Bosk’s voice thundered through the area, reducing the members of House Rebisole to a heavy silence.
They had plenty they wanted to say in their defense, but when faced with the most undeniable evidence imaginable—the corpse of a man found at the attack site—any protest lacked credibility.
Even so, as servants of House Rebisole, they could not simply roll over and accept Bosk’s accusations.
The man squaring off against Bosk spoke up, his voice strained by the knowledge that he was grasping at straws.
"There’s no proof that body was actually found at the attack site! We can't rule out the possibility that someone from House Silva, desperate to settle this quickly, planted a corpse to frame House Rebisole!"
His words were born of sheer desperation.
However, a certain individual who knew that this desperate guess hit upon a fragment of the truth heard the man and caught their breath.
It was a mere coincidence. But what if Bosk heard that and chose to pursue the truth instead of avenging his subordinates?
To prevent the momentum from shifting, another voice cried out from the crowd.
"That's right! House Silva is just looking for an excuse to crush House Rebisole! They’re staging this farce to blame us for their own warehouse burning down! Don't let them get away with it! If we don't stand up now to protect the honor of House Rebisole, who will?!"
The cry rose from within the Rebisole family’s forces.
Logically, the claim was riddled with holes. If the fire had truly been caused by the negligence of the Silva guards, then why were those same guards all dead? Their bodies hadn't been reclaimed by the fire; they bore the clear marks of blade slashes and arrow wounds.
The scenario was blatantly unnatural. However, in this high-tension standoff where everyone was radiating murderous intent, few were capable of such calm deduction. Even if a few tried to raise points of logic, their voices were swallowed by the angry roars of the mob.
"Quiet down!"
A sharp voice rang out, cutting through the chaos.
The Rebisole family’s forces split down the middle, and an old man leaning on a cane emerged.
Surrounded by several guards, Shaffner reached the front line and turned an exasperated gaze toward Bosk.
"I always knew you were a fool, but I never imagined you would pull a stunt like this."
"Hmph. Call me a fool all you want. I’m just not 'clever' enough to stand by and watch while my younger brothers are slaughtered."
"And what makes you so certain we were the ones who did it?"
In response to Shaffner’s question, Bosk gestured with his chin toward the nearby cart.
Shaffner followed the gaze. Even upon seeing the corpse on the cart, his expression remained unchanged, eventually shifting into a look of feigned bewilderment.
"And who is this supposed to be?"
"Lord Shafner, that man served House Rebisole until a few days ago," one of his subordinates whispered. "He was dismissed for causing some trouble."
"...Hmm? Now that you mention it, I suppose there was someone like that..." Shaffner muttered.
He tried to recall the dead man's face, but no memory surfaced. Shaffner had indeed met the man—he had fired him during a drunken whim—but he hadn't bothered to remember the face of a servant.
Regardless, the confirmation from the man who had been arguing with Bosk made the connection clear to everyone.
"Well? You feel like confessing why you attacked us now?" Bosk growled.
If Shaffner dared to spout any more nonsense, Bosk fully intended to use his claymore to smash that scrawny frame into the dirt. Shaffner’s reply, however, was haughtily dismissive.
"Even if that man once served House Rebisole, he was already dismissed. He has nothing to do with us now. No matter what drivel you spout, the fact remains that you are using military force to intimidate me. While I am still feeling merciful, you should turn around and tuck your tail between your legs. If you leave now, I might... well, I can’t exactly pretend this never happened, but I might see to it that you aren't held too strictly to account."
Perhaps because he knew House Rebisole hadn't actually launched the raid, Shaffner’s arrogance was off the charts.
Had Bosk been even slightly more composed, they might have found a point of compromise. In this situation, however, Shaffner’s words had the exact opposite effect.
"I see, I see... If that's how you want to play it, then I guess there's no choice."
"Hmph. Quite right. It's good that you understand. From now on, you should learn to respect your elders—"
"Shut up, you senile old fool!"
Bosk’s roar thundered across the street, cutting Shaffner’s smug lecture short.
"Wha—you... how dare you..."
"I've realized that talking to you is a waste of breath. From here on, we do this by force! Men, charge!"
"Uooooooooh!"
At Bosk’s command, House Silva's forces let out a collective, bloodthirsty roar.
The members of House Rebisole, seeing the sheer intensity of the Silva faction, began to shrink back. They had fundamentally misunderstood the situation. Bosk might be the Head of House Silwa and a leader of the Martial Faction, but they never truly believed he would launch a full-scale assault.
The fact that House Rebisole was innocent of the specific crime they were being accused of only added to their hesitation.
But Bosk didn't care about their confusion. He leveled his claymore and sprinted toward the Rebisole family’s forces.
A hesitant mob on the verge of flight versus a disciplined force charging to avenge their fallen comrades—the outcome of the collision was a foregone conclusion.
"Take this!"
"Damn you! This is for the boys at the warehouse!"
"Hey, what’s wrong?! You’re the ones who started this fight! We're giving you exactly what you wanted! Fight back, damn it!"
"Hieee! Help!"
"Fall back! Regroup inside!"
"Don't run, you idiots! If we break now, they'll overrun us!"
Cries of rage and terror filled the air as skirmishes broke out all along the thoroughfare.
However, the battle was overwhelmingly one-sided. House Silva held the advantage in numbers, quality, and morale. The Rebisole forces had been looking for an escape route from the second the first blow landed.
Fortunately for them, despite his rage, Bosk didn't actually intend to massacre every member of House Rebisole.
As he swung his massive claymore, he didn't use the edge. Instead, he struck with the flat and the center of the blade, wielding the heavy weapon like a giant metal club to batter down anyone in his path.
Naturally, the sheer weight of the strikes caused some injuries, and the occasional slip of the tip left a few gashes, but Bosk swung the weapon with a focus on suppression rather than slaughter.
Since the rest of the Silva forces had also been instructed to avoid unnecessary kills, the death toll was surprisingly low for a clash of this scale.
Bosk kicked a fleeing man in the back, sending him tumbling. Ignoring the man as he slumped unconscious, Bosk quickly scanned the area.
He was looking for Shaffner.
Rather than dragging out this brawl and increasing the casualties, he wanted to capture the Head of House Rebisole and force a confession. Shaffner, however, seemed to have realized he was the primary target; as soon as the fighting started, he had vanished into the safety of the mansion's interior.
(Tsk. I should have finished him with the first strike instead of letting him talk.)
Bosk wasn't sure if he should blame his own lack of foresight or praise Shaffner for having such unexpected speed for a man with one foot in the grave. Inwardly clicking his tongue, he swept his claymore in a wide horizontal arc, clearing a path through the remaining Rebisole adventurers who were attempting a final, desperate stand.
He cast a quick glance at the men he’d sent flying. Seeing that they were still breathing and not bleeding out, he judged they were no longer a threat and continued his advance... until the massive mansion loomed before him.
In terms of sheer size, it was comparable to House Silva's Residence. But where Bosk’s home was a testament to simple sturdiness, the building before him was a garish monument to wasted wealth, so over-decorated it could only be described as being in poor taste.
Sturdiness versus vanity. Bosk glared at the estate—the polar opposite of his own—and watched as the guards tried to slam the main gates shut to bar his entry.
"Don't you dare think you can hide behind your walls!"
With a roar of fury, he ignored the Rebisole servants left outside the gates and slammed his claymore into the reinforced metal.
A deafening, high-pitched clang erupted.
The people nearby, from both sides, instinctively clutched their ears at the bone-shaking vibration, but Bosk didn't slow down. He struck the gate a second time, then a third.
If Bosk were wielding a mundane weapon, the gate might have held. But there was no way the weapon of a head of one of the Three Houses Governing Exil—especially a man known for his martial prowess—was anything less than extraordinary.
"Hyaaaaaaaaah!"
Despite the repeated impacts, the claymore showed no signs of chipping. On the contrary, with every strike, the force behind the blade seemed to grow. Finally, as the number of strikes passed twenty...
With a piercing crack that drowned out everything else, the gate doors were torn from their hinges and sent flying inward.
"Phew... phew... alright, men! Nothing's stopping us now! Into the mansion! Scour every room! I want everything—info on the mercenaries they hired, any records of the Anomaly Species, anything that looks like evidence! And if you find Shaffner, bring him to me!"
Breathing hard, Bosk raised his claymore and shouted the order.
Once he was sure his voice had carried, he swung the claymore in a sharp warning arc.
"But listen up! We aren't bandits! Don't you dare lay a finger on anything valuable! Don't use unnecessary force on the servants! If I catch anyone looting or being a thug, I'll cut you down myself! Understood?!"
"Oooooooooh!"
With a roar of compliance, about seventy percent of the force stormed into the mansion. The remaining thirty percent fanned out to secure the grounds outside.
Bosk turned to his confidant, who remained by his side.
"Stay here and coordinate the reports."
He was looking at the sharp-featured man in the butler's uniform—Sanctions, Bosk's Right-hand Man.
"I can do that, Lord Bosk. But what do you intend to do?"
"I'm going in. I'd rather find the truth myself than wait around for someone to bring it to me."
"As the leader of House Silva, I would prefer you to stay here in safety..."
"This is still House Rebisole. They might have some high-level guards tucked away inside. If there's a real fight, it'll be faster if I handle it myself."
"...I see it's useless to argue. Very well. However, please be extremely cautious. I still have a bad feeling about this. Given how perfectly timed that corpse was discovered, there may still be a hidden hand at work."
Sanctions cast a wary glance back toward the corpse on the cart. Bosk nodded.
"Yeah, I get it. But even if it's a setup, the fact remains that House Rebisole is neck-deep in this. The circumstantial evidence is as black as it gets, even if the timing is a bit too convenient."
"As long as you're aware. Also, as you mentioned earlier, please ensure no excessive violence is used against the Rebisole servants..."
"I know, I know. For better or worse, they're still Residents of Exil... my subjects. Besides, I'm just the bait. I'm going to show them just how much life I've got left so the big fish finally bites the hook."
With a final nod, Bosk hoisted his claymore onto his shoulder and strode into the mansion.
Sanctions watched his master's retreating back and sighed softly.
"Bait, is it? I shall never grow used to a head of house acting as his own lure. But I suppose to catch a monster, ordinary bait won't suffice. Lord Bosk, please return safely."
After a brief prayer for his master's safety, Sanctions set to work.
In the hours that followed, a report detailing the results of experiments involving Magic Stones was discovered within the estate. This led the Silva forces to a Laboratory near the Exil Slum District. They raided the facility immediately, but every researcher inside was already dead. Still, the data recovered there confirmed that illegal experiments were indeed being conducted within the dungeon.
...However, they found absolutely no evidence linking the events to the Holy Light Religion. As for Shaffner, he had vanished entirely, escaping justice for the time being.