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Reinhardt was renowned for having the highest tax income on the continent. It wasn’t because the territory was taxed heavily, but because every major corporate office—the Moon Gate, the association of Free Knights, the Mercenary Guild, etc.—was headquartered in Reinhardt. These hugely profitable businesses made Reinhardt a very rich city.
In the Mercenary Guild’s headquarters, everyone’s eyes were turned toward the door.
Two figures entered. The man was middle-aged, massively built, and wide-mouthed. His powerful frame was tucked into a robe, but everyone who saw his face immediately bowed.
“Akshuler.” The young man at the counter stood up.
“I was informed that the Mercenary King issued a direct summons.”
“Yes, just as you heard.”
“Where are they headed?”
“The Pontier family household, in the southern region of the Avalon Empire.”
“Damn…” He sighed.
“About a thousand mercenaries were sent. There are about fifty-four gold cards who are not on duty.”
“Damian.”
The young man shut his mouth.
“If you’ve got a brain in your head, I’m sure you already knew what I was thinking from the moment I stepped in here. Why didn’t he say anything to me beforehand? Is it too much to ask for him to consider my opinion, to seek a different route?” Akshuler scowled.
“…They want to keep it for themselves.”
“What?”
“No matter how many times the Mercenary King calls, they can’t be forced. That means they’re responsible for their actions, but…” Damian’s expression hardened. “If we consider Barbarian’s behavior, he would have to be a moron not to demand an enormous sum from the Avalon Empire. And you know how mercenaries act with that kind of temptation.”
“You mean…”
Why go there of their own will?
“Their own title, land, and hopefully, a family. The deal makes sense because the Mercenary King is the greatest of us all and one of the Twelve Superhumans. But they’ll have no vassals even if they receive a title… so they can’t be alone.”
“Alone? They actually thought about that?”
“Most mercenaries are commoners. Over 90% joined the guild to earn money, risking their lives in the process because they have no other way to support themselves. They basically live at the mercy of the blade. This is their chance to dream. Not only does it promise a secure future, but it also promises a once-in-a-lifetime chance to rise to Imperial noblemen. That’s the cold hard truth, Akshuler. Not all mercenaries are like you.”
Akshuler looked around, but none of the other mercenaries would meet his eyes.
I’m not judging them for their decisions. It was a perfectly reasonable choice. Contrary to belief, Akshuler understood their thoughts perfectly. He’d climbed his way up from the bottom, too.
So if he didn’t like it, then he had to change it. He couldn’t wait for someone else to do it—it was time for Akshuler to take matters into his own two hands.
Iceline stopped chewing her lip and raised her head when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
Without another word, the two turned around and walked out the door.
No one followed them, except with their eyes.
Damian quietly closed his eyes.
Desperation and irritation grew as the battle persisted.
“Our main forces have been obliterated—completely. We have only six commanders, two C-Class Knights, and a thousand enlisted soldiers who are ready for battle.”
The Lord’s chamber of Peril Castle fell silent.
Nine people sat around the round table. Charles, Icarus, Verdot, and Cain arrived earlier. Five lords were already present: Count Keiros, the lord of Peril Castle, and four lesser nobles.
The four nobles came from a vassal family who had dedicated themselves to the Keiros family and was bound by blood, fortunately. That last part was particularly important to Charles, having experienced betrayal firsthand.
“We have an emergency!” A messenger rushed through the open door, attracting everyone’s attention. “The border watch sent a message! A force of at least 5,000 is marching on us!”
“Five thousand…”
“This is the worst thing that could happen.”
While the vassals lamented, an elderly man quietly stood up. He was Count Keiros, lord of Peril, and Charles’s uncle.
“Go and tell our remaining forces to prepare for our last stand.”
The messenger’s eyes widened, but he nodded. “I understand!”
Count Keiros watched the messenger vanish. “The enemy’s numbers may be overwhelming, but I… as lord of Peril Castle, I refuse to take my fate lying down.” His eyes brimmed with tears as he bowed to Charles and took up his sword from where it rested on the table. “I, Keiros, will show the enemy that the Pontiers are not so easily killed.”
No one said anything because of the small women leading them.
“I will go with you.”
“Young Lady?” Cain’s eyes widened in surprise. War was no joke—a Young Lady should not have to see these things. “I’d rather—”
Icarus pinched his thigh.
“The soldiers are out there, protecting us—me—I can’t just run away and hide.”
“But Young Lady—”
“I am Charles de Pontier.”
Count Keiros looked into Charles’s unflinching eyes and bowed his head.
“May the fire of the Pontiers burn eternally.”
“Let’s go.”
The room hurried after Charles.
Gehog grinned as the trumpet blew.
“Ah… Perfect. Hehehehe.”
Peril Castle was highlighted by the rising sun. The weather was perfect this morning.
Gehog peered at the wall and quietly exclaimed.
“Charles de Pontier?”
“This is the first time a princess has taken center stage.”
“Her last hurrah or something. Damn, I can’t wait to see the expressions she’ll make when she’s kneeling in front of me.” Gehog laughed and licked his lips. Charles’s vivid red hair, distinct even at a distance, waved in the wind. He couldn’t see her face properly, but the memory of her pale skin, feisty attitude, and innocent visage drove his lust mad. “I thought they’d arrive tomorrow… but she just couldn’t bear the idea of waiting for me, could she?”
“Sir Wright, what are your thoughts?” Gehog scanned the area.
A middle-aged man with a magnificent mustache answered him: “I’ve heard that Sir Cain just became A-Class. The Black Knight of Dennis River lost his arm to the Mercenary King.”
“And your plans?”
“I’ve had enough, and so have my knights. Give me the order, and I will deliver their heads to you myself, commander.”
“HAHAHAHA!” Gehog’s smile widened at “commander.”1 “Sir Wright, I’m liking you more and more every time you open your mouth. Did you take a class in flattery or something?”
“I was just telling the truth.”
“Heh. There’s no need to share—Look, it’s only a small castle. You can topple it with brute force. Furthermore, those mercenaries…” Gehog came to a decision. “Begin preparations. We will end this ugly war before the main forces arrive.”
“I hear and obey.” Wright saluted.
The Crombell army began to assemble; soon, two units advanced on the castle. The Pontiers didn’t expect the siege to begin so soon.
The tension was rising.
Gehog watched Peril Castle from a distance, an amused grin dancing on his lips.
He couldn’t imagine that someone else was watching them.
“Oh my. How many people did he bring for that little castle?” The Lion King whistled. “Don’t ask for my help. I don’t want to go.”
“I wasn’t planning to.” Joshua didn’t even spare him a glance as he rode forward. “You too,” he told the Wilhelm Knights. “Reinhardt has nothing to do with this. Don’t be hasty on my account.”
Leo de Grans gripped his reins, drawing a neigh from his horse. A hundred black knights on their own horses followed behind him.
“You are our king, and this is what our king wants to do. What else needs to be said?”
Birds took flight as a hundred B-Class Knights unleashed their Aura. Each and every one of them was utterly enthralled by Joshua Sanders’s persona.
“How nice,” the Lion King commented.
Joshua smiled. “Let’s go.”
“Wilhelm Knights, destroy all who oppose the king!”
“AHHHHHHHH!”
The shouts of knights and steeds mingled as Joshua thundered down the ridge at the head of a hundred knights.
TLN: fuck you and your weird head ↩️