The expressions of the three soured, and the bandits, sensing the change, looked resigned.

They nodded understandingly at Viretta, sympathy evident in their eyes.

“We understand. In the eastern regions, the power of the Medleridge family is as grand as that of a duke. The members of that household are treated like royalty, even higher than the rulers of some small countries.”

It stung the trio’s consciences to be comforted by the very people Medleridge had displaced.

“It's not… exactly like that, right, Viretta?” Lanken stammered.

“Right. Not… exactly,” Viretta added.

“Yes. Even for a wealthy family, we’re all just people. We lead similar lives, really. In fact, sometimes they’re entirely the same,” Iola murmured, hiding his bitterness under the thin veneer of truth.

The bandits’ expressions grew even more sympathetic.

“We understand. With Najin’s famed Dusk Mercenary Corps here, there’s no reason to rely on Fillian’s pitiful mercenaries. For people like us, going to a dragon’s nest is terrifying.”

“Don’t feel too bad. The Dusk Mercenary Corps didn’t want to go, either,” Iola replied with a bitter sigh.

“No way! The legendary captain who’s said to have bested ten men in battle would surely welcome the chance to face a dragon.”

“If that were the case, we wouldn’t be here,” Iola muttered, remembering how his father had refused countless times.

Misunderstanding his words, the bandits nodded sympathetically. “Exactly.”

“If only the captain of the Dusk Mercenary Corps was as bold as people think,” Lanken lamented, casting his gaze toward the distant hills, his face a mixture of frustration and resignation.

Viretta clicked her tongue and closed her eyes in silent regret.

Amidst the heavy atmosphere of guilt and conflicting emotions, Iola lifted his head with determination.

“We understand your plight. Rest assured, this union between the two families will never happen. We will risk our lives to stop it.”

“W-Why would you…?”

“Why go so far?!”

The sturdy bandits blanched, bewildered and deeply alarmed.

While they appreciated the sentiment, risking their lives to stop the marriage? It was extreme, to say the least.

Viretta, sensing the need for a bit more dramatic flair, added with a triumphant grin, “Yes, we’ve already sent the blood-soaked head of a horned beast to the Medleridge engagement ceremony.”

“Why on earth…?! What makes you so determined to ruin someone else’s wedding? We appreciate the support, but why to this extent?!”

“What frightening people…!”

The bandits, horrified by Viretta and Iola’s audacity, looked as though they were about to faint. Their eyes rolled back, and their bodies trembled as tears began to well up in their eyes.

“Sniff, sniff…”

“It’s over for us… We’re doomed…”

Seeing their despair, Viretta tilted her head in confusion.

“Why are you crying? I, Viretta, am bravely stepping forward to solve your problems!”

“Look at that! We’re done for!” one of the bandits wailed.

The more vigorously Viretta proclaimed her intentions, the deeper the bandits sank into hopelessness. To them, Viretta and Iola appeared to be complete lunatics.

They had expected sympathy, but instead heard about a blood-drenched “gift” to the Medleridge wedding. Now they feared they might be lumped in as accomplices. With the villagers long gone and Iola and Viretta clueless about the commoners’ plight, Lanken found himself caught in a tragic farce as the sound of sniffles grew louder around him.

Then.

“What on earth are you doing? Struggling to manage a single small village? Pathetic fools.”

A grizzled voice cut through the sobs.

Suddenly, the faint presence of someone nearby became unmistakably clear.

“Boss!”

“Boss!”

The bandits, who had been kneeling, scrambled to their feet, hope rekindling in their eyes.

Viretta glanced at this “boss” with subtle tension. The fact that they dared to feel safe in her presence meant she was powerful enough to stand against Iola’s skill.

The “boss,” wearing a long robe, pulled down her hood, revealing herself as an elderly woman with long, snow-white hair tied in a braid, and a staff made of ancient wood.

Though frail in appearance, the old woman radiated a hardened resolve and skill.

Despite facing the young man who had so easily subdued her underlings, the elderly woman appeared unflinching, and Iola, for his part, remained calm in her presence.

“Put down the staff and step back. I have no desire to draw my sword on an elder.”

“An elder? Who’s an elder?! I’ve got at least thirty years left! How dare you treat me like a decrepit hag?”

Before Viretta could mutter, “Thirty years left would still make you an elder…” the air around them suddenly crackled with electricity and erupted in a thunderous boom.

With a loud roar, the woman raised her staff, and a tremendous bolt of lightning struck the ground at Iola’s feet, charring the earth and sending pebbles flying, hitting Lanken and the bandits.

The confidence Viretta and Lanken had gained from witnessing Iola’s prowess quickly turned to chills running down their spines.

“V-Viretta…”

“I-I know.”

The old woman had cast a powerful lightning spell without an incantation, a level of mastery that ordinary magicians couldn’t hope to match. Worse, it was lightning magic—one of the most lethal among elemental magics.

Lightning, alongside fire, was known as a twin pillar of battle magic. It had unmatched destructive power, enough to inflict severe injury even with the slightest touch.

Even Iola, who had defeated so many without injuring them, couldn’t afford to take this opponent lightly. There was a real chance he might be overpowered.

Sensing danger, Lanken kept casting worried glances at Viretta, who responded with a determined nod.

“Don’t worry. If things get dicey, I’ll use my trump card.”

“You have a trump card?”

“Of course! As the daughter of Medleridge, I carry at least three trump cards.”

“Yeah, but what does Medleridge have to do with—”

While the two whispered about an escape plan, the old bandit leader intensified her magic, lightning bolts striking the ground in rapid succession. As Iola barely dodged each strike, she grinned with a twisted satisfaction.

“It’s been a while since I met someone with some spirit. Ha, just the kind of fight I’d enjoy. Don’t hold back just because I’m older—come at me!”

“As much as I dislike fighting elders, it does leave a bad taste,” Iola replied, still holding his sword but not backing down.

The tension between them was broken by the bandits, who bravely stepped between the two.

“Boss! You can’t do this! This guy spared us. Let’s just take the ransom and let him go!”

“Yes, and he’s from Najin’s reputable mercenary background. He’s no easy opponent. If you get hurt, what’ll we do?”

The burly men wiped their tear-streaked faces, clutching at the elderly woman’s robes. Annoyed, she swung her staff at them in irritation.

“So, we should let him go just because he spared you? With that attitude, how can you call yourselves bandits?”

“Well, we have to have some honor. He spared our lives; we can’t ask you to risk yours…”

“Bah. Hey, you over there. What do you think?” the old mage said, shoving the sniffling bandits aside and pointing her staff at Iola.

Clearly annoyed, she wanted his stance on whether to continue the fight or pay ransom and leave.

Iola smiled warmly, like a kindly angel.

“To see such loyalty and honor alive even among trash worse than dogs… truly, it warms my heart.”

“You brat!” she bellowed.

A storm of lightning crackled from her staff, and even the bandits who had been pleading for his life recoiled in horror. Iola, however, looked genuinely puzzled.

“Why are you angry? I didn’t insult or belittle you. It may be upsetting, but as those who chose to live as trash—”

Just as he had before, he began weaving the words that had sparked the bandits’ anger.

Even the hardened, sixty-something bandit leader couldn’t endure the insults, and her fist clenched with fury.

“You impudent brat! You don’t even know—”

“Hold everything!” a lively voice suddenly interrupted as someone threw herself between the fiery swordsman and the seasoned mage.

Viretta, with arms outstretched, now stood between Iola and the elderly mage.

Lanken instinctively moved to stand behind her, shielding her back.

So far, this was within everyone’s expectations. It wasn’t unusual for a young woman—whether naive or courageously devoted to love—to throw herself into the fray to protect a man.

But Viretta was unlike most women.

With a confident grin, she pointed at the elderly mage.

“Hmph, all the mysteries are solved.”

“…?”

Her words seemed utterly out of place, leaving everyone with question marks in their minds.

Viretta savored the brief silence with a pleased expression.

“I, the renowned detective whose mere presence quiets even crying children, will solve this case for you!”

“???”