Chapter 74
Chapter 74
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: Just Rush In
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Sion had now experienced a number of battles that were truly hard to count. This wasn't hyperbole—it was literal.
A veteran mercenary in his mid-thirties, on the verge of retirement soon, might say, "How many battles have I fought? Hell, too many to count." But in reality, he could count them.
At most, three or four per year?
Even if he'd jumped into that world in his late teens or early twenties, anyone could tally up every battle they'd ever fought if they thought about it carefully.
Even in an era of prolonged war, such periods rarely lasted over ten years. And even mercenaries who'd roamed battlefields nonstop through it all seldom survived more than fifty engagements.
So, in this modern age without nationwide warfare, nine times out of ten, someone claiming "countless battles" was just too lazy or a bit dim to bother counting—they hadn't actually fought that many.
But Sion? He really had.
He'd spent time as a duke without drawing his sword, and his post-retirement travels with his wife had been relatively peaceful, so there were long stretches without combat.
But outside of that, he'd joined major and minor battles one or two times per quarter, almost without fail.
And that spanned more than half of the lifespan allotted to an ordinary human.
Roughly over a hundred real fights, where blood sprayed and flesh tore.
Even without being a tactical genius, fighting that many times let you see the "flow."
You could master a game played purely for fun after a hundred rounds (though knowing and executing well were different matters). There was no way the flow wouldn't reveal itself in life-or-death combat.
In short, Sion was one of the rare few in this era who could be called a "master of battle."
Which was why his expert judgment on the current situation was profoundly simple.
"You're saying... just charge in? You're serious?"
Jouang asked with a blatantly "What the hell kind of nonsense is this?" expression, not even bothering to hide his thoughts.
Slightly dumbfounded but priding himself on his magnanimity, the old monster decided to extend one more kindness to the capable but socially awkward king's secretary.
"Yeah. After hearing the story, it seemed straightforward."
"Even so, there are over ten knights, plus mercenaries and soldiers—that's a fair number."
"The knights Baron Botan brought are all from the royal castle, and Lady Baretti's maternal family holds a territory right next to the royal demesne."
"Right. But what does that have to...?"
"How many real battles do you think those guys have seen?"
"Pardon...?"
To Jouang, who still hadn't caught on, Sion replied with an even thicker smile.
"Let me rephrase. How many times have you fought for your life while serving Marco? Around twenty?"
"About a dozen... a bit more."
"Right. And you're the one who has to handle quiet missions as Marco's right hand. So how many real fights do you think guys who've grown up in the royal castle, followed the elite knight path, and been glued to the crown prince's side since their late teens or early twenties have seen?"
"......"
"And you know how cushy those central territories right next to the royal demesne are, don't you?"
Of course he did.
There was a common trait among the mid-sized central territories bordering the royal demesne.
They didn't maintain any formal army beyond the dozens of guards handling town security.
Trouble in the territory?
Just yell "Help!" to the adjacent royal demesne administrator, and soldiers would swarm in.
Feed them, house them, toss the administrator a small fee, and it was cheaper than hiring mercenaries.
So even the soldiers from the Betisect family—Lady Baretti, Baron August's second wife, her maternal kin—were the type who only strutted around town residents.
"But there are mercenaries, right?"
"The guys I left at Lord August's castle could beat them barehanded."
"......"
Jouang shut his mouth again, but his skeptical expression was plain as day, so Sion kindly elaborated.
"How many fights do you think my guys got into coming from Burgos to here? Don't worry. We can just charge in. And Marco said to follow my lead, remember?"
"Understood."
With the ultimate technique against royal castle folk—"Your king said so"—deployed, Jouang grudgingly acquiesced.
The drawbridge at Lord August's castle was always down during the day.
After Sion and his crew had cleaned up Anserman, there was no threat to the castle, and servants and underlings came and went constantly.
Raising and lowering it every time would be absurdly inefficient, so it stayed down from dawn till dusk.
Thus, three horses leisurely crossed the usually quiet bridge.
The guards at Lord August's castle initially just tilted their heads at the knights who looked like they were out for a pleasure stroll.
By the time Sion and Jouang had crossed more than halfway, a few guards' eyes widened.
They'd recognized "Sir Seilun," who had nearly demolished the castle months ago.
"S-S-S-Sir Seilun."
"Yeah, hey. Doing well? Looks like you've put on a little weight."
Not knowing the guard's name or face, Sion greeted him warmly on purpose.
They'd been ordered to detain and report any sighting of Seilun, the royal impersonator. But the guards froze solid.
They'd all seen firsthand how Sion fought "that day."
Not just that—they'd witnessed how he'd seized the castle, driven out Anserman, and turned the castle and territory upside down.
So when the order came that "Sir Seilun" was actually a royal impersonator and serious criminal, and to subdue him if he returned, they'd thought, "What's the ploy this time?"
Even the official relaying the order had sighed, "What the hell is this crap? We're all dead...."—everyone saw it.
They'd acknowledged the order out of necessity, but not one guard believed Sion was a fraud.
A guy with that insane sword skill running scams?
In a minor territory like August's? He'd land a knight or retainer spot in any major domain for sure.
Especially since the lord himself had acknowledged him?
So the guards had been at a loss, agonizing over what to do if Sion really came back.
But they realized something.
They never needed to worry about it in the first place.
"Just tell me where that guy Botan from the royal castle is, then either stand by here or hole up somewhere safe. Spread the word to the other guards too."
"Yes, sir."
"Sir Botan should be in the lord's office right now."
At Sion's smiling words as he drew his beloved sword, the soldiers nodded in unison and swiftly cleared a path.
Sion strolled leisurely through the opening, while Jouang followed with a "What in the world is happening?" look.
They passed the castle gate so peacefully, without incident, that the people in the central courtyard barely noticed Sion and Jouang.
They just assumed another local noble had come to pay respects to the noble from the royal castle.
The two men and three horses crossed the courtyard without hindrance.
And finally, they reached the main keep.
"Huh? Who're you guys?"
"Who're you? Local knights?"
The mercenaries guarding the entrance—slouched crookedly or sitting with legs sprawled, harassing passing maids—tilted their heads.
One of the four was still groping a resisting maid's breast.
"Sirs, you can't draw swords here. I don't know where you're from, but—"
Slash!
Something flashed, and the cocky mercenary's body jerked stiff.
"Uh... urgh......"
Realizing something was wrong with his body as he tried to move, his head slid off at a slant.
That was the start.
Screams erupted, panicked mercenaries yelled, drew weapons, tried to flee.
None of that happened.
Sion swept past the remaining mercenaries at the keep's front, swinging his sword (only Jouang saw the blade's path). The instant the first victim's head hit the ground, they all collapsed with fatal wounds.
"......!"
Jouang's jaw dropped unwittingly.
If murder could be art, what he'd just witnessed was a masterpiece infused with a master's soul.
Only then did Jouang understand.
Why Sion had so casually said they could just charge into a castle swarming with knights and soldiers.
"No reaction at all. If they'd been Zlanstryk's men, a couple might've at least tried something."
Sion muttered softly, turning to the young-looking maid who'd collapsed, blinking in confusion, still not grasping what had happened.
"You there, little maid. You know me, right?"
"P-Pardon? Oh, yes! S-Sir Seilun."
The maid snapped to and answered.
"Good. Can you guide this gentleman here to the tower where the acting lord—Miss Jena—is locked up?"
"You mean Miss Jena, right?"
The maids at Lord August's castle all admired and adored Jena, appointed acting lord.
She was girl-crush incarnate.
Big mercenaries, crusty retainers—they all froze before her.
So the maid instantly knew what Sion intended the moment he mentioned Jena and was eager to help.
"Yeah."
"Got it. Follow me, sir."
Feeling oddly wronged at "sir," Jouang meekly trailed the maid.
As Jouang and the maid rounded the keep and vanished, Sion shook the blood from his blade and entered the building.
The first people he encountered inside were retainers and low officials of House August.
They jumped like they'd seen a ghost upon spotting him.
But when Sion just nodded curtly without a word, they huddled against the corridor walls like sheep, bowing their heads.
It was a kind of imprint from what Sion had done just months ago.
They instinctively knew.
That Sion had come fully informed of the situation. And that, considering those circumstances, he'd let them play dumb once this was over.
Only one choice, then.
Stay quiet, and they'd scrape by.
(To be continued)