Chapter 139
Chapter 139
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 139
Chapter Title: 44. Fish in Water, or a Horse with No Reins (2)
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The king had clearly promised reinforcements. He even added that a single mercenary band would be far better than one or two average knight orders. But the old commander had long since abandoned any hope in those reinforcements.
For one thing, the war situation had deteriorated to an unimaginable degree compared to before. For another, even if reinforcements arrived, breaking through the enemy forces surrounding them on all sides to reach the fortress would be no easy task.
And yet, the reinforcements he had given up on appeared right before his eyes.
Though it was just a single mercenary, not even an army.
The old commander sighed.
Better if you'd just turned back. Why come seeking a place to die?
He was grateful that the man had rushed here even after seeing the fortress on the brink of falling. But the current state of the fortress was far too dire to change much with the addition of even a single Sword Master.
So the old commander urged the man.
"Help our troops retreat."
The old men dying pointless deaths here was enough. He pleaded for the man to help save even one more ally.
But the man didn't budge.
The old commander tried persuading him again.
Alone, he couldn't do anything—value your life. A mercenary of your caliber could serve the kingdom in greater ways.
The man ignored that too.
In different times, different circumstances, he might have praised the man's loyalty. But to the old commander now, the mercenary's stubbornness was nothing but stifling.
At that moment, the paladin—who had retreated momentarily with his wrist severed—gripped his sword anew and stepped forward.
Killing intent radiated from him.
The man adjusted his grip on his twin swords and eyed the paladin.
The old commander bellowed.
"If you meant to fight, you should've gone for his throat from the start!"
It was a shout born not of anger, but regret. The man replied flatly.
"I deliberately only cut off his wrist."
"What?"
"I deliberately let him live."
The conversation ended there.
The paladin, brimming with murderous aura, charged at the man, who met him with his twin swords.
In an instant, dozens of clashes unfolded.
To the eye, it seemed evenly matched. But no one believed it would last.
Even among masters, a mercenary's mastery wasn't the same as a knight's. A Sword Master who had accumulated mana in their heart to reach perfection could never lose to a mere ring master.
That was common sense.
But that common sense shattered before their eyes.
The mercenary's sword, expected to break soon, grew fiercer with time, while the paladin's began to falter.
A few more exchanges followed.
The paladin was now completely on the defensive, barely managing to parry.
Seizing the momentum, the man swung his twin swords even more ferociously.
Thud.
Finally, the mercenary's sword plunged deep into the paladin's thigh.
The paladin swung his sword wide to shake him off. But the man effortlessly deflected it and drove his remaining sword into the paladin's leg as well.
"Gah!"
With swords embedded in both thighs, the paladin could endure no longer and collapsed with a scream.
The mercenary snatched the kneeling paladin's sword, gripped it, and kicked him squarely in the chest.
The paladin sprawled unceremoniously.
The old commander's eyes bulged.
He could scarcely believe what he saw.
A mere mercenary felling a Quad Chain knight.
The man planted his foot on the paladin's chest with a thud. Then he turned around.
The commander, meeting his gaze, swallowed dryly.
Now that he looked, the man's aura was anything but ordinary.
There was no trace of the worldly air typical of mercenaries. He seemed like a knight forged and refined to perfection.
His presence was more majestic and grand than any knight the commander had ever seen.
Of course. No ordinary mercenary would rush to a fortress on the verge of falling, ignoring the contract or whatever.
Such a noble-spirited man couldn't be ordinary.
That's what he thought.
"This."
Until the man spoke.
"How much will you pay for it?"
His flippant tone made the old commander's eyes widen.
He hadn't grasped the meaning of the question.
Seeing that, the man grinned.
"You wouldn't stiff me on the bonus after I caught a paladin, right?"
The old commander frowned.
The knightly demeanor he'd glimpsed briefly was gone.
All that remained was a merchant haggling over the paladin's life like wares in a marketplace.
With a reluctant face, the commander promised a massive bonus.
The man's smile deepened.
"Then one more thing."
He tapped the ground with his sword tip.
"How much for this?"
The old commander looked at the sword tip. Just blood-soaked dirt and sand—nothing else.
Frowning, he glanced at the man. Then a sudden realization hit, and his mouth gaped.
"No way..."
"Surely this fortress isn't cheaper than a single paladin."
With that, the man grabbed the sprawled paladin by the scruff of the neck.
"Pay up handsomely."
With those words, he headed for the gates, dragging the paladin like a dog.
The imperial troops pouring into the gates through the Dotrin heavy infantry lines scattered in panic, parting left and right.
The ones following, and those after them, did the same.
Thus, the man walked between the parted imperial ranks.
He stopped at the center of the recessed passage linking the inner and outer walls, right at the heart of the gates.
Roughly shoving the paladin aside, he aimed the seized sword at his chest.
Then he snarled savagely at the imperial troops.
* *
"Everyone, halt right there."
At my words, the imperial soldiers froze. But the rear ranks, unable to assess the front, pushed forward for quite a while.
"Halt! Halt!"
"Everyone stop!"
They finally came to a complete stop after the commanders screamed themselves hoarse.
"Eek."
A soldier who halted right in front of me recoiled in terror, shoulders jerking back.
I glanced at his pathetic sight, then surveyed the surroundings.
Spear's reach away, pale-faced imperial soldiers stared at me.
Amid the bewilderment, some moved stealthily.
Without turning, I raised my sword and slashed down.
"Gaaah!"
The paladin—his right arm intact—screamed as my sword pierced it.
I pressed down on his heaving chest and spoke.
"Whose fault is it that his wrist flew off just now?"
The stealthy presence behind me groaned and retreated.
I asked again.
"And if this guy's head goes flying now, whose fault will it be?"
No one answered.
But no one here failed to understand my words.
I was threatening them with the paladin's life.
Move a single step, and I'd lop off his head right here. And if I did, it'd be the fault of whoever moved first.
A cheap trick that wouldn't fly in other times, other places.
But it was working perfectly now.
I looked at the paladin groaning under my foot. The five-headed dragon emblem on his chest—the crest of the Burgundy imperial family. Even a paladin from an ordinary noble house was inconceivably noble; one from the imperial family went without saying.
The imperial troops remained frozen, unmoving.
Ridiculous.
I was just one man. If they charged with eyes closed, they could topple one of Dotrin's sturdy fortresses.
No one stepped up.
No commander or soldier here wanted their report to list my name as the paladin's cause of death.
I glanced back.
I saw the old commander's hardened face watching the standoff with the imperials.
I signaled with my eyes.
Somehow understanding, he rallied his troops and assembled them at the gates.
The imperial knights and soldiers who'd bravely charged toward the fortress hesitated and withdrew.
Spotting me standing firm in the center of the gates, they stiffened.
Despair was plain on their faces as they looked front and back. One knight, steeling himself, hugged the passage edge and carefully slipped past me.
The others soon followed the knight's lead.
Among them, a few shady knights subtly gathered energy in their swords for a sneak attack. I countered by pressing harder on the sword aimed at the paladin's chest.
"Agh!"
The paladin screamed as if his life hung by a thread— the perfect warning.
How long did this hostage standoff last?
The old commander approached and informed me that all imperials who'd breached the inner fortress had withdrawn.
"Heh, unbelievable."
Stunned by this absurd hostage drama, he kept exhaling sharply.
Then he asked what I planned to do next.
"Haven't thought that far."
At my words, the commander made a bewildered face.
"Let's repair the gates first."
"That'll take time. I doubt they'll stay put that long."
As he said, the imperials wouldn't hesitate to advance forever over one paladin's life.
They'd soon glorify his death as a sacred sacrifice or noble martyrdom and beat the war drums.
Signs of it were already showing.
Runners darted back and forth; frontline commanders glanced grimly between me and the paladin.
The advance order must have come down.
No time left.
I whispered to the old commander.
"Buy time with magic first."
"You think magic's a cure-all? There's no spell to repair gates..."
"Blast a big one to collapse the passage—we'll gain time."
The commander stared at me with a rigid face, then nodded.
But there was a problem.
"The mage is down."
The mage who needed to collapse the passage had collapsed from mana exhaustion.
I sighed inwardly.
No wonder things were going too smoothly.
"Shove some hidden potion down his throat or whatever—get him back on his feet ASAP, no holds barred."
"And then?"
"Then we buy time."
The old commander instantly adopted a resolute expression and stood by my side.
Irritated by him getting in the way, I shooed him off.
Reluctant but obedient, he withdrew—for now.
He had deployed troops behind me as a precaution.
Meanwhile, tension built in the imperial front lines.
And finally, when the imperial commanders could no longer defy orders and steeled themselves, the war drums boomed.
The imperials, who had fallen back briefly, advanced again.
Imperial knights filled the front, replacing the terrified soldiers.
"You bastards killed him."
With that, I slashed down.
"Gurk."
With a short groan, the paladin went limp, lifeless.
The knights' morale surged.
With the hostage dead, they seemed relieved.
"You won't die easy."
To the imperial knight's words, I tossed aside the sword in my hand and drew the two embedded in the paladin's corpse.
Facing the charging knights, I steadied my breath.
In my mind, I recalled war poems.
Leonberger royal and knightly poems wouldn't do here. My identity might leak.
But I didn't only know kingdom-born poems.
Perfectly, there was one I could recite without fear of exposure.
Ideal for me now—a mercenary fighting in a foreign war.
"A soldier dies to become six silver coins; a knight, thirty gold."
A king-titled man, scorned by all.
A wanderer living solely for one purpose.
A knight pointed at as lowly even in his dying moment atop the heights.
"Victory is empty glory; only my warehouse filled with fleeting death is truth."
"A soldier dies to become six silver coins, a knight, thirty gold." "Victory is empty glory; only my warehouse, filled with fleeting death, is truth."
⟨ Heroic Lay of the Mercenary King, the Knight of Gold Coins ⟩
I softly chanted that money-obsessed ghost's song.