Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: 8. Rex's Era of Tribulations
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With the blood oath to Duke concluded, all the contracts were finalized.
Thus, Rex's Honor Guard was created.
There were countless opinions about the name.
"What should we name it?"
"How about SS Honor Guard? It means Super Soldier Honor Guard."
"What about Black Hand? It signifies we're willing to dirty our hands with filth for Rex."
"Combining 'newly born (Yeni)' and 'soldiers (Çeri)', I think Janissary (Yeniçeri) would be good."
"In my northern homeland, there's the word oprich. It means to exile. I propose Oprichniki, signifying dogs that exile Sir Rex's enemies."
A truly diverse array of opinions emerged.
"All rejected."
All were scrapped due to opposition from Rex and Duke.
Still, one was salvaged.
"How about Yormungand?"
Duke adopted the proposal from a dwarf hailing from the northwest region of the continent.
The dwarf who proposed the adopted name earned the honor of delivering a speech as the representative.
"The world has abandoned us."
Those gathered here were all beings discarded by this world, just like Rex.
Though the reasons and methods of their abandonment varied, they all agreed on one thing: the world was wrong.
"The heroes hailed as the world's hope instead hunted us down and sold us off for money. Simply because we're non-humans! Then we shall gladly become the monsters they claim us to be."
They had endured the hypocrisy of those called heroes.
Thus, they would no longer pretend to be the good of this world.
"Someday, we will swallow whole the heroes called hope! For our liege alone!"
""For our liege!!""
And so, Rex's Honor Guard took the name 'Yormungand Knight Order'.
Ignoring Rex, who felt burdened to the point of keeling over.
The Yormungand Knight Order's name was set, but the knights did not immediately depart the research city.
Moving a hundred people required commensurate preparations.
They needed to stay in this eyesore of a city for at least a day.
Rex, mentally drained after an intensely packed day, trudged to the city's finest inn.
(He had earnestly implored them not to follow, of course.)
While Rex finally sought slumber in a proper bed for the first time in ages, the squad leaders gathered in a separate building.
"Seems we're all here."
In the dimly lit building where lanterns flickered, the gnome elder acting as host for the secret meeting stroked his snowy white beard and nodded.
There were three squads in total.
Thus, three squad leaders in the meeting room.
During the previous battle, those who displayed exceptional prowess had naturally become squad leaders.
"Lord Duke, thank you for joining us at this late hour."
And Duke, the knight order's captain despite not being a squad leader, was naturally in attendance.
Duke nodded to the host, signaling to begin the meeting.
"Then, as to why I summoned you all..."
The gnome elder kicked off the meeting by unfurling a map on the table.
Karognar Territory.
The name of the domain where they currently resided.
The elder pointed to what passed for the territory's capital (questionable terminology, but anyway).
"This is where the lord lives."
The squad leaders and Duke nodded.
The gnome glared at the spot he indicated and continued.
"I've always believed humans possess the potential to be good beings. And I consider any society that fails to nurture that inherent goodness a flawed one."
Duke nodded, but the squad leaders had yet to.
As if harboring convictions of their own.
The gnome eyed the squad leaders' expressions and pressed on.
"The one ruling this territory's society is the lord. Yet the society he rules is wicked. What does that imply?"
"That the lord is wicked?"
The gnome nodded at the elf squad leader's reply.
"Precisely. And as I mentioned earlier, humans hold good potential. But the lord is wicked. What does that signify?"
"That the lord's a beast whelp."
A hollow-eyed, pallid mid-aged man with skin like cyanosis replied listlessly.
The gnome smiled in satisfaction at the response.
"Then, what should we do about that lord?"
"Overthrow him. Only by toppling the one who forged twisted morals can individuals craft new ones."
A gentleman with a finely groomed beard flashed his canines in a grin.
The gnome's smile blossomed as he clasped his hands.
Only then did the three squad leaders ease their tension and nod.
"I don't fully subscribe to your ideology, but much of it aligns with mine. The objective... I rather like it."
"Hm... Thought you were just a senile idealist prattling theory, but you're pragmatic. I concur."
"The logic leaves room for discussion, but the conclusion brooks no dissent."
The opinions of the three squad leaders and the gnome elder converged.
Soon, four gazes turned to Duke.
Bearing their stares, Duke pondered.
'Hmm... what now...'
He grasped that his subordinates were already charging ahead.
Conventionally, he ought to rein them in here.
But...
'We're conquering this territory anyway.'
This domain was the empire's launchpad.
And upon reflection, even if Duke halted them now, the lord would furnish ample pretext for conquest.
What motive would the once-passive Rex have for usurping this place? Entirely the lord's doing.
'Halting them seems pointless.'
Taking it regardless, and it's all one big misunderstanding anyway...
'Just let 'em go wild.'
Rex would sort it out properly regardless.
Under that irresponsible rationale, Duke cleared his throat.
"My sword cannot forge happiness."
"Lord Duke?"
"Captain?"
"Sir?"
"But safeguarding the happiness our liege creates—even if it swells into a kingdom—I shall protect."
"“!!!!”"
The meeting room ignited with fervor.
Duke sensed an inexplicable camaraderie with them and pointed to the territory's capital.
"Here, Lord Rex's blessing shall commence."
"Heh heh."
"Blessing, aye. Indeed, no phrase suits better. Far superior to world tree drivel."
"I put no stock in blessings or such flights of fancy... yet this once, I wish to believe."
"For the final human to erect true values, he needs a benchmark."
Nod.
The five assembled in the meeting room nodded.
Beneath the lantern's dance in the shadowed chamber, Duke proclaimed their inaugural target.
"Lord Rex shall soon dispatch you across the territory. Bide your time till then and hone your blades."
"“Yes!”"
The squad leaders and gnome elder responded in subdued unison.
Duke's pitch-black eyes peered past the wavering flame to the territory map.
A somewhat late morning arrived.
"Yaaawn. Did everyone... sleep we—...ll?"
Rex stretched as he emerged from the inn and queried the knight order.
His test subjects nodded in unison.
Barring the squad leaders, it had been ages since a proper bed—sans reveille, with the luxury of sleeping in to boot.
By contrast, the squad leaders who schemed through the night...
"Good morning, Lord Rex."
"Condition optimal, Your Excellency."
"Lord Rex. Splendid morn."
They appeared far sharper than their rested comrades.
Eyes sparkling like boys reclaimed their dreams.
"?"
Rex puzzled over their overnight transformation but soon dismissed it as trivial.
"Lord Rex."
Duke murmured softly at his side.
"It's time we departed."
Rex nodded.
He projected the interface (or firefly) above the entire knight order and dispatched directives.
Rex, now casually dropping informal barbs via message.
He issued the knight order's inaugural mission.
The squad leaders nodded.
'Hm. A friend. Can't peruse records legit...'
'No helping it... that method it is.'
'Heh heh. Fitting trial.'
The squad leaders interpreted Rex's words with their own spin, but the framework held.
Duke discerned their intent from their gazes.
'These whelps... gearing up for a slave liberation crusade.'
He clocked it but saw no need to intervene.
To trace A's path, slave trader ledgers were essential.
Traders wouldn't oblige willingly,
Hence smashing them was eminently rational.
'Rex's fault for not specifying how to hunt. Whatever.'
Vague faith that the misunderstanding's architect would iron out such trifles.
Oblivious, Rex pressed on with orders.
At Rex's directive, a beastkin—now knight—raised a hand.
"Apologies. We don't know how to check the time..."
"Ah."
Rex, modern-born and interface-clad post-possession, had never lacked a clock.
He'd casually invoked time, but to this world's folk, clocks were extravagance.
'Plenty of clockless boonies...'
City advancement hinged on the administrator's whim: some steampunk pinnacles, others tribal holdouts.
Recalling as much, Rex tweaked his interface settings.
Whereupon...
"O... Oooh...!"
Like primitives beholding fire, the knights gawked at their hands.
Time now etched on their hand-backs.
'Ahh, clock magic no less...!'
Rex mused solo, then cringed in solo shame.
'What am I, some angsty teen?!'
Yet contra his self-doubt, 'twas a potent feat despite the modesty.
'Digits on the hand-back.'
Duke snuck a peek sans fanfare.
Overheard knights dubbing it the 'firefly spirit' subbing for hands on their skin.
'Damn, this slaps.'
Astonishing even to Duke, 200 years sundial- and gut-clock-bound.
Thus casually bequeathing all wristwatches, the knight order properly dispersed.
Dismissed, Duke as captain gained minimap and command faculties from Rex.
Duke nodded, gesturing midair.
'Oho.'
Ditched finesse à la Rex posthaste.
Stuck to messaging and minimap.
'Bite off more than mortals chew, disaster looms.'
Test-firing comms, he messaged the squad leaders.
'What the. That bloodsucker. So damn slick. How'd he pull that off before?'
Duke marveled, validating the messaging.
Thenceforth, Duke mentally scrubbed the prospective windfalls—that trio of commanders—and fixated on the trek with Rex.
"Mount up."
Rex saddled his horse; Duke took another.
Rex, officer academy alum, professed riding chops.
'Whew.'
Relief for Duke, bereft of man-hugging equestrian fetishes.
Thus the duo soloed toward the capital.
Not long en route, Rex produced A's discarded shoe.
"A..."
All he knew: shoe's owner, per records sold as AR-09.
Duke shook his head at the abrupt query.
"Sorry. Can't confirm."
Fibbery.
She'd linger in the capital till Rex's arrival.
Three months' buffer ample.
'Blasted out faster than canon.'
Duke betrayed zilch.
No reincarnate billboard needed; happy end inbound, spoiling moot.
Silence resumed betwixt them.
Solo traveler Duke tolerated the quiet fine, yet company itched his tongue.
'Stay in character...'
Mindful to vent the urge sans shattering persona, he spoke.
"Lord Rex. Any ultimate aspirations on the horizon?"
Emperor-bound regardless, curiosity piqued on his interim ambit.
Rex mulled Duke's query at length.
Honor guard spawned impromptu, yet core goal unaltered.
Opulent, stable, pacific harem idyll.
City staff billet pragmatic vector thereto.
Betrayed by mates, market too—enlistment scuttled.
Breakneck pace precluded reflection till now; leisure spurred recalibration.
'Hm... merc gigs?'
Prime notion: wield guard as sellswords for coin and clout.
Terminus: guest generalship, merits meriting a city.
Mulled done, Rex rejoined.
Responsibility matching fealty—at barest.
Confidence his prowess procured a city underwritten therein.
Duke unwittingly softened into a smile.
'Swears off yet shoulders when bid. That's the draw.'
Rex's allure.
Crass, craven, timorous, retire-chanting...
Unreliable veneer, yet tasked, accountable.
'Overknows duty's heft, ergo shirks.'
Prime boss material otherwise.
Duke, smile lingering, echoed.
"A utopia of sorts?"
Not some lofty pipedream.
Rex poised to type plain, opted suave for flair.
Duke's admiration flowed.
'Heh heh.'
Rex solo-giggled, chuffed.
Duke nodded.
'Said city: empire's seat.'
Then Rex's context-free negation vortex whirred alive.
Timid loner delusion dynamo, oft-termed.
'Hold up. Duke loathes empire, no?'
Delusions cascaded.
Duke despises empire.
Thus should Rex hint empire revival...
'Eek!'
Rex delusion-panicked solo, babbling excuses.
"I ain't even pondering empire!!"
Instant: Duke's killing aura surged.
Whinny!
Horses panicked, rearing.
Duke recomposed, dismounted, knelt.
"My deepest apologies, Lord Rex!"
Mere 0.2-second blink, ample for Rex's heart to plummet.
No typing leisure; Rex gawped vacantly at Duke's pate.
Aware alive, hauled Duke upright.
'Who'd thunk 'empire' triggered him.'
Pre-Rex annals, scant records, but empire's rapine rife.
13 Reverse Heavenly Stars' downfall: universal cheers bar royals, feudatories, nobles.
Unfathomable this knight's imperial animus.
Said knight groveled repeatedly.
"Lord Rex. Forgive me."
"Grateful for your magnanimity!"
Duke remounted the settled steed.
Meantime Rex covertly mopped sweat.
'I'm the liege, yet I'm the one walking eggshells.'
Power's the perk, after all.
Rex bewailed frailty, spurred forth.
*
Meanwhile, Duke dabbed sweat.
'Argh, gut-punched instant.'
'Not even thinking' empire pinged him.
Like lifeblood bitcoin unlistable decree.
Shock unbound killing intent fleetingly.
Swift rethink: empire emergent sans Rex's zeal anyway.
Half-shoved inception.
No freakout warrant.
'Ugh, bicentennial baggage.'
Bitcoiner edginess clicked for Duke.
Thus duo resumed voyage.
Rapport lingered tepid.