Chapter 45
Chapter 45
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: Imprisonment
-----------------------------------------------------------------
When the swordsmen had closed in to a distance where the soldiers and knights behind them couldn't hear, Kyle said with a smile,
"Who would have thought I'd see you all like this again."
One of the swordsmen who knew Kyle replied,
"It's not been long since we parted, sir. Why didn't you flee?"
"I don't know how to ride a horse. If I'd climbed on behind another knight, they would've caught us by now."
The swordsmen sighed at his words. Who would have guessed he couldn't ride? Only now did they recall he was a former mercenary, slapping their foreheads in realization.
But it wasn't as if there were no options. The swordsmen intended to capture Kyle. If they imprisoned him, when the furious Lady of Cligrove led an army to smash this castle in revenge, he'd be naturally freed. They exchanged glances and raised their swords.
"No choice now. Please forgive us..."
Clang-!
Kyle struck first. Before the swordsmen could finish speaking, he swung his massive two-hander wildly, rampaging like a beast.
"Surround him! Charge all at once!"
The chilling scrape of swords against armor and shouts echoed from all sides. Swordsmen staggered by Kyle's blows clutched their struck areas and groaned, even through their armor.
But elite swordsmen weren't titled lightly. As if to prove it wasn't mere luck, they counterattacked swiftly. Swords slashed and thrust from every direction through the gaps in Kyle's wide swings, which had to cover a broad area.
They resembled ancient hunters cornering a wild beast. Four of them together could subdue a knight, and they were thoroughly pressing Kyle. But when hunting beasts, the hunters braced for casualties too.
"Ugh!"
"Kuh!"
Kyle's sword couldn't pierce their armor, but its sheer weight delivered blunt impacts like a mace. A hit to the arm snapped bones; to the body, cracked ribs—an overwhelming force.
In moments, several elite swordsmen were combat-incapacitated. Struck by the two-hander, they crumpled with broken arms, legs, and ribs, as if hammered by a club.
Yet amid it all, the swordsmen aimed not to kill but to subdue their benefactor.
"Huff... huff..."
For the first time since arriving in this world, Kyle showed fatigue. Even he couldn't swing a two-hander endlessly for over ten minutes while clad in heavy armor without tiring.
Meanwhile, the impatient nobles shouted from behind as the swordsmen who'd advanced so confidently dragged it out.
"He's tired! Throw the lassos! Capture him at least!"
They'd planned to take him prisoner in case they lost Lenia. At the order, dozens of soldiers hurled lassos in unison.
"This is nothing!"
The first lasso bounced harmlessly off. But one couldn't fend off dozens with just two hands. Once one caught, lassos from all sides bound his body. And in that instant, a whip-like crack rang out.
Snap!
The lasso tautened with a burst, and dozens of soldiers yanked like they were dragging a bull.
"Grrgh!"
"Whoa!"
Each time Kyle strained, the soldiers panicked and pulled harder. It was unbelievable strength—withstanding dozens alone. A normal man would have collapsed long ago, but the one before them endured it solo.
"Pull harder!"
But he was human too. As more soldiers joined, adding their might, Kyle's knees slowly buckled to the ground.
"Pull! More!"
"Pile on!"
Soldiers swarmed him simultaneously. Their bodies and lassos buried Kyle.
In front of the Cligrove manor, countless soldiers stood in formation. Citizens grumbled about another war so soon after the last, but upon hearing the full story, they raged alongside.
After all, these were the ones who'd declared war, lost, then tried to kill Cligrove's lady to dodge reparations. The manor gates were chaos with soldiers and thronging citizens.
"Bloody retribution on Sarisa!"
"Kill Count Sarisa!"
It wasn't just Lenia's near-death fueling the fury—unpaid soldier compensations hinged on the count paying up.
Having smashed them once, power disparity wouldn't matter in a rematch. Thus, volunteers flooded the barracks to enlist.
Moreover, tales of Kyle's sacrifice, spread from the escaping knight through soldiers and citizens, ballooned into absurd heroics.
"That wolf hunter, Baron Lucas Kyle..."
"When he roared..."
Slicing six soldiers in the stable solo became single-handedly carving through the enemy army to fetch a horse for Lenia. Elite swordsmen parting ways turned into enemy knights fleeing in terror at his shout.
A knight sacrificing for his lord. A knight dying gloriously for honor. What a beautiful tale. And as a commoner—nay, ex-mercenary—it swelled citizens' pride.
"Everyone! Shall we stand for this? Avenge Baron Lucas Kyle!"
"Think of how he fought valiantly at the gates against that savage, cowardly Sarisa horde before falling!"
"Slashed twenty times, stabbed fifteen! Only felled by their crossbow bolts at the last! He endured the agony, holding the gates for Cligrove's future!"
Stories spread endlessly, from who-knows-where. From the manor window, Lenia gazed down.
"Volunteers are swarming to enlist."
At the knight's report, Lenia nodded, her eyes heavy with grief.
"I see. Accept them all. We must have revenge."
A letter detailing Count Sarisa's atrocities had already gone to the emperor, with his own letter and noble testimonies as proof. An imperial investigation team would come soon.
"Revenge!"
"Waaaaah!"
With Lenia's orders, mobilization finished at unprecedented speed. Furious knights scraped soldiers from their estates; city dwellers joined with basic arms and armor.
Whether for vengeance or scraps from an easy win, countless soldiers assembled as Lenia stepped forward. Her quiet voice spread through the silent ranks.
"Do you know of Baron Lucas Kyle?"
"We do!"
After the werewolf incident, nearly everyone in the city knew him. Soldiers roared they did too.
"He sacrificed himself to foil Count Sarisa's dishonorable scheme. Thanks to him, I returned alive."
No one was ignorant of the tale, but hearing it from her thrilled them into rapt silence.
"I remember his final moments clearly. Though a commoner and ex-mercenary... he was more honorable than any. What say you?"
"We must have revenge!"
"Death to the count!"
No cheerleaders needed; soldiers bellowed in fury from all sides. They admired Kyle. A rags-to-nobility tale always inspired the lowly.
Seeing morale pierce the heavens, Lenia raised her sword.
"Before the sun sets three times, we will raze the count's castle! Will you follow me? March without rest for revenge? Honorable soldiers of Cligrove!"
"Before three sunsets! We will take the castle!"
The soldiers' cheers filled the city.
Thud... thud...
In a dark, damp space—the only light from a barred slit window—I sat fully bound. Bastards.
"Tie me any looser."
Manacles and shackles clamped my arms and legs, a collar around my neck, and for good measure, thick ropes cocooned me tight. I wriggled, but the constricting bonds wouldn't budge—not even for breath.
"Should've bolted earlier."
I sighed at the ropes' pressure, grumbling. I'd planned to stall then flee, but rage turned me into a berserker. Lucky I didn't die.
Idiotic impulse. Now I'd rotted here days.
Clank!
The prison door—empty save for me—opened; two soldiers entered. They glanced warily, mouths agape.
"S-Sir Knight?"
Overly cautious tone. In this world, jailers normally cursed and beat prisoners. Hierarchy ruled. But more so, imprisoning a noble like me was the real issue.
"What is it?"
I deepened my voice, aristocratic as possible. The soldier's face grew more cautious.
"It's... mealtime. Shall I bring food?"
Feed me like this? Hands useless—how?
"Appreciated, but how with these hands?"
"Ahem... I could feed you..."
"Nonsense. I'd sooner starve than suffer that humiliation."
Lie. I'd scavenge crumbs if starving. But bluffing might loosen these bonds.
It worked; he hesitated. A common prisoner, sure—but a noble?
"Th-then... just the ropes. Manacles, shackles, collar... I can't..."
"That's enough thanks."
Clank!
Door opened; he entered fearfully, eyeing if I'd kill him the moment free.
"Got a bunny-like wife and fox-like daughter at home... P-please, I'll loosen... just don't..."
Bunny wife, fox daughter, eh. His earnest plea—life overflowing—I nodded meekly. Killing him gained nothing. Armor stripped, even a few swordsmen threatened my life; no escape now.
He untied the ropes and collar. Liberation washed over me.
"Finally, breathing room. Couldn't even before. Thanks."
"Oh, no thanks needed... Food coming right up."
At my gratitude, he bowed humbly, fetched a plate and bottle. Warm rye bread, soup, a chicken leg. And wine in his hand.