48
My Villains Chapter 48
13. The Army of Young Lions (3)
"Hey, Phoenix!"
While watching the retreating bandits, I heard a familiar voice.
"Ellen? Are you hurt anywhere?"
"You, I clearly told you not to go alone-"
The guy grumbling something looked around and swallowed the rest of his words.
Behind Ellen, who came running with quick steps, Mr. Luke and Arnal appeared. Fortunately, they didn't seem to be injured.
Ellen, who was suppressing her anger with a sigh, stammered with a pale face when she saw my condition.
"A-are you okay?"
It's no wonder the girl was surprised, as I was in tatters, pierced by a spear and hit by arrows. I looked like I could collapse at any moment, but thanks to my tough vitality, I was still hanging on.
Swallowing the words 'Are you alright?', Ellen was about to break the arrow shaft stuck in my thigh and take out a potion, but I stopped her.
"Ugh, it's fine. It's not enough to kill me."
"But still,"
"I said it's fine. Have you seen Grania? Haven't you seen Grania?"
As I looked around asking, a man next to us took off his helmet and chuckled.
"Ha, a friend with great camaraderie. Don't worry, the injured mercenary would have been sent to the priest's tent." It was the very knight who had just given me a ride.
Remembering that the knight with gold decorations had called his name, I bowed my head.
"Thank you, Sir Randel. I survived thanks to you."
Sir Randel tilted his head for a moment and then gave a bitter smile.
"Seems like there's been a misunderstanding. I'm not a knight. I'm just a common soldier."
"...What?"
A common soldier, not even a knight, wearing full plate armor and riding a horse?
Seeing my confused expression, Mr. Randel, not Sir Randel, frowned as if finding it strange.
"I thought you were a seasoned mercenary, but have you never seen a knight before?"
"Uh, well-"
"Well, that's not important right now. Everyone, follow me. Our lord will be looking for us."
With those words, Mr. Randel handed the reins to a comrade and started walking. Arnal, who had been standing quietly, quickly approached and put my left arm over her shoulder.
"Are you okay?"
"Ugh, I can walk on my own."
"Don't be stupid. You'll aggravate your wounds."
Whether she knew or not about Ellen's sidelong glances, Arnal whispered quietly.
"Thank you."
"For what."
"For Grania. Thanks for not abandoning her."
"No need for thanks. I just did what was natural."
"...You say such embarrassing things so naturally."
As I looked around from the corner of my eye while receiving what seemed to be a shoulder hug or arm support, Arnal opened her mouth with a grin.
"The knights are over there."
"Huh? Then these people are..."
"Probably the noble lords' household troops or something like that."
The six heavy cavalry, except for Mr. Randel, were leading their horses to the stable and tying the reins.
They were all wearing similar types of armor, with several iron plates attached over chainmail.
There were six people who looked like knights, particularly noticeable with their fancy cloaks or shields engraved with coats of arms.
Looking closely, unlike the heavy cavalry, they were each wearing unique and stylish plate armor.
Ankir, who was wielding a two-handed sword, and the blue-cloaked one who showed off tough thrusts, were indeed knights.
They were handing their armored horses to other heavy cavalry or subordinates and heading towards the central tent of the camp.
While I was observing the knights' armor, golden hair suddenly popped up on my right.
"Phoenix, look over there."
"Huh? What?"
Ellen pointed with her eyes to a flag fluttering nearby.
It was a flag with a golden lion emblem.
"There must be royalty here."
I finally remembered the name of this place.
'The Prince's Camp'.
Despite its name, you couldn't meet the prince here in the game.
That's because when the player arrived at the camp, the prince happened to be away.
So the one who received the lord's letter from the player was 'the arrogant Sir Liam'.
Wait a minute, come to think of it-
This place was hundreds of kilometers away from the capital. It would be very rare for noble royalty to lead an army this far.
No, it wasn't just rare... As far as I knew, there was only one prince who could be in this situation.
I couldn't be certain since I hadn't read the scenario. But if my guess was correct, the owner of this camp was-
"Drop your weapons."
The soldier guarding the tent ordered firmly. My group and I obediently disarmed and entered the large tent. The tent was full of about a dozen men.
Seven knights in plate armor, two wizards in robes, one cleric wearing a cross with a circle added to it, three soldiers wearing flat helmets like plates, and two servants in neat attire.
I looked around the tent again, but there was no one dressed 'princely'.
Seeing me looking around, a knight raised his visor and asked in a booming voice.
"What are you looking for, friend?"
He was the large knight who had been wielding the two-handed sword. At a glance, he seemed about half a span taller than me, and his build was quite wide as well.
He had a messy long beard and his face was full of scars, giving him a very fierce impression.
I mulled over my words for a moment before answering.
"I was looking for the owner of this tent, Sir Ankir."
At my answer, Sir Ankir let out a chuckle, and Arnal muttered with wide eyes.
"Ankir? The Great Ankir?"
"Yes. I am that Great Ankir."
At Sir Ankir's amused voice, Arnal's face turned pale.
"I, uh... Please forgive my rudeness, my lord."
"Tell me why you were being chased by bandits, mercenary girl. I'll decide whether to forgive you or not based on your answer."
As Sir Ankir asked this, there was a faint expectation in his eyes.
Despite his dirty appearance, he had large, clear eyes like those of a cow.
"We are messengers who escaped from South Harbor."
"Messengers?"
"Yes. We've brought a letter from the lord."
At my answer, the knight wearing the blue cloak raised his visor.
"The Count of Seiben knows we've arrived?"
"He doesn't know your exact identity, but he assumes you're reinforcements sent by a nearby lord, Sir Langbolt."
"...You know me?"
The sturdy knight with a well-groomed mustache was Langbolt Ershore, known by the nickname ‘Roaring Wave’.
Like Ankir, I remembered him due to his impressive actions in the game.
"I guessed based on rumors I've heard about Sir Langbolt."
"Rumors, huh."
"I heard you're a person of exceptional martial prowess."
Sir Langbolt, who had shown a displeased expression, soon stroked his mustache and asked, "...Then do you also know who the owner of this camp is?"
"I have a rough idea."
At my answer, the atmosphere in the tent grew cold.
...What's going on? Did I say something wrong?
As I was inwardly flustered, a knight with elaborate feather decorations on his helmet drew his sword.
Clang!
"As I suspected, he's a suspicious person! What are you all doing? Hurry and bind him!"
What nonsense is this now? I'm so confused I can't even speak.
Fortunately, however, the other knights remained motionless, either with their arms crossed or their hands resting on their pommels.
Then, as soldiers who heard the shout rushed into the tent, a young voice stopped them.
"No. That won't be necessary."
"But, my lord-"
"That's enough, Sir Liam. Surely my brother wouldn't have sent someone all the way to Seiben."
"...Ugh. As you wish."
The one who stepped forward to stop the knight was wearing armor with gold decorations. It was the very knight who had been shooting arrows with perfect accuracy.
He turned to look at me while wearing a helmet shaped like a lion's face.
"What's your name?"
"Phoenix, Sir."
Looking closely, the gold decorations engraved on his shoulders and chest plate were shaped like a lion's mane. His attire was incomparably more splendid than the other knights.
"Phoenix. What's your family name?"
"My family name-"
Phoenix was either a nobleman's illegitimate child or a descendant of a fallen noble family. So it would be natural for him to have a family name, but...
"...I don't have one."
...How could I possibly remember that?
"Hmm. So, you're saying you're just a mercenary?"
"That's right."
Through the small gap in his visor, deep blue eyes glittered.
"How strange. For a mere mercenary to handle blood magic."
"And his skill is no ordinary matter. He cut down quite a few cavalrymen."
"I, I was just lucky."
The knight in armor imitating a golden lion chuckled and then turned to the other knights.
"What do you think, Sir Ankir? If it were you, how many bandits could you cut down without being on horseback?"
Ankir then boasted, pounding his breastplate, "Do you not know my skills, my lord? Even a hundred of those small fry would be no problem for me!"
"Haha, I knew you'd answer like that. How about you, Sir Langbolt?"
Langbolt, who was asked, shrugged while stroking his mustache.
"It would depend on the terrain and momentum. But in a general case, I could easily cut down about seven."
"About seven, is it. Even the renowned swordsman of the East can only manage that much."
The gold-decorated knight turned his gaze back to me. Feeling his scrutinizing gaze, I kept my mouth shut.
After a moment of silence, the knight shrugged.
"There's no fool in this world who would use such a skilled person as a spy or assassin. Isn't that right, Sir Liam?"
"...You're right, my lord."
"Now then... Answer me, mercenary Phoenix. You say you have an idea who the owner of this place is?"
Damn, how should I answer this?
I hesitated for a moment, but seeing the expectation in the knight's eyes, I finally opened my mouth.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"...Haha!"
The knight who burst into laughter at my answer soon took off his helmet. Shimmering silver hair cascaded down like a waterfall.
The knight was a man of truly beautiful appearance.
A sturdy physique fitting his upright posture, long hair flowing down to his chest, long and straight eyebrows, narrow but deep eyes, a sharply protruding nose bridge, red lips contrasting with his pale skin, and the absence of a mustache gave him a somewhat androgynous and mysterious impression.
Thud.
I staggered and knelt on one knee.
It was a rough imitation of what I'd seen in movies, but seeing the others in my party also kneeling, it seemed it wasn't the wrong etiquette.
Looking down at the group, the prince in his mid-twenties smiled beautifully.
"Welcome, messengers from South Harbor."
His voice, which had been resonating lowly, seemed even clearer now that he had removed his helmet.
As I looked up suddenly, I saw that the golden mane engraved on his armor had lost its luster due to being covered in blood and dust.
However, the long silver hair resting on his breastplate was glittering chaotically in the torchlight.
"I am Ulkar, the third son of His Majesty King Lionel III of Milanol."
Majestic armor, valorous leadership of knights, an eerily beautiful appearance, and a pleasing voice - Prince Ulkar was a man who could easily captivate anyone, even at first sight.
In the face of this strange charm, my body was stiff with wariness.
It wasn't because of his high status. It wasn't because of the knights surrounding us, nor because of the pain rising from where I'd been hit by arrows.
Trying not to appear awkward, I opened my mouth.
"It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness, the Third Prince."
Saying so, I bowed my head to the boss of the sixth chapter.
"Raise your head. There's much I want to hear."
As he said this with a radiant smile that seemed to belong in a fairy tale, the man was...
The one who would later be known as the 'King of Slaughter'.