Chapter 10
Chapter 10
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: He Who Sold What Cannot Be Sold (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Earl Sandwy.
A knight who rose from serf origins to the advanced realm of Sword Expert. The empire might have them in spades,
but in the kingdom, where talent was especially scarce, he was one of only five elite knights.
Thanks to that, a mere common serf like him wasn't just granted an earldom—
he even rose to become the margrave overseeing the kingdom's eastern regions...
In simple terms, think of him as the bridge between the royal family and the eastern nobility.
Like the military.
Just as a lowly soldier can't waltz straight up to the regimental or divisional commander without causing issues,
the rural eastern nobles faced all sorts of restrictions even when approaching the king directly.
Instead, they went through Earl Sandwy—or even paid their taxes to him directly.
In name and in truth, he was the ruler of the east.
Why speak of him in the past tense?
The answer's simple enough. Earl Sandwy is no longer among the living.
A massive jet-black greatsword—far too enormous for any human to wield—stood plunged into the ground first.
And at the opposite end, atop the sword's hilt, something else rested.
A human head.
The head impaled on the greatsword was brazenly displayed right at the castle gate for all to see.
Exhibiting severed heads from battle was commonplace.
The problem was that this head belonged not to a criminal, but to Earl Sandwy.
"My lord, that head..."
"......"
Of course, I'd never laid eyes on the earl. Even so, I could say with absolute certainty.
That it was Earl Sandwy's head. Why else would it be there like that?
Who would've thought that the moment I crossed the threshold of his domain, I'd stumble upon Earl Sandwy's head.
"I'm Thomas, captain of the guard overseeing this castle's defenses. What brings you all here?"
"Cain Blackguard, lord of Blackguard Territory. We've fled here to escape the imperial army."
"......Proof?"
"The land deed proving ownership of Blackguard Territory. It even bears the royal seal."
"Might I take a moment to verify it?"
His overbearing tone instantly softened into deference. Rural backwater or not,
a noble was still a noble. His rank was inevitably higher than that of a mere guard captain.
I handed over the land deed I'd prepared from my territory without protest.
Thomas gave it a perfunctory glance, nodded, and returned it.
"All verified. I apologize for my earlier rudeness. Please forgive me..."
"You can read?"
"Regrettably, no. But the seal is unmistakable."
"......How the hell did Earl Sandwy end up like that?"
The ideal choice would've been to turn tail and flee the instant I saw the severed head.
But even that option was off the table.
With scant food supplies and exhausted refugees—not to mention...
nowhere left to go.
Guard Captain Thomas, still manning the gates, had clearly served the earl.
So I figured I'd hear the truth from him, at least. And he didn't betray my trust. With a heavy sigh, Thomas forced open his reluctant lips.
"Why would I dare hide anything from you?"
"Start from the beginning. Tell me everything."
"The earl gladly welcomed the nobles and refugees fleeing the empire."
Putting together Thomas's account as guard captain, the earl had been a stubborn man.
Charitably, a man of duty. Less kindly, a rigid old codger.
But he was no coward who crumbled before the strong.
"The earl wished to fight to the end for his kingdom and His Majesty. But... those damn bastards...!!"
"I get it's hard to talk about. But you need to be clear. That's the only way his death won't be in vain."
"My apologies. I got a bit carried away."
For a split second, veins bulging in his neck as he ground his teeth—it didn't seem ordinary.
And sure enough, the fall of the earldom hid an ugly truth.
"Some of the nobles the earl had taken in secretly opened the gates at night to let in the imperial army."
"Betrayal? All the eastern nobles?"
"Not all. The ones loyal to the earl till the end fell with him... or rot in dungeons now."
"......"
"Honestly... I don't even know right from wrong anymore. Weren't nobles supposed to be noble and honorable by nature?"
Raw fury rising to his throat. But he swallowed it down and spat out those bone-chilling words.
I had no reply to give.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ In the end, we had no choice but to set up camp near the earldom. No other options left at this point.
More than that, the refugees were in rough shape. They hadn't properly rested in the past month,
and the final push through pounding rain had left them utterly spent.
Reality and ideals.
Never had their gap felt so stark. Damn it all.
Honestly, surrender itself didn't strike me as wrong. Wanting to live isn't a crime.
'The problem is this damn Defeat Regression won't just sit idly by.'
I myself had first tried surrendering to the overwhelming odds. No choice there.
Otherwise, death. Later, I even tried fleeing. All failed in the end.
Does a guy like me even have the right to judge those who cracked open the gates at night...?
'No clue. Head hurts—I'll think on it later. Focus on now.'
I'd chosen a charcoal burner's camp in the woods, not far from the earldom.
Naturally, it had kilns and nearby streams for water,
plus tools and firewood the burners had abandoned in their flight—enough to scrape by for now.
"How are the territory folk holding up?"
"Warming by the fire's helped some. But food's the issue..."
"Can't be helped. I authorize hunting. Catch every animal in sight and turn it into rations."
"Pardon? But poaching's a hanging offense."
"I'll take full responsibility."
Even in modern times, it's a crime—but in the medieval era, poaching could mean the noose.
But so what? We're on the brink of starvation. Hanging? Try it if you can.
Of course, we'd need to evict the empire's occupying army first.
"Any territory folk still fit to wield weapons?"
"Yes, a few."
"Pull together twenty again. They don't need to fight—just arm them and have them watch the perimeter."
"Understood."
Before, I'd conscripted up to a hundred, old and middle-aged alike, to bulk numbers.
No need this time.
Just covering watch so the soldiers could rest a bit—that was plenty.
Not for free, though. Volunteers got extra rations.
Luckily, we snagged some fish from the stream, and the hunting parties brought back decent hauls.
Not abundant, but in our straits, it was sweet relief like rain in drought.
Everyone busied with tasks, and dusk fell swiftly, ushering in another chill night.
"Mommy, why aren't we going into the castle?"
"Bad people took it over, sweetie. But don't worry—our lord will sort it out."
"......"
I was patrolling just in case when I overheard that gem.
My reason for skipping the castle had zilch to do with loyalty to Sandwy or the crown.
Just a bad vibe. Felt like stepping inside would trigger some disaster.
'The empire troops who took it are still garrisoned there. Going in would be suicide.'
Sorry to disappoint anyone seeing me as some heroic loyalist,
but my safety comes first. No more of that agonizing torment.
......Still, seeing my living territory folk like this after all that hell...
'Doesn't feel half bad.'
Not eager for a repeat. But the first night passed uneventfully enough.
Yet trouble hit sooner than I thought—the very next day.
Early morning, an envoy from the castle arrived. Bearing a letter sealed with the earl's crest, no less.
Blackguard Lord, we have heard much of your exploits. We have urgent matters to discuss—will you grace us at the castle? "......"
The letter reeked of death's familiar scent. No way it was just my imagination.