Chapter 31
Chapter 31
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: Night Raid on Langbon
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Ting!
Thanks to being an exceptional warhorse, Silion instantly jerked its head aside, and the arrow merely grazed its barding before ricocheting away.
“Those crazy bastards!?”
For once, Eugene found himself agreeing with Mirian as he reached back with one hand to grab the atlatl and spear from behind the saddle.
Not only had they shot at him first, but now the whole group was drawing weapons—he had no intention of letting that slide.
Eugene leaned back, thrust his arm forward, and hurled the spear.
Thud!
It pierced straight through the chest of the crossbowman who’d fired the arrow, then embedded itself in the gut of the man behind him.
“Argh!”
The mercenary skewered like a kebab on his dead comrade’s corpse let out a scream.
The others didn’t even have time to be shocked. In that instant, Silion closed the distance and charged right into them.
Boom!
The three mercenaries who collided with Silion flew several meters before crashing to the ground.
The mercenaries’ formation crumbled in an instant, and Eugene carved through them with the shortsword he’d drawn at some point.
“Aaack!”
“Guh!”
The mercenaries had no chance against a heavily armored knight mounted on a warhorse.
Especially since their opponent was a vampire whose strength far surpassed any human’s—there was nothing they could do but scream and scatter in all directions.
“R-run away!”
Out of the thirteen mercenaries, eight were dead in moments, and the survivors scattered in panic.
Eugene threw another spear to kill two more, then spurred Silion toward the last three fleeing together.
Clang! Thwack!
“Gah!”
The flat of his sword smashed into the backs of their heads, sending them tumbling forward with dying gasps.
Just then, Partek and his group, who had rushed over the moment the fight started, swiftly subdued the rest.
“How dare these lunatics attack a knight?”
“B-but that knight struck first...”
“Struck first how? Did Lord Eugene draw his sword? Throw a spear? You assholes shot arrows out of nowhere—what bullshit are you spouting?”
“......!”
Only then did the mercenary grasp the situation, his face draining of color at Partek’s words.
* * *
“You’re incredible, my lord! The phrase ‘one against a hundred’ must have been coined for you, Lord Eugene. That lightning-fast spear throw! This humble one has truly had his eyes opened today, my lord!”
Mills was buzzing with excitement at Eugene’s prowess, which more than lived up to his reputation.
With a knight like this on House Fairchilden’s side, they were sure to win this territorial war.
“My lord, why not take these men captive and bring them to our castle?”
“No need. Does Lord Fairchilden not simply want an advantage in the war through me?”
“W-well, yes, but...”
“Then we’re good.”
Eugene approached the mercenaries, who knelt trembling.
“Why did you attack me?”
“......”
The prisoners exchanged glances as if by prior agreement.
Shing!
Eugene’s shortsword whistled through the air, and the head of the man on the far left went flying.
“Hic!”
The remaining two turned ghastly pale as their comrade sprayed blood and flopped backward.
“Why did you attack me?”
At the exact same question, word for word, the mercenaries spoke up almost in unison.
“W-we thought you were attacking us, my lord!”
“That idiot earlier did something stupid! I never intended to attack you, my lord!”
“Affiliation.”
“Milsen Mercenary Corps!”
“Milsen? Is that your leader’s name? Where is he now?”
“There......”
Eugene glanced at the corpse of the first one who’d fled and been impaled.
“Then where are the rest? The other mercenaries besides you.”
“They’re waiting in Langbon Village.”
“Numbers and leader?”
“About thirty, led by Langbon’s steward. The main force is still at Lord Bomel’s castle...”
“Steward?”
“Langbon’s steward is Lord Bomel’s nephew. Lord Pascal—he’s both the steward and a knight. His fief is Langbon. And...”
Mills quickly chimed in with more details.
“It’s a fairly large village, so there’ll be at least twenty more in the village watch. Lord Eugene, why not head to our castle first, rally the mercenaries, and then march out?”
“No. I’ll go alone.”
“Pardon?”
Not just Mills, but Partek was stunned too.
No matter how strong Eugene was, heading alone into a force of nearly fifty, including a knight?
“I just want to talk first. They might listen if I use these guys’ excuse.”
“That’s true, but...”
Eugene had no formal ties to Viscount Fairchilden, despite traveling with Mills.
By contrast, these mercenaries were officially hired by Baron Bomel. Having been attacked out of the blue, Eugene had every right to complain.
“No need to worry. It won’t make a difference if you come along, right?”
Partek sighed, realizing their trio wouldn’t change much.
“Understood.”
“Hey! So, Lord Eugene, does that mean you’ll sign a contract with our lord?”
Eugene nodded at Mills’s expectant face.
“Things have come to this—I can’t exactly say no. Go with these guys and tell him to leave it to me.”
“Oh! Lord Fairchilden will be thrilled by your blazing knightly honor and noble decision...”
“Enough. Let’s head out now.”
“Yes, sir! What about these ones?”
As Eugene’s gaze turned back to them, the two mercenaries flinched and desperately raised their voices.
“P-please spare us!”
“If you let us live, we’ll serve you loyally, my lord!”
“No need.”
“Eek!”
“Sir Knight! P-please...”
Eugene spoke lowly to the two, now ashen and shaking at his cold reply.
“I don’t need your loyalty. Rock-paper-scissors. Now.”
“Y-yes?”
“If not, you both die.”
Their faces turned even bluer at his words.
* * *
Clop clop.
The mercenary leading Silion, who walked slowly, kept glancing back nervously.
‘Damn it. I won, so why the hell...’
They’d gone all out in the rock-paper-scissors match, thinking the winner lived and the loser died.
But no.
The winner—himself—had to guide this terrifying knight, while the loser was dragged to Lord Fairchilden’s castle.
‘He doesn’t fear the night. Is there really a knight like this?’
Even a plate-armored knight avoided moving at night.
Sudden encounters played out very differently between day and night.
But this knight Yan Eugene had handed him a single torch and kept going without a care, even after sunset.
‘Toss the torch and bolt? It’s so dark, maybe...’
The mercenary quickly shook off the temptation.
Remembering the horrors from earlier still made his legs shake.
Betting his life on a gamble tonight had odds as slim as the faint moonlight overhead.
“Stop looking back. What, you think I won’t keep my word? Surely you’re not doubting my honor?”
“N-no, my lord!”
“Then quit fidgeting and guide properly.”
“Yes, sir!”
The anxiety hadn’t fully faded, but with the knight staking his honor on the promise, it should be fine.
“Just over that hill, and Langbon comes into view.”
Moments later, atop the low hill, Eugene spotted a village about the size of Brams.
‘As expected, they have a palisade.’
The roughly two-meter wooden fence, lined with torchlights, seemed meant to keep out monsters.
Being part of a noble’s domain with a title certainly set it apart from the villages in Lord Tiwin’s lands.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
Charging into a village full of dozens of battle-hardened mercenaries and a knight—potential enemies—at this pitch-black hour.
‘Either a total monster or a rare idiot. Either way, do as I’m told to stay alive.’
Leaning toward the former, the mercenary swallowed dryly and trudged into the darkness.
That was when it happened.
Thwack!
At the sudden noise, the mercenary halted.
“......!”
Spotting the arrow embedded right in front of him, he bulged his eyes as a shout came from the village.
“Take one more step, and I’ll put one through your skull! Who goes there!?”
“I-it’s me! Baren!”
“Who the hell is Baren!?”
“Baren of the Milsen Mercenary Corps!”
The voices from the village paused briefly, then the palisade gate swung open.
A horse and over ten armed soldiers poured out, surrounding Baren and Eugene in seconds.
“Who’s the knight?”
The mounted man couldn’t hide his tension as he eyed Eugene’s plate armor.
“Yan of House Eugene. And you?”
“Apiel Bomel Pascal, steward of Langbon.”
Proud of his lineage from the titled House Bomel, Pascal threw his shoulders back and gave his full name.
“......!”
Eugene froze for a moment.
Mistaking it for awe at his status, Pascal lifted his chin arrogantly.
But Eugene was startled for a reason utterly unrelated to Pascal’s guess.
‘Jackpot.’
Thought short, judgment swift.
Eugene nudged Baren’s back with his boot.
“His comrades attacked me first. I had no choice but to fight back.”
“What? Then the Milsen Mercenary Corps...”
Eugene nodded at the hesitating Pascal.
“Killed them all but two. They struck first, so no grounds for complaints, right?”
“My lord! The Milsen Mercenary Corps were hired by my uncle, Lord Bomel, the master of these lands! Who do you think you...”
Eugene cut off the furious Pascal.
“Oh, really? Here I thought you’d try to weasel out with excuses about Lord Bomel. But I’m in Lord Fairchilden’s employ—so we’re enemies anyway.”
“......!”
As Pascal faltered at the unexpected reply, Eugene drew his shortsword in a flash.
“Confirming that was my goal. Perfect. Pascal, was it? Positions clear—let’s each do our jobs.”
“You bastard!”
Clang clang!
The instant Pascal and his mercenaries drew weapons, Silion kicked off the ground.
At the same time, the torches they held winked out one by one as if on cue.
“Gasp!?”
“Fire! Light the torches!”
Silon plunged into the panicking soldiers amid the chaos.
“Aaack!”
“Argh!”
Eugene’s shortsword danced, filling the air with mercenaries’ screams.
Some tried to counterattack but couldn’t aim in the dark, and even lucky hits bounced harmlessly off the barding and plate armor.
“Monster!”
“Shoot! Kill him!”
A few mercenaries behind the palisade fired crossbows late, but only pierced their own allies’ backs or calves.
“Don’t shoot! Hold fire!”
Pascal’s panicked shout was quickly drowned by the screams.
“Th-this...!”
Pascal’s face paled in an instant.
Beneath the dim moonlight, the black knight rampaging freely was utterly terrifying.
Less than a minute after drawing his shortsword, most of the mercenaries who’d come out were dead or gravely wounded.
One path instinctively flashed in Pascal’s mind.
‘F-for now, into the village...’
He yanked the reins to turn his horse.
Shiiiing!
The air-splitting whistle cut the night.
Thud! Neigh!
Eugene’s spear slammed into the horse’s rump.
“Urk!?”
Pascal’s body jolted in the saddle, then he pitched forward, foot caught in the stirrup, tumbling with the horse.
“Cough! Guh...”
Vision spinning from the fall, Pascal struggled to rise.
But his limbs flailed futilely in the air.
“No idea why you came out yourself, but thanks for saving me the trouble.”
“Y-you...!”
Hoisted by the scruff in Eugene’s grip, Pascal’s eyes rolled back.
Bam!
One punch, and Pascal went limp.
“I’m taking Lord Bomel’s nephew! Want him back? Come to Fairchilden Castle!”
Eugene bellowed toward the village, yanked the spear from the horse’s haunch, and spurred Silion into a gallop.
“Lord Pascal! Nooo...!”
The belated cries of mercenaries rushing out the palisade gate faded behind him.
* * *
“Is this guy a real idiot? Why’d he come out himself?”
Mirian, clutching Silion’s mane, eyed the slumped Pascal in front of the saddle with pity.
“Who knows? Works for me, though. Was wondering how to get in.”
“Kekeke! They say the road to success is paved with luck! As expected of my master—destiny guaranteed! So now we head to that Lord Fairchilden?”
“Nope.”
“Huh? What do you mean? Aren’t we taking this guy to the castle?”
“Was going to. But I’ve got a better idea.”
Prisoner exchanges would lead to a formal territorial war—dragging things out with all sorts of surprises.
‘Better to end it quick.’
A cold smile curled the lips of the vampire slicing through the darkness.
(To be continued next time)