Chapter 651
Chapter 651
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 651
Chapter Title: Reincarnated as the Plum Blossom Sword Master in the Count's Family
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This world had its nomads.
People chased out of safe cities or villages. Others who had fled on their own. Those forced to wander after losing their homes in the ravages of past wars, and so on.
These nomads longed to settle in villages or cities, but they never could. The people of this world viewed nomads as little more than barbarians—despising them while fearing them at the same time.
Even from a lord's perspective, accepting nomads as territory residents was unappealing. Most were destitute and couldn't pay taxes right away. Their rough dispositions sparked constant friction with the established locals. And nomads had a habit of vanishing whenever taxes came due.
So the nomads kept wandering. Every patch of livable land in this world already had an owner. No lord would stand idly by while a tax-free nomad camp sprouted in his domain—especially with the nagging fear that they'd multiply exponentially and eventually rise up to overthrow him.
My targets are these nomad scum.
Capture them and conscript them by force. In a monster-infested world like this, any nomad tough enough to roam had at least baseline skills guaranteed. They were prime soldier material.
Bwooooooo!
A horn blared. I peered out the carriage window at Floy.
"Did the advance knights blow it?"
"My lord, that's not our horn."
"Nomad horn, then. Over three hundred enemies—is that alright?"
"They're underestimating us far too much. Even three times that number would be fine."
Floy grinned with utter confidence. Truth be told, I'd only said it in jest. Knights in this world were superhumans. Mounted knights clad in dwarf-forged armor and weapons? Ten of them could wipe out three hundred nomads in under thirty minutes if they felt like it.
I leisurely changed clothes inside the carriage as it rolled along at an easy pace.
Time passed, and the sounds of battle reached my ears.
Ching. Clang. The clash of steel and human screams. The noise grew fainter the closer we got. By the time the carriage halted, silence reigned.
I stepped down from the carriage, leaving the sprawled-out maids behind.
Three hundred nomads—surrounded by female knights—knelt on the ground, staring up at me. I sneered at the hostility and fear in their eyes, then surveyed the surroundings.
True to nomad life, their homes were simple tents that could be packed up and moved at a moment's notice. A handful of livestock—horses and goats—were visible too.
"My lord, your seat is prepared."
Floy spoke with utmost courtesy. Her formal tone was for the audience. I settled into the ornate chair she'd arranged. It looked impressive enough, but sitting in it was a touch uncomfortable.
"I am Baron Eugene Prucker."
I declared my name. A ripple of unease passed through the nomads' eyes. This area fell under the broad umbrella of Prucker territory, after all.
"Who speaks for you?"
"That would be me."
A hulking man kneeling before me rose to his feet. His clothes were soaked in blood, and bulging muscles showed through the rips—raw and veined. His skin was dark, his eyes fierce and bulging.
Floy, on guard duty beside me, whipped out her sword and leveled it at his throat.
"How rude. Who gave you permission to stand?"
"......"
Aura coalesced along the blade as if it were the most natural thing. The man said nothing, just broke out in cold sweat.
"Floy, stand down. You know he can't lay a finger on me anyway."
"Yes, my lord."
Floy sheathed her blade and returned to my side. The man rubbed his throat with a palm, stealing glances at Floy. He'd gotten a rough sense of her power, it seemed.
"What's your name?"
"I am Rocksher, chieftain of the Katung."
Katung must be their band's name. I couldn't have cared less. Nomad camp names meant nothing.
"You look like you've got something to say. I'll grant you one minute. Speak."
What Rocksher would say was a foregone conclusion anyway. He'd kneel, smash his head into the dirt, and beg for the scraps of my mercy.
My plan was perfect: if he groveled, I'd show mercy and fold them into my territory as fifth-class citizens. Then conscript every able-bodied male. Troops and population growth—what a brilliant scheme!
But Rocksher's words blindsided me.
"The Katung share a special bond with the Highterrier Mercenary Corps. Highterrier executive Mousher is my brother. Many of our other brothers serve as Highterrier mercenaries as well."
I'd heard of Highterrier. Biggest outfit operating nearby—over a thousand strong, by all accounts.
"......And?"
"Please release us. We didn't realize this was Prucker territory. We're nomads. Grant us mercy, and we'll withdraw immediately. A few of our number died, but we acknowledge our fault. The Katung hold no grudge against the Prucker family or its lands."
"......"
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
It was too ridiculous. My head buzzed, my limbs shook uncontrollably. Even I could tell my eyes were quivering wildly.
This bastard wasn't begging for his life.
He was threatening me.
Seeing me speechless and trembling, Rocksher smirked with smug assurance. Deluded into thinking his bluff had landed.
"Baron Prucker, it's not too late. Show us mercy. We accept it gratefully and stand ready to bless your future path."
"You insolent worms don't know your place!"
Bam!
I slammed my fist down in fury. The armrest splintered and clattered to the ground.
"Baron Prucker, think calmly."
"...Very well. I'll think calmly, just as you wish."
I thought calmly.
Why was a mere nomad mouthing off like this? Highterrier was formidable, sure—but just a mercenary band. The Prucker family could crush them with some losses...
Losses? They know war's at our doorstep. No moving troops lightly. Mercs are worth their weight in gold right now—that's why they're bold.
I locked eyes with Rocksher. The fear was gone. Not just from him—some others too.
"Baron Eugene Prucker, Highterrier wields great influence among Rapel Kingdom mercenaries. War is coming; you'll need their aid. And you, my lord, must rack up merits on the battlefield. Consider your future wisely."
I clicked my tongue. Even nomads knew about the Prucker heir competition.
"Bear of a body, but a fox's tongue."
"We foxes must keep wandering."
"You think I'm scared of some mercenary band?"
"We know the baron and the count's house are... separate matters."
He even knew I couldn't freely deploy family troops or knights. Impressively well-informed for nomads. Maybe because they were nomads.
"But we don't understand why you're suddenly oppressing us. Is this the count's will?"
Now he was outright demanding reasons. I let out a hollow chuckle.
"My father has no interest in vermin like you."
"Then it's your personal decision?"
"I have Mother's permission. To clean up the barbarians lounging in our front yard."
At "barbarians," Rocksher's brow furrowed briefly before smoothing.
"Baron. Calmly. Don't lose your reason—show us mercy."
"I am calm. My mind is colder than ever. My judgment reflects that. So accept it quietly."
I jabbed my index finger at Rocksher and spat the words.
"Cut off that bastard's arms and legs. Skewer the torso on a pole."
"As you command."
Floy shot forward like an arrow. Before Rocksher could react, her blade sheared through both his legs.
"Aaaaaaaaaagh!"
A horrific scream rent the air. The rest fell as silent as the depths of the sea.
Floy followed up by lopping off both arms, then hung the trunk on a wooden pole another female knight provided. She stanched the bleeding—all with fluid, effortless grace.
"Guhh... ugh... uuuuuh......"
Rocksher shuddered violently. Fresh terror filled his eyes as he gazed at me.
"I thought it over calmly. Very calmly. But your insolence and affront are utterly unforgivable. And I'm still not satisfied."
My finger shifted to the man beside him—a bearded fellow in his thirties.
"Kill him."
"Yes, my lord."
Floy didn't hesitate. Not once since becoming a knight had she refused my orders. Not as a maid. Not as my personal fucktoy. Not even for dirty work like assassinations—she handled it all without complaint. Whether it was her natural blind loyalty or Yuria's influence, I couldn't say.
"Kill that one too."
"Yes."
Each flick of my finger claimed another life.
"Aaaah!"
One target jolted in panic and bolted, only to be seized by the encircling female knights and butchered on the spot.
"Mercy! Spare us, milord! Rocksher spoke on his own! We knew nothing!"
"Isn't Rocksher your leader? If you thought he was wrong, you should've beaten him down and stopped him. Die."
"Kaaaaagh!"
I stopped after thirty deaths. Not random—I targeted those who'd shown me open hostility.
"Eugene Prucker...! You'll regret this!"
"You're the one regretting right now."
"The Highterrier Mercenaries won't stand for it!"
"Big talk from a limbless worm. You think I'll stay quiet?"
The maids tumbled out of the carriage in a group. All armed with guns and daggers. They'd had plenty of combat training—they could handle any nomad resistance.
"Begin sorting."
The maids sprang into action. They split the nomads into two groups first.
Men and women.
For the men, all were conscripted unless too young or hopelessly crippled. Iron collars marking them as slave soldiers clamped around their necks.
"Originally, I'd planned to show you mercy. Make you fifth-class citizens of my territory. But your attitudes changed my mind. You're quasi-citizens now."
Not quite slaves—but far from proper citizens.
"You'll live in a village I've prepared separately. Rack up merits to climb to fifth-class, and you can leave it behind. Not that you'd understand right now."
My original plan had been a quick education session before releasing them into the city. But their attitudes flipped that script.
Now they'd be treated little better than slaves, sweating blood for a shot at true citizenship.
"Master, primary sorting complete."
Yuria approached. Six bound men and women trailed behind her on ropes.
"How many?"
"Total of 291. 140 men, 115 conscription eligible. Women need further subdivision."
"Those at the back?"
"Rocksher's family."
I glanced at the gagged Rocksher. Spotting his kin, his eyes bulged as he glared at me.
"Mmph! Uuuumph! Mmph!"
"I have no intention of sparing the bastard who insulted and threatened me. Nor his family."
In this world, nobles punishing families for defiance wasn't common—but it happened.
I drew my sword myself and approached Rocksher's kin. One elderly woman. One middle-aged woman. One young man. Three young boys.
I severed the neck of the old woman—likely his mother—and kicked the head aside.
"Glurgh! Mmph! Uuuumph!"
Blood tears streamed from Rocksher's bloodshot eyes. Burst capillaries.
"Regretting it yet?"
"Mmph! Uuuph!"
"You'll regret it more."
I slaughtered the rest of Rocksher's family, then closed in on him. He'd gone quiet after watching his spawn die. Blood tears still flowed from his eyes.
"Your precious little brother will follow soon enough. Go on ahead."
My sword plunged into Rocksher's throat.