As a veteran of the long roads, the guard captain naturally understood the underlying implications behind the manager's desperate words. If this crisis truly was the work of an insider, then as the individual in charge of logistics and personnel arrangements, the manager certainly wouldn't be able to escape heavy institutional responsibility.
As for the guard captain himself, he wasn't worried about facing structural blame. To limit the security division's authority and ensure the manager wouldn't be restricted by him during transit, the merchant guild explicitly arranged all the subordinates for every single trip, allowing the captain to bring only two personal confidants. Therefore, as long as the traitor wasn't one of his own close associates, it definitely wouldn't be his problem. The reality was that the only confidants he had brought on this run were his own son and nephew, both of whom were currently stationed atop a nearby carriage frame with hand crossbows, dealing with the rushing Pincerbugs. It was absolutely impossible for them to be involved. Moreover, if it really were those two, they wouldn't have plotted behind his back; they certainly would have pulled him into the scheme with them.
Since this mess had nothing to do with him, his priorities were simple: protect his family and ensure the caravan survived the onslaught. As for the rest of the puzzle, someone back at the corporate headquarters would naturally judge the details once they returned to base.
The manager's countenance looked incredibly grim after hearing the captain's harsh dismissal. Just as he was agonizing over whether to initiate a messy internal investigation or simply pretend to be completely ignorant—reasoning that since the Pincerbugs couldn't easily breach the heavy wagons anyway, the guards would just have to fight harder, and once the chaos subsided, he could firmly insist there was no insider, leaving the higher-ups with no leverage to punish him—a crisp voice erupted from within the defensive circle.
"Hey! What exactly are you two doing over there?!"
The sudden shout caused everyone to instinctively turn their eyes in the direction of the sound. There, standing stealthily beside a heavy transport rack, were two figures who had quietly pried open the wooden latches of a locked cargo crate.
In an instant, every single member of the crew understood what the pair was doing. Even if they weren't the literal masterminds behind the Pincerbug swarm, they were looters intending to take advantage of a life-or-death crisis to plunder the caravan's private assets.
The manager's face turned pitch black. Because of their sloppy exposure, his plan to sweep the matter under the rug had completely fallen through. Now that everyone had witnessed them in the middle of a theft, his reputation was thoroughly compromised. As the manager who had accepted these two individuals into the transport network, he held inescapable responsibility for the breach. Failing to judge character properly was a fatal error for an administrator. His future career within the guild had been ruined by these two fools.
"Seize them!" the manager roared in pure anger, the shout snapping the startled guards back to their senses.
All he could do now was capture the pair and secure the physical evidence before delivering them directly to a local police station; only then could he hope to salvage a fraction of his standing. But his mood remained foul. He recognized these two as veterans who had traveled the trade routes alongside him for nearly three years. They were considered among his most trusted subordinates, and the revelation that traitors had emerged from his inner circle was a devastating blow to his professional standing.
The two thieves reacted instantly amidst the manager's furious roar. Abandoning all subtlety, they threw open the lid of the crate, hauled out a polished wooden box, and clutched it tightly against their chests. Then, pivoting on their heels, they sprinted toward the perimeter wagons, preparing to vault over the frames and escape into the wilderness.
This desperate movement proved one thing with absolute clarity: they were indeed the masterminds behind the appearance of the Pincerbugs. After all, everyone was well aware that the outer clearing was tightly surrounded by aggressive insects. If they were ordinary thieves, their logical choice would have been to take a hostage to force a standoff, or simply surrender to the guards. Admitting to simple theft wasn't a capital crime; even if they were bound and delivered to a city court, they would only face a brief confinement of a couple of weeks.
Instead, they chose the most dangerous option available: jumping out of the defensive ring and into a pitch-black wilderness teeming with apex predators. That meant they weren't worried about the Pincerbugs harming them, and the artifact they were attempting to smuggle away was incredibly valuable—so valuable that if they were processed in a civilized city, they would face severe consequences.
The guards stationed atop the carriage moved to block their path. However, the two thieves suddenly flashed wicked daggers from the folds of their traveling robes and began swinging the steel wildly, forcing the defenders to instinctively step back from the edge. Taking advantage of the hesitation, the pair leaped cleanly off the wagon bed.
The moment their boots hit the grass outside, one of them reached into his tunic, pulled out a small packet of crystalline powder, and scattered it back toward the interior of the camp. In the very next heartbeat, the Pincerbugs became noticeably more agitated, their mandibles clicking in a frenzy. Facing a wave of hyper-aggressive insects, the caravan personnel were forced to pull their attention away from the escapees to defend the line.
The two who had jumped from the carriage didn't immediately flee into the deep darkness of the woods. Instead, they rushed with a clear purpose toward the isolated vehicle where Flandre and the others were parked. Judging by their direct trajectory, they likely reasoned that since the neighboring camp consisted merely of a few lone women, seizing their private transport was the easiest option to secure a swift escape from the area.
Watching their rapid approach from the high tree branch, Clever noticed that neither Flandre nor Meiling had made a single move to descend; instead, they were looking down at the charging pair with highly amused expressions.
"Aren't you supposed to be the dedicated guard for the journey?" Clever inquired, looking over at Meiling in confusion. "Is it truly alright for us to just sit up here while they charge the camp?"
"Tch, they are just two little bugs. There isn't a single shred of danger down there," Meiling replied, casually rubbing her nose with a grin.
Beside her, Flandre offered a cheerful nod of agreement. "That is correct! Sakuya will handle the annoyance."
Hearing the child's assurance, Clever's mind flashed back to the clean, frighteningly efficient manner in which the head maid had neutralized the wilderness scouts during the day. With an individual like that waiting below, these two vermin had picked the worst possible target.
A brilliant silver light flashed through the shadows.
The two thieves let out a pair of miserable screams, their momentum snapping instantly as they collapsed to their knees on the damp grass. Before they could even understand what had struck them, their hands and feet were pinned firmly to the earth by several polished silver table knives that had materialized out of thin air, anchoring them securely to the ground.
Clever stared down at the pinned figures, her pupils shrinking in involuntary shock. According to her continuous tracking arts, Sakuya had remained seated within the carriage compartment the entire time. How had she managed to pierce their limbs with such flawless precision from inside the vehicle? Was it an advanced application of spatial magic that allowed her to manifest objects directly into a target's physical space? A cold shiver rippled through her frame.
Inside the carriage, Sakuya smoothly presented the wooden box she had cleanly snatched from the thieves' grasp, handing it over to Remilia.
Remilia pried open the latch to inspect the contents. Tucked inside the velvet lining was an old book inscribed with complex arcane incantations, resting beside a tightly wrapped, preserved specimen that appeared to be organic tissue harvested from an unknown creature. Remilia passed the volume over to Patchouli.
After flipping through the brittle pages for a brief moment, Patchouli offered a quiet analysis. "It appears to be specialized research detailing a form of bloodline curse magic. The formula is engineered to inflict an identical affliction upon every living individual sharing a specific genetic lineage, using a direct blood sample as a structural conduit."
She gestured toward the wrapped object. "That item is likely the vital energetic core required to execute the ritual described in the text. It looks like the preserved heart of an ancient spirit creature."
Remilia nodded slowly, satisfied with the explanation. She placed the items back into the wooden container and snapped the lid shut. "Once the engagement over there concludes, deliver these two individuals and the container back to that caravan manager. We shall demand a satisfactory price for our assistance."
While killing the thieves and keeping the artifacts for themselves would have been an incredibly simple matter, Remilia harbored zero personal interest in such crude objects. However, she had no intention of resolving another group's internal security crisis for free. Utilizing the captured traitors and the recovered cargo to extract a suitable sum of currency was the most practical outcome. After all, every single bit of their expenditures during this journey had been drawn from her younger sister's personal allowance. As the older sibling, Remilia felt a lingering touch of embarrassment regarding the arrangement, even if she refused to voice the sentiment aloud.
(Fumina: Sorry for not updating the past few days, got hit with two tests back to back.)