Chapter 275
Chapter 275
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Stone Heart Delon
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"What? Young Master Rishir returned with yet another outsider?"
The elf servants, in the midst of preparing lunch, let out pure exclamations of admiration as Rishir briefly stepped away from the camp and came back with someone in tow.
"To pick up another person in that short time..."
"Meeting a dragon and the Nad'ga was surprising enough already."
"Ah, and—there's more."
"Yeah?"
"That knight order from Debrain. Their leader is the legitimate heir of a great noble house, right?"
"Ah! That's right. I totally forgot!"
"It was just a few days ago he ran into that massive group, and now he's bringing yet another new face..."
"At this point, it's not just popularity—it's practically pheromones. Not even a sun-gazing flower in full bloom could match this."
"Look at you talking~"
Ares Knight Order.
Now the young dragon's protectors, they huddled in a corner, ears perked to the elves' chatter.
"Even those prickly elves talk like that when it's just them..."
"Feels like we're seeing something we shouldn't."
"...This is rather humiliating."
The great noble Ares Ye Debrain muttered with complicated feelings.
In his early thirties, he stood on the cusp of the master realm, supported by a veteran knight who had once ascended to the seventh tier of mastery.
The knight order he led was one of the premier martial forces even within the Debrain family, rulers of the region.
Countless criminal syndicates and monster hordes annihilated merely for crossing their expedition route attested to that.
That had surely been the Ares Knight Order—
"For our knight order to be treated like a sideshow..."
"Can't be helped with the comparison."
The nearby veteran knight muttered in resignation.
It was an expedition alongside a dragon—and 'that one' who could even tie the dragon in self-contradictions.
To top it off, Lunadien, the star of the flower garden.
Approach the elf servants with "Hey, we're pretty decent too—give us some attention?" and they'd flash bright smiles like village maidens brushing off a brazen suitor.
"Damn, that's annoyingly spot on."
Ares muttered bitterly.
The veteran knight softly chided his "young master" for the crude language.
"By the way, Lady Allenza is running a bit late—"
"Indeed! Sir Ares! With Lady Allenza late, shouldn't we check as duty demands!?"
What did 'that guy' drag in this time!
The knights, backs itching with curiosity, chorused agreement.
—Eye contact...
Yet they cautiously glanced at the veteran knight.
He handled the order's discipline in place of the comparatively freewheeling Ares.
—No nonsense. Go do your jobs.
The knights could already imagine his stern voice.
"Ahem. Spot on. As knights sworn to protect that young girl—..."
But what was this?
The veteran knight muttered like he was excusing himself and stepped away.
The knights blinked in surprise but quickly got it.
What "that man" who had slipped out briefly brought back.
Was there phrasing more curiosity-piquing?
The knights trailed him, irreverent yet valid thought in mind: 'Even a saint couldn't resist that.'
"That guy's—"
The dragon's guardians soon reached the camp entrance.
Veteran knight Lennard spotted the new face and narrowed his eyes further.
"Mercenary Delon?"
"Delon?"
"Delon—you mean that Stone Heart Delon?"
The knights, who had sighed "What, just a human?" belatedly buzzed.
The bald head riddled with scars of every kind was tattoo and calling card in one, proclaiming his identity.
Stone Heart Delon.
A name inescapable for anyone brushing the mercenary world.
Captured mid-mission, facing execution.
Black magicians' horrific tortures.
Through every peril, he leaked no secrets, safeguarding comrades and objective alike—his tale lived on as legend.
Not just mercenaries but knights coveted the rare honor he embodied, hotly pursuing him.
The great noble house Debrain had extended an offer too.
Yes.
Delon had rejected even Debrain's proposal.
Thus his fame: "The man unmoved by black mage torment or a great house's gold."
Ares and the knights straightened up.
To pay respects to a mere mercenary.
"Delon, what brings you here?"
"Hm. You all—"
The knightly group approached.
Delon twitched a brow at the Debrain crest on their armor.
"Debrain Knight Order... and specifically, the one led by second son Sir Ares. What brings you here?"
"That's our question. Finally here to accept Debrain's offer?"
"Ha!"
Delon's scoff sparked hearty laughter rippling through them.
The young knights sensed the subtle tension and grimaced.
Even basing in Debrain-blind spots, for their legitimate son to brazenly trade stares like some frontier lord.
Reckless? Unyielding? Either way, no ordinary.
Commanding presence, refusing to yield initiative before a great noble.
Befitting Stone Heart renown.
The Ares Knight Order eyed Delon's crew warily, scrutinizing faces.
And Rishir, fallen back to observe their exchange.
"Young Master Rishir."
Veteran knight Lennard approached.
"You've sensed it already, but he's no pushover. Be cautious in—"
Lennard's words halted.
Delon's sharp gaze pinned him.
Delon indifferently alternated glances.
You know each other?
Ares replied for him.
"Our Ares Knight Order travels with Young Master Rishir for reasons. Objections, Stone Heart?"
"...So you're allies?"
Rishir fielded this one.
"Well, practically. 'Clothes brushing makes fate,' they say—ours runs deeper. I boldly count Sir Ares a friend."
Rishir flashed his trademark affable smile.
Ares ached to grin back but eyed Delon warily.
Couldn't fathom Delon probing their bond.
"Ha, you two, friends—"
Then.
Delon loosed a meaningful scoff.
His rugged features brewed a mocking edge.
"Enough—"
Ares, patience frayed, moved to speak.
"Then why not say so sooner~"
"?"
The Ares knights felt spellbound.
The Stone Heart hunched obsequiously, beaming fawningly.
"Sir Ares of Debrain and the master of the demon sword—no, holy sword, Young Master Rishir, close chums! 'Birds of a feather' can be high praise!"
"Hahaha! I do have luck with folks!"
"Of course you do, Young Master Rishir!"
"..."
Knights briefly baffled.
Ah.
Details fuzzy, but it checks out.
Seeing Delon's sycophantic grin aimed at Rishir, they bought it.
Lunch at the camp commenced.
Each group's leaders joined Rishir and Delon to hash out the new developments.
"You want to help those guys?"
Ah.
Allenza gaped.
Poised to accept Rishir's spoon-fed morsel.
—Rishir. What's that dish?
—Ah, tasted bland, so I tweaked it. Try?
—Eh?
Sequel to the pre-meal fuss.
"Ah."
"What, Latsil?"
The elf monopolizing Rishir's other arm abruptly yawned wide.
"Ah!!!"
"No hands, Latsil?"
"Unfair! While Rishir was gone, I slaved directing meals! Knew he likes salty, but servants fretted his condition and went light—advised correction, then guided Caroer and Lunadien hunting him—nyam."
Rishir capitulated to Latsil's "threat"(?), granting her demand.
Spoon to her yap to muzzle the torrent.
"Latsil. Confirming—you know Rishir's a patient?"
Caroer sighed at her charge rivaling the dragon girl.
"Yes!? Rishir!? What! Isn't he better!?"
"Much improved from before, sure. Full recovery? Not yet."
Haa.
Rishir sighed gustily.
"Not like old times."
"Musing time's ravages? Human or not, you were youngish, as I recall?"
Lunadien, tree-propped and scribbling instead of eating, chuckled amused.
"Ah, thing is. Back then, overexerting power naturally boosted my realm, clearing aftereffects. Now? Head's thickened—cycles stretched. Still hoping, but looks like handling fallout solo. Yeah, that's the gist."
"Aha~"
Lunadien, tuning out midway, nodded on cue.
'Cipher or what...?'
Most shrugged Lunadien-style, but Delon alone strained to parse, side-eyeing.
"Latsil sidetracked us."
"Euhheem!?"
Latsil, cheeks stuffed per Rishir's silent "quiet" cue, bugged eyes.
Me only?
Allenza then!?
Ignoring pouty underling, Caroer pressed on.
"So, Rishir. Help those folks?"
"Ah, yes. If feasible."
"Young Master Rishir. Presumptuous, but—"
"Hm? Delon. Speak."
"Heard you're recovering from some injuries—"
"Correct."
"Then rest, focus healing—proper?"
Delon oozed disingenuous concern, hands wringing fawningly.
Dangle aid then bail on injury grounds? Futilest move.
Must preempt.
"Ah. Yes. Intend to."
Hold up.
Not the play?
Delon inwardly cursed as Rishir bit eagerly.
As he scrambled to course-correct—
"Reason for joining the demon sword hunt."
"?"
Huh?
Delon scowled, gaze drifting upper right.
What?
Blanked out?
Context—
Huge skip?
"Perhaps snag another demon sword, wield same way?"
Rishir nodded to Caroer.
"Yes. One blade straining it. Another might ease."
"..."
Delon nodded.
Gotcha.
Me eat now.
Delon surrendered the thread, spoon dutifully dipping.
"Caveat though—not solo anymore."
"Hm..."
"Thus. Delon. Demon sword hunt base where?"
"Ah! Straight down this road: Tormun city!"
"Tormun... Latsil?"
Caroer eyed Latsil.
She gulped, unfurled map.
"Tormun's on our route!"
"Hm... timely."
"Yes, Lady Caroer. Timely how?"
"Planned major detour around human cities to dodge friction."
"Ah."
Rishir nodded.
They'd overheard local scuttlebutt on the Ilatdein expedition.
"Here—like so!"
Latsil traced the detour on map.
"Two-day delay minimum! Lady Caroer proposes human aid for direct passage?"
"Oh."
All present admired Caroer's scheme.
Even Delon's contact seemed orchestrated—nimble, proactive.
"Meant Ares Knights for aid, but city officials punch heavier?"
"Apt."
Rishir lightened as talks flowed.
Expedition snag meant ditching sword inevitably.
Forced choice—but both rabbits snared.
"As expected, Lady Caroer...! Success means expedition claims sword—you priority—"
"Rishir. That's punishment to me, not prize."
"...Ah!"
Expedition consensus smooth.
Caroer then to Delon.
"Human. Our lot can offer aid, counsel. Your desire?"
"Y-yes!"
"Then our terms."
"Per words, smooth passage assured! Needs in city? Speak freely!"
Delon pounced, primed.
City perks to cheap out payment—audacious gambit.
"Ah. Then per my hunt contributions, rights claimable?"
"Pardon?"
Fat chance.
Rishir smilingly parried.
Delon, banking on youthful greenness, balked at sly old-noble wiles.
"Th-that's beyond my solo say—"
"True."
Rishir snagged Delon's slinking tail.
"High post granting solo leeway like now. Right?"
Affable smile intact.
Delon.
Popendal Sword Sheath's trust borne of sharp calls, mission prowess.
'What hellish freak...!'
He ruled.
"O-of course! I'll push for Young Master Rishir's input!"
"Latsil. Eat solo now. Adult, yes?"
"Yes!? Me? Peers with Rishir!"
"...Doubt."
"Looks say yes!"
"..."
"Th-then Allenza!? Dragon!"
"Uwatt!"
Rishir briefly aghast at elf latched on dragon tot.
"...Now that—"
Wonder struck him.
Allenza.
This fledgling dragon's age?
"Allenza, so—your age?"
"Me? Five hundred...ish?"
"Kugung!?"
"Actual years? Thirteen."
"...Pardon? Actual? Distinction?"
"Long sleep."
"Ah..."
Rishir curiosity piqued by dragonling's tale—yet no light yarn—shelved it.
Meal wrapped.
"Delon. You ahead, brief your crew?"
"Lady Caroer...? What—"
"Here to Tormun: three days minimum."
"Three...?"
"Full expedition."
"Ah."
"You first, we split-send: slashed."
Rishir piped, impressed.
"Advance team resolves, saves whole delay?"
"Yes."
"Smart. Do it, Delon?"
Delon's crew loomed behind, spectating.
"Pipsqueak dares—"
Delon's lot rankled at presumption.
Expectant stares on Delon.
Stone Heart Delon: optimal outcome guaranteed!
Delon delivered.
"Yes! Stellar idea! Proceed!"
"...Lord Delon?"
They gawked, entranced.
Delon spearheaded return to Tormun.
Debriefing his lord.
"Elf expedition. Helping us?"
"Yes."
Delon skipped "Demon/holy sword master's aid possible!"
Straight report: instant "demon-possessed lunatic" tag.
"...Success? Guarantee their rights per merits?"
"Trust. Best call then."
"..."
Office perched overlooking city.
Lord city-gazed, deep sigh.
"Fine. Elf expedition plus Debrain knights—worth betting. Shady spots aplenty, but your call, Delon. Trusting."
"No regrets."
"Separate personnel incoming?"
"Yes. Greenlight: immediate dispatch. Imminent."
Then.
Knock on cue.
Personnel gate-hit.
Lord chair-sank, expectant query: lineup?
Delon lord hoped: Ares Knights.
Flower star.
Forest sentinel.
Report names.
But.
"Young man, presumed brother; girl child?"
Lord bolted up.
Hunt crew? Picnic posers.
"Anomalies!?"
"Man: young noble vibe. Fine features. Girl: cloaked total."
"..."
Hunt standout: "fine features."
Lord landed it.
'Damn—elves dissing us!?'
Fishy start.
Elf humans-help cheerily?
Glared Delon.
"Delon. Word with their head needed."
"..."
Delon grave-nodded.
"Yes. This 'gesture'... merits firm address."
Lord nodded, irked yet.
"Yes. 'Gesture' demanding address."
Delon's bite hinted foresight.
Observe handling.
Moments later.
"Elf expedition's" man, girl entered.
"You two total?"
Lord shocked.
Bold opener?
Delon mock scant duo.
Lord honed focus: next move.
"Yes. For starters, us."
"...Right."
Soon.
He raised voice their way.
"Oh my!!! Young Master Rishir!!! Lady Allenza!!! Both honoring us...! Overwhelming reinforcements!"
Lord recoiled.
"Delon!?"
One guy, one girl = excess?
Mockery? Nah—
"Yes?"
Genuine.
Lord eyed Delon's mien, tensing.
'...Sarcasm?'
That look.
Swordmaster dragon-mounted maybe elicits it.
Lord baffled total.