Chapter 149
Chapter 149
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 149
Chapter Title: Bartla Ducal Territory
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Unaware that Reima Fransil was near Riward Territory, Eugene traveled another four days and finally had the Bartla Ducal Family's lands in sight.
“I’d heard about it, but isn’t this too small?”
Looking down at the territory from a hilltop, Eugene felt a bit disappointed.
The Bartla Ducal Family's lands were smaller than Tiwin Territory. There was just one castle at the center, a single village spread out around it, and some farmland.
It was a duchy in name only—its scale was even smaller than that of a minor lord in the Kailer Kingdom.
He’d heard no one invaded the Bartla Ducal Family due to their unique symbolic status, but Eugene couldn’t shake the thought that they were simply too insignificant to bother with.
“For over a hundred years, the previous dukes were all incompetent. They had to grant independence to their vassals and sell off land to pay debts, which led to its current state. All that remains now is faded glory from the past.”
“With holdings like that, even a moderately sized bandit gang could overrun them.”
“Haha. Even mad bandits wouldn’t dare attack the Bartla Ducal Family. Other houses vying for the throne would rush to their aid immediately.”
“Really? But it looks like those mad fools are here anyway.”
“Pardon?”
Startled, Lanslo hurriedly turned to where Eugene was pointing.
“Huh?”
A group of cavalry and infantry burst out from the forest beside the harvested fields, approaching the ducal village. Even from afar, their numbers looked to be two to three hundred.
Eugene used his exceptional eyesight to survey them.
“No banners, only about ten on horseback. Fewer than ten in chain mail. They’re not a proper army, and definitely not here with good intentions.”
“You’re right. What are your orders, my lord?”
“What else? I’ll be the Duke of Bartla soon enough.”
Eugene turned his mount’s head with a cold laugh.
During the journey here, his army had dealt with two lords, seized eight villages, and suffered fewer than ten casualties—yet they burned with fighting spirit.
“Wolfgan. The Beowulf warriors will charge the vanguard with me. Lanslo. Take the infantry and cut off the enemy’s rear. Don’t let a single one escape.”
“Understood!”
“Leave it to us.”
“Sir Bonmer.”
“Yes, Lord Eugene.”
“You, Lord Lorein, and the Jubo Merchant Group stand by. If any enemies approach here, handle it as you see fit.”
“Oh! Understood, my lord! Thank you.”
Bonmer was surprised yet moved.
They’d grown somewhat familiar during the trip, but he was still a prisoner. For Eugene to trust him like this...
But Eugene’s true intent wasn’t trust in Bonmer.
It was more about keeping an eye on the valuable—and unpredictable—prisoner Lorein.
“My lord. Please be careful. You mustn’t get hurt.”
“I appreciate the words, but a true knight doesn’t fear wounds.”
“Still...”
“You stay put and don’t overdo it. If you get hurt...”
“Luke.”
“Yes! Master! Coming now!”
Luke spurred his horse toward Eugene before he could finish saying, “we won’t get proper ransom from the Fransil Family.”
Oblivious to this, Lorein clasped her hands together, gazing dreamily at the young count’s noble silhouette.
“How considerate he is. Worrying about me before himself. Sigh...”
“Lord Lorein, over here, please.”
“Yes.”
Seeing Lorein’s half-melted expression pained Bonmer. The duke’s youngest daughter was falling harder for Count Crollmarin with each passing day, and it worried him.
At that moment, twenty Beowulf warriors, led by Eugene and Luke, charged down the hill.
* * *
With few trees on the hill, the two riders and Beowulf warriors were quickly spotted by the mysterious bandits.
The panicked bandits hurriedly shifted their target to Eugene and the Beowulf warriors.
“Huh? Those guys aren’t just bandits.”
“Yeah. They look properly trained.”
The Beowulf warriors, matching Silion’s pace at a moderate speed rather than full sprint, murmured among themselves.
Eugene was a bit surprised too.
The bandits immediately formed a plausible shield wall, shoving wooden shields to the front in a line.
And that wasn’t all.
At the command of one mounted in chain mail, those at the rear prepared longbows and crossbows.
Shooo!
As the distance narrowed to about 150 meters, arrows from the longbows arced through the air. Not aimed shots, but spread wide to account for dodging.
“These bastards!”
Wolfgan and the Beowulf warriors crouched slightly and crossed their arms. Eugene and Luke raised shields in tandem.
Puh-puh-puh-puh-puh!
Arrows rained down like a downpour. But they couldn’t pierce the Beowulf warriors’ custom armor. The warriors simply yanked out and tossed aside the few that slipped into gaps.
“Now direct fire. Everyone, advance!”
Grooo!
As the gap closed to about 100 meters, the Beowulf warriors picked up speed. Silion, trotting until now, broke into a full gallop.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
The distance shrank by over 50 meters in an instant. More arrows flew from longbows and crossbows, but the warriors pressed on, arrows sprouting from their armor like porcupines.
When the shield wall was nearly upon them...
“Hiyaa!”
“Kieee! Chaaarge!”
Eugene and Mirian’s roars rang out as Silion surged to top speed.
Rooooar!
A fierce roar blended with Origin and Beowulf intimidation, crashing over the enemy lines like an invisible wave.
Ordinary humans struggled against the terror, gaps opening in the shield wall here and there. It couldn’t hold formation like that.
At that instant, the Beowulf warriors—now giant porcupines from the arrows—smashed into the shield wall.
Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa!
Explosions of impact and screams erupted as dozens of bandits flew into the air.
Lightly armored in leather and wooden shields—not heavy infantry—they had no chance against the heavier, more powerful Beowulf warrior charge.
Grooo! Roooar! Roar!
The enemy ranks turned to chaos from the single clash. The Beowulf warriors paired off in twos and threes, tearing through like a storm.
Fast as beasts, strong as trolls, armored sturdily—they feared nothing.
Meanwhile, Lanslo and the mercenaries charging down the hill after Eugene swiftly subdued the disorganized bandits.
Outnumbered and far better equipped with quality weapons and armor, the mercenaries cut them down easily.
No longer fighting chaotically as before, they battled in formations of 40 to 50—like a proper army.
“Luter! Suppress the ones fleeing left!”
“Krawl! Fall back, link with the bowmen, and encircle!”
Thanks to Lanslo’s timely commands as he roved the battlefield, the mercenaries annihilated the enemy even more efficiently.
His command skills lived up to the fame of the lake knights of the Duirak Family.
While the Beowulf warriors and Lanslo’s infantry shone, Eugene and Luke punched straight through the collapsing enemy center.
Their target: those judged as knights, the ones in chain mail on horseback.
Shwaaak!
Eugene hurled Madarajika, then drew Wolfslaughter and charged.
The spear traced a sharp arc, piercing one knight’s chest and embedding in the neck of the horse behind him.
As the main body was slaughtered in the blink of an eye, and two knights felled by a single throw, the rest fled.
“Where do you think you’re going!”
Luke drew his longbow from horseback. Having hunted in the Marin Forest since childhood, his archery was superb.
Pwing!
The arrow struck a fleeing knight’s helmet. It didn’t fully penetrate, but at such close range, the impact sent him tumbling from the saddle.
Ignoring their fallen comrade, the rest fled onward—only for Madarajika, returned to Eugene’s hand, to fly again.
Kyaaaa!
It screamed through the air like a cheering spear.
Veering slightly right of their path, Madarajika suddenly curved left like a boomerang.
It pierced the side chests and necks of the forward-gazing knights before returning to its master’s hand.
“It worked?”
“Kieee! What? How’d you do that, master!?”
Mirian made a fuss.
Until now, it had just stuck somewhere after throwing and come back. This time, it changed direction mid-flight at Eugene’s will.
“Controlled it with intimidation.”
It helped that their armor was weaker chain mail, but this would prove very useful in many ways going forward.
“Master! What about the rest?”
“Their horses are spent. Leave them to the Beowulfs. Wolfgan!”
At Eugene’s shout, Wolfgan and two Beowulf warriors bounded over.
“Grab those bastards and drag them here.”
“Uooo!”
The Beowulf warriors kicked off the ground like wolves on all fours.
Soon, neighs of panicked horses echoed, followed by knights—faces battered to pulp—dragged back by the warriors.
With only about twenty allied casualties, the battle ended in a great victory.
* * *
The ducal knights and soldiers, witnessing the brutal clash in the fields, flung open the palisade gates and gave Eugene and his men a hero’s welcome.
“Even so, opening the gates like this to an unknown army—is that wise?”
Eugene’s doubt was resolved upon meeting Sir Byort, the ducal knight and guard captain.
“Truly grateful, my lord! Thanks to you, we’ve repelled the bandits who’ve plagued the duchy! A blessing from the great spirits!”
The tone was one thing, but where to even begin correcting this?
They’d sat tight in the village, yet claimed “thanks to you” they repelled them? And after risking their lives, it was the spirits’ blessing?
One thing was clear, though.
The bandits just crushed weren’t ordinary. Most bandits lack patience—they don’t keep targeting failed villages or territories.
Then Luke bellowed.
“My lord! Mind your words!”
“Mind? You green brat dare...”
Byort, having clearly seen Luke assist Eugene dismounting from Silion, glared incredulously.
Lanslo, smiling beside them, stepped in.
“Sir Byort, was it? This young fellow may be Lord Eugene’s squire, but he’s also Count Crollmarin. So you’d best watch your words and behavior.”
“Huh!”
Startled, Byort faced Luke’s evident displeasure.
“I am Luke Crollmarin. And this is Lord Yan Eugene, noble of the Night Clan, whom I serve as master.”
“F-Forgive me! I failed to recognize honorable guests and made a grave error!”
His personality seemed decent enough—Byort switched attitudes swiftly.
“Thanks to your truly heroic exploits, we’ve crushed the vile horde threatening the great Bartla Duchy in one fell swoop! I’ll report to the family elders, so please proceed to the castle!”
Eugene ordered Odd of the Jubo Merchants to handle battlefield cleanup, then took only Luke and Lanslo, following Byort and the guards into the ducal castle.
Lorein threw a tantrum wanting to come along but yielded to Eugene’s glare and meekly retreated with Bonmer.
“Kieee. Disappointing. Expected more from a duke’s castle. What is this?”
Eugene wholeheartedly agreed with Mirian this time.
Not just small—the Bartla Castle was downright cozy for a duke’s seat.
Yet, as the ancestral home of a great noble house spanning centuries, its antique, serene atmosphere was appealing.
Honestly, for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint, Eugene liked Bartla Castle more than any he’d visited so far.
Until the so-called family elders crawled out en masse and ruined the mood.
“Lord Eugene, was it? I know the Crollmarin Count family, but Eugene is a name I’ve never heard. Some obscure vampire house from the continent’s fringes, I presume?”
“We’re grateful for your aid to the great Bartla Ducal Family. But aiding us alone elevates your honor enough—no other rewards needed, I trust.”
“Your righteous, valiant feats, uncharacteristic of the Night Clan, deserve praise. Yet understanding our dire straits, we’d appreciate your departure.”
“Kyaak! What’re these bald old geezers spouting! Confiscate their wigs and dentures for a month!”
The elders’ flowery, outdated rhetoric boiled down to one thing.
Get lost.
(To be continued)
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