Chapter 73: Aftermath

Over five hundred sheriffs arrived with a large force, even borrowing troops from the Dragon Eagle Corps. The disparity in strength between the two sides had become overwhelming. If the two men from the Smidland Kingdom still refused to surrender, they could only be killed on the spot. Fortunately, they were not so foolish. The mage was tightly bound with spells of magic sealing, while the warrior was shackled with heavy manacles, the insides of which were lined with spikes that pierced the flesh at any movement. These manacles were originally designed for orcs, but they could just as well be used to restrain experts of the sixth rank.

Kevin was immediately carried away for treatment. The professor, though unharmed, was elderly and quite exhausted from the ordeal, so he returned with the army to rest.

The two Smidlanders were interrogated through the night. Sixth-rank experts were indeed formidable, far beyond common soldiers. But knowing their rank, stronger forces were naturally dispatched to guard them. Given their foreign status, the authorities took the matter even more seriously. In addition to the chief of security, two nearby legion staff officers were present.

Still, the Smidlanders were uncooperative. They only admitted to researching ancient ruins for the sake of cultural contribution. They claimed to have encountered Kevin and the professor by chance in the Poisonous Forest, resulting in a misunderstanding, and ultimately, they had to restrain Kevin with ice manacles because he was dangerous.

At this time, Kevin was unconscious and the professor had retired for the night, so direct confrontation was impossible. However, their subsequent attack on the emergency squad and the kidnapping of Kevin and the professor were undeniable facts.

To these charges, they responded with evasions, silence, or feigned ignorance, pretending not to understand the language. Even when translators were brought in, they insisted the interpretation was inaccurate and claimed not to understand.

Given their special status, torture was out of the question. Sixth-rank experts were considered first-class in these small kingdoms, and mistreating foreign experts could easily escalate into a diplomatic incident. In any case, the suspects were in custody, and there was plenty of time to interrogate them.

The next morning, the incident was reported to Smidland, stating that two of their experts had attacked a professor from the Royal Academy, demanding an explanation, and that the suspects would be detained for the time being in hopes of preserving friendly relations.

Smidland immediately dispatched an envoy. They were themselves unclear about the details, claiming they had never ordered an attack on the Vice Principal of the Royal Academy. It was, in fact, an unauthorized action by the two experts. The envoy's primary aim was to ascertain the situation and, if possible, secure the release of their countrymen.

The Laubolle Kingdom also sent their own envoy. The two envoys delved deeply into diplomatic discussions, and when the Smidland envoy brought up the Poisonous Forest incident, the Laubolle envoy feigned surprise: "Is there such a thing?"

The Smidland envoy was speechless.

The Laubolle envoy promised further investigation and concern regarding the matter and arranged for the Smidland envoy to stay at the inn, assigning several servants to attend him. For three days, the envoy was kept in comfort, while the authorities continued to interrogate the two Smidlanders, rotating interrogators and questioning them for three days and nights.

Although the two were sixth-rank experts, they emerged considerably haggard. Out of humanitarian concern, their eyes and other wounds received rudimentary treatment, but only the most basic care was administered. Their eyes were bound in bandages, their hair was disheveled, their bodies reeked, and their faces were blackened. Even beggars on the street, upon seeing them, might pity them and offer a few coins.

The professor had already recovered by the second day and even proposed to re-enter the forest with the survey team. His academic dedication inspired everyone present, so the team provided extra guards for his protection. Eventually, the professor retrieved the torn animated illustrations of gorilla mating. Using the fragments as reference, he redrew the entire series.

He bound the illustrations into a book and, shuffling through the pages rapidly, the sequential drawings produced the illusion of motion, as if one were witnessing real gorillas in the act. The likeness was uncanny, and all present marveled at the professor's talent.

This task had originally been assigned to the Dream Return Mercenary Corps, but ended in failure. The mission was renamed "The Shame of the Dream Return Mercenary Corps." Months later, Kevin, then a recruit, received the assignment, but it was again a failure. Only the professor's leniency allowed it to be considered a pass. It wasn't until now, as Kevin took on the mission again, that it was truly completed. The hardships endured evoked much reflection.

Kevin remained unconscious for three days before finally waking. The accumulated exhaustion, the prolonged restraint of the ice manacles, and the blow from the sixth-rank warrior had taken their toll. After all, Kevin had only just completed two months of recruit training and hadn't even managed to muster red battle aura to shield himself. The healing priest admitted that were it not for the prompt rescue, Kevin might not have survived.

For the weak to challenge the strong is to gamble with death—a single misstep means the end. It is nothing like the strong crushing the weak, which is as effortless as a father disciplining his son. There is a reason the strong are called strong. Even if Kevin's surprise attack succeeded, a casual counterattack from his foe nearly killed him.

Killing is sometimes easy—a single stroke can suffice. At other times, it is not so simple—a stab can be answered by another, and even ordinary people, when severed at the waist, can cling to life for a while. Instantaneous death is only guaranteed by a blow to the head, or if the body is utterly destroyed. Some exceptionally strong individuals can even move after their hearts are pierced, and in their dying moments, their counterattack can be deadly. If you die in such a struggle, it is only mutual destruction; you have not truly triumphed.

Thus, for the weak to strike down the strong is far more difficult than tales would have one believe. Whether warrior or mage, achieving mutual destruction is already a victory for the weak.

Kevin’s attack had indeed been reckless, but he had little time to think. The warrior had seized him, the mage was perfectly positioned beside, and Kevin acted on instinct, sensing the opportunity. He seized the moment and struck, and though he succeeded, the warrior’s immediate retaliation knocked him down.

However, as long as the mage was disabled, the professor was freed from control, making the emergency squad’s rescue far easier. As for himself, Kevin believed that, knowing so many secrets, his captors would see his value and not kill him. Unfortunately, he was too naive this time.

By fortune, Kevin survived. After the priest’s care, he was told his chest and lungs had suffered internal injuries, and he was cautioned not to fight, get angry, speak much, or even raise his voice or breathe deeply for about a month.

Most of these restrictions were bearable, but speaking less was truly difficult for Kevin. Yet, he could not go against his own body; even a few hurried breaths caused pain in his chest, so he had to slow down.

Upon awakening, Kevin was required by security officials to write a report on the events. Still injured, he could not confront the two Smidlanders and kept his voice low during questioning.

The period of recovery was agonizing, and Kevin sometimes lamented why he could not simply wave his hand and be bathed in healing light, instantly restored to full strength by a spell of holy resurrection. Alas, even if the Pope himself were present, Kevin would still need a month to recover. Flesh wounds could be quickly healed by light magic, but Kevin’s injuries were internal, and his strength was low. If a Sword Saint suffered similar injuries, he might recover in half a day, or even with a cough.

Destruction is always easier than restoration—an unchanging truth. High-level healing spells are not casually used on the weak or commoners, not only because of the cost or the pride of the mages, but because the weak cannot endure the power of such magic; it can be counterproductive.

It is like overwatering a plant until its roots rot, or over-fertilizing it until it dies. Everything must be in moderation. Blindly pursuing advanced skills can do more harm than good. All things have their natural order, and only the strong can defy more of these rules. The weak must recover slowly on their own, with no one to substitute for them—unless, of course, gods existed.

After Kevin finished his report and answered a few questions, he was sent back to the Order of the Thunder Knights. Yet, his account left those present with a perplexing mystery.

Whose was the earth-mound rat present during the battle?

Twice, the rat emerged from the ground—once wielding a hammer, once with a double crossbow—playing a crucial role each time. Kevin and his companions had assumed the rat was the familiar of someone from the emergency squad—but it was not. The squad, in turn, thought it belonged to Kevin or the professor. The professor had already denied it, and Kevin had been unconscious. Now, upon awakening, Kevin also denied it.

Was there, then, a fourth party present at the scene?

Whatever the case, this mysterious fourth party had secretly aided Kevin and the others. For now, the matter could only be set aside. As for the two Smidlanders, with Kevin awake and his testimony in hand, proceedings could finally move forward.

The next day, the trial commenced. The Lord of Mossier City presided as judge, with the Smidland envoy in attendance—who, having been kept at the inn all this time, was somewhat bewildered to be summoned.

The two Smidland experts were brought to the dock, now clean and neatly dressed. Though they still wore heavy manacles, they appeared “spirited,” if a bit thin.

Before the court appearance, the sheriffs had forcibly bathed them, covered their dark circles with cosmetics, and masked all signs of exhaustion; from a distance, their foreheads shone, and up close, there was even a faint fragrance.

The Laubolle envoy was delighted. "See? We treat suspects humanely, don't we?"

The Smidland envoy was silent.

In truth, the trial was a mere formality. Kevin did not need to attend—his testimony sufficed. The professor was also absent, with only his statement submitted. The two Smidland experts continued to protest, but the judge calmly dismissed their objections.

The Smidland envoy was powerless; he could only confirm that the attack on the vice principal was not an order from his government, distancing Smidland from the affair. The two experts would have to bear the blame themselves.

In the end, the court fined the two experts one hundred thousand gold coins and ordered their deportation. If they objected, they could appeal; but the Lord of Mossier City hinted that an appeal would mean twenty years in prison.

Since they were foreign experts and no one had died in the incident, the death penalty was not warranted. Detaining them at home would be troublesome. Ultimately, a hefty fine was considered most practical; if they could not pay cash, collateral would suffice, or failing that, forced labor. The policy was flexible, but the money was non-negotiable.

Unsurprisingly, the experts chose the first option and asked the Smidland envoy for help. He had no choice but to contact their families and report the situation to his government after the trial.

The foreign government, as usual, dawdled over payment, clearly hoping to negotiate. The Lord of Mossier City was unfazed—payment meant release; no payment meant continued detention. As for the possibility of escape, it was only theoretical—after several days of meager rations, the prisoners could barely stand, let alone break out.

Meanwhile, upon his return to the barracks, Kevin soon received a payment of two hundred gold coins from the professor, along with a letter of thanks. With the successful completion of the task, the reward was generous. The letter was addressed to the general, who, upon learning the details, made a point of visiting Kevin in person—though there was little of substance to offer beyond his concern.