Chapter 135
Chapter 135
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 135
Chapter Title: Knightly Challenge
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“Master? If it’s not too presumptuous, could you reconsider just one more time?”
“Impossible. You need to stay behind and handle the cleanup.”
“Yes, sir...”
Though he was nominally a squire, Luke—who had somehow ended up as a count—replied glumly. Ever since then, he’d been separated from Eugene more often than not.
“Then I’ll leave it to you, Pitamoras.”
“Mmm. I’ll do my utmost to assist Lord Crolmarin.”
Pitamoras, who was staying at Liward Castle alongside Luke, nodded.
The Robtimo Mountain where Pitamoras resided belonged to Liward Territory, and he was a druid long revered and respected by the people of Liward, regardless of age or gender.
With him at Luke’s side, the nobles of Liward wouldn’t dare entertain any rebellious thoughts.
And Pitamoras wasn’t the only safeguard Eugene had put in place.
“Partek. I’m counting on you.”
“Yes, my lord. We’ll protect Count Crolmarin with our lives.”
Partek, Glad, and Raban were also remaining at the castle.
Having survived countless battles and trained sporadically against Galpredic and Lanslo, the three had improved dramatically since they’d first met.
Partek, in particular, now possessed skills that could hold his own against most knights.
Considering his age, it spoke volumes about the bloody effort he’d put in.
“Damn it. Why us...?”
“Rock-paper-scissors is just luck. It’s not fair. Let’s do it again.”
The four Beowulf warriors assigned to Partek’s group grumbled. Ulfgang, unable to hide his embarrassed expression, stepped forward.
“It won’t take long. So guard them well. There’ll be meat every day.”
“Huh? For real?”
“The Dark Lord promised. It’ll be less than a month, so protect Count Crolmarin properly.”
“Got it. Heh heh.”
They still looked eager to go and fight alongside the others, but the promise of daily meat brought broad grins to the warriors’ faces.
Eugene spoke to Luke, who couldn’t hide his regret.
“As you know, news from Mongard should be arriving soon. You can open any letters except those from Delmundo first. Especially if there’s contact from Lord Marcus of Romarina Mongard—check it personally, judge its importance, and dispatch a messenger. The Beowulf warriors can serve as messengers.”
“Yes, Master!”
As the saying goes, position makes the man. Luke, now bearing far greater responsibility than before, steeled his resolve. He was Eugene’s squire—and the young Count Crolmarin.
Pitamoras, watching the scene, grinned and shot Eugene a meaningful glance.
Eugene deliberately pretended not to notice as he turned, leading Galpredic and Lanslo with him.
War once more.
* * *
Eugene linked up with the army waiting outside Liward Castle and immediately set course for Brighton.
The troops, well-fed and rested, were brimming with morale.
When they’d first submitted to Eugene, they hadn’t been without worries, but he proved to be an ideal commander and employer.
Strictly speaking, they were little more than slave soldiers obligated to follow any order, yet Eugene hadn’t forcibly reorganized the units or issued unreasonable commands.
He’d kept the long-standing mercenary bands intact and guaranteed their leaders independent command in battle.
Of course, it wasn’t because he favored them specially.
It was advice from Galpredic, who was well-versed in strategy and tactics.
“Anyway, in a large-scale clash, formations and such never hold properly. The master and I just handle the big picture, and let them fight the way they’re used to. As long as they stick strictly to attacks and retreats, there’s no problem.”
“Hmm. True, in a battlefield with hundreds clashing, orders barely get through.”
“Exactly. It’s even worse with thousands. So we just need to lead the main force well. The battle’s flow depends entirely on how our main force smashes the enemy’s.”
“Ultimately, victory in battle comes down to which side destroys the enemy’s main force first. For our army, that would be the Beowulf warriors. Lord Eugene or Lord Galpredic must lead them without fail.”
Lanslo chimed in as well.
Eugene nodded, struck anew by how different trained knights were.
“Galpredic would be better than me.”
“Krahaha! Music to my ears!”
While Galpredic rejoiced, Lanslo voiced a question.
“Wouldn’t the destructive power be far greater if you led them personally, Lord Eugene?”
“From the few battles I’ve fought, it seems smashing their command staff ends things quicker than targeting the main force.”
“...!”
Eugene shared his thoughts—based on his experiences—with the two startled knights.
“Galpredic and the Beowulfs hit the enemy’s main force. As Pitamoras said, they match or exceed a hundred heavy cavalry, so the path should open up nine times out of ten. At the very least, the enemy main force will be fully occupied.”
“Exactly.”
“Then I can strike their command staff. Except in special cases like Baron Liward, most commanders aren’t great fighters, right?”
“That’s true, but some hide aces up their sleeves. The lords of Brantia are more open to magic than on the continent—they keep it close.”
“True. But you see...”
Scrrch! Clank!
“I have this.”
Eugene raised his left arm’s gauntlet and smiled coldly.
* * *
Two days later, Eugene’s army encountered the Brighton forces flying their banners.
With Beowulf scouts already reporting and both sides marching toward each other’s territory, a clash was inevitable.
After a brief standoff on the open plain, three horses slowly emerged from the Brighton side.
‘Knights. One’s a woman?’
Eugene narrowed his eyes at the sight of two knights in rare Brantian plate mail and a female knight in ornate ceremonial armor that looked utterly impractical.
The two knights flanked the woman, bearing Brighton’s banner and one with a rearing lion.
They halted about fifty meters from Eugene’s army.
After a brief huddle among themselves, the one holding the lion banner raised his voice.
“Is this the army of Lord Jan Eugene? We represent the will of the Fransil Royal House!”
“Fransil Royal House?”
Eugene tilted his head at the unexpected name, and Lanslo murmured lowly.
“One of the factions claiming kingship. A great lordly house that unified the western coastal territories. They called themselves Duke Fransil before, and now they’ve pushed this far inland, it seems.”
“I see.”
Eugene eyed the three knights with interest.
No wonder their armor was finer than typical Brantian fare—they hailed from a house claiming royalty.
‘Those aiming for the throne in Brantia must be on par with great lords of Keiler Kingdom.’
The knight with the Fransil lion banner then bellowed.
“Hear us! Brighton City, blessed by noble spirits, is our ally! Moreover! Liward Territory shared brotherly bonds with Duke Fransil! Thus, we...”
“Hey!”
The knight, mid-rant, faltered at Eugene’s booming voice. The other two stared at him in surprise.
“Baron Liward had brotherly ties with House Fransil? You stand by that claim?”
“O-Of course! But Duke Fransil, in his boundless mercy, offers the misguided lord a chance! Choose honorably! Join beneath the great lion banner, and we shall overlook your harm to Liward’s lord and...”
As the knight prattled nonsense, Eugene turned to Galpredic and Lanslo.
“He’s telling us to surrender, right?”
“Kiek! Intolerable! How dare they to our Demon King Overlord!”
Mirian bristled, and Galpredic replied with a cruel smile.
“Crazy bastard, but it’s more inducement than surrender. Telling the master to come under Fransil or whatever.”
“They mean to take Liward Territory and recruit you as well, Lord Eugene.”
Offended by Eugene and the knights’ private mutterings, the knight’s face flushed beet red as he raised his voice.
“In the name of the Fransil Royal House and Brighton! Before we judge you, come forward and beg forgiveness!”
“...”
Eugene, Galpredic, and Lanslo simultaneously turned to face the three, mouths shut.
“Kieeeek! Milord! Crush that pockmarked fool! Bash the ugly wench beside him too!”
It seemed only the simple spirit had taken the bait.
‘She doesn’t look that ugly, though.’
Eugene whispered lowly as he eyed the female knight’s confident, arrogant expression.
“That lady knight. Seems pretty high-ranking in House Fransil, doesn’t she?”
“Hmm. Likely one of the duke’s children. No real knight would wear such flashy ceremonial armor.”
“Then let’s capture her. With luck, we might not even need strategy or tactics.”
“Pardon?”
Eugene urged Silion slightly forward, ignoring Lanslo’s startle, and shouted at the three knights.
“I heard your talk! Fine, here’s my proposal!”
“...?”
To the bewildered Fransil folk, Eugene yelled with maximum arrogance and haughtiness.
“This body! Ignores weaklings’ prattle! Fransil knights! Come at me! Beat me, and I’ll accept your terms!”
“...!”
Eugene continued as their eyes widened like saucers, even from afar.
“But! If none can beat me! Your commander’s my prisoner! She crawls between my legs!”
“You mad bastard!!!”
The woman in ceremonial armor shrieked.
“Sir Carlyle! Sir Joraph! Drag that lunatic before me on his knees at once!”
“Lady Loraine. We mustn’t fall for the provocation.”
“You heard what that wretch said! How dare he... how dare he me!”
Eugene, close enough to hear despite the distance, shrugged.
“Her name’s Loraine. Looks like she’s the commander. The other two are fumbling.”
“Indeed. But they won’t take the bait. Even idiots wouldn’t...”
Before Lanslo finished, the conversation between Lady Loraine and the others continued.
“We just need to gauge the caliber of that knight’s army for now. Rash judgment could sour relations from the start.”
“My lady, remember our goal is Brighton.”
“Enough! I said enough! If you knights won’t step up, I’ll call others!”
Furious to her core, the lady knight whirled and shouted behind her.
“Is there no valiant knight to unhorsed that honorless rogue? I’ll grant great reward!”
“I’ll teach that fool a lesson!”
“Lady Loraine! Grant Atmon’s Kemble this chance!”
“Me as well!”
Five or six knights spurred forward without waiting.
“She took the bait.”
“The knights are desperate to impress. That foolish girl must be direct lineage of House Fransil.”
Lanslo shook his head with a wry smile.
The two knights who’d failed to dissuade Loraine hurriedly shouted toward them.
“If you have any knightly honor! Fight as a knight, not as a creature of darkness!”
“You won’t stoop to revealing your dark kin powers cowardly, will you!?”
Eugene was dumbfounded.
Limit abilities in a life-or-death fight? Were they sane?
No, before that—how lightly did they view him as a knight?
“Keuk! Don’t fully trust that liar Aud’s words, but they got some solid intel, at least.”
“Probably from mercenaries sold into slavery. What will you do, Lord Eugene?”
“The master deigns not to face such trash personally. I’ll go.”
Eugene shook his head at Galpredic’s offer.
“No. I’ll handle it myself. In Brantia, one bad reputation is enough—mine.”
Conquest inevitably bred resentment and curses from many. Eugene intended to focus it all on one person: himself.
Why?
The deeper the resentment and curses, the greater the fear of him.
“I’ll be back.”
Eugene lowered his visor and whipped the reins.
‘Fight as knights?’
Clank!
His hand gripped the spear, Madarajika.
‘Think you can win against me?’
Feeling its master’s touch after so long, the thrilled Madarajika vibrated as Eugene slotted it into the atlatl and smiled coldly.
(To be continued in the next chapter)