I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy

Chapter 825

Caught completely off guard, Sanford froze, his eye widening.

He faced Ian, who calmly inhaled a breath of smoke.

“I-I have no connection to them, Agent of the Saint!”

His voice trembled as he dropped to one knee, almost collapsing.

"It’s true I’ve learned a bit about the darker side of those islanders from traveling there often. But that’s all!”

It seemed he had taken Ian’s words as a trap.

Well, it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption—Ian was the Agent of the Saint. However, Ian made no effort to correct him, simply looking down at Sanford in silence.

“A-And besides, it’s not even that great a secret! If you go back and forth there, you’re bound to find out eventually. It’s a legend among those island barbarians to begin with!”

Ian knew from experience that, in situations like this, staying silent often worked better.

“The ones who truly know the exact nature of those heretics would be others. For example—” Just like that, Sanford suddenly gasped and stopped mid-sentence.

Yog’s quiet laughter brushed across Ian’s mind as he finally exhaled a stream of smoke and asked, “For example?”

“Th-The ones involved themselves... perhaps...” Sanford muttered haltingly.

Though his head was still slightly bowed, Ian didn’t miss the way his eye trembled. There was clearly more to it, but Ian pretended not to notice.

Shifting the cigarette between his fingers, he continued, “That’s disappointing, Sanford. I thought you’d know something useful. Well, it can’t be helped. I’ll just have to take down one of their leaders and pry the information out of them. As planned.”

Sanford jerked his head up.

Meeting his gaze, Ian casually flicked ash aside and went on, “Don’t worry. In the meantime, you just wait quietly in the nearby waters.”

“W-Wait?” That alone was enough to make Sanford’s eye widen even further. He echoed the word blankly, forgetting even to stand.

Ian let out a low chuckle. “What, did you think it was one-way? Once everything’s done, you’ll obviously be taking us back to the mainland.”

“Th-that’s practically a death sentence! Even if the Black Fleet isn’t what it used to be, we’d be fish food before you even finish your business!” Sanford stammered desperately.

However, Ian only curled his lip further. “You really sound like an amateur. That level of risk is exactly why I’m offering such a large reward. I was hoping you might know an easier, faster way. But if you don’t, then it is what it is.”

Ignoring Sanford, who stood there with his mouth hanging open, Ian brought the cigarette back to his lips. He turned his gaze past the deck, not just to give Sanford time to think.

“Huff... huff!”

Hashim came running into view, clutching a glass bottle in both hands. Hearing the footsteps, Sanford’s shoulders jerked slightly.

He swallowed, then quickly said, “C-Could you perhaps... have a drink and give me a little time, Agent of the Saint? I might be able to think of another way.”

Ian inhaled a stream of smoke and gave a small shrug, briefly glancing at Hashim, who had slowed down with a frown upon spotting Sanford kneeling.

Sanford turned and shouted at him, “What are you hesitating for? Bring the Agent of the Saint his drink at once.”

“Y-Yes!”

Only then did Hashim hurry over again, holding out the bottle with both hands. Ian accepted it without hesitation and broke the wax seal. As he did, Hashim carefully stepped back behind Sanford, his gaze flicking nervously between the two.

—You really do enjoy leading people into traps like this, don’t you, my friend?

Yog whispered with amusement as Ian casually took a sip of the wine. At some point, the creature had slipped back up along the back of his neck, its head just barely peeking over the collar guard.

Letting out a quiet snort, Ian swallowed, then glanced to the side. “Want a drink too?”

He had felt Elia’s intense gaze.

She immediately reached out—then shook her head slightly, still looking at him with that same strange, eager expression.

—Your goddaughter seems to have quite a lot she wants to ask.

Yog added, sounding unusually put off.

Of course she does. It’s her favorite topic.

Suppressing a chuckle, Ian gave in with a slight nod.

Elia’s eyes widened in surprise before she broke into a bright smile and brought the bottle to her lips.

Of course, he hadn’t allowed her to stay simply to satisfy her curiosity. Ian himself knew very little about the Isles. She would naturally ask the questions he needed answered.

If she strays too far, I can just cut in.

Ian turned his gaze back to Sanford. The man was still kneeling on one knee, even chewing at his thumbnail, clearly too consumed to even think about standing.

He couldn’t tell why the man was so conflicted, nor was he particularly curious.

“Forgive the question, but how much do you know about the Black Isles?” Sanford asked quietly, just as Ian tilted the bottle toward Mukapa as an offer.

Mukapa politely declined with a raised palm, and Ian turned back to Sanford.

“Enough to know there are four lords.”

“Two are natives of the Black Isles, but the other two are originally from the Empire. Officially, they serve the Western Duke and were dispatched to govern the archipelago and develop the Black Sea,” Sanford said in an even tone.

Behind him, Hashim’s eyes widened in shock at what he was hearing.

“You mean former Imperial Navy officers became rulers of the archipelago?” asked Elia.

“Yes. I’ve heard replacements go through strict vetting, requiring approval from both the royal house and the Great Church before the Western Duke appoints them. Though I’ve never seen one replaced myself.”

At that, Elia narrowed her eyes slightly and continued, “Then what about the rulers who are native to the archipelago? Were they appointed the same way? It seems like local cooperation would’ve been necessary to conquer and control the islands.”

“And it would’ve helped minimize resistance in occupied territories,” Ian added casually after taking another sip.

Sanford nodded at once. “That’s what I’ve heard. It’s probably why they turned a blind eye to those islanders secretly worshipping that ancient god.”

“So you’re saying the Western Duke and the Imperial-appointed rulers were controlling the corrupted factions in the Isles?” Elia’s voice carried a note of disbelief as Hashim pressed a hand to his forehead.

Sanford gave a slow nod. “That’s likely the case. I believed for a long time that nothing serious would come of it. Their ‘offerings’ to the sea were minor, and we received our share of help from them on more than one occasion.”

He glanced briefly back at Hashim before continuing. “Of course, that was because I trusted that if they ever crossed the line, the rulers would punish them immediately and the Great Church would send a Purification Squad.”

By now, his tone had taken on the weight of a confession, which explained why he was still kneeling.

Politely extending both hands toward Ian, Elia asked, “So that wasn’t the case?”

Ian passed her the bottle.

Sanford hesitated, then said, “At the time, our main role was to sell Southern goods to the archipelago and generate discreet funds for His Grace the Duke. Occasionally, we’d make quiet stops in the West as well. It was quite a profitable arrangement.”

“Good heavens, Captain...” Hashim shut his eyes tightly with a groan, as if a taboo had just been broken.

And in a sense, it had. They had, just now, effectively betrayed Duke Jihandar.

Sanford continued without hesitation, “After the signs of erosion began, His Grace stopped sending us out. He said it was to prepare for an invasion, but he was probably just trying to squeeze more money out of it.”

It almost sounded like he had decided to spill everything. Perhaps it was his way of settling a personal grudge.

“As expected, the archipelago contacted us first. We were ordered to deliver supplies to Villanueva. We planned to charge double, but when we arrived, the atmosphere in the city felt off. There was this subtle tension in the air.”

“So the signs of erosion affected the Black Sea as well,” Elia murmured after taking a sip.

Sanford let out a bitter smile. “That was part of it—but not all. After the Western Duke died, Lord Hector Drapier, one of the rulers, sent a letter to the Great Church... but received no support at all.”

“So things in the archipelago started falling apart after Duke Kralen died,” Ian muttered, a cigarette between his lips, the corner of his mouth curling slightly.

“There were signs even before that. But that’s when it all started surfacing.” Sanford nodded in agreement, then looked at Ian with a newfound awareness. “So it was you who dealt with the Western Duke, Agent of the Saint.”

That was likely why Elia turned toward Ian in surprise.

Ian said nothing, only exhaling a slow stream of smoke.

Figures.

Come to think of it, the archipelago had been part of a DLC in the game. Kralen’s death might have been the trigger that unlocked it.

“Was that your last visit to the Isles?” Elia shifted the topic a moment later.

Sanford shook his head. “I went once more after the erosion began. The atmosphere had changed completely. The ships didn’t feel like protection anymore—they felt like surveillance. And the presence surrounding those people... it was...” Sanford trailed off, dragging a hand over his face.

“Similar to what we experienced before we deserted,” Hashim finished his sentence with a heavy sigh.

Sanford nodded slowly. “After that, I avoided going back, making excuses whenever I could. Instead, I started taking on even more dangerous work on the mainland.”

“Let’s get to the point,” Ian cut in, pulling the bottle back toward himself with the Willful Grasp.

Sanford watched the bottle like a thirsty man, then nodded. “Yes. The ruler I met back then was Hector Drapier. He’s not entirely sane, but he’s not the type to worship that ancient god either. He’s an apostle of Lu Logis.”

“Good heavens...” Elia’s eyes widened as she breathed out in disbelief.

As Sanford shrugged, Elia continued, “But even if he hadn’t fallen, would he still be alive? It wouldn’t be strange if the corrupted ones had killed him or if the Goddess of Fortune had shown him a different face.”

Sanford nodded. “I’m aware. But even so, Villanueva would still be the easiest city to take. It would be ruled by subordinates, not the lord himself.”

He didn’t seem to believe Drapier was still alive either.

Ian lowered the bottle and muttered, “So we beat the information out of whoever’s in charge and find the heretics’ stronghold.”

“Yes, Agent of the Saint.”

“And who knows? The Goddess of Fortune might still be smiling,” Elia added.

Sanford hesitated, and Hashim’s brow twitched.

Unaware of their reactions, Elia continued, “If that’s the case, we might locate their temple without bloodshed and even gain their cooperation.”

Ian handed her the bottle again and nodded. “True. The fleet that entered the inner sea back then only flew three banners, didn’t it, Mukapa?”

“I did not see them myself. But I recall you saying so at the time,” Mukapa replied.

Sanford’s brow twitched again.

Elia, holding the bottle, let out another gasp. “Now that I think about it—that fleet was wiped out, wasn’t it? If Lord Drapier were still alive back then, he might still be now. That would mean he’s had incredible luck!”

“Well, either way, it’s worth trying. It’s a solid plan, Sanford,” Ian said, turning back to him.

Sanford gave an oddly stiff smile and nodded. “You’re too kind, Agent of the Saint.”

“Strange you didn’t bring it up sooner,” Ian added, placing the cigarette between his lips.

Sanford’s smile stiffened further.

After watching him for a moment through a thin veil of smoke, Ian narrowed his eyes slightly. “Were you worried he might still be alive?”

“N-No, of course not! That’s not it!” Sanford answered a beat too late, his eye twitching. It was obvious he’d been hit right where it hurt.

Even Hashim had widened his eyes.

Ian curled one corner of his mouth and exhaled slowly. “So you owe him too.”