Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: The Captive's Guide
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“Ugh, ughm…….”
Along with the stinging pain from his jaw, Pascal opened his eyes. It was still dark around him.
For some reason, his waist felt stiff, and the relentless up-and-down jolting made Pascal hurriedly check his condition.
All he could see were his sturdy, well-muscled legs vigorously pumping beneath the horse's armor and the rough bare ground.
“Urk.”
Realizing he had passed out draped over the horse, Pascal tried to move. But he was bound by something and couldn’t budge an inch.
“You’re awake?”
Pascal barely lifted his head and saw Eugene.
“Sir! What in the world is this!?”
“What else? We’re traveling on horseback.”
At Eugene’s response, Pascal fully grasped his situation and gnashed his teeth.
“Sir! Do you think you’ll get away with treating me like this? I’m Lord Bomel’s nephew! When I say nicely…….”
“Good words or bad, I was hired by Lord Fairchild. And Lord Fairchild and Lord Bomel are one step away from starting a territorial war. Or have they already begun?”
“Urk! Attacking without even a declaration of war—what cowardice!”
“Didn’t you capture Lord Robos and demand ransom? If there’s no declaration, isn’t the custom to either impose rightful punishment or just release them?”
“……!”
“But demanding ransom is basically the same as starting the war already, isn’t it?”
“Urk.”
With no retort to the sharp point, Pascal clamped his jaw shut.
But he soon snarled again.
“So, you’re planning to take me to Lord Fairchild and demand ransom? No. You intend to trade me for Lord Robos.”
“Something like that.”
“Then treat me as befits a noble! This is gravely tarnishing my honor, sir!”
“Well, I suppose it’s understandable to misunderstand. Whoa!”
Stopping Silion, Eugene used his dagger to cut the ropes securing Pascal’s body.
“I tied you down because I thought you’d fall off if I just let you ride along. Don’t misunderstand.”
“…….”
The ropes had been tied brutally tight around his wrists and ankles for such a claim, but Pascal responded by glaring irritably at Eugene.
Whether he did or not, Eugene warned Pascal as he rubbed his limbs.
“You know this already, but don’t even think about running. I won’t kill you out of regard for your status, but the moment you try, I’ll smash a limb or two.”
‘He stripped me of all my gear. Damn it!’
Spotting his chain mail and longsword hanging from Silion’s saddle and armor belt, Pascal’s face darkened sharply.
It wasn’t just the threat of broken bones—even wandering around in just his underclothes alone was suicidal.
Nine times out of ten, he’d end up as monster or beast bait, and even with incredible luck, he’d get nabbed by highway bandits and become ransom bait again.
“Fine. I swear on my honor I won’t run. In exchange, treat me as befits a noble and escort me to Lord Fairchild’s castle.”
‘This bastard isn’t too brazen for a prisoner? Are all nobles like this? Well, that ice-cold guy was similar, so whatever.’
As Mirian said, it was brazen for a captive, but since this was the typical noble attitude, Eugene shrugged it off.
“I’ll treat you appropriately depending on how you behave, but I’m not taking you to Lord Fairchild’s castle.”
“What!? Y-You don’t mean…….”
Turning pale and shrinking back, Pascal watched Eugene raise his visor and shake his head.
“I won’t kill you, so relax. If I wanted you dead, I’d have done it last night. Why bother dragging you all the way here just to kill you?”
“Khmm.”
He didn’t like how lightly his life was being treated, but it wasn’t wrong, so Pascal felt a bit relieved.
“Then what the hell do you want from me?”
“You’re going to guide me to Lord Bomel’s castle. I tried going alone, but I think I took a wrong turn.”
In truth, he’d deliberately looped around the path they’d come, but Eugene said it anyway. Pascal had been out cold the whole time, so he wouldn’t know.
“What? Y-You’re saying you’re heading to my uncle’s castle right now?”
“Yeah. What do you have to lose? I’m delivering you to your liege lord.”
“Hmm…….”
Pascal furrowed his brow deeply.
He had no idea what the scheme was, but heading to Lord Bomel’s castle could only be good for him, not bad.
‘With luck, I might get rescued by the patrols around the castle town below. But what is this guy thinking, heading there?’
Dressed head to toe in black armor with black hair to match, he looked like the Black Knight Britling of old, whose fame had spread across kingdoms decades ago.
His exquisitely handsome face might make one think he was a noble knight decked out in top-tier gear thanks to a good family, but recalling last night’s battle already sent chills down his spine.
‘The castle has three knights hired by my uncle and over a hundred troops. No matter how skilled he is, he can’t rampage there. Hah! Just a fame-hungry fool.’
Lord Bomel would surely praise this knight highly just for defeating the mercenaries alone and capturing the steward—himself.
Even though he was hired by Viscount Fairchild, nobles naturally praised exceptional skill and boldness in venturing to the enemy’s castle alone.
“Fine. I’ll show you the way.”
“Excellent choice. Let’s rest a bit and head out. Oh, thirsty? Want some water?”
“Hm. I’d appreciate it.”
Touched by Eugene’s unexpectedly amiable attitude, Pascal nodded.
Taking the leather pouch from Eugene, Pascal gulped down the refreshingly cool water, which seemed pure just by looking at it.
“Kha! This water is excellent. Did you draw it from a stream? A spring?”
“Oh, that…… Just something on the way here.”
He couldn’t say it was ‘spit and shit out’ by the water spirit, so Eugene glossed over it.
“Best water I’ve ever tasted—cool and delicious! Amazing.”
“You hear that? Hear it? I told you so! Water I make by shitting is tastier, right? Ahem! Eh-heh-hem!”
Eugene felt a bit complicated watching Pascal rave nonstop and Mirian preening smugly above his head.
‘As long as they’re both happy.’
That’s what mattered.
* * *
“What did you say!?”
Slamming the armrest and leaping to his feet, Baron Bomel prompted the mercenary leader returned from Langbon to bow hastily.
“My apologies! It was the dead of night, and that knight’s horse was so swift we couldn’t catch up.”
“You call that an excuse!? My nephew was captured, and you just watched!?”
“F-Forgive us!”
Bowing their heads flat was the mercenaries’ only option.
Baron Bomel wasn’t a picky employer, and they’d never been shorted pay yet.
There was no excuse for letting the liege’s steward—his own nephew, no less—get snatched right in front of them.
“I trusted your skills and sent you to Langbon, and this is what…….”
Slumping back down, Baron Bomel soon sighed.
“Haa! So they’re demanding we go to Lord Fairchild’s castle?”
“Yes. They probably want to exchange him for Lord Robos…….”
“Shut your mouth. Think I don’t know that?”
Glare lingering on the now-silent mercenary leader, Baron Bomel turned to the knights who’d been eyeing the mercenaries with pity.
“What say you, sirs? Apiel is the only son of my late brother. Exchanging him straight for Lord Robos is the way, right?”
“Of course, my lord. But the Fairchilds might have preparations in place. Better if we go first, crush their morale, then do the exchange.”
“I agree with Sir Polmon. If they want a siege, we siege. If Lord Fairchild values honor and prefers a pitched battle on the plains, we’ll give it. We’re ready either way.”
“Oh! With you sirs saying that, I feel secure. So we leave Lord Robos be and march out with the full force?”
Nobles were educated in far more fields than commoners, but not all were knights or versed in strategy.
Barring a few exceptional ones, most titled lords left fighting and warfare to their knights—that’s what the class was for.
“Lord Bomel, best leave half to guard the castle.”
Then, one knight who’d been quiet spoke up calmly in opposition.
“Hm~ Why is that, Sir Raviola?”
Unlike the other two in fine plate mail, Baron Bomel frowned at the young knight in heirloom plate coat.
“If you lead the troops yourself, my lord, then yes, take them all. But otherwise, leave some to guard you and the castle.”
“Hm?”
Reading the baron’s expression demanding more explanation, Raviola continued.
“This is no different from declarations having already been exchanged. Who knows what the Fairchilds have prepared? Leave half—at least three in ten—here.”
“Hmm.”
Baron Bomel’s face remained displeased.
Truth be told, while he put on airs as employer before knights and mercenaries, his territory’s coffers were nearly empty.
Paying three knights and over a hundred mercenaries for nearly a month had done it.
‘If we don’t end this territorial war quickly, the money drain continues. Must wrap it up fast.’
Resolved, Baron Bomel spoke gravely.
“No, all mercenaries march out. My own soldiers suffice for castle defense. And my sons will do their parts.”
House Bomel held a baronial title with a decent-sized territory, so they had about fifty standing troops: Pascal the knight, a capable retired mercenary as guard captain, armed in leather armor with spears and swords.
“If Lord Fairchild has other plans, won’t we run into their troops on the only road there and back?”
“Hm…….”
Sir Raviola looked like he had more to say, prompting the first knight, Polmon, to sneer.
“Sir Raviola’s problem is he’s too cautious. Caution is a knightly virtue, but overdone, it’s seen as cowardice.”
“What did you say?”
As Raviola whipped his head around, the other knight grinned.
“I agree. You’re not thinking of leaving one of us here so you can hog the glory while we march, right? Ambition’s fine, but that’s a bit sly, no?”
“Sirs! How dare you insult me like…….”
“Enough!”
Clapping sharply cut off the knights, who bowed quickly.
“Sir Raviola. I understand your point, but it does seem overly cautious. March out with the others.”
“If you put it that way…… I’ll comply.”
The employer bore the decision and blame; a mere freelancer had no choice but to yield.
* * *
“Sir Eugene. Why aren’t we entering the castle?”
“…….”
“You said you’d take me to my uncle’s castle? Why hide here instead of going straight there!?”
Several hours into waiting on a low hill overlooking Baron Bomel’s castle and village, Pascal finally snapped.
“One more word out of you, and there’s no noble treatment. I’ll get you to the castle as promised, so shut it.”
“Grr.”
The heavy warning forced Pascal to clamp his mouth.
In truth, this red-eyed knight hadn’t tormented or humiliated him, but treated him decently enough to bring him this far.
“Ah! The gates are opening!”
At Mirian’s shout, Eugene crouched lower and sharpened his gaze.
A sizable force crossed the drawbridge, led by three mounted knights.
‘Baron Bomel hired about a hundred mercenaries, right?’
Too far to count precisely, but roughly that number.
“Hm?”
Pascal finally noticed the exiting troops and cocked his head.
Then, realizing something, his eyes widened.
“N-No way……!”
Ssh.
Eugene pressed the dagger to Pascal’s throat and whispered.
“Scream, and noble treatment goes out the window. Got it?”
Not that anyone would hear from here, of course.
(To be continued next time)