Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: I Won't Be a Knight or Anything (3)
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Inside the tent, the shouting voices had been going back and forth before suddenly falling silent.
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Wondering what was going on, I turned around and saw Dalton stepping out through the tent flap.
He spotted me, let out a heavy sigh, and said,
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"Ha, fucking hell. How the fuck could this happen?"
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I asked cautiously,
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"What happened?"
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Dalton looked at me, his fist clenching like he was about to deck me in a fit of rage, but he lowered his arm, grabbed my shoulder, and said,
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"I'm too pissed to go into details, fuck. Keep your mouth shut and go inside the tent to talk to Sir Holmes."
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Asking anything more would probably get me grabbed by the collar and beaten into the dirt for real.
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"Yes, sir."
"Fuck, do whatever the hell you want. Whether you take the bastard's offer or stick with me. Neither me nor Baron Tilen can screw you over no matter what you pick. Fucking bullshit."
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Taken at face value, it might sound like parents saying, 'Your life is yours, do what you want,' and offering unconditional support.
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But what Dalton really meant was this.
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'I'd really prefer if you stuck around under me. The other side can't touch you anyway if you do. Fuckin' kid.'
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Leaving him behind, I headed straight into the tent where Holmes was waiting.
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Sir Holmes saw me and flashed an overly friendly smile that felt burdensome.
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If it were a beauty like Karin, fine—but a middle-aged nobleman giving me that knowing look made me want to crawl into a hole.
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'Fuck, social life means keeping a straight face no matter how shitty it gets, but isn't this crossing the line?'
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"Sorry to keep you waiting so long."
"No, sir. If anything, I'm grateful you went to all this trouble for me."
"Your parents must have taught you noble manners and dignity well. It's a fine sight. The baron will surely be pleased to see you."
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No, I never said I'd serve under you people.
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Why was he talking like becoming Baron Tilen's knight was already a done deal? Had they chugged a whole barrel of kimchi soup and lost their minds?
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Sir Holmes, oblivious to my bewilderment, held out a fancy-looking scroll in his right hand.
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At its center was a wax seal—the mark of a document stamped personally by the baron himself, proving its authority.
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I was just a lowly knight from a minor house, and the sender was a baron far above that, so per etiquette, I dropped to one knee and bowed my head.
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"Baron Antonio von Tilen, rightful lord of the Tilen Barony, declares: You, Martin Meyer, in your very first battle, shattered the enemy's squad, awakened your aura, and beheaded their platoon leader—a magnificent feat of arms. Moreover, by uncovering Baron Casino's wicked scheme in advance, you spared this baron from a dire trap. For this, I express my profound gratitude."
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Nobles bore heavy responsibility for their words.
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If a high lord arbitrarily twisted his statements based on mood or circumstance, his authority and power—the lifeline of his very existence—would crumble to dust in an instant.
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And among those, expressions of gratitude carried the heaviest weight.
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It granted the recipient the right to leverage that thanks to extract something in return.
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"Thus, having taken interest in you and heard your circumstances, I learned that you left the service of Viscount Schwein's house due to feelings of deprivation from your lowly status and unfair treatment, turning to mercenary work."
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Sure, I was a knight—upper crust by this world's standards—but a baron ruled over at least ten thousand souls.
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For such a lord to bother investigating my background before recruiting me? It was almost touching.
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"It pains me to see talent like yours wasted in a mercenary band, unable to shine fully. Therefore, I wish to take you as my direct knight. I cannot grant you lands, but I offer two squires, a monthly salary of 10 gold, and arrangements for a suitable marriage to a lady of good family. If this satisfies you, accept my proposal, serve Baron Tilen, and display your valor and skill."
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Sir Holmes finished reading, then looked at me with a triumphant expression.
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His eyes seemed to say,
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'You're talented, sure, but just a dirt-poor country bumpkin. No way you'd turn down the baron changing your fate with an offer like this.'
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And he wasn't entirely wrong. Put someone in my exact shoes in front of this proposal, and all hundred out of a hundred would kneel and snatch it up.
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Becoming the baron's knight wouldn't make me a massive success overnight like I'd aimed for, but it'd be like landing a cushy civil service gig with fat paychecks and stability.
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Serve well, rise through the ranks with better treatment, use the money to gather pretty girls for my own harem, live a life of honor and respect.
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So, this wasn't a bad offer for me.
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If anything, it was overly generous for where I stood now.
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"The baron eagerly anticipates welcoming talent like you. A wise man like yourself surely won't let this lifeline slip away...?"
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As generous as it was—maybe too generous—I had zero intention of accepting Baron Tilen's offer.
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It might sound insane, but even with all my exploits, becoming a 'baron's knight' meant advancement with a hard ceiling.
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Like two rookies with equal talent joining a megacorp versus a small firm: no matter their skill, their ceiling was tied to the company's scale.
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Grateful as I was, this wouldn't hook me when my goals were fame, power, honor, and a harem.
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With that, I bowed my head and replied politely,
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"It is an exceedingly humbling offer, but I must respectfully decline your kindness."
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Sir Holmes's face twisted into something grotesque for a moment.
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"......This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for you? Not to disparage your abilities, but aren't you just a rookie mercenary without a proper post yet?"
"Yes, that's true."
"Do you think you'll get another offer this generous? I'll pretend I didn't hear that refusal—youthful impulsiveness and all that."
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Youthful impulsiveness? Did he think I'd turned this down on some greenhorn whim?
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No, I'd crunched the pros and cons thoroughly.
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So I replied with firm conviction,
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"The baron's offer would be the glory of my lifetime. Yet I am merely a mercenary fresh off my first outing. For one so lacking as I to become your knight without proving myself fully would only bring disgrace to Baron Tilen."
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Sir Holmes smiled at me a bit more warmly upon hearing that.
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"No need to worry on that score. Even those born to knightly houses don't start perfect. The baron has considered all that in making his invitation."
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The baron seemed genuinely set on recruiting me, which made me feel a tiny bit guilty—but if I joined him now, it'd be game over with Karin, whose relationship with me was just starting to progress.
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Blonde, killer style, straightforward beauty Karin—and the chance to grow my skills. If I ditched those to settle down already, I wouldn't have gone so hard in my first battle, fuck that.
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"No, my skills are still lacking. No matter the opportunity, I can't serve a lord as a knight in this state. Instead, I wish to hone myself further as a mercenary."
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Sir Holmes sounded genuinely regretful.
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"If you're truly set on that, what more can I say? A real shame."
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It might seem ridiculous that Sir Holmes gave up so easily on an order tied to the baron's face—but as Dalton said, unless Baron Tilen was crazy.
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Snatching talent from a merc band without consent, or punishing refusal, would bite them later when hiring mercs.
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Mercs sold their lives for gold, not loyalty to the baron. Treat them like underlings at whim, and no one would work for him again.
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"Can't be helped, then. Truly can't be helped. I sincerely hope you prosper."
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Sir Holmes said that and quietly departed.
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Once our talk wrapped, I headed to where Mercenary Captain Dalton was sighing heavily outside.
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Dalton looked at me with worry etched on his face.
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"Hey, fuck. So what happened? You taking the knight gig? If that's what you want, I won't stop you. Honestly, with your thin resume, getting knighted now would just mean shitting blood later. Personally, I'd say skip it..."
"Thanks for the offer, but I turned it down. Figured there's more to learn under you, Captain..."
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He flicked my forehead hard with his knuckles.
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"You little shit, acting all cutesy like some punk. Do it again and I'll hurl you like I did Albert, fuck?"
"Won't happen again, Captain!"
"Still, thanks for sticking with me, Martin, you rascal. When we get back, write up a detailed reason for refusing the knighting and hand it to me. The baron might read it himself, so stuff it full of honorable bullshit. I'm counting on your way with words, punk."
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**
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And so I spent a long time drafting a letter apologizing to the baron for refusing the knighthood.
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"Ha, fuck, I miss ballpoints so bad. This cheap-ass fountain pen is a nightmare to use."
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Shaking out my cramped hand around the roughly carved wooden penholder, I felt my wrist loosen a bit.
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"Still, this should be solid enough that even the baron can't nitpick. And with my exploits being pretty big, I might snag a bigger reward than Squad Leader Pior got..."
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Thanks to Baron Tilen timing his knighthood pitch just right, my value had skyrocketed. Dalton would have to pay up big, right?
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The baron acknowledged my deeds, so for his own face...
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Hell yeah, he'd shower me. My heart was pounding just thinking about it.
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I finished the letter, set down the pen, and headed to deliver it to Dalton when Karin's voice called from behind.
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"Sorry for eavesdropping, but I heard everything. Baron Tilen offered you a knighthood? I thought we'd get along great, but you're leaving already? Congrats, Martin."
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She must've overheard during Dalton and Holmes's racket.
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It threw me into total panic, driving me nuts.
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Still, I played it cool like it was no big deal, took a quick breath, and replied,
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"Uh, I turned down the offer."