Wizard: This witcher is neglecting his duties.

Chapter 231 The Most Unlucky King

"Snapped!"

Tall and bearded, with a bulging belly from years of alcoholism, Henselt slapped the servant hard across the face, reeking of alcohol, and shouted in a violent voice:

"You useless trash have betrayed my trust and disgraced the Kingdom of Cordwin."

"It's been three months. I gave you three months, and you still haven't been able to find out anything about that damn mercenary."

"That guy is a mercenary. He needs to eat, sleep, and find women. He can't live alone in the wild. He needs to buy supplies and interact with people."

"Even if he were a pig, we should have been able to find clues about him by now."

"You guys are worse than pigs, even dumber than inhuman bastards."

The servant who was slapped felt wronged. First of all, this matter was not under his jurisdiction; he was merely a messenger. Secondly, he would report on Dante's whereabouts every week, and each report would result in a severe beating. He was practically the king's punching bag.

However, even though he felt wronged, the servant dared not talk back or argue. Ever since the count, who was a distant relative of the king, was killed by the human mercenary Dante at his banquet, several servants in the palace had angered King Henselt for no apparent reason and were imprisoned by the king on trumped-up charges, sentenced to more than ten years in prison.

He didn't want to follow in the footsteps of these unfortunate men because of saying the wrong thing.

Seeing that the servant was like a block of wood, not reacting at all after being slapped, Henselt went over and kicked him again. When that still didn't elicit any response, he got bored and stopped doing anything. He swayed his fat body back to the table, picked up a large glass of strong liquor, and gulped it down.

As the strong liquor went down his throat, a burning sensation surged from his stomach, flowed down his throat, and rushed into his brain, making his already quite agitated mood even more clouded. His already weak mind became somewhat blurred due to the alcohol, his thoughts went blank, and it was as if all his troubles had left him.

Just as Henselt let out a burp, feeling somewhat unsatisfied and preparing to take a few more sips, the palace steward's duck-like voice suddenly reached his ears, interrupting his enjoyment.

"Your Majesty, two sorcerers sent by the Brotherhood of Sorcerers have arrived at your palace and are awaiting your audience."

"They will accompany you on the hunt today, and the other noble knights are already waiting at the hunting grounds for your arrival."

Henset, who was quite annoyed by the interruption, suddenly realized and slapped his forehead. Ah, yes, today was the day he and some of the kingdom's great nobles had arranged to go hunting together.

The nobles he had arranged to meet this time were all like him, deeply disgusted with non-human races, and supporters of his plan to clean up the non-human trash in the kingdom and establish a pure human kingdom. They were his staunch supporters, and in a sense, staunch royalists.

Therefore, Henset attached great importance to this hunting festival, which was meant to win over the nobles. Otherwise, at this time on ordinary days, he would have already found some beautiful prostitutes and been drinking and playing with women.

However, having learned from the previous incident where the human mercenary Dante stormed the banquet, Henselt was taking extra precautions this time to ensure the hunting festival was foolproof and free of any security risks. He not only summoned three hundred armored knights as guards, but also, in addition to his royal advisor Cille de Tansavier, two sorcerers sent by the Brotherhood of Sorcerers to capture Dante would also participate in the hunting festival.

If that human mercenary doesn't cause trouble, that's fine. But once we discover his whereabouts, we can definitely catch him or kill him outright.

Thinking of this, Henselt snorted and called out to the palace steward:

"Have a servant help me change my clothes. It's been a long time since I've stretched my muscles. This time, I'm going to hunt a winter bear and hang its head on the wall of my study."

This is the season when bears emerge from hibernation and come out to hunt for food, making them most active. If you're lucky, it's easy to find traces of winter bears.

With this in mind, Henselt soon arrived at the hunting camp outside the city with a large group of people, along with the palace servants, sorcerers, and guards.

Throughout the camp, there were countless colorful and magnificent tents, neatly arranged together, with the coats of arms and banners of various nobles fluttering in the wind, creating a very impressive sight.

Including the elite knights arranged by Henselt, the servants and guards brought by the various nobles, the total number of combat personnel in the entire camp exceeded one thousand, with more than eight hundred cavalrymen, most of whom were elite knights wearing iron armor. In terms of combat power alone, they were enough to conquer a small city.

Inside the magnificent royal tent, Henselt sat in the central seat, with two rows of nobles from various families below him. The three sorcerers did not sit with these nobles, but instead sat alone in a small tent not far from the royal tent, exchanging information in hushed tones while using magical artifacts to listen to the conversation inside the royal tent.

As the host, Hill was the first to ask the question:

"Ms. Vanellope, you and Mr. Istrid have already visited the two sites where the soldiers were massacred. Did you find any special information about the human mercenary Dante?"

The sorceress named Vanir has beautiful brown hair, above-average looks, and an elegant demeanor, resembling a scholar. She is a member of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, but does not serve as a royal advisor in any country. She is a relatively independent member with her own research projects.

After listening to Sylvanas's question, the sorceress took out a notebook. The first page featured a colorful oil painting that looked exactly like Dante, whom Wayne had transformed into. Below it was a detailed description of Dante's physical characteristics, including his height, weight, skin color, hair color, and the weapons and equipment he used. The description was absolutely clear and accurate.

With a wave of her hand, she made a copy of the portrait and intelligence, handed it to Hill, and said:

"This is what we pieced together from the survivors and some clues at the scene. The physical characteristics of the criminal have been compared from multiple sources and there should be no errors."

"Compared to those flawed wanted posters you've put up, this portrait will be much more helpful in catching the criminals."

"Based on the deceased's wounds, characteristics of death, and descriptions from some survivors."

"We can be fairly certain that this mercenary named Dante is proficient in invisibility magic, can use a large-scale lightning spell, and a strange spell to create clones. At the same time, his physical combat ability is also very strong, far exceeding the range of ordinary humans, and the equipment he carries is definitely at least magical equipment level."

"In terms of combat power alone, it is probably equivalent to an elite force of more than 500 men."

"In conclusion, this is a powerful enemy who possesses both spellcasting and physical combat abilities, and is probably comparable to the adults in the Supreme Council."

"If we rely solely on the strength of the two of us sorcerers, it's practically impossible to defeat him head-on. We need a large army to surround and annihilate him, creating opportunities for us to cast spells."

At this point, Van Nier and Istrid exchanged a glance, then looked at Silver and said with a hint of helplessness:

"To be honest, Syl, this person is very difficult to deal with and extremely dangerous. It's not something we warlocks, who are not good at combat, can handle. We two are already prepared to abandon this mission and return to the Brotherhood to request support or to find a replacement."

"If this person also has magic-blocking equipment, ordinary warlocks are no match for him."

Istrid added:

"According to our intelligence, most of this mercenary's actions were aimed at rescuing non-human races, and more than six hundred of Kovind's soldiers have died at his hands."

"It's hard to imagine that such a powerful figure was previously unknown. We asked some veteran mercenaries who had been in the mercenary world for many years, and they had never even heard of this person named Dante."

"Therefore, we cannot rule out the possibility that this is a fake name, or that this Dante does not belong to the Northern Mercenaries at all, but is a human from another place. Perhaps he is not a mercenary, but a spellcaster like us, who has mastered many spells that we do not know."

"Of course, there are other possibilities, too many to count. However, his deliberate sabotage in the Kingdom of Cordwin is certainly not accidental. It is inextricably linked to the two previous purges of inhuman races. Perhaps he was hired by some members of inhuman races to retaliate against the Kingdom of Cordwin."

After listening to the analysis of her two warlock colleagues, Syl also frowned. This mercenary named Dante was more troublesome than she had imagined. If she could, she would not want to make an enemy of such a powerful person.

Henset, just like his nickname suggests, was a wild boar, and a foolish one at that. This king was unlikely to give up his own ideas, rarely heeding the advice of royal advisors, and always going his own way, even after being warned many times.

The non-human races within the kingdom have always been a thorn in his side, and it seems that the conflict between the two is essentially impossible to resolve.

Syl tapped his fingers on the gold bracelet on his wrist, thought for a dozen seconds, and then said:

"Seek support from the organization in advance. Tell the members of the Supreme Council that this matter requires their intervention, and I will also increase the bounty on Dante to attract more mercenaries to deal with him."

"Once we find his whereabouts, I will join you in taking action, and we will also send the Brown Cavalry Battalion to act together. This is an elite light cavalry unit that marches extremely fast and is fearless. Once they catch him by the tail, that guy named Dante will definitely not be able to escape."

While the three sorcerers were discussing the matter of Dante, a human mercenary, Henselt was also drinking heartily with the nobles who firmly supported his ideals, discussing some minor details, such as how to pass some laws to further exploit the property of non-human races.

Unbeknownst to everyone, an uninvited guest, cloaked in invisibility, stood in a corner of the magnificent king's tent, listening with great interest to the bloated nobles discussing how to expel the non-human inhabitants, seize their property, or strangle them as bandits.

These people probably never imagined that Dante, the mercenary they kept mentioning, was looking at everyone present with a mocking gaze.

After a few rounds of drinks, Henselt let out a burp, then shoved aside the attendant who came to help him, and shouted to the nobles below, all of whom were flushed from drinking:

"Alright, gentlemen, we've had our drinks and our meat, it's time for you to show off your skills."

"The person who hunts the largest prey in this hunt will receive a generous reward of three thousand ducats. If he does not yet have a title, I will knight him and elevate him to the rank of noble."

With Henselt's promise, cheers erupted throughout the tent.

For nobles, a knighthood is nothing, but for soldiers and warriors, it is the goal of their entire lives.

So the soldiers present cheered excitedly, shouting the king's name as if they were willing to give their lives for him. This popular performance made Henset quite enjoy it.

He was a rather rude man who sometimes preferred to stay in the military camp, frequenting prostitutes, boxing, and gambling with the soldiers, rather than staying in the luxurious palace and dealing with trivial matters.

For him, only violence, killing, and territorial expansion were the things he pursued.

Just as the king was feeling quite pleased with himself and preparing to lead his staunch supporters into the forest to demonstrate their military might and have a thrilling hunt,

Wayne had already moved silently behind the king, and at the same time, he stretched out his right hand and cast the Lucky Curse on the king's back.

Ding! A lucky curse has been cast on the target, granting them Luck of 19. The target's Luck is now -20.

Winning Lucky 19!

It seems this king is even more unlucky than the wealthy merchant who became a vegetable last time; he had nineteen points of luck drained away, leaving him with negative twenty.

Who knows what kind of misfortune might result from a luck score of -20?

As that invisible force was absorbed into his body, Wayne noticed that Henselt's originally rosy face became pale and lost its luster at a visible speed.

However, this king was only in his thirties. Although he was somewhat weak due to alcoholism, he would not suffer a stroke due to heart problems like that fat businessman.

Hensett was unaware of his own abnormality. He stepped out of the tent with his right foot, but as soon as he took a step, he suddenly shuddered and an uncontrollable urge to urinate came over him. With the warm feeling in his crotch, Hensett blushed. He never expected that he would wet his pants because of drunkenness.

Fortunately, it was still early spring, and in the cold city of Cordwin, everyone was wearing thick clothes and armor. Although the warm feeling flowed down his crotch to his trouser leg, there was nothing unusual about it from the outside.

Henset remained calm. He had just shouted the call to set off, and it would be inappropriate to leave now. He planned to deal with the trousers issue after the other nobles had dispersed.

However, his misfortune had only just begun. When the nobles and knights had all mounted their horses, and His Majesty the King, with his trousers still damp, scrambled onto his horse and sat on his favorite spirited steed.

Who knew that this wild horse, which he had tamed for many years, would suddenly become agitated for some reason. It first reared up and kicked a count's horse hard on the head, causing a commotion.

Then, with a neigh, it stood up and slammed its noble king to the ground.

If it weren't for a general nearby who sensed something was wrong and, with his iron-gloved fist, delivered a powerful blow to the horse's head, knocking it to the ground, its hard horseshoes might have already landed squarely on the king's chest.

With the help of his attendants, Henset rose with lingering fear. Pointing at his mount, he was about to unleash his fury when a mare to his right, somewhat flustered by the chaos, suddenly turned around, its rear end facing him, and unleashed a loud fart. The foul odor, mixed with warm horse manure, sprayed all over the king's face and even into his mouth, which was agape as he was about to yell.

vomit!!!

The alcohol, mixed with the stench, caused the king to vomit all over the place. His previously tense muscles instantly relaxed, and Henselt also soiled his pants and let out a loud, smelly fart.

Seeing the usually fierce king in such a disheveled state, the nobles present all suppressed their laughter, clenching their fists to keep from bursting out laughing. Otherwise, they would surely incur the king's wrath and bring disaster upon their families.

The owner of the unfortunate mare was a baron, who hastily dismounted, knelt on one knee, and repeatedly apologized to the king, avoiding eye contact with his monarch and colleagues. He could already imagine that his days would be far from over after today.

King Henset was not a magnanimous monarch. Now, his own mount had caused him to lose face in front of the nobles. In the future, he might not only lose his title, but even his life.

Just as the attendants were leading the king back to his tent to wash and change his clothes, the once clear sky suddenly became overcast with dark clouds, and the weather changed drastically. Some of the noble knights all frowned.

Before they could even complain about the damn weather, a bolt of lightning struck straight down from the dark clouds, hitting the most magnificent king's tent in the camp, followed by a second, a third, and a fourth.

The high-temperature lightning instantly ignited the leather on the tent, and with the help of the wind, the entire tent burst into flames.

Before the noble knights waiting outside could react, Henselt, completely naked, with his buttocks bare, his face flushed and furious, was dragged out of the burning tent by several of his personal attendants, leaving behind a water stain on the ground.

This was quite a novelty. In front of thousands of nobles, soldiers, and servants, His Majesty the King was openly walking his bird. What was even more unexpected was that Lord Henselt, who was usually so irritable and imposing, like a black boar, actually had such a snow-white bottom.

The contrast almost made the nobles present burst out laughing.

However, the king's majesty stopped them from having any impolite thoughts, and they could only keep this scene in their hearts forever, to savor it slowly when they were old.

However, just when everyone thought the farce was about to end and His Majesty the King would no longer be so unlucky.

Suddenly, the earth began to shake violently. Before anyone could react, the ground trembled, and many cracks began to extend across the ground. A deafening rumble reached everyone's ears.

An earthquake struck, and it was a major earthquake.

With this in mind, before the soldiers present could react, the knights on horseback were the first to be thrown to the ground by their own mounts. A large number of horses neighed and began to charge wildly, servants cried and ran around in all directions, and the king's tent, which was already burning, was blown up by the strong wind and set more tents on fire. The entire hunting camp was plunged into extreme chaos in a very short time.

At that moment, Henset, who had been carried by his servants into another tent, suddenly let out a muffled groan. The tent above his head collapsed, and the wooden beams slammed into his head, knocking the king unconscious in the bathtub.

But in this chaos, the servants were so preoccupied with escaping and saving their own lives that they abandoned their king and no one paid him any attention.

A few minutes later, when Hill and his men, protected by magical shields and using magic to move the entire tent away, arrived, King Henselt had already fallen into a coma, having drunk a large amount of bathwater, and was unconscious.

On this day, the originally grand noble hunting celebration did not proceed smoothly. This unknown earthquake plunged the entire kingdom into another kind of earthquake.

(End of this chapter)