Chapter 109
Chapter 109
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 109
Chapter Title: Too Many Fallen Nobles 2
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“Damn it! Kill Guillambault first!”
The Sell-Sword Guild mercenaries decided to focus on their priority target, Guillambault. Rather than getting distracted by arrows flying from who-knows-where, they figured they’d complete the commission quickly and make their escape.
“You bastards! How dare you look down on me! You traitors!”
Guillambault snatched up his sword and clashed blades with one of the Sell-Sword Guild mercenaries.
-Clang!
In just one exchange, the mercenary’s sword knocked Guillambault’s aside and struck his nape. Without his neck guard, he would have died on the spot.
“Gah!?”
“Eh!?”
Everyone watching was stunned. The blade had sunk into Guillambault’s neck as if drawn in by a vacuum—far too easily.
‘What the hell? Is he really a noble?’
‘Nobles are usually pretty good with swords.’
Midiarm and Ismail, who had been observing the situation while moving through the reeds, clicked their tongues.
Unlike commoners who spent most of their time scraping by, nobles—especially great nobles from wealthy backgrounds—had swordmasters as tutors from childhood and received every education imaginable. And didn’t the blood of the Yaegas divine tribe flow in their veins?
So how did he get hit after just one clash with a mercenary?
“…Sir Guillambault is a total dunce when it comes to swordsmanship.”
Brand provided a clear answer to everyone’s questions. Then he stepped forward himself, spear in hand, and struck at the Sell-Sword Guild mercenary in Guillambault’s place.
“What the—old man!”
The mercenary who had just beaten back Guillambault tried to parry Brand’s attack with his sword...
-Thwack!
Incredibly, Brand’s spear bent like a whip before lashing out and smashing into the mercenary’s upper arm. The force was so immense that even through his armor, the man’s arm snapped.
“Argh!”
The mercenary who had subdued knight Guillambault in a single exchange now rolled on the ground after one strike from an elderly former scribe. Was Guillambault just that weak, or was Brand naturally built like an ox?
‘Probably both.’
That’s what everyone watching thought.
“Looks like they’re not in the mood to settle this peacefully by calling me crazy. Guess I should get to work?”
Scott, seated in his wheelchair, asked. Zibek objected.
“No! Don’t use necromancy in front of me!”
Zibek, wary of Scott casting spells, drew his own sword and stepped forward instead.
“What? Think a holy knight’s gonna scare us off?”
“You think we haven’t handled a holy knight or two?”
Sword flashes danced amid the charging mercenaries. In an instant, Zibek subdued four soldiers with flowing, masterful swordplay.
Crisp clanging sounds rang out as the mercenaries hit the dirt. Some had dented armor and helmets, noses gushing blood; others clutched deep gashes in their calves, frantically trying to staunch the bleeding.
“Huh!?”
“…He’s ridiculously strong!”
“Damn it!”
As Zibek stepped up to protect Guillambault, the Sell-Sword Guild realized things were going south fast. Six men had dropped in the blink of an eye during the skirmish, and arrows were still raining down on them from all directions. A third of their twenty-odd force was gone in moments.
Demoralized, the mercenaries turned to flee. But arrows pierced their backs and legs.
“Argh!”
Despite their numerical advantage, the Sell-Sword Guild mercenaries couldn’t stand against Azadin’s small group and fell.
“Hmm… Watching this makes one thing clear.”
Scott McGreen glanced at Shati, who sat quietly beside him.
“I get why you couldn’t escape and got caught. Try to run half-assed, and you’d end up a pincushion.”
“Shut up. You betrayed the empire. You won’t die easy.”
Shati snapped at Scott, clearly furious.
“But the nagas who got away alive? They’ll think you’re a Naga Empire traitor too.”
“……”
Scott had a point.
‘Unless I bring back the Divine King’s Book as a gift, I’m dead meat.’
*********
“This can’t be real.”
Guillambault shook his head in disbelief at what had happened to him.
“What’s going on, teacher? Why did the mercenaries betray me?”
“When the count’s news cut off, Young Master Adler moved to clean house and become the next Lantaric count. All the retainers have already sided with him.”
“But those were people I hired! They weren’t retainers!”
“You didn’t go to the Sell-Sword Guild yourself with the money, did you, Sir Guillambault?”
“Well, I hired them through the steward, but… Wait, no way?”
“It’d be easier if you just assume not just the retainers, but the stewards and servants too—all of them are on Young Master Adler’s side.”
“W-Wait a minute? Why?!”
“Because Young Master Adler is the count’s chosen true heir.”
“I heard that much. What I’m asking is why! Because Adler’s handsome? Because Father doted on him and they shared meals together since childhood?”
“What? Shared meals?”
Azadin, who had been listening, clicked his tongue.
“Alright, calm down. Let’s get out of here first.”
Azadin packed up the camp and prepared to depart.
“But I’m the firstborn son. Even if I’m ugly, how could they do this?”
Guillambault was still grumbling, unable to comprehend it.
“Sir Guillambault. You don’t know the count’s true face. That’s because you’re just the nominal firstborn. The real count is…”
Brand sighed and said,
“A black mage.”
“What?”
Guillambault flew into a rage at the words.
“How dare you insult my father?!”
“Sir Guillambault, I know the count far better than you do. In fact, I assert that no one knows him as well as I, and no one is as ignorant of him as you.”
“Take it back! Teacher! Even you’ve gone too far!”
“Rejoice that my words have gone too far. Reality will be harsher still.”
“You mad old fool!”
Guillambault drew his sword to swing, but Brand reached out and gripped the hilt, stopping him.
“Let go! How dare you slander a descendant of the Yaegas divine tribe as a black mage!”
But Brand tilted Guillambault while holding the hilt firm.
“Wha—whoa whoaaa!”
Guillambault stumbled and rolled sideways. The vigorous young knight had been overpowered in strength by an old scribe.
‘Why is he this weak?’
Azadin gaped at Guillambault’s pathetic display.
“Sir Guillambault. I discovered the count’s secret and fled, only to be caught by Donair on the count’s orders. I lost my entire family—not just lost, mind you. Donair tortured me and fed my family to me. Do you grasp what that means?”
“Uh.”
“The count is my blood enemy. That’s why I like you. You’re the child he loved least. And yet, just imagining the count’s blood flowing in your veins…”
Brand’s breathing grew ragged. He growled like a rabid dog, terrifying Guillambault. It looked like he might tear him apart alive. And the strength in Brand’s grip when their hands met...
‘This old man could rip me apart and then some.’
Guillambault sensed Brand’s feral rage and panicked. That was when Azadin intervened.
“Wait. Calm down, Brand…”
“Hm?”
Brand snapped his head up. The torment and anguish vanished from his face, replaced by innocent joy.
“Where… am I? Oh!”
Brand beamed and grabbed Azadin’s hand.
“A fine young man who knows chivalry!”
“Huh?”
Azadin was flustered by the change in Brand’s expression.
“Miss Shati’s here too. What about the others? I remember escaping Donair’s lair safely…”
“Ah.”
The madness had left Brand. He was once more the knight of bronze.
“Oh dear, I got too worked up.”
“Hiring a lunatic comes with these moments.”
Ismail snarked as he scrubbed a pot with a bamboo brush and strapped it to his mountain goat’s saddle.
“We need Brand to guide us to the imperial mint, right? What now?”
Midiarm asked, flustered.
“No choice. We wait for his sanity to return. Until then…”
Azadin looked at Guillambault.
“Sir Guillambault. Looks like you’ll have to guide us to Lantaric.”
“Wait, you guys really think our father’s a black mage?”
“I’m not sure about black magic. But I did see him massacring Salasma’s people. He’s no good man.”
“Ha, but…”
Guillambault clawed at his face.
“Wait a second.”
Midiarm stepped in.
“Why are we even taking this guy? We can just head to Lantaric ourselves. He’s no help for our goal—in fact, dragging him around will just bring his enemies down on us.”
Azadin shook his head at Midiarm’s question.
“No, he’ll be a big help.”
“Huh? Why? Lantaric’s retainers and that youngest son he favors won’t leave him alone.”
“In exchange, we get legitimacy.”
“Legitimacy?”
“Yeah. Officially, Sir Guillambault is the rightful heir. If the other retainers and young masters attack, they’re rebels. We can execute them without issue.”
“Aha.”
Midiarm got it.
“We’re dragging around an orc in a wheelchair. We’ll draw eyes no matter what. That’s when a strong justification is key.”
“Can’t we just put him on a horse instead of the wheelchair?”
“No. His leg muscles will atrophy.”
“……”
People usually said fat atrophied, not muscle. But Scott was adamant in refusal.
“A little muscle atrophy’s nothing—tell the prisoner to suck it up.”
Midiarm ignored Scott and asked Azadin.
“That’s the plan.”
“No. I can just change my appearance.”
Scott said this and formed a hand seal.
Zibek, startled, put his hand on his sword hilt. Wary of what a necromancer might do next. But Azadin held him back.
Moments later, Scott had transformed into a human—a muscular blond man sitting in the wheelchair.
“How’s this?”
“Hmm. Unrecognizable.”
“Don’t fall for my charming looks. It’d be insulting to mate with a low-intelligence species like humans.”
“…….”
At that moment, Ismail lunged and punched Scott square in the face.
-Smack!
“Ow!”
Despite his all-muscle body, Scott had no talent for fisticuffs and screamed, clutching his face as he rolled.
“Hey. Go easy.”
Azadin held Ismail back—but didn’t say not to hit him.