Chapter 66
Chapter 66
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: Merlin
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Buuuu-
The trumpet blared across the battlefield. Stone, the third son of the Rehil family, hardened his expression as he gazed at the army arrayed before him. While he had been off hiring mercenaries, his eldest brother's forces had already crushed the second brother's army and were lying in wait for him.
The troops at his command numbered barely forty conscripts and the hundred mercenaries he had just hired. True, the eldest had taken losses clashing with the second brother, but his soldiers still exceeded three hundred in number.
"Stone! Surrender! Your second brother is already defeated! What do you think you can accomplish with that paltry force?"
There was no hope of victory, but whether captured in battle or surrendering outright, a one-way trip to the monastery was inevitable. For Stone, whose sole joy in life had been his indulgences, even death was preferable to being shut away in that place.
"Brother! I've never cared for the succession! I've always thought the lordship should be yours!"
"Then why rebel against me!"
"But I'm not going to that monastery even if it kills me! How can you shove your own brothers in there!"
Three meager meals of oatmeal gruel a day, stale bread that had dried to nothing, and meat rations amounting to a mere half-chicken quarter per sitting—a hellish existence. The monastery's infamous reputation was well-known among all the nobility. And once inside, there was no escape; imprisonment meant death on the premises.
The eldest brother clicked his tongue at Stone's words. Didn't want to go? Then he'd be dragged there kicking and screaming.
"Sir Nail!"
"Yes, my lord!"
"That thundercloud of a fool needs a lesson! Take command!"
"As you command!"
At the commander's order, the eldest brother's army began advancing slowly toward Stone's position. Stone glanced at the man beside him—the mercenary captain, Cutter.
"Can we win...?"
Cutter answered Stone's question with a calm expression. Truth be told, he felt the fear too, but showing anxiety here would only terrify the client.
"Of course. Just watch."
He stared down the battlefield, forcing a composed facade. Their numbers were double his, but in quality, his men held the edge. The key was to shatter their formation in one swift strike. He decided on one of the two tactics Kyle had taught him.
Buuuu-
The trumpet sounded again. Both armies lurched forward. The eldest brother's forces advanced in a classic horizontal line, leveraging their overwhelming numbers—more than double—to envelop and annihilate the enemy.
Cutter, observing this, arranged his mercenaries as planned: stacking the ranks to form a thick, squat formation.
"We punch through the front with raw power! Once the front line breaks theirs, the rear charges straight into their center! The front then splits to the flanks to keep them from encircling us!"
These men, trained solely in forming and maneuvering formations on Kyle's orders, now moved with unparalleled flexibility and speed.
The Landsknechts snapped into formation in an instant. Cutter raised his sword.
"Charge! Today we trample those mongrels and make our name echo across the Empire!"
"Long live the lord! Long live the Landsknechts!"
And so began the first battle of the mercenary band founded by Kyle: the Landsknechts.
"A gift from Viscount Loban."
The day after the duel concluded, a servant approached me with a letter. Breaking the wax seal on the envelope revealed elegant script filling the page.
[To Viscount Lucas Kyle. In admiration of the mercy and skill you displayed in our recent duel, I have prepared this humble token of apology...]
To my surprise, the letter was an apology from Viscount Loban himself. And not just words—he had even sent a gift, instructing me to visit the palace stables and give his name.
He'd seemed petty in appearance and manner, the type to squabble to the bitter end. Apparently, he was more magnanimous than I'd thought.
"What brings a noble guest like you here...?"
Having read the letter, I headed to the stables to claim the gift. A horse, most likely—nothing else made sense from a stable.
"Viscount Loban said he had something for me."
The stable master nodded at my words.
"Ah...! Of course. Right this way..."
The imperial stables dwarfed anything I'd seen in my old noble employer's service. This vast structure stretched out with stalls for dozens—no, hundreds—of horses lined up in endless rows.
As he led the way, the stable master chattered about Viscount Loban's gift: what it was and why he was parting with it.
"This was one of Viscount Loban's own horses, but its temper is so vicious he couldn't ride it reliably."
"So he's palming off his trash on me?"
The stable master shook his head vigorously at my remark.
"Far from it! I was shocked he chose to gift this one. Bad temper aside, it's an extraordinary steed. As a breeding stallion alone, it could earn back tenfold its value..."
He went on and on about what a magnificent horse Viscount Loban had sent.
And then...
Hiihing-!
A horse a full 1.3 times larger than the others reared up on its forelegs with a cry. Its massive frame was impressive enough, but its coat was pure black, gleaming with such luster it looked oiled to a polish.
"We call it the Black King. Just three years old, and already outsizes full-grown mounts."
It was a stunning creature. Glossy black hide, enormous build. It snorted fiercely, but savagery was just another word for valor—nothing wrong with that. This beast could surely handle me in mounted combat.
"This one will do fine for mounted warfare."
The stable master's eyes went wide as saucers.
"You'd use this for mounted combat...? If I may overstep... it's not suited for the battlefield. Fine for tournaments, perhaps, but war...?"
In other words, Loban's gift was too fine a horse to waste on warfare. I could see why, judging by appearances alone.
Prurruk!
As I approached, it pawed the ground and glared daggers. Those jet-black eyes burned with such ferocity that no ordinary person would dare come near.
"Open the gate. Time to break it in."
"Pardon?"
Horses were beasts, after all. Press one down hard enough, and it submitted. The stable master cautioned me hesitantly.
"Forgive me, but there's risk of injury, my lord..."
"Just open it. I won't hold anyone accountable if I get hurt."
He sighed at my insistence.
"Please, take care..."
Kiiiik-
The stall door swung open. The Black King loomed over me with murderous intent. Since growing to my current height, few things had ever forced me to look up—but this beast towered well beyond a standard mount.
Prurruk-!
It bucked wildly, displeased by my intrusion. From my days as a stable hand, I'd learned these types were easiest to handle with a swift smack.
Just like the cocky types among people—most backed down once put in their place. I clenched my fist.
Paak!
A short while later, the black stallion received a new name: Merlin. After the legendary steed from Earth that had charged into bullrings. The color was different, but it fit.
"What a magnificent horse."
Lenia marveled at Merlin. It was no ordinary mount you could find just anywhere. And its strength, its vile temper—the brawl inside that stall, as I wrestled it down, had me wondering if I was taming a horse or battling a magic beast. So fast, so ferocious.
Not that it mattered; a few more solid hits and a bridle yanked tight had it meek as a lamb in short order.
"What's its name?"
"Merlin, my lady."
I hadn't shared tales of my past with Ren... no, Lenia. But we'd mended our old bond, enough to chat like this with easy smiles.
Someday, when I revealed I was the big brother who'd played with her as a child, it'd be from a position of equals. That was my way of showing consideration. Imagine a subordinate suddenly telling the boss, "Hey, I'm the one who babysat you as a kid." Awkward for everyone.
Blissfully ignorant of my thoughts, Lenia stroked the ill-tempered beast and lit up.
"Mind if I take it for a spin?"
"Be my guest."
At my approval, she smiled and mounted up. I handed over the reins with a warning.
"It's a vicious one, my lady. Do be careful."
"No worries. When you get back, I'll teach you to ride—so suit up in armor. Hya!"
Already cowed, Merlin bolted like an arrow at her kick. I worried it might trample the garden flowers, but it nimbly wove the narrow paths without pause.
"What a horse. Truly."
Lenia's verdict after a few laps around the garden. The palace servants would have their hands full smoothing out the fine gravel afterward.
"Give it a try. Squeeze with your thighs... keep your back straight, ease into the motion..."
In full armor, I swung up. Merlin pawed and scraped the ground briefly but showed no strain.
My view expanded like I'd become a four-meter giant. At this height, I'd be swinging my sword one-handed at a gallop. As that thought crossed my mind, Lenia looked up at me.
"Hmm... your natural strength makes for good form. Shall we try a run? Tap the flanks lightly with your heels."
Prurruk-!
Following her advice, I nudged with my heels. Merlin snorted and accelerated. Then came the spectral maneuvers I'd seen earlier, now with me aboard.
It raced the garden paths, slowing smoothly for sharp turns before whipping its body around to pass. This was a horse worthy of the name Merlin—no one strong enough to dominate it had come along before.
After three laps, it halted at the start point as if declaring the job done, then plopped down on its haunches. Lenia laughed.
"Too clever by half."
"Tell me about it. Already playing tricks."
As I dismounted, a voice called from the garden entrance.
"Viscount Lucas! Lady Cligrove!"
It was a palace maid. Far from her usual poised demeanor, she hurried over, then relaxed visibly upon seeing our faces.
"What is it?"
She caught her breath before dropping her bombshell.
"His Imperial Majesty summons you both!"