Chapter 130
Chapter 130
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 130
Chapter Title: The Druid's Oath
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Shwaaak!
Wolfslaughter streaked through the air, flashing as if it would shred his entire body.
For the first time, Druid Pitamoras thought of death.
Drip!
But Wolfslaughter halted right before his nose, as if it had all been a lie.
“……!”
Pitamoras gaped, staring at the famed sword radiating deadly sharpness.
“I win.”
“…….”
Pitamoras flinched and met Eugene’s red eyes before letting out a long sigh.
“I see. You win, and I lose.”
The druid’s declaration of defeat.
Kroooaaar!!!
The mercenaries’ faces turned pale, while the Beowulf warriors roared in joy.
Eugene turned his gaze to the mercenaries.
“Surrender? Or fight?”
The startled mercenaries glanced back and forth between Eugene and the Beowulf warriors before dropping their weapons in a heap.
“Ha, we surrender! We surrender!”
“Milord! Show us mercy!”
“Collect their weapons. Tie them all up. Handle the supply merchant group.”
“Got it.”
The Beowulf warriors, itching to slaughter the mercenaries, were disappointed but faithfully carried out their employer Eugene’s orders.
Liward Baron’s soldiers put up scattered resistance, but in less than thirty minutes, the supply unit and merchant group raised the white flag and surrendered.
Without Pitamoras’s magic, ordinary infantry stood no chance against Beowulf warriors clad in thick plate coats and helmets.
“I trust you’ll honor the promise to grant what I want.”
Eugene said to Pitamoras, who stood with a devastated expression.
“Of course. So, what do you desire?”
“The same terms you mentioned. Serve at my side for three years.”
“……!?”
Pitamoras’s eyes widened as he hurriedly asked again.
“At your side? Not under you?”
“I’ve heard no one in Brantia can command a druid as a subordinate.”
“Hah! True, but you’re from the continent, aren’t you? A high noble of the Night Clan, no less?”
“I have much to do in Brantia.”
“Hmm.”
Pitamoras nodded, his gaze now calm as he studied Eugene.
“You aim to unify Brantia. Eyeing the throne?”
As expected of a druid called a wise sage, Pitamoras had pierced Eugene’s goal in an instant, earning his inner admiration.
“Something like that. Will you keep your promise anyway?”
“I value respect. And the best way to earn lasting respect is to always keep your word.”
Pitamoras smacked his lips regretfully once before speaking solemnly.
“Before the mana spirits who oversee the skies and seas, mountains and plains, rivers and lakes, I swear. I, Pitamoras of Mount Robtimo, shall lend my wisdom and abilities to your side, Yan Eugene, for the next three years.”
“Thank you.”
Eugene felt better than when he’d acquired Roamer.
Even among mages, having a druid of Pitamoras’s stature in Brantia by his side was incomparable to merely hiring a mage.
Druids brought more than powerful magic and rituals.
“U, um, Lord Eugene and Sir Pitamoras. What about us?”
The supply merchant group leader, who had surrendered even before his soldiers and mercenaries were subdued, approached with an awkward smile and bowed fawningly.
Eugene turned a cold gaze on him. After eyeing the flinching merchant leader briefly, Eugene addressed Pitamoras.
“I’d borrow your wisdom. What should I do?”
Eugene already had a plan in mind but asked deliberately.
Seeking his advice right away would boost Pitamoras’s pride and standing.
“Oh ho! To think you trust me so much already—my thanks.”
Pitamoras smiled contentedly, as if seeing through Eugene’s intent, and turned to the merchant leader.
“What were the terms of your contract with Liward’s lord?”
“Standard ones. Sh, shall I show you the contract?”
“Do so.”
Pitamoras closely examined the contract the merchant leader swiftly handed over, then looked to Eugene and spoke in the Kaylor Kingdom tongue.
“Two options. First, as victor’s rightful spoils of war, claim all the merchant group’s goods. Take the personnel as prisoners, ransom them, or enslave them. The mercenaries and laborers aside, the leader here would fetch a tidy sum.”
“Hm. What’s the other option?”
Eugene asked curiously when his own planned approach came up first.
“Claim the goods as spoils but release the mercenaries and merchant group on the spot with a new contract.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“They’ll be moved by your mercy. Money-driven as they are, they’re not so base as to feel no gratitude after losing a battle yet being spared. Having witnessed your prowess and magnanimity firsthand, they’ll become an army, not mere mercenaries.”
“……!”
Pitamoras grinned at the surprised Eugene and continued.
“From ancient times to now, those who claim thrones all commanded armies blending gold and loyalty. That’s my counsel.”
Eugene was genuinely impressed.
It also dawned on him why Brantia’s powers-that-be avoided antagonizing druids, even if they couldn’t keep them close.
“Just to check—do all who claim kingship in Brantia have druids like you at their side?”
“Hah! Hardly. We aid those who grant our wishes but belong to no one. Even if you unify this land, we who follow the mana spirits are the earth’s people, not yours.”
Bound to Brantia but not to any royal house.
Pitamoras’s words surprised Eugene while clarifying the druids’ identity.
“Merchant leader.”
“Y, yes. Command me, milord.”
Judging from Pitamoras’s smile that the mood wasn’t bad—though he didn’t know their conversation—the merchant leader’s attitude was deferential.
“I claim all goods as my right. Any complaints?”
“None, sir.”
Following armies to war, he’d always braced for such outcomes, so the merchant leader answered promptly.
“And I want a new contract with you.”
“Y-Yes?”
“I’ll release all your personnel without conditions. In exchange, contract with me.”
“C-Contract... what kind...?”
“Same as with Liward Baron. But I need lots of meat.”
“……!?”
Even amid shock, the puzzled merchant leader quickly grasped why.
Beowulf warriors, now smug with captured mercenaries and soldiers in tow, had a well-known fondness for meat.
‘This lord plans to stick with the Beowulfs to the end. Wait, could it be...?’
He’d wondered at the man traveling with dozens of Beowulf warriors—whom even lords hired only in dire straits due to their immense cost—but now it clicked.
‘The throne! This lord aims for Brantia’s throne!’
“We’ll do our utmost! We’ll serve Lord Eugene faithfully! Entrust it to our Aud Merchant Group and...”
“Enough. Do we have a deal?”
“Of course.”
The beaming merchant leader rummaged through his bag, pulled out parchment, and drafted a contract.
“Hm. All seems fine. This works.”
Pitamoras reviewed the terms himself.
Eugene and the merchant leader stamped the druid-approved contract, and merchant Aud grinned ear to ear.
Losing supplies for Liward Baron’s army stung, but the profits from following Eugene dwarfed that loss.
“Bring the mercenary captains.”
After sealing the deal with the supply merchant group, Eugene ordered the Beowulf warriors.
Soon, two mercenary captains were dragged forward.
“Milord, spare us, and we’ll serve gladly as loyal slaves.”
“We’ll somehow pay ransom, so please...”
“Quiet.”
Eugene calmly silenced the groveling captains.
“Join my service. Fight for a year, and I’ll waive your ransom.”
“……!”
The captains, reacting much like the merchant leader, soon dropped to one knee and shouted.
“We pledge loyalty to milord!”
Unlike the wealthy merchant leader, the mercenaries had thought they were done for.
With nearly a hundred men—not just a few—no one would enslave them.
Feeding them alone was no small feat, and they’d be too risky for betrayal to use even as meat shields.
Yet this offer meant...
‘Throne-worthy material.’
‘He’ll claim a great seat in Brantia at least.’
Leading sizable bands of 40-50 mercenaries, they’d met many nobles and lords.
Thus, the captains could spot good lords and employers.
To them, Eugene’s magnanimity shamed petty nobles flaunting their manors or fiefs—even their former employer, Liward Baron, included.
“Hey, Lord of Darkness! You’re just letting these bastards go?”
“Our brothers and sisters got beat bad!”
When the Beowulf warriors immediately protested, Eugene shot them a cold look.
“Who attacked first, breaking my orders?”
“Uh...”
Silenced with no retort, the Beowulf warriors shut their mouths.
“You broke the promise. But I keep mine. We won, after all.”
“Yes?”
Ignoring the warriors’ round yellow eyes, Eugene pointed to the white-flagged supply merchant camp.
“Meat feast. I’ll throw one.”
Kroooaaar!!!
The hog-dogs—no, dog-hogs—cheered as one.
“Hm. Truly throne-worthy. By the way, Lord Eugene, could I trouble you for some monster byproducts too?”
“Talk to my mage.”
“Oh! Throne heir! A true throne heir!”
Even the not-entirely selfless druid was pleased.
* * *
Wary of pursuit by Liward Baron’s main force, Eugene didn’t hold the meat feast right away.
He led the absorbed mercenaries and supply merchant group toward Patos first.
In normal circumstances, they might’ve been caught, but Eugene had the Beowulf warriors.
True to his promise of all-you-can-eat meat upon reaching the castle, they pulled the wagons themselves.
The mercenaries, under new employer Eugene’s threats and urging, cut sleep to march, shortening the five-day trek to three.
Thus, Liward Baron’s army not only failed to close in but fell further behind.
Exhausted from relentlessly crossing Vailin Forest without rest, with three days’ rations and water depleted.
“Milord, at this rate, the mercenaries will desert before we fight. We must raid a nearby village.”
“Tch! No choice.”
Knowing it wouldn’t feed his full host anyway, Liward Baron—out of options—ordered his knights and mercenaries to hit the nearest village.
The half-day starved troops charged the stockaded hamlet with their last strength.
But.
“Milords! N-No one’s here!”
“What?”
Mercenaries rushed to the stunned knights with reports.
“Not a rat or villager in sight!”
“No grain or livestock! They’ve all fled with everything!”
“Damn it!”
Amid the panic, Liward’s knights quickly realized why.
Count Krollmarin had concentrated all forces on Patos and evacuated nearby villages and hamlets to cut supplies.
‘One misstep and...’
As knights, they knew war’s greatest terror.
Not vast enemy hordes, raging giant monsters, or heaven-blessed enemy generals.
No.
In war—not mere battle—the worst was severed supply lines.
‘Starve before we fight?’
And now, they were in exactly that bind.
(To be continued in the next installment)