Chapter 44
Chapter 44
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: Misunderstanding
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Before long, the soldiers had closed in to within visible range. Kyle glanced at them briefly before turning to the knights.
"Isn't protecting your lord your duty? Hurry up before they get here!"
At his words, the knights bit their lips. Abandoning a comrade was unthinkable. But as Kyle said, safeguarding their lord was their top priority.
"Sorry! We'll... we'll be back soon!"
"Lady! You have to go!"
The knights persuaded Lenia. If they got caught here, Sir Lucas's sacrifice would be in vain. Lenia bit her lip until it bled and glanced at Kyle once. His resolute expression, prepared for sacrifice—even Edward couldn't fathom it—seemed noble beyond words.
Of course, Kyle's actual plan was to skirmish just enough to buy time and bolt when the pesky swordsmen showed up like the others had. Unfortunately, the knights lacked the ability to read his mind.
To sacrifice for their lord. How honorable. The knights were awed by his courage—especially since he wasn't even a knight—and ashamed of their own hesitation. But time offered no room for shame. The enemies' shouts grew ever closer.
"We'll definitely come back... Sir Lucas..."
And so they left him behind. Tears streamed from the knights' eyes.
"Waaah!"
"Seize them!"
The mounted knights, nobles, and soldiers swarmed toward the gate. Emboldened by their allies' approach, the gate guards charged at the lone Kyle with spears raised—but it was pure recklessness.
Killing all the gate guards took him no longer than sipping a cup of tea. Those six or so soldiers hadn't even served as a warm-up.
Squelch—
Stepping over ground turned slick with soldiers' blood, he seized the gate's winch. And as if by magic, the winch—that normally took ten men to turn—began to revolve under his grip.
Rumble—
The chains linked to the gate wound around the winch, and the massive gate started to close.
Thud!
With the heavy gate shut, Kyle silently picked up the fallen crossbar and slotted it back into place. It was a solid wooden beam reinforced with iron. He frowned at it. If it'd been pure iron, he could've bent it.
"What a shame."
Muttering that, Kyle raised his sword. He needed to buy enough time for the lady and knights to escape.
Thud-thud-thud—
Before the shouts reached him, the knights' and nobles' horses arrived first. Their gazes shifted from the firmly shut gate to Kyle standing before it.
"...Sir Lucas."
His face was somewhat known even among Sarisa's nobles. They reined in their horses before him.
"Sir Lucas! The battle's already lost! Your lord abandoned you—do you really mean to die like a dog here?"
"Surrender, and we'll treat you as a prisoner of war!"
The bare minimum courtesy one noble owed another. From their midst, Kyle bellowed.
"Shut your mouths, you honorless scum! You call yourselves nobles after pulling this stunt?!"
"....."
"What sets you apart from the mercenaries you despise?! No—even mercenaries wouldn't stoop this low! One moment you're begging for mercy, clutching at pant legs; the next, you're sneaking in like rats at night, you filthy vermin!"
Ptoo!
Kyle spat in front of them. Yet despite the blatant insult, not a single noble or knight raged. They had at least a shred of conscience.
Everyone knew he was ex-mercenary, which probably made them feel even more ashamed. Born nobles, being chewed out for lacking honor by a former mercenary like him.
One noble stepped forward amid the tension.
"I commend your bravery and loyalty! But you know we have our own circumstances. Surrender, and I swear we'll treat you as befits a noble!"
But Kyle clamped his mouth shut and stood guard before the gate. As the flustered nobles debated their next move, soldiers swarmed in, surrounding him.
Even boxed in behind a closed gate. Even outnumbered by hundreds. Kyle glared at them with fierce eyes. His savage glare made the soldiers hesitate, none daring to charge.
A noble sacrificing for his lord. Ashamed by the contrast, the nobles tried to persuade Kyle—but ultimately failed.
Dragging this out risked losing Cligrove's lady for good. At last, the order came from their lips: kill him.
"Kill him!"
"Waaah!"
At the command, the soldiers charged as one. Spears thrust from all sides, raw killing intent pressing in on Kyle. But he felt no fear. Instead, facing the wave of soldiers crashing toward him, his roar erupted.
"Come on then! You honorless bastards! Not one of you passes until you trample my corpse!"
"Haa! Haat!"
Seven mounted figures raced down a dark path. Lenia and the knights who'd escaped Sarisa. They'd whipped their horses relentlessly, not pausing once until the exhausted beasts foamed at the mouth.
"Lady! Stop for a moment! The horses are spent!"
Fleeing fast was good, but worn-out horses collapsing meant no escape even if they wanted one. As skilled riders, they knew this well. Horses couldn't complain of fatigue; they ran until death if spurred.
Finally halting to rest the mounts, they kept glancing back the way they'd come. If Sarisa's knights caught up, with only sidearms for weapons, capture was inevitable.
"We seem to have shaken them off for now. No sign of pursuers yet..."
"Sir Lucas..."
At the knight's words, Lenia unwittingly murmured his name. The knights' mood darkened. They'd just celebrated dodging pursuit—but it was all thanks to Kyle's sacrifice.
"Sir Lucas died honorably... Mercenary-born or not, he was nobler than any noble."
"What if we petition for a posthumous knighthood in his name? Maybe even a statue..."
The knights brainstormed memorials. In their minds, Kyle was already dead. And by the time Lenia and the knights returned to the city, no pursuers had appeared.
"Damn it... it's over..."
One of Sarisa's nobles spat the words. Before him stood a blood-soaked man. Having single-handedly cut down dozens, his eyes gleaming ferociously, the soldiers leveled spears but backed away.
Even chasing desperately now, they might not catch up—the delay had been too long. All because of one man.
"No more takers?! You cowards!"
Hundreds of soldiers cowering before one man was a spectacle. Veterans of battles and captivity, yet instinctual terror overpowered their experience.
"Does Sarisa breed only cowards?"
When Kyle advanced, soldiers retreated; when he fell back, they edged forward. The farce, like a comedy play, flushed the nobles' faces red.
"Where are the elite swordsmen?! The vanguard swordsmen?!"
Realizing regular soldiers couldn't handle him, the nobles called for elites—but inexplicably, they still hadn't shown near the gate. Finally, one Sarisa knight, shamed into action, stepped up.
The knight raised his sword in salute to Kyle. Enemy or not, a worthy foe.
"I salute your valor and loyalty. But... we have our reasons too. Let this end here."
"I won't applaud your dishonor. Feel the shame."
"...."
Despite the taunt, the knight raised his sword. His blade wavered, drawing the eye—then slashed in one fluid motion.
Whoosh! Clang!
Relying only on torchlight, their swords clashed. Feet danced in defense and attack, blades scraping with deafening clamor.
Clang!
The exchange ended—with the knight on the back foot, contrary to expectations. Each block of the massive sword sent numbing shocks through his arms. Its speed demanded total focus to match.
The knight spun his longsword to shake off the wrist ache from the two-handeder's weight and length. Kyle's impassive gaze through his visor sparked light in the knight's eyes.
Heavy, yes—but the swordplay was refined, not brute force, belying his bulk. A mercenary, they'd heard.
"Were you originally a wandering knight?"
"......"
No answer. The knight raised his sword again. Finish quick and pursue Cligrove's lady. His steps narrowed.
Clang! Kak!
Low to high, high to mid. Assuming equal skill, the two-hander outmatched the longsword—reach and weight advantage. Especially wielded by someone like Kyle? Swinging it like an arming sword?
Clang!
The knight barely parried with his gauntlet gripping Ricasso, then retreated hastily. Any underestimate of the mercenary vanished.
"I acknowledge you. No wonder Cligrove's lady chose you as guard..."
No half-measures would decide this. The knight regripped his sword.
"Make way!"
"Don't block the front!"
But then, a group of soldiers sauntered up from behind. The elite swordsmen, absent until now.
They parted the soldier ranks casually and advanced. The knight scowled at them.
"Where the hell were you?"
The swordsman bowed readily. Late was late, excuses or not.
"Apologies. We handled Cligrove's vanguard swordsmen on the way... Ran into them heading to the mansion."
A lie. They'd met Cligrove's swordsmen, true—but no fight. They'd hidden them in their homes instead. Yet the swordsmen omitted that, implying they'd slain them.
Calmly lying, they eyed Kyle behind the knight.
"We'll handle him. No need for your lordship to soil his hands."
The knight pondered briefly: honor the worthy foe, or efficiency via swordsmen? But the choice was swift.
"Very well. But mind your address. He's no lowborn you can trifle with."
Asshole's got some nerve after we backstabbed him. The swordsmen thought it, but permission granted...
"We'll finish quick."
As they advanced in unison, torchlight glinted off swords and armor. Sarisa's finest—commoners closest to knighthood—drawing blades en masse was fearsome enough to make enemies piss themselves.