Chapter 69: The Fight is Over
Before leaving Bernsi, Isaac left a message for Mrs. Randolf. He told Bill to keep tabs on the council's movements and send a messenger bird the moment anything suspicious turned up. Bill couldn't read or write the common tongue, so he needed Mrs. Randolf's help. Isaac's orders proved effective.
The gang members Bill had stationed throughout the city spotted dignitaries from other territories arriving at the council building. They overheard heralds summoning mercenaries. Mrs. Randolf picked up strange rumors from out-of-town merchants coming and going from the inns: a councilor from Baldarin, the coastal city in neighboring Oton, had visited the council building. And accompanying this councilor was the captain of the Akanrauper mercenary band.
The Akanraupers were a band of rogue wizards with no fixed allegiance. No one could figure out why their captain had come to the council with the Baldarin councilor. But piecing together the intel made the conclusion obvious. The council was mustering forces. Dragging in the Akanraupers meant they were preparing to face down the Goetes.
After Violet mentioned through a wind spirit that mercenaries were gathering southwest of Bernsi, Isaac confirmed it with the messenger bird from Mrs. Randolf. From there, it was straightforward. The council was showing signs of readiness for all-out war if pushed. That meant the marquis was feeling the psychological pressure. Bringing troops to intimidate the count was within expectations, too. All that remained was the response.
"Violet, go with Pallichi and stop those mercenaries from swarming Bernsi."
"...You trust me? I could just join them, you know."
"Then that's that. If you do, you'll be helping churn out and sell more of those things from now on. If there's money in it, the marquis won't shy away from even worse ventures."
"..."
Violet stared at the glass orb with a conflicted expression.
"In that case, I have one condition."
Instead of pledging her loyalty outright, Violet demanded one thing from Isaac in exchange for standing with him: retrieve an item from the marquis. Isaac agreed. And Violet promised to follow his orders.
The two Baismen departed the manor and sprang into action, but the count held back. It was too grave a matter to act on unverified intel.
"Not sleeping?"
"If the info you and that woman brought is right, letters will be flooding in here soon enough."
The count had spent the night wide awake—a common occurrence at Winterband. At dawn, reports poured in from across the territory: sightings of heralds summoning mercenaries everywhere. The moment the marquis's letter arrived, the count issued commands.
The servants were ordered into mandatory leave. Those stuck on night duty were confined to barracks. The guards armed up heavily. Contingency tactics were drawn up for if the marquis arrived with troops.
"You do as you always have."
He summoned Isaac.
"Pardon?"
"Didn't you say you wouldn't become a successor worthy of the name? That's why you drank in plain sight of the servants and took a maid to your bedchamber, right?"
"You knew?"
Isaac looked sheepish.
"Act the same in front of the marquis."
The count offered no further explanation. But Isaac understood immediately. It was consideration. Make it seem like the count was behind the Bernsi incidents. That would give Isaac free rein. If things went south, the marquis would target the count, not Isaac.
"No need for that."
"When you leave, take that maid you fancy so often. Perfect chance to start some scandalous rumors."
"What if real sparks fly?"
"Then Valerich will decide."
Valerich—the famed sword bestowed on executioners. The count, as family head, held it now.
"That's a grim joke."
"Want more? Keep talking nonsense."
"No, sir. Gives me chills. I'll take Yonas when I go. Can't have him as a hostage if the marquis brings soldiers."
"Do that, Isaac."
"Yes."
"I know you have your own plans. But don't push too hard."
"...Yes."
As discussed, Isaac put on a wastrel show in front of the marquis. He picked a fight with a guard over some petty nonsense.
"The marquis has entered."
"Good."
At Carlson's report, Isaac moved at once. He grabbed Yonas and Enet and left the manor with Carlson.
"Aren't you one of the marquis's hires? Who are you staring at so intently?"
Schrader chased a mercenary out to the garden who had been eyeing Isaac. But no answer came.
"Guh—"
The mercenary's throat already had a hole in it. That sparked the guards into slaughtering the marquis's mercenaries. Humble students before Isaac, they were seasoned soldiers at heart.
Isaac sat on a stump, honey mead in hand, gazing at the fields. Potato planting in Black Goose Village was wrapping up. The village kids, free for once, played ball with Yonas. Among them was Hinder, the nanny's son. They all looked healthy. They'd suffered mana poisoning from winter spiders in the area once, but no lingering effects showed.
"So, stay here a few more days, then head back to the manor."
"Nothing bad happened, right?"
Nanny Gisela asked worriedly. Isaac brushed it off as an important guest at the manor. Goethe politics and the marquis's schemes exploiting them—no need for her to know.
"Yeah. Just a bit of a commotion."
Isaac said calmly. Fresh grass under pouring sunlight. Kids frolicking atop it. A time he'd never had as a child. An innocence his aged soul couldn't reclaim.
That's how kids should be.
Boys sacrificed at the House of Mercy flashed in his mind.
"Young master! Catch!"
Hinder tossed the ball to Yonas. Yonas caught it and sprinted toward the fir tree.
"Block him!"
The other side chased. But Yonas touched the tree first.
"Touchdown!"
"We won!"
"Yay, young master is the best!"
"We always lost with Hinder, but we won with you."
Yonas's teammates mobbed him with cheers.
"Hey! I passed it to the young master."
Hinder fumed.
"No, you all did great."
Yonas blushed. He waved at Isaac. Isaac waved back. Time for kids to be kids. A time laced with regret for Isaac. That's why he wanted to protect it. Even if it meant spilling blood.
"Time to go."
Carlson said, eyeing the sun at midday.
"Nanny, look after Yonas."
"Don't worry. More than Hinder—way more."
She nodded.
"Let's move."
Isaac murmured and headed for the carriage.
"Can we afford this leisure? Bernsi's probably in full battle by now."
Carlson followed.
"We're not going to Bernsi."
"Pardon?"
"Violet's got it handled."
"What makes you say that?"
"I saw it."
"Saw what?"
"Her face when she saw that glass orb. Matched my feelings pretty much."
"..."
"We're heading to Baylden."
"Why Baylden?"
Baylden bordered Binvelt directly to the south—a Goethe territory.
"Got a guest to welcome."
With that, Isaac boarded the carriage.
The five Baismen bladesmen were all aura users. As long as they weren't surrounded or flanked, one could handle ten. Against over a hundred from great houses, it wasn't hopeless. They had over fifty, including aura users.
But the enemy was no pushover.
"Shields up—formation!"
The great houses' shieldbearers in the vanguard locked into a tight wall, hoisting their shields. Massive rectangular iron slabs that covered most of a man's body—scuta, or tower shields, standard issue for imperial troops.
Crossbowmen slotted between them. This wasn't some street gang brawl.
"Those bastards mean business."
"Where are those thug scum?"
"What do you expect from gang rats."
The bladesmen grumbled. Messages had gone out to cooperative gangs: assemble in the southwest plains if you don't want to lose your turf. But no gangs had shown—not even a passerby's shadow.
"Never expected 'em anyway."
Gerald spat on the ground. The Baismen had wiped out rival gangs' core forces. No love lost there.
"We break through first."
Pallichi said, basking in the relentless plains sun. The great houses' troops advanced slowly. Soon, two hundred paces—crossbow range.
The Baismen lacked ranged weapons. No plate, chain, or shields—just ragged leather armor. But they had superhuman gifts. Aura: the will to cleave steel.
Even arrow storms or cannonballs—five aura swords unleashed together could blunt them with minimal losses. Dozens of crossbowmen posed no real threat.
"Aura wall—up!"
The five bladesmen took point, gang members arrayed behind.
"Freedom!"
Pallichi roared.
"Freedom!"
The Baismen echoed.
"Waaah—!!!"
They charged with war cries. Exiles driven from the republic by radicals. Undefeated in Bernsi once. The five were ex-royal guards; others included palace veterans. Morale soared. Victory was routine for them.
Blue aura bloomed on the foremost five swords—Pallichi and Gerald included. As always, that azure light would carve their path.
But overconfidence turned to poison.
Their aura blades slashed empty air, poised to shred incoming bolts—and even shatter the massive tower shields beyond.
Common sense. It should have been.
Clang—!
"...!?"
Pallichi frantically deflected a bolt piercing his aura blade with his sword edge. His sharp eyes caught the ricocheting bolt. No ordinary wood-and-tip quarrel. Feather, shaft, head—all solid black iron.
It tumbled, glinting in the sun with a greenish hue. Dimegtrium. The mineral that scattered mana. Magic and aura alike faltered before it.
"Watch out—their bolts are...!"
"Gack—"
Too late for Pallichi's warning.
"Yakob, Giacomo!"
Two vanguard aura users took direct hits—one throat, one chest.
"Raaah!"
Another bladesman, temper snapping, flooded his body with mana and leaped forward in a blink.
"No!"
Pallichi yelled, but the man was already at the shield line.
"Spears—up!"
Polearm men between the shields thrust their long spears skyward on cue. He slashed at a shaft with an aura blade, but it dispersed harmlessly. Even the spear shafts were dimegtrium alloy.
Squelch—
The falling bladesman's gut impaled on a spear tip. The spearman buckled under the weight, briefly disordering the line—but it reformed swiftly.
"Second rank—ready!"
Meanwhile, crossbowmen rotated in perfect sync.
"Fire!"
"Fall back—fall back!"
Pallichi batted away incoming bolts in desperation.
Clang! Clang-clang!
Three deflected, but the next two struck home: shoulder and thigh. As lead aura user and commander, he'd drawn their fire.
"Pallichi!"
Gerald stepped in front. Too late to escape crossbow range. No cover on the open plain. Now bolts would converge on him.
"Outta the way. Deflecting arrows is my specialty."
"Too late."
Pallichi protested, but as Gerald said, the moment had passed.
"First rank—ready!"
The enemy swapped crossbow ranks again. Fire order imminent.
"St-stop! Halt!"
A scream-like shout rang out. Familiar to the great houses' officers—from afar.
"Lord Rikel?"
From the city's west gate emerged a ragged group—clearly slum dwellers. But three among them stood out: neat attire, pale skin, drawing eyes. The great houses' heads.
Blades pressed to their throats.
"Stop! The fight... the fight is over!"
One house head bellowed in dazed horror.
"Louder! Wanna die? Scream like your life depends on it!"
Bill prodded his side with a dagger.
While the Baismen faced off against the great houses' troops on the plain, Bill—with cooperative gangs—had raided the council. Violet's strike at their vulnerability.
"Kuh, you filthy cowards."
The house head flushed with shame. But shame wouldn't save him from death.
"The fight is over! Lay down your weapons!"