Sebastian had used one of the many ninja techniques taught by his clan. His mission was simple: infiltrate the merchant's guild, blend in as one of the guards, and secure transportation. A quick, easy errand—or so he thought.
"State your business," Ron growled, sword raised. "I'll decide whether to kill you or keep you for interrogation."
The butler chuckled. "Interrogate me? That's adorable. You won't get a word out of me. The fact you think you can even scratch me is what's truly amusing. Please—do your worst."
"Hmph. If you insist!"
Ron lunged, blade slicing through the air, but Sebastian dodged effortlessly. His movements were fluid, too quick for Ron to land a hit. The more Ron swung, the more frustrated he became, yet Sebastian remained calm, barely breaking a sweat.
Despite the gap in speed, Ron had solid reflexes. He evaded most of Sebastian's strikes, though barely—his blade always a fraction too slow.
With a swift push off the wall, Sebastian flipped overhead and launched four shuriken mid-air. Ron was forced back, the stars digging into the wall behind him. His uniform caught—each limb pinned.
Sebastian landed smoothly.
"The heart's in the right place," he said, "but your skills need serious work."
Ron struggled against the hold. "Grr… I'll kill you!"
"You've got potential. Maybe if you stopped poisoning your lungs with cigarettes, you might actually reach it."
"I don't need life advice from you."
Sebastian shrugged. "Suit yourself."
Ron writhed, but the stars held firm. All he could do now was stall.
"What do you want? Are you here because of our guest?"
"No," Sebastian replied. "Didn't even know there was one. I'm here for something entirely different—not that it concerns you."
"You won't get away with this."
Sebastian smirked and pulled a small pouch from his pocket.
"Let's see… ah, here it is. Valerian powder—plus some mystery ingredients. You look like you could use a nap."
"Stay back!" Ron shouted, struggling harder.
Sebastian raised the pouch to Ron's face. Within seconds, the young guard slumped forward, unconscious.
"Alright," Sebastian muttered. "Back on track."
One of William's few conditions had been clear: bring a carriage capable of carrying at least three people and their supplies. The Reinsfield family, despite their reputation as one of the wealthiest in the region, was in no position to lend one.
Sebastian refused to burden his master with the task. There was only one option left: steal one.
The merchant's guild was the perfect place to do so. Wealthy travelers loved to show off.
—There's always one who brings their flashiest ride, he thought.
He had taken Ron's appearance—now unconscious and hidden in the stables—and resumed the plan. One by one, he inspected the carriages until one caught his eye.
It was lavish, with a golden trim and a spacious, upholstered interior. Clearly the most expensive of the lot.
—Perfect.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Sebastian stiffened.
A coachman stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back, admiring the same carriage.
"It really is," Sebastian replied, scratching his cheek. "Looks sturdy, too. Uh… sorry, I didn't catch your name."
The coachman bowed. "Gustav."
"Oh, no need for that!" Sebastian extended a hand. "Name's Ron. Pleasure to meet you, sir."
The coachman smiled. "Likewise…"
—Complication, Sebastian thought.
He needed a way to get rid of the man. But how?
"So, Ron," Gustav asked. "What's your position here?"
"I'm just a guard. The lowest of the low."
From the outside, nothing about Ron's uniform stood out. He blended right in—an unremarkable low-rank officer.
"Really?" Gustav raised an eyebrow. "You seem like the cleverest of the bunch."
Sebastian tilted his head. "Is that so?"
The coachman leaned in, eyes sharp and discerning.
"You don't carry yourself like a simple guard."
A bead of sweat slid down Sebastian's face. He forced a chuckle, scratching the back of his head.
"I get that a lot from the others."
The man was sharp. Too sharp. Sebastian needed a distraction—and fast.
"Care for a drink?" Gustav offered. "I've got some fine wine in the carriage."
"I shouldn't. I'm still on duty."
"Nonsense. Your chief won't find out. And my master won't miss a bottle."
Sebastian smiled politely. "They'll probably notice eventually."
"If she does, I'll just replace it," Gustav said, smirking.
He poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Sebastian.
They raised their glasses. "Cheers."
But just as the glass neared Sebastian's lips, he paused. Gustav wasn't drinking—just pretending.
His eyes narrowed.
The wine glasses hit the floor at the same time steel clashed. Both men had drawn their katanas, blades locked. Silence followed—broken only by the sharp shatter of glass.
"When offered a drink," Gustav said, "the polite thing to do is drink."
"As far as I know," Sebastian replied, "drinks are supposed to be enjoyed together."
They circled one another, each sizing up the other.
"Something tells me you're not just a low-rank guard."
"And something tells me you're not just a coachman."
With a grin, Gustav flung a flurry of shuriken. Sebastian dodged effortlessly, running up the stable wall and leaping toward the roof.
The coachman followed—soaring even higher. In midair, he slashed his katana, unleashing a blade of wind.
Sebastian bent backward just in time, the gust slicing the air inches from his face.
Gustav landed, brandishing his weapon proudly.
"This sword absorbs the wind around it—then releases it as a blade. I've felled a thousand with a single swing."
He pointed the katana at Sebastian. "You'll be no exception."
Their swords clashed, sending powerful shockwaves through the air. Each strike was fast, nearly impossible to track. The strength between them was evenly matched—but the stables weren't built to withstand such a battle. The roof creaked and splintered.
—The carriage is inside. I can't let it get destroyed.
Sebastian tried to disengage, but Gustav pressed the attack.
"Eyes on me!"
Catching him off guard, Gustav kicked Sebastian off the roof. He crashed hard onto his back. Before he could recover, Gustav landed atop him, sword at his throat.
"Hm? You're not afraid of dying?"
"I've been through worse."
Gustav laughed. "Then let me show you something special…"
He raised his sword skyward. The air around them grew heavy, harder to breathe.
"This is the end!"
Before the final blow could land, the weakened roof gave way beneath them. Both men plummeted into the collapsing building, swallowed by smoke and debris.
Gustav coughed, scanning the ruins. He listened—then heard footsteps. With a swift swing, he cleared the smoke and fired another wind blade toward the sound, then dashed after it.
Steel met steel again, but something was off. The figure in front of him was trembling.
"You…"
Gustav stepped closer. The man's eyes were wide with fear.
"You're not the same man from before… are you?"
The figure shook his head.
Realization dawned. Gustav looked around. The real butler—and the carriage—were gone.
"The carriage? He wasn't after my master at all?"
He exhaled a long breath, then let out a laugh.
"I see… Clever bastard."
Somewhere during the collapse, Sebastian had woken Ron and used him as a decoy. By the time Gustav realized, Sebastian was already long gone—with the carriage.
He looked up at the moon and smirked.
"I hope we meet again, impostor."
Back at the gates, chaos erupted. Guards gave chase, archers rained arrows down, but Sebastian—despite the damage he caused—escaped mostly unscathed.
Carriage secured.
He made his way toward the forest, where a certain blacksmith was waiting.
The journey was finally about to begin.