17. After Rescuing Karlson
After rescuing Karlson, the reclamation of Soboro County proceeded like clockwork. Though the enemy's numbers held a slight edge, our side dominated with overwhelming powerhouses. With Karlson freed, the Red Evil Mercenaries and Behena's forces had no more reservations. The next day, after a brief council, they raised arms once more in Behena's name and effortlessly routed the count's charging army.
Moreover, tales of the chaos wrought by Bella, Cheong-ah, and Ian during their daring rescue of Karlson from the lord's castle had spread like wildfire through the territory. Numerous vassals wavered and defected to Behena's camp. The count's forces dwindled by the hour, steadily pushed back.
"Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT...!"
In the castle's command chamber, Soboro Count slammed his fist on the desk repeatedly, his jowls quivering with rage. His vassals and knights exchanged uneasy glances, bowing their heads in silence.
Behena's blade loomed perilously close. Her army now controlled over half the territory. Even the vassals who had eagerly followed him in ousting her had long since flipped sides. Without a shred of conscience, they'd sized up the situation and, deeming her stronger, marched their troops straight to her banner. And that heartless wench Behena had welcomed them with open arms, forgiving their betrayal without hesitation.
Goddamn vulture bastards.
"This should have ended ages ago—what the hell happened?!"
His roar echoed unanswered. All that remained were spineless fools too busy gauging the winds to speak. And even they might defect at any moment—rumors swirled that Behena would overlook past sins for those who surrendered.
Bullshit.
Would that cunning bitch truly forgive those who betrayed her if she reclaimed the territory? No—she'd unleash those filthy Red Evil Mercenaries for a grand purge. It was obvious with even a moment's thought, yet these idiots begged to join her without grasping it.
"Are you all mute as clams? Why is no one speaking?!"
The vassals bowed deeper at his bellow. Finally, one knight commanding troops mustered his courage.
"Forgive us, my lord. But there's no way out. The enemy is too strong. Especially that red-haired warrior woman and the black-haired swordswoman—they're untouchable."
"Who the hell are those bitches?!"
The knight explained what he'd learned.
"Well... they're both Platinum-rank adventurers from the Adventurer's Guild."
"Adventurers? Platinum-rank? Then why the fuck are they helping that wench?!"
"From what I hear... the redhead is the Fallen Princess. And the Red Evil Mercenaries were the mercenary band she led before becoming an adventurer."
"...Fallen Princess? What the hell makes her worthy of a title like princess?!"
His eyes narrowed in disbelief. The knight inwardly sighed at the count's ignorance. The tale of the Mountain Kingdom and its fallen princess had once rocked the continent—any noble worth his salt knew it.
"She was once a princess of the Mountain Kingdom. A coup d'état saw the current king exile her and seize the throne. The Red Evil Mercenaries—then the Crimson Knights—were the ones who rescued her and fled with her."
"...A princess and her knights? Hah."
He'd pegged them for nobodies, but this was a heavyweight. A disgraced princess of the Mountain Kingdom... exiled princess. A spark ignited in the count's mind.
"Then can't we contact the Mountain Kingdom? They'd send aid to capture those bastards, right?"
"That's..."
"What? Another problem?"
"For some reason, the current Mountain King has no intention of pursuing the Fallen Princess or her mercenaries. He's publicly declared that if she returns to reclaim her throne, she's welcome to try."
"What the—?!"
What was the Mountain Kingdom thinking? Unfathomable. But more than that, the count seethed at being denied their aid. Refusing to hunt their own fugitive princess? Even inviting her to challenge for the throne? Was their king bold or just a fool...?
"Damn it. Then what about that black-haired slut? Is she a princess too?"
"Not much is known... just her nickname 'Fox Sword' and that she's a swordswoman from the East."
"Hah, bullshit."
Spitting curses, the count slumped into the sofa. Then the knight's eyes gleamed.
"But there might be one way."
"...A way?"
"Yes, my lord."
"What is it?"
"Their adventurer party has a leader. Kidnap him."
"What...?"
The count's brow furrowed. Was this lunatic serious? A party of monster women—the leader had to be a freak too. He opened his mouth to scream at the knight for joking—
"Word is, the party leader is a man named Ian. He's leader in name only—a total figurehead. Bronze-rank adventurer, scraped by at Iron for years, so weak he couldn't solo a single goblin."
"...What?"
The count's outburst died, his eyes shifting slyly. Memories of that recent night flooded back: the arrogant bastard who'd pointed a crossbow at his forehead, trusting the woman behind him. Regina's timely arrival had saved his skin, but the humiliation still burned.
"Tall guy, black hair, uses a crossbow?"
"Yes, exactly. Rumors say the Fallen Princess and Fox Sword are his lovers. They say even his Bronze rank was a guild favor to keep them happy."
"...That fucking bastard's the leader?"
A frail, mere Bronze-rank adventurer? Hiding behind women, leeching off them like a parasite. And that trash had dared...!
The count ground his teeth. The buried insult roared back to life.
"So, kidnap that prick, hold him hostage, and we win?"
"Yes. They dote on him sickeningly. With him captive, we can order those two bitches—and the Red Evil Mercenaries—to stand down. Or wield his life to control them outright."
"But who pulls it off? Past those monster women?"
Regina had failed miserably trying for Behena—a public secret. She'd even admitted defeat to neither the princess nor Fox Sword, but someone else.
"You gonna do it?"
"That's..."
The knight clamped his lips, caught off-guard. The count sighed, snapping at his vassal unnecessarily.
"Tch... Of course a worm like you couldn't."
"...Forgive me, my lord."
Trembling under the scorn, the knight bowed deeply. He was the desperate one, after all. The count glanced at him, then irritably waved off the entire group.
"Fuck it, get out. Useless lot."
Once the vassals filed out, the count rose fuming and approached his desk.
"Guess I have to use this again."
He opened a drawer. Inside lay a small black bell, wreathed in ominous energy—a purple mana evoking death itself. A gift from the necromancer group that had approached him long ago.
"They helped me kill my brother."
In exchange, annual tribute and a hundred territory folk fed to them. But it granted him Regina, the ultimate assassin under his thumb—a profitable deal. Money was no issue in this rich land; vagrants overflowed, enough to sustain decades.
Still, dealing with necromancers left a foul taste.
"Tch, no choice."
He refused to die sucking his thumb. And if they nabbed that guy... she would be his.
Fury aside, that black-haired beauty haunted him.
Threaten with his life, and I can crush her beneath me.
In grave miscalculation, the count lifted the bell and rang it.
Ding-a-ling-.
Purple mana spread. The office door burst open. A familiar-faced maid strode in briskly—the one tending the beastkin child under Regina's care. No, it was Necromancer Carol, puppeteering the child's corpse to toy with Regina.
"What is it, Count? You called? I'm busy preserving this corpse. Gotta keep that beastkin bitch from noticing her precious brat's long been a dead puppet, y'know?"
Her tone dripped annoyance. The count clicked his tongue at the insolence.
"I want a deal."
"Deal? You know the price."
"I do."
The maid grinned wickedly.
"Good. So, what do you want?"
"A kidnapping."