Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 039
Chapter Title: Faster Than Flight
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All preparations were complete, and just before departing Hasra, a man from Prince Elvin arrived, exactly as Princess Sherin had warned.
The man introduced himself as Baron Rosk, a handsome fellow in his late twenties with a neat and tidy appearance.
"Prince Elvin wishes to form a vassal contract with you."
"That's right. I hear you're on good terms with Sir Lug, and he speaks very highly of you. Of course, it's only natural since you were the winner."
He smiled brazenly, but Shan could sense him sizing him up at the same time.
To mask the uncomfortable gaze, Shan took a sip of tea before delivering his prepared response.
"I appreciate the offer, but for now, I'd like to prove myself further as a wandering knight."
"The champion of the Hasra Mounted Spear Tournament wants to prove himself? Are you planning to slay a dragon or something?"
"If the opportunity arises."
A look of bewilderment crossed the baron's face at the reply.
Was the kid serious, or just joking? His expression seemed confused.
After a moment, Baron Rosk asked with a somewhat sinister tone.
"Just out of curiosity... you didn't form a vassal contract with Princess Sherin as well, did you?"
The baron had sharp intel—someone had spotted Shan and Roden sneaking to the mansion of Countess Paless, the princess's uncle, in the dead of night.
"No vassal contract. I would have announced it if there was."
A true knight should never be ashamed to declare his liege's name.
But since he truly hadn't sworn fealty to Princess Sherin, there was no hesitation here.
They were allies, nothing more.
His awkward acting skills—poor eye contact and twitching facial muscles—only confused the baron further.
The baron stared at Shan, groaned, and shook his head.
"I suppose so. Hm... Very well. If you change your mind, get in touch."
Baron Rosk left an invitation behind and departed the Webers' mansion.
Roden, who had been standing silently behind, snorted derisively.
"As expected of the prince—quite the high nose. I didn't expect him to come personally, but sending a messenger like that..."
"Like what?"
"Baron Rosk is infamous in the capital as a lecher and a scumbag. You can tell what kind of company he keeps by his crowd."
There seemed to be some personal grudge in Roden's tone.
Instead of prying, Shan brushed the spider off Roden's shoulder.
"Anyway, this confirms it. We can't cut ties with Princess Sherin."
"Why?"
"Her information network is on another level! The princes can't even tell if she's friend or foe, but she's got them both dancing in her palm. She predicted this visit, didn't she?"
Roden scratched his chin, tilting his head in confusion.
"Who knows how she does it. Maybe she poisoned her agents with a toxin only she can cure... She didn't mind us knowing about the vampire hunt, after all."
The princess had said that even if they took down the vampire in Castaman Castle, Prince Elvin wouldn't suspect the intel came from her.
He'd blame Prince Conrad instead.
A devout Old Faith zealot like him wouldn't recruit an Altoin like Shan, so he'd assume Conrad leaked vampire rumors.
It was a scheme to undermine Elvin while sowing discord between the princes.
"Speaking of which, Prince Conrad hasn't made a single move. From hiring the vampire to tempting me or suspecting the princess—it's all on the second prince."
"The one on top benefits from maintaining the status quo. Brilliant plays are for the disadvantaged."
As the king's firstborn, backed by wealthy Old Faith lords and the kingdom's strongest knight, he didn't need shadowy tricks.
The two wrapped up their chat and headed to the stables.
They selected the finest horse for Awyn and Roden, loaded the pre-packed gear, and preparations were done.
"Not too heavy, Awyn?"
Awyn snorted as if the load was nothing.
Considering the gear was double what a normal horse carried beside him, it was impressive.
Shan, clad in plate armor like a proper knight, and Roden in his usual chainmail took the lead.
They bid farewell to the mansion staff and stepped out.
Time to hunt the vampire.
In the mid-northern Pendian town of Laven, there was a tavern frequented by mercenaries.
They weren't elite sellswords—just ne'er-do-wells tired of farming and monster-slaying who made beast-hunting their trade.
True professionals headed east near the Demon Realm, or the bustling west and south.
"Nothing today, huh."
"Who took down the earth spirit in Old Man Etin's field?"
"No idea. Maybe he handled it himself."
"Handled it? He'd just fertilize the soil if he tried..."
The bored mercenaries bantered idly when the tavern door slammed open.
Perfect timing—they turned, pulling feet off tables and straightening up.
A boy knight in full plate armor had entered.
'Whoa.'
'A knight!'
'He's young.'
'What's he doing here?'
No one dared speak amid the stares of curiosity and caution—until the giant behind him spoke.
"I am Roden, squire to Sir Shan of House Barendil! We seek brave souls for a vampire extermination!"
"Vampire... you say?"
"Why hire mercenaries when you've got a knight?"
Lowly vampires were mercenary fodder. A knight hiring help against one seemed odd, young or not. But his next words cleared the doubt.
"This is no mere vampire—it's a greater one that can masquerade as human!"
"Ooh..."
"Such a monster around here?"
"Pass."
Some leaned in eagerly for the big payout; others shrugged indifferently. The boy's youth bred skepticism. Knights and mercenaries were shepherd and sheepdog—if the kid died to the vampire, they'd be next. Then, a well-informed mercenary squinted at Shan and shouted.
"Wait, aren't you Sir Shan, champion of the Hasra Mounted Spear Tournament?!"
"Indeed. Word travels fast."
Roden answered, drawing awed gasps.
"The tournament champ? That young?"
"Yeah, the winner's a boy under fifteen—an Altoin, no less."
"Whoa."
"Younger than my little brother."
Some mocked the tournament as knightly games, but everyone respected a champion's skill. With such a leader, the mood shifted.
"When do we leave?"
"Now, heading north."
"Pay?"
"Hunt bounties too?"
After brief haggling, Sir Shan had sixteen mercenaries under him. Laven wasn't flush with talent, and they didn't need hordes anyway. Roden handled talks—his merchant shrewdness in a burly knightly frame impressed all. The hires gawked at their mounts next. Awyn gleamed mysteriously, head-and-shoulders taller, elegantly muscled—like a goddess's steed.
"Whoa, that's..."
"Horace-bred warhorse. Tournament prize."
"Sir Shan's mount is picky—don't approach."
They nodded at Roden's warning, but greed flickered in their eyes. Steal and sell that? They'd never earn so much as mercenaries. Too bad the champ stood right there. The party left town northbound. Roden revealed the destination only then—fearing spies.
"Our vampire's in Castaman Castle."
"Castaman? A greater vampire there? News to me."
"Heard that area's crawling with them."
"Really?"
Even locals were unsure—the vampire hid well. Without Sherin's intercepted messages between the lord and Elvin, they'd never know.
"Target: the Castaman lord."
"Pardon?"
"Sir, that's..."
Castaman was a tiny manor, but its lord was noble. Caught in noble intrigue? Not vampire hunting? Roden glared sternly at their unease.
"It's a monster impersonating the lord. No blame if things go wrong."
"Understood."
His grave expression quelled doubts—he seemed more knightly than the boy.
Chance to witness the un-knightly boy's prowess came soon.
Half a day north of Laven, preparing camp, a bear appeared.
"A bear?"
"Careful. Deadlier than most monsters."
Pendia's predators were monster-dominated, but top bears and tigers survived fiercer.
Battle-hardened, they threatened armed warriors—tough fights with injuries or deaths likely.
The starved, gaunt, raging bear approached snarling; mercenaries backed off.
Shan dismounted, stepped forward.
"Everyone, fall back."
"Yes, sir!"
As they retreated at their employer's order, the bear charged the lone smallest figure—mistaking it for bait sacrifice.
That error sealed its fate.
Shan waited calmly with his new spear, then precisely pierced its skull.
Squelch. Effortlessly, the tip pierced thick hide, bone, and brain.
'Nice.'
Shan smiled down at the corpse.
No Fighting Spirit needed—sharp as cheese-stabbing, sturdy against massive weight.
Perfect for felling large monsters.
'Good choice going spear.'
He'd considered armor, but Thousand Forms was impractical publicly.
Spears like this couldn't morph easily due to size.
Mercenaries exclaimed as he withdrew the bloodless blade.
"Whoa...!"
"That's a knight?"
"Bear didn't stand a chance."
Tournament tales rang true now—youth forgotten, those green eyes even reassuring in dusk.
Dinner: roasted bear.
Tough and gamey, but fresh camp meat was luxury—no complaints.
"Heard paws are a delicacy."
"Tough as this? Cookable?"
"Uh? Special recipe..."
The mercenary froze, realizing the boy knight asked.
He grinned obsequiously.
"Not sure, milord. A trader said ogres love stewed paws..."
"I'd try it."
"I'll find the recipe."
The silent knight speaking thrilled them—better than a mute boss.
The one-shot bear kill deterred cockiness.
His timing? Calculated—on Roden's advice.
But camaraderie shattered that night.
Screams woke them: two night watchmen missing.
One lay leg crushed, wailing.
"P-please, mercy...!"
"Hah."
Roden sighed knowingly.
Behind: skull-smashed partner and furious Awyn.
Caught stealing horses mid-sleep.
Horse theft from a knight? Instant execution offense.
But locals knew them—hesitation gripped the group.
Local monster hunters weren't war-hardened killers.
Shan stepped up, drew sword, and severed the head calmly.
All gasped.
"Dump the bodies far off. Monsters will handle them."
"Y-yes, sir."
"Young, but ruthless knight," they muttered, awed.
"That's Castaman Castle."
Day three, a guide mercenary pointed from the hill.
Classic feudal manor: stone walls atop hill, church, mill, village in palisade below; fields and sheep pastures around.
"Good. Everyone, proceed as planned."
"Yes, sir!"
"Charge!"
Shan and Roden led the armed mercenaries straight in.
Farmers toiling in midsummer sun panicked at the mystery force.
"Bandits!"
"Uncle Eli, out! Bandits!"
"Wait—leading one's a knight—"
A sharp-eyed one halted the rest, spotting Shan's gear.
Roden bellowed thunderously.
"We are the army of Sir Shan of House Barendil! Here to purge this land's vampire! Humans, stay put! Fleeing means vampire minion!"
Stunned residents froze mid-flight, glancing about.
Roden signaled mercenaries.
"Grab them!"
"Yes!"
They herded field workers inside the palisade, blocking escapes.
Twelve of fourteen on crowd control; two stuck with Shan and Roden.
"Handy having grunts for this."
Shan eyed the scene oddly; Roden whispered.
Just two couldn't corral hundreds—spies slipping to the castle or stirring trouble.
"True. Feels weird, though."
"Why?"
"Reminds me of the old days."
Like the Iron Lion Legion massacring Willow Village.
No knights then, though.
A priest burst from the church between village and castle, shouting.
Eerily like Ador Priest's end.
"Unknown knight! What right have you to oppress the weak? The Goddess watches!"
"Here to enact Her will. Cooperate, priest."
"Cooperate? What—"
Shan dismounted, approached with shining silver coin.
Priest's eyes quivered.
"Just a simple test—"
Shan dodged a lunge—priest's hand marble-pale, nails hooked claws.
Bat-snouted, blood-eyed vampire snarled, fully beastly.
"How did you know?!"
"Not just one, huh."
Goddess Faith priests guarded most against intelligent shape-shifters.
Sherin's advice held: infiltrated churches meant cronies.
"It's real!"
"Urk!"
Mercenaries gaped, spears up—relieved no noble plot.
But the beastly charge met Shan's longsword—shredded in seconds.
To them, ignored hypnosis attempts futile against his aura.
Shan eyed writhing guts and flesh.
"Greater vampire regeneration is insane..."
Even trolls couldn't match—truly transcendent vitality.
Should test spear's regen debuff later—lord remained.
Roden dusted silver powder; chunks ignited white.
Intact greaters resisted; dismembered? Not so much.
Shan and Roden ordered village checks: press silver to skin.
Vampires—like werewolves—reacted allergically; greaters mildly inflamed.
Enough to unmask.
"No needless killing or looting. Report back—or face punishment."
"Of course, milord. Half of us have kin here."
Why locals, not capital hires—ties deterred mischief, despite spy risk.
They took two mercenaries to the lord's castle.
Then—a black shape rocketed from the ramparts, flying.
"What the—"
"No way."
Vampires once called bat-men like werewolves.
Human-bat hybrids; winged fliers rare.
Castaman lord: such a specimen—far stronger than the priest.
Mercenaries panicked as it fled.
"It's getting away!"
"What now?"
"What else? Chase it."
Shan grabbed his saddle spear, cut Awyn's pack ropes with dagger.
Lightened, Awyn bounded eagerly.
"Handle things here! Don't enter the castle!"
"Got it!"
Ignoring Roden, Shan spurred Awyn after the distant flier.