Chapter 255
Chapter 255
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 255
Chapter Title: 73. Blossoming in Turbulent Times (1)
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I sorted the mercenaries right there on the spot.
"You. You."
I pointed with my finger, picking them out and separating them from the group.
"And you lot."
Sometimes I excluded entire mercenary bands at once.
In the end, the number I'd pulled aside came to fully half of all the mercenaries.
I stared at them silently for a moment before speaking coldly.
"You lot can head back."
The five hundred mercenaries who'd obediently followed my orders and withdrawn to one side without knowing why blinked in wide-eyed shock.
Their gazes toward me brimmed with confusion.
They clearly couldn't fathom what criteria I was using to single them out and send them away.
"Escort a detachment of troops to see them off to the border."
I glanced over their puzzled faces, then immediately ordered the rangers and knights to escort them to the border.
It was called an escort, but in truth, it meant driving them out beyond the kingdom's borders.
Discontent crept onto the faces of the mercenaries, who had only been confused up to that point.
Given who they were facing, none dared to voice their anger outright—they just swallowed it down with obvious frustration.
"We'd like to know why."
One man, especially burly even among them, stepped forward as their representative to ask the reason.
"Do I really need to explain that much?"
Even to my icy reply, the man showed no offense. He simply bowed his head and poured out his grievances.
"We heard the Leonberger royals were recruiting on a massive scale and marched without rest for months, finally arriving here today. But to be told to leave the kingdom the moment we arrive—what are we supposed to do now?"
"Unfortunately, that's not my department."
"We wouldn't dream of begging to be accepted. As I said at first, we just want to know the reason."
His tongue was surprisingly smooth for such a rough-looking brute—clearly, he had plenty of experience dealing with nobles.
But that kind of savvy worked on ordinary nobles, not royals.
"Just a single word of wisdom, like gold or jade, could open the minds of us ignorant fools. Please, show us some mercy..."
Before the man could finish spouting his flowery nonsense, a flash of light gleamed.
Chink.
The man, mid-rant, flinched and snapped his mouth shut.
A sword was pressed against his throat.
"I don't know where you learned your etiquette, but you learned it all wrong."
It was Kals.
"I only ask for mercy..."
"When addressing Your Highness, gaze upon him as you would the sun. Stare straight at him like that now, and your eyes will burn out. Spout words unasked, and your tongue will char to ash."
At the razor-sharp warning, the man paled and fell silent.
"Kals."
I watched quietly for a moment, then ordered him to sheathe his sword and withdraw.
"Remember my words well. Never open your mouth before His Highness speaks first."
Only after adding one more chilling warning in a voice like tempered steel did Kals sheathe his blade and step back.
Seeing the way he looked at me from behind, I almost couldn't bring myself to tell him he was the only one in this kingdom who treated me like the sun.
The rangers and that Ilai bastard had long since spat out any notion of royal etiquette.
I let out a sigh for no reason and exhaled deeply before turning back to the man.
"You asked why."
The man glanced warily at Kals before answering me cautiously.
"You said you came all this way without pause, just hearing that the Leonberger royals were recruiting."
To the man, I replied coldly.
"The answer's already in what you said."
Confusion filled the man's wide-eyed face.
"The royals are looking for people. Not blood-mad beasts."
The man still didn't seem to grasp my words.
I clicked my tongue briefly and spoke low to him.
"The stench of blood rolling off you lot was enough to make my nose fall off."
At my words, the man glanced at Kals before speaking carefully.
"I didn't realize the smell of blood on those who live by the sword was such a big issue."
Far from ashamed, he seemed proud of the thick blood-scent wafting from him—his cautious tone notwithstanding, as if it proved his wealth of combat experience.
I snorted.
"If that blood weren't from innocent commoners, maybe."
The man's eyes twitched.
But the tremor was fleeting. He quickly schooled his face into brazen denial.
How could anyone tell whose blood it was just by the smell? He'd never stained his hands with innocent blood, he claimed.
Of course, it was all nonsense that fell on deaf ears with me.
I could see it clearly.
The evil deeds they'd committed in their lives, the lives they'd taken, the soul-stains etched as traits.
[Human Hunter], [Slaughterer], [Wolf in Sheep's Clothing]
Every trait floating above the five hundred mercenaries' heads told me exactly how they'd lived.
"We've just done a bit rougher work than most, stayed true to our contracts. Never done anything shameful as mercenaries."
Blissfully ignorant of it all, the man kept spewing lies to my face.
"We've got the skills to back it up. I guarantee you—no one among those soft nobles over there is stronger than me."
He even boasted of his prowess with arrogant pride.
And he wasn't wrong.
Among the mercenaries who'd arrived at the fortress, none were stronger than him.
His realm was fully mature, bordering on mastery in its own right.
And that was the peak he'd ever reach.
His soul, fixed by traits and corrupted by accumulated evil and slaughter, could grow no further.
Even if that weren't the case, I couldn't care less about his petty skills.
I waved him off dismissively, as if annoyed.
The man started to speak again, trying to persuade me, but glanced behind me and shut his mouth.
Then he quietly withdrew.
I selected thirty knights from those waiting at headquarters and ordered them, along with a hundred rangers, to lead the group beyond the border.
"The troops are too few..."
The Ilai bastard started to protest but caught my glare and belatedly clamped his mouth shut.
And so, in the first round, I watched half of the thousand mercenaries who'd sought the kingdom turn back, while issuing a few orders to the knights.
One mercenary from the Gray Wolf Mercenary Corps ground his teeth toward the Leonberger royal family's eldest son.
"Damn bastard. He's the crown prince, fine—so what? Treating people like dogs, ordering us around?"
After the long trek, being treated like unwanted guests the moment they arrived had his guts boiling.
"Shut your mouth. Don't go provoking the knights for no reason."
Corps leader Turk glared, reining in his subordinate.
But even he struggled to contain his own rising fury—his face flushed beet red.
"Just kill off those damn knights and be done with it..."
"You idiot. After watching the leader get contracts yanked one after another, you think he even looks like a leader anymore? Hilarious and easy pickings, huh?"
The mercenary, who'd kept mouthing off, finally shut up at Turk's savage tone.
"I don't like any of these bastards."
"So, leader—what now?"
Vice-leader Yols, standing right behind him, asked in a subdued tone.
"What do you mean, what? We keep doing what we were."
At Turk's reply, Yols's voice dropped even lower.
"You really gonna go through with it? I think we'd be better off cutting our losses and heading back now..."
"Quit rehashing finished business, you wimp."
Turk growled back just as low.
"I told you—the world's changing. Didn't you see it in the Empire? Monsters everywhere. The emperor and nobles are too busy clutching their rice bowls to care if villages get razed."
A strange fervor flickered in Turk's eyes as he ranted.
"If the Empire's like that, imagine this backwater bumpkin kingdom on the fringe."
"Leonberg looked way more peaceful than the Empire on the way here. People didn't seem all that anxious."
"That's 'cause the knight guiding us stuck to safe routes."
"Leader, let's rethink this. No matter how I look at it, something feels off. This is the land of the Northern Lion who smashed an Imperial army."
"No worries, Yols. It's turbulent times now. Big mouths eat big. Keep your lips sealed from fear of a fly, and you starve."
Yols started to speak again, but Turk cut in faster.
"Anyway, just do as you're told—butter up the other merc bands like I said. I scouted a decent village on the way. We'll ditch the knights, lay low till things quiet down, then start our real business. Play it right, and we score big. Enough whining."
Yols sighed at the ironclad words, leaving no room for argument.
"Looking at that grin, you spotted another girl you like, huh."
"War's thinned out the men in every village—time for some mutual aid."
"Mark my words, leader—you'll die by a woman's blade someday."
"If I'm dying by the sword, better a beauty's than some man's."
Turk didn't bat an eye at his vice-leader's curse.
He even grabbed his crotch with a lecherous smirk.
Yols sighed once more and returned to his spot.
Turk glanced around slyly as he watched him go.
"Thirty knights and a hundred soldiers."
The knights and soldiers lining both sides had sharp auras. Their keen eyes marked them as elite at a glance.
"Just like I figured—war followed by monster outbreaks has them short-staffed."
But elites or not, their numbers were too thin to fully control five hundred mercenaries.
"Came to Leonberg for a reason."
Turk grinned vilely.
Truth be told, he and his corps had never cared about the pay the Leonberg royals offered.
Offering lowly mercs a path to knighthood? Laughable nonsense no kid would buy.
It was too obvious for scum like them, who could barely gather mana in their hearts, let alone boast noble blood.
"Obviously, they just want cannon fodder."
Of course, he had zero intention of cannon-foddering across battlefields to a pathetic end.
Quite the opposite—he burned with ambition.
He believed he could score huge if he played the world's chaos right. With a bit of luck, he could shed his merc days.
Maybe even lord over a small castle.
Coming to this fringe backwater was just the start.
Turk believed that and bided his time.
Then opportunity knocked.
The knights tasked with watching the mercs dumped the job on the soldiers midway and peeled off.
Left were just over a hundred soldiers.
Turk eyed vice-leader Yols.
Nod.
Yols gave a small nod, signaling he'd already squared things with the other mercs.
He drew his sword without hesitation.
The five hundred mercenaries followed suit, blades out, charging the soldiers.
The soldiers didn't even think to resist the mercs—they just bolted.
"What? Not elites?"
"Their retreat speed says elite!"
The mercs jeered at the fleeing kingdom troops scampering in orderly lines.
"The world's ours now!"
After mocking the kingdom army's cowardice for a good while where they stood, the mercs finally followed Turk onward.
To the nearest village.
A tiny one, barely a hundred households.
"Rest here today, hit the village I scouted tomorrow."
Turk strode into the village without a second thought.
"Leader, something's off."
"What now?!"
Just as Turk basked in the thrill of his bold first step, Yols approached with a grim face, and Turk snapped in irritation.
"Those soldiers earlier."
"The cowards who didn't even draw swords, just turned tail?"
"I checked—no bodies. Not cleaned up; none died."
"They ran too fast for that. Never seen such disciplined flight."
"Even so, we charged right up with blades out—no casualties? Weird..."
"Yols, enough. Keep yapping gloom from the sidelines, and I won't hold back on you."
Turk growled openly, souring the mood, and Yols paled but didn't back down fully.
"This village is weird too. How's it so quiet with this many people showing up?"
Usually, Yols would've folded by now, but he kept nitpicking, and Turk finally exploded.
"Can't do this. Keeping a coward like you as vice'll make us a joke. You're demoted as of today. Go crawl somewhere out of my sight."
As Yols opened his mouth to protest, mercs grabbed him and dragged him off somewhere.
"Tch. Damn wuss."
Having ditched the thorn in his side, Turk sauntered toward the village entrance.
"We'll borrow this village for the day. Cooperate nicely, and we won't harm any..."
Strutting in like he owned the place, Turk started blustering but trailed off and shut his mouth.
Then, after a long pause, he grinned ear to ear, eyes gleaming with lust.
"Looks like we won't be passing quietly tonight."
There, before him under the pale moonlight, stood a woman with exceptionally white, translucent skin, her body tilted at an angle.
She lowered her gentle eyes, gripping a long sword utterly at odds with her slender frame.
"Got a husband? If so, say your goodbyes now. You'll be a widow soon."
At the crude jest, the woman finally turned to face him squarely.
"That crest...?"
Turk's eyes caught the golden lion emblem emblazoned on her chest.
But before he could rationally process what it meant, their eyes met, and he lost himself.
Deep within those kind, soft eyes shimmered an ineffable, mystical light.
Left one red. Right one yellow.