Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: Duke's Mansion
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Duke's Mansion
"Move it, move it!"
Meanwhile, at Lucas Castle, intense military training was underway. Just as Kyle had planned, the regular soldier recruits were drilling as Landsknechts, while the swordsman veterans trained as Doppelsoeldners. Of course, the elite swordsmen might have felt slighted at being treated similarly to the vanguard swordsmen, but they didn't voice any complaints.
There were several reasons for that, but most boiled down to everything Kyle had done since becoming lord.
The moment he took over, he'd personally led the charge to wipe out bandits plaguing the territory, sold off furniture from the manor and castle to secure food for the people through the winter, and even created jobs for them with his own hands. How could they possibly complain?
"Spears forward! Crossbows, provide covering fire—now!"
Clack! Clack!
The soldiers—no, the mercenaries—moved into a ragged formation at Cutter's command. A proper phalanx usually numbered 300 to 500 men, so theirs was spotty and incomplete. Still, it was solid enough to serve as a basic battle line.
"Get that formation tight! If it breaks, your comrades die!"
Mercenaries armed with 5-meter pikes took the front rank, while the rear was held by those wielding halberds, crossbows, and two-handers.
They were called Landsknechts in name only; the tactics were straight out of the Swiss mercenary playbook, and Kyle intended to drill them in classic Swiss methods.
The Swiss mercenaries, or Reisläufer, had a simple tactic: shatter the enemy's line with long pikes, then send in the halberdiers and two-handers from the rear to finish the job. Someone might say anyone could use it, but the Swiss had made it their signature and earned a reputation as the strongest for a time.
The key was maintaining the phalanx. Whether advancing or retreating, the formation had to hold—no exceptions. That's why Kyle had hammered home the importance of discipline time and again. With their current small numbers, it was tough to execute perfectly, but he had his eyes on the future.
"Whew... this right? It's a goddamn grind..."
"Lord said it works, so it works."
To build proficiency fast, the mercenaries sweated buckets in armor, swinging blunted training pikes and halberds. Living on nothing but meals and drills, they wondered if it was all worth it—until real combat came sooner than expected.
"I want to hire mercenaries."
The first visitor to the hasty mercenary office in Cligrove wasn't a caravan leader, but a noble. Well, a noble's son, technically. He was in such a rush he came himself instead of sending an agent, dumping a pile of coin from his pouch right away.
"Money's no object. I hear these are mercenaries vouched for by the Lady Cligrove of Cligrove County—is that right?"
The office clerk beamed at the glint of gold coins.
"Of course, milord! But what sort of commission did you have in mind...?"
The noble's face darkened. He needed mercenaries in a hurry because his family's succession was a total mess.
His father had collapsed out of nowhere, and his brother was threatening to ship all the siblings off to monasteries. He'd lived the good life as a noble's son, but now faced the cloister himself. Desperate, he'd come to hire muscle.
Local mercenaries were all booked, though—and who really trusted sellswords anyway?
Then he heard about these ones: backed by Cligrove's countess—a war heroine who'd beaten Sarisa Count multiple times—and the upstart Viscount Lucas Kyle. He figured all mercenaries were the same, but with two nobles vouching for them, if war went south, he could always latch onto one or the other.
"It's a territorial skirmish. I'll take your whole company. Name your price."
"Viscount Loban, I presume. To what do I owe the visit?"
"Just wanted a look at the noble who ruined my dear friend."
He said it while lifting his dark eyes in a glare.
"Heard you made a name in the war... but you're just some bear of a man."
I grimaced at the insult. Sure, I'd crushed his buddy, but this was beyond rude. Should I deck him? As I pondered, Viscount Loban turned away coolly.
"See you around. We'll meet again soon enough."
He left. That "meet again" bit? I found out that very evening when an invitation arrived. Not just any invitation—a duke's.
Soon after, the Lady sent a maid to ask if I'd attend the party. She advised it was wise to accept a duke's personal summons. Fair enough—snubbing it would be an insult.
I smiled at the noble lady in maid's guise.
"Tell her I'll go."
That evening, I dressed sharply and met her again in a small tearoom at the palace.
"Viscount Loban... from Duke Northmond's faction."
"He showed up out of nowhere, yapping about Sarisa Count."
"Loban and Sarisa Count were old drinking buddies. Loban's a famed swordsman, too—right up the count's alley."
She explained the empire's factions.
"Depord Empire has many factions, but Duke Northmond and Marquis Edmer lead the biggest. They command dozens of vassals each. Loban's with Northmond."
"So then..."
"Loban came alone, but in the big picture, it's the whole Northmond faction treating me—and you—as enemies."
She advised enduring any provocations at the party. Just once. Then the time on the invite arrived.
'The capital's the capital, alright.'
The main boulevards teemed with people, lit bright as day. Like Cligrove, but three times bigger?
"Lady Cligrove of Cligrove County and Viscount Lucas Kyle."
"Here on Duke Northmond's invitation."
"Verified, milords. Enjoy the evening."
The duke's mansion was packed with noble carriages. Manicured gardens, stone paths, sculpted hedges. Nobles everywhere—I'd never seen so many.
Nothing like Sarisa Count's little soiree. As we entered, their chatter turned to stares.
"Who's that guy?"
"A noble?"
"Oh my... look at those arms..."
Those who didn't know me buzzed with curiosity or wariness at my build. But the ladies and noblewomen eyed me with that familiar subtle gleam, like at Sarisa's party.
Guess the muscled brute look plays well with noble girls here. Even back home, highborn ladies went nuts for it. Then I thought of the Lady and schooled my face.
"That girl..."
"A star's fallen into the party."
"Ahem... a noble lady fit for a refined man like me."
"Ah! You, flower blooming in winter's chill! Why come to your betrothed only now? Had you arrived a year sooner!"
"Mind if I tell Lady Mielle that verbatim?"
"Ahem! My bad."
Clowns. The foppish young lords fell head over heels for her, babbling love. Older nobles couldn't look away either.
Hard to ignore her in that gown. Noble ladies shifted from me to her, their whispers dripping jealousy.
"Hmph! That vixen!"
"What family is she from? Clinging to a man like that—thick-skinned slut!"
"Already got a guy on her arm—look!"
Baseless venom. They whispered, but I heard every word. And just like that, my skyrocketing favor with the ladies tanked—guilt by association with her.
"Ahem..."
"Ignore them. They only see the surface."
She smiled. What good was popularity with these noble girls anyway? They all had fiancés. Heading deeper, the real party unfolded—not medieval, but Renaissance or Baroque vibes. Crystal chandeliers, nobles in finery laughing. How many were there? Even with barons and lowers, this was insane.
"His Grace the Duke will arrive shortly! Please gather in the hall!"
Perfect timing—a servant announced the host as we arrived. They herded the nobles.
"The rightful lord of the duchy! Depord Empire's greatest of great generals, Duke Northmond Alric!"
Clap clap clap—
A hundred nobles applauded as inner doors opened. A man between middle and old age emerged. Duke Northmond Alric? I glanced at the Lady; she nodded confirmation.
"That's Duke Northmond Alric. Empire's top general, head of the Northmond faction."
Age 40s-50s. Over 180 cm, sturdy build. Striking red hair, blue eyes.
His aura screamed faction leader.
"Haha! Your Grace looks radiant as ever!"
"I've made a donation to Your Grace's Northern Guardian Fund this time..."
Nobles swarmed him, desperate for notice. The Lady and I watched from afar, sampling the buffet.
"Duke's house even cooks better. This... mm..."
Seafood in the empire's heart? Impressive. Not as fresh as Earth's, but after all-meat months, it hit the spot.
Then his blue eyes locked on us. No mistaking it—the pressure hit hard. He walked over, parting the crowd, red hair and blue eyes sharp. A smirk tugged his lips.
"Pleased to meet you, Lady Cligrove. I am Duke Northmond Alric."