Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: The Crimson Heir
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57
* * *
“Please, have mercy! Forgive my foolishness!”
An elder of the Black Magic Tower, a sixth-circle black magician, fell to his knees and begged. One of the mere hundred or so high-ranking mages on the entire continent was trembling, not even daring to think of resisting.
“I’m begging you! Please!”
He was once the 8th commander of the Black-Red Brigade, a black magician who had conducted all manner of experiments in his pursuit of truth. He was one of the hardliners who rejected Lord Black’s regime, never hesitating to become a monster for the sake of truth.
That very ‘Demon Commander’ was now on his knees, pleading for his life.
Before the man who sought to break from the darkness of the old era and bind himself with trivial things like morality.
“You desire my mercy?”
The man asked.
“P-Please, show me mercy! I will pledge my lifelong loyalty! Please, please…!”
“Do you remember what you did to my son?”
After a moment of silence, Lord Black asked in return, his expression devoid of any emotion.
“I, I, I…”
He had joined hands with the Red Magic Tower, secretly crossed the Sachsen River, and provided the Purifiers with information on Dale. He had told them that Dale would be taking separate action with his cavalry. As this thought crossed his mind, the elder let out a hollow laugh.
He realized there was no way this man would ever grant him mercy.
But that didn't mean he would put up a pointless struggle.
As an elder of the Black Magic Tower, he understood the weight of Lord Black’s name better than anyone.
And despite understanding this… he laughed at his own foolishness for daring to side with the Red Magic Tower.
“…Yes, there’s no way you’d show me mercy.”
He muttered weakly.
“Lord Black, do you think there is another hypocrite in this world as vile as you?”
And with nothing left to lose, he began to hurl insults.
“The 2nd commander of the Black-Red Brigade. How many prisoners were sacrificed in that place for your ‘experiment’? How much blood was spilled to open the gate?”
The true purpose of the Black-Red Brigade, a truth the Empire desperately tried to conceal.
“The real monster is you.”
“…”
“Do you think you can run from your past?”
Lord Black did not answer.
“Will your son still be proud of his father when he sees your true face? Ah, but he’s the son of a monster, so I suppose he might be!”
“Grim Reaper.”
After a long silence, Lord Black finally spoke. A jet-black current swirled around his feet, coalescing into a silhouette.
A messenger of death, cloaked in a pitch-black robe.
A shadow was cast beneath its hood. But soon, one would realize it wasn't a shadow. It was simply an abyss of unfathomable darkness, writhing beneath the hood.
“Lord Black, you are the true monster! A monster that minnows like us could never even hope to imitate!”
Two arms made of darkness gripped a deathly scythe. The Grim Reaper. The agent of death swung its scythe.
It was the signal that heralded a bloody purge.
* * *
A short time later, the eldest son of House Sachsen returned safely to the duchy.
As always, tales of his various heroic deeds at the Imperial Academy followed him, passed from one gossip to another.
He arrived in a duchy already caught in a storm of bloody purges, carried out in the name of the Master of the Black Magic Tower.
* * *
Sachsen Castle.
“Dale!”
Hearing a familiar girl’s voice call his name, Dale turned his head. A girl, clad head-to-toe in black armor, stood there. She wore a custom-made Night Raven Knight’s armor and held a greatsword of House Sachsen.
It seemed she was dedicating herself to swordsmanship day and night.
“Charlotte.”
“Yes, welcome back.”
Charlotte smiled warmly, as if she had been eagerly awaiting Dale’s return.
“How is your sword training coming along?”
“Hm, so-so!”
Charlotte nodded with considerable pride, and seeing this, Dale let out a soft chuckle.
“Wh-what are you laughing at?!”
“Nothing.”
After laughing, Dale added calmly.
“It’s just good to see you again.”
“U-uh…!”
His casual words made Charlotte’s tongue twist, and she fell silent.
“What’s wrong? Did you bite your tongue?”
“N-nothing!”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
Dale replied with feigned indifference, completely unaware of her face blushing crimson beneath the black helmet.
“Gosh, really… you idiot.”
“Why am I an idiot?”
“Because you’re an idiot, that’s why, you idiot!”
Nor was he aware of the girl’s feelings, which grew larger by the day, for the boy she liked.
* * *
As Dale appeared where the Night Raven Knights were carrying out their usual training, the knights all knelt in unison, plunging their swords into the ground.
“Welcome, Lord Dale!”
Among the black-armored Night Raven Knights, a familiar face stepped forward to greet Dale.
“Lord Yones.”
“Lord Dale!”
“Your sword training is proceeding well, I trust?”
At Dale’s question, the Night Raven Knight instructing Lord Yones bowed his head.
“He has more talent than he looks. His swordsmanship improves by the day.”
The man in charge of teaching Lord Yones was a knight who had reached the level of an Aura Knight. As that very knight lavished him with praise, Lord Yones bowed his head to Dale once more.
“It is all thanks to you, Lord Dale.”
“Good. And the mercenaries under you, is their training going well?”
“You needn’t worry about my men!”
Lord Yones replied, as if to say there was nothing to worry about. The hundred or so mercenaries he commanded as their captain. Having shared hardships with them from the very bottom, their loyalty to Lord Yones was akin to the camaraderie of brothers-in-arms.
That was why they, too, had been provided a place to stay within the duchy and were diligently training with the help of the knights.
And so, in the time following the Great Demon Migration and during Dale’s stay at the academy in the imperial capital.
It was time to assess their growth under the tutelage of the Night Raven Knights.
A mercenary company of a hundred men.
It was a sufficient number for Dale to command as his own people, and the only remaining question was how prepared they were.
* * *
To wander without a home, to continue fighting without promise.
The so-called romance of being a mercenary was, in truth, nothing more than a sweet-sounding fantasy spun by gossips.
Just as the life of Lord Yones had been, as the second son of a low-ranking noble family who once roamed the continent with only a sword in hand.
There was a reason the dream of most mercenaries was ‘to return home safely.’ As is often the case, the reality of romance is a shabby thing.
In that regard, the hand Dale had extended to the hundred mercenaries led by Lord Yones was an indescribable miracle.
A private force belonging directly to the eldest son of House Sachsen.
Not only were they paid accordingly, but they were also provided with a place to stay and even systematic training from the Night Raven Knights, hailed as the finest knights on the continent!
Not every soldier on the battlefield could be armed in shining black armor like a Night Raven Knight and receive the best training. But Dale of Sachsen had the power to make it possible.
“Welcome, my lord!”
“Call me Captain from now on.”
“Haha, understood! Captain!”
“Salute the Captain!”
Lord Yones’s mercenary company lacked the strictness or iron discipline of the Sachsen knights. But Dale actually preferred their informal attitude. Needless to say, this was even more true after a few drinks.
“And from now on, he’s the Vice-Captain.”
“As you wish!”
The feelings the hundred mercenaries held for Dale were beyond words.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Lord Yones volunteered to be demoted to Vice-Captain of the mercenary company, and the mercenaries all knelt before their new captain, Dale of Sachsen.
No, they were now proper men-at-arms, loyal to the eldest son of House Sachsen.
“Good.”
Even for Dale, providing warhorses from House Sachsen to all one hundred soldiers was impossible. However, the intimidating presence of a hundred skilled men-at-arms on the battlefield was by no means inferior.
“Everyone’s been training hard?”
And so, Dale spoke.
It was a declaration that the eldest son of House Sachsen would take them as his own people. There is giving, and there is taking. And the indescribable things Dale gave them were not without a price.
“We’re pushing them to the brink of death.”
The knight in charge of the mercenaries’ training replied.
“Excellent.”
It was not that there weren't those among the Night Raven Knights who would move for Dale alone, not just for House Sachsen. But that didn't change anything.
“Since you’ve been training to death, isn’t it about time you saw some real combat?”
“Leave it to us, my lord!”
“We’re itching for a fight, as it happens!”
In addition to what he was given as the son of House Sachsen, growing ‘Dale’s faction’ was a task that could not be neglected.
“I’m thinking of starting a new business venture.”
Dale’s organization, Dale’s people.
The one hundred ‘Men-at-Arms’ here were just the beginning.
From basic combat activities to formulating strategies and tactics… and even all-encompassing intelligence operations. A brain that could intervene in all stages of an operation and exercise supreme command, a combat contracting agency.
He wasn't about to let their value rot as a mere mercenary company. An armed organization that would manage the vast and varied demands of clients wishing to wage war.
A war-for-hire corporation.
To become the greatest Private Military Company (PMC) on the continent.
* * *
That evening.
The sun, slanting toward the western sky, was already tinged with a deep violet.
Dale was inspecting the training status of his men-at-arms, pondering what to name their unit.
“Ah, so this is where you were.”
An unfamiliar voice reached him. He turned his head.
“You returned from the capital sooner than I expected.”
“…”
A blond-haired boy stood silhouetted against the fading, burning sunset.
“Who might you be?”
Judging by his age, he didn't seem much different from Dale.
“My name is Ray. Ray Yuriseu, eldest son of House Yuriseu.”
“!”
At those words, Dale momentarily held his breath.
The son of the Crimson Lord, Marquis Yuriseu. The heir to the Master of the Red Magic Tower.
Marquis Yuriseu was not a married man. But Dale was not unaware of the story that he had a ‘son not of his blood.’
“…It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Unlike Dale of Sachsen, Ray Yuriseu’s exploits were not widely known. He maintained an ominous silence, never even mentioned by the gossips. Yet, at the same time, no one in the Red Magic Tower would dare deny the fact that Ray was the ‘heir of the Red Tower.’
“Is there something you need?”
And so, Dale asked in return, not letting his guard down.
“Lord Dale of Sachsen.”
Ray spoke with a smile.
“Son of Lord Black, and heir to the Black Magic Tower.”
Voicing the ‘Black Prince’ moniker bandied about by the gossips, Ray continued.
“…”
“Would it be too much to ask for your guidance, to learn from the talent hailed as the greatest genius in the Empire?”