It wasn’t one that fully covered his face, but it still felt stifling and dulled his senses.

It even makes my ears ring.

The heavier the equipment, the more it impacted not just required stats but some of his abilities. Helmets, for example, slightly diminished sensory or spell-related stats, likely because they covered the head. This was why most mages didn’t wear heavy iron helmets.

"I’ve already received permission from the lord for this meeting, and he even arranged the venue for us. I have a letter written by the lord himself right here!" Fael argued, pulling out the letter.

The guard, still unimpressed, responded with indifference, "Just wait. Didn't you see another guard heading inside? They're bringing an official. Like I said, complaining to me is pointless."

"Ugh... Fine," Fael grumbled, nodding and stepping back with a sigh. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he frowned and muttered, "This is strange... This shouldn't be happening."

What's so strange about it?

Ian thought to himself, glancing nonchalantly at the low city walls and wide-open gates. Fael wasn’t exaggerating—people were freely moving in and out of the city. Just like in Borta, there was a mixture of clothing styles and races among the passersby.

So most of the population of this world really is concentrated in the central region...

According to Elia, there were eight or nine cities of varying sizes centered around the capital, and Basmut was one of the smaller ones. Even a city like this, which would be called a major city in the western or northern regions, wasn’t particularly large by central standards. But it made sense—this was the heart of the Empire, the core of the continent. It was only natural for people to flock to this area.

"They're coming now..." Fael muttered, still frowning.

A stern-looking official in a formal robe approached, leading a small wagon. The guard who had gone inside earlier sat in the coachman’s seat, looking as uninterested as Ian.

Fael glanced at Ian and whispered, "Hand me the wine bottle, would you?"

Ian casually passed the bottle to him.

Fael added sheepishly, "Don't worry. This will be sorted out soon."

Ian just smirked, offering no response.

Fael turned and, with a wide smile as if he'd never been frowning, approached the official.

"Pleased to meet you! I'm Fael, running a small trading company," he said, holding out the bottle of wine.

"It seems there's been some misunderstanding. I’ve already explained the purpose of our visit to the lord and received permission."

"We're aware of that," the official replied coolly, accepting the bottle and meeting Fael's gaze.

"But there's no misunderstanding. This is by the lord's orders. If you want to enter the city, your guards must disarm."