Alder Duchy 3
Three foes lay sprawled on the ground. A longsword cleaved in two, and a golden blade drawn so swiftly no one had seen it leave its sheath. Not a soul had caught sight of Licht drawing his sword.
The moment the man, who appeared to be a high-ranking knight, reached for his sword hilt, the boy rose to his feet. When he came to his senses, his own blade was snapped in half. It had all happened in an instant. The faces of the three shifted moment by moment. The man's changed the most dramatically.
A knight at a considerable level among Sword Experts. He was a force that even major noble houses could count on one hand. No matter how careless he'd been, this shouldn't have happened so easily.
Licht thought to himself,
'I didn't want to get involved.'
When he'd first spotted the Alder family crest, he'd planned to let it slide. A figure traveling with a Sword Expert knight and a high mage. Only one person came to mind.
The second son of Alder, Millein Alder.
He hadn't given it much thought. Compared to the eldest son, his faction was far weaker and offered little use.
'Actually, this works out perfectly.'
But his mind had changed. He'd heard a few things about the Alder family from the count. The family head, Duke Alder, was bedridden with illness. Because of that, the heir—the eldest son—was acting as regent, though the duke had another son and daughter besides.
'If I take the eldest son's head...'
In the process of dealing with Archbishop Sernos Decart, if he inevitably had to kill the eldest son, a power vacuum would form. Someone would need to fill it, and only one candidate remained.
Millein Alder. The second son of the Alder family.
He had sufficient legitimacy. Unlike the eldest, a bastard, Millein was the legitimate son of the duke's first wife.
Any lack of power could be shored up by Licht himself.
"This... impossible..."
The man muttered in disbelief. Jack and Ranin looked just as stunned. They clearly hadn't expected him to draw his sword out of nowhere—against someone from the Alder family, no less.
Licht's expression remained impassive.
'Better to crush them outright.'
Showing once was faster than explaining a hundred times. Talking it out would take too long anyway, and he had no desire to bother.
'He's the one in a hurry, not me.'
Blood stained his clothes. Even washed away by the rain, the faint metallic scent lingered. And it wasn't even his own blood. It belonged to others—several of them.
'Not long ago.'
He'd killed recently. The fatigue etched on his face made it obvious. He was in dire straits. Very dire.
"My apologies, young master. My knight has committed a grave discourtesy. Please forgive him with your magnanimity."
The boy standing behind stepped forward and bowed deeply. The knight ground his teeth in anguish. His lord was bowing because of him—it must have burned like fire in his gut.
Licht silently regarded the boy.
"...After such rudeness, I can't simply let it pass. I'd like to offer compensation as atonement. Would that be acceptable?"
Licht scanned the surroundings without a word. Everyone on the first floor was staring at him. As he slowly sheathed his sword with a clear ring, the Ascension Sword slid home.
He turned toward the stairs leading to the second floor and said,
"Too many people here."
Then he gave a slight nod.
"Follow me."
***
The room Licht had taken was at the far end of the second floor. For an inn outside El Sion, it was quite decent. But as a triple room stuffed with six men, it felt cramped.
They hung their damp cloaks and robes to dry and changed clothes. Once things were somewhat sorted, the boy sat and spoke.
"My apologies once more. Truly, I'm sorry."
The boy bowed politely. The knight and mage beside him stayed silent. The knight especially averted his eyes the moment they met Licht's— he had at least that much sense.
Jack squinted and said,
"No, even if you say that out of the blue..."
"It's not meant to offend. Just to be sure, but..."
Ranin asked,
"Probably what you're thinking."
The boy smiled wryly.
"Forgive my late introduction. I'm Millein Alder. This is my knight, Del. And the mage is Jamel."
"Millein Alder? The second son of that Alder family...?"
"Yes. Though I have almost no power to speak of..."
Jack shut his mouth at Millein's self-deprecating laugh.
"More importantly, about the compensation I mentioned earlier."
Millein nodded to Del, who pulled two bundles from his pocket—the ones from before.
"This is all I have on hand for now. If there's anything else you desire, I'll do my utmost to provide it once I return to the family. And..."
Millein turned to Licht.
"I know it's incredibly shameless, but..."
"......"
"I ask you—could you hire you all as mercenaries?"
Silence blanketed the room. Not just the three, but Jack and Ranin too, all stared at Licht's face.
Licht closed his eyes wordlessly.
'I can guess the gist.'
A fight over succession, no doubt. Power aside, by legitimacy alone, the bastard eldest outranked the legitimate second son. The blood on him likely stemmed from intrigue over that.
Licht might manage, but Jack and Ranin would find it a massive headache if they got tangled up. Ranin wore a troubled look, clearly grasping the situation.
'Guess I have to say it myself.'
But if they were to work together, some baseline trust was needed. And Jack and Ranin required the info and time to choose.
Licht slowly opened his eyes.
"Mercenaries stake their lives, but we're not idiots jumping into fire headfirst."
"......"
"Alder’s second son shows up soaked in blood in this backwater, suddenly wanting to hire mercenaries."
He paused briefly before asking,
"You'll need to tell us the full story."
Millein's eyes flickered for an instant. But only that.
"Young master...!"
"Enough, Del. He's not wrong."
Millein, as if resolved, drew a small breath.
"It might be a dull tale. Is that all right?"
Licht's silence was taken as assent, and Millein continued.
"We were originally headed to a party invitation from the Nazari Marquis family. Among families bordering Alder, they hold considerable power, so we couldn't ignore it. On the way back after the party..."
Millein explained everything that had happened and the family situation as concisely as possible.
Jack, listening, asked curiously,
"Did you really need to go? Couldn't someone else...?"
"My brother is busy with regency duties, so I went as his proxy. No grounds to refuse."
"You were ambushed?"
"Yes. I don't know who, but I have a guess."
"That 'who' wouldn't be...?"
"To my brother, I'm nothing but a thorn in his side."
"So you went anyway, knowing that? All the way to Nazari Marquis?"
"......"
Ranin looked baffled. Millein smiled bitterly.
Licht clicked his tongue inwardly.
'Worse than I thought.'
He'd known an ambush was likely midway but couldn't refuse. That spoke volumes about his weak voice in the family.
'No backing from his maternal side, I suppose.'
Millein had just admitted it: despite being the legitimate son of the first wife, his faction was far weaker than the bastard eldest's.
It was inevitable. The eldest's maternal family dwarfed Millein's. And his own mother had died long ago.
The eldest had built his power over a decade leaning on his in-laws; the second son hadn't. With Duke Alder fallen, legitimacy meant little.
'What a thorough personality.'
Even so, he'd tried to kill Millein to eliminate any uncertainty. Jack and Ranin's faces hardened at that. Seeing their lukewarm reaction, Del behind them bowed his head deeply.
"I know it's brazen beyond words. But if things continue like this, my young master will die. Take my head if you wish—just please...!"
A desperate plea. Licht glanced at Jack and Ranin. They looked lost.
Licht pulled a gold coin and a wooden plaque from his pocket and tossed them over.
"This is...?"
"The contract ends here."
"Pardon?"
"If you wish, you can walk away now."
"No..."
"No need to force it."
This wasn't for a mere mercenary to meddle in. Jack ruffled his hair in frustration.
"Damn it. What the hell is this?"
No one stopped his cursing.
Jack scowled briefly before saying,
"I said it earlier, right? We're taking the extra job."
Ranin freaked out at his follow-up.
"Jack!"
"Ah, whatever. Already promised, can't back out now. Our lives are on borrowed time anyway—might as well go all in here."
"You serious...?"
"What about you, Ranin? Head back if you want. We've come far enough."
If the weather held, they'd reach the capital Bailen by tomorrow evening. Jack wasn't wrong—they'd fulfilled plenty.
"I..."
"It's fine. Rather, I'm sorry for the imposition. I'll make amends for the apology when the chance arises..."
"Goddamn it."
Ranin, glancing between Millein and Licht, spat through gritted teeth.
"...We'll take the pay, for sure."
"Then...!"
"Just this once, extra contract. Having a guide isn't bad, and if this idiot keels over somewhere, it'll bug me."
Jack grinned even as Ranin glared. Millein, Del, and Jamel's faces lit up.
They'd already witnessed Licht's skill. They likely figured Jack and Ranin were no slouches either. With them along, death was off the table.
Amid it all, Licht spoke.
"I'm not just planning to bodyguard."
Whether it was fate's whim or not, the situation was too convenient. But if he could prop up Millein, turning enmity with Alder Duchy into alliance...
Millein looked at Licht, startled by the sudden words.
"What do you mean...?"
"Even returning to the family only buys time. Stay passive, and you'll die."
"Then...?"
"Millein Alder."
Licht's aura shifted sharply; Millein fell silent.
"Are you prepared to kill your brother and claim the ducal seat?"
Drip, drip.
The room went quiet. The rain pattering on the wooden walls rang clear.
Millein, after agonizing, slowly spoke.
"I..."
***
"The moon's hidden behind clouds—can't see a damn thing."
In the dark room, eldest son Jeron Alder muttered while gazing out the open window. The sudden downpour from early evening intensified as night deepened.
"Don't you like the rain?"
"I do, still. This sound clears my head. Does Archbishop Sernos dislike it?"
The old man across from him deepened his smile at Jeron's question.
"How could I? I love it. On rainy days, it feels like all my sins are washed away."
"You speak as if you've committed many."
"We all have. Me, you, young master, everyone in this house. All lambs returning to Lady Isteria's embrace."
"Coming from you, archbishop, it doesn't quite land."
"I merely pray."
Silence stretched between them. Sernos, lips twitching, finally spoke.
"About that matter earlier—the Pope sends thanks for your cooperation. He won't forget the grace."
"Trivial. Alder Archdiocese has believers aplenty. More importantly, the cleanup...?"
"All preparations complete. The remaining mages will soon be transferred directly to the Holy Kingdom."
"Good."
"And you, young master?"
"Ah."
Jeron sighed. The hit on second son Millein. Many were involved—not just him, but most of the family's retainers. Even those who didn't participate had stood by. And Archbishop Sernos had led the charge in aiding him.
"Thanks to you, it'll go smoothly. Nazari Marquis is farther than expected, but we'll handle the aftermath cleanly."
"What of Duke Alder?"
Jeron answered Sernos's question slowly.
"Father... doesn't have long. Once that brat Millein is gone, it's all over."
"Just to be sure... what if something unexpected happens?"
"Unexpected?"
Jeron shook his head slightly.
"Two Sword Expert knights. Even the high priest you provided."
Gazing out the window again, Jeron smirked coldly.
"What could a punk like him do? Bring a Swordmaster?"