Translator: Cinder Translations
...
When Hal Duke followed Paul Grayman into the room, he immediately recognized the person before him.
Dusan Bradley, the duke ruling the northeastern territories of the kingdom!
Since the breakout from the Watcher Fortress, every sleepless night Hal Duke had endured was accompanied by a deep-seated hatred for Duke Bradley.
That hatred twisted him, drove him mad; he had sworn countless times to personally send that old bastard's filthy soul to hell.
The moment he laid eyes on his enemy, Hal Duke lost control of himself.
He immediately stepped forward, rushing to Duke Bradley and grabbing his collar with his rough, calloused hand, filled with the fury of a starving brown bear catching a pitiful monkey.
The thin, frail Duke Bradley was lifted off the ground by Duke.
"Let me see who this is!" His bloodshot eyes, filled with rage, fixed on the old man. "Ah-ha, it's Dusan Bradley, the one even the maggots in the toilet would find repulsive! The great Father in Heaven has finally answered my prayers; my enemy has come right before me."
His tone sent chills down the spine of anyone who heard it; there was no doubt that Hal Duke would tear Bradley to shreds.
Bradley's murky eyes rolled around, looking at the person who had grabbed him without a hint of anger.
"Hal Duke? Hahahaha, are you here to see me make a fool of myself? Ha ha ha! I truly deserve it, I truly deserve it!"
The strange reaction from his enemy brought Duke back to some semblance of reason; he loosened his grip, and Bradley fell to the floor with a thud.
His servant, who had been too frightened to make a sound just moments ago, rushed over to help his master up.
Only then did Hal Duke take a closer look at his enemy, surprise overtaking the hatred that had filled his heart moments before.
In his memory, Bradley was a typical old-school nobleman, well-dressed, with meticulously groomed hair and beard, exuding elegance and grace.
But now, he had completely changed.
His silver-gray beard hung messily over his sunken chest, what should have been neatly trimmed sideburns now resembled the branches of a dead tree, and his unadorned face was marked with age spots. His eyes were bloodshot and exceptionally murky, like two pools of mud. The lines around his mouth were deep as if carved by a knife, and the loose skin on his jaw formed a waterfall of wrinkles.
Not only was he physically deteriorated, but he was also dressed in luxurious upper-class attire, yet his shoulders had split seams, revealing the yellowed silk lining beneath, and the gold embroidery had been stained a dark brown by some unknown substance. His clothes were covered in stains, making him look like a nobleman who had emerged from a heap of trash wearing a set of tattered clothes.
In just over a year, the once sprightly ruler of the northeastern kingdom seemed to have aged more than a decade, as if he had been through a harrowing escape, battered by the elements.
Hal Duke curiously asked Paul, "What happened to this guy?"
Paul cleared his throat. "Let me explain; Duke Bradley has suffered a family tragedy that has pierced his heart."
Through Paul's narration, Hal Duke began to understand the backstory.
Dusan Bradley's second son, Lamost, had somehow instigated a conflict between his elder brother and the orcs. After a duel, Joan Bradley lost his life, and Lamost naturally became the heir to the Bradley family.
Devastated by the immense grief, Duke Bradley sought an explanation from the orcs, but his son Lamost stopped him, insisting that Joan's duel with the orcs was fair, just, and in accordance with the chivalric spirit. While his brother's death was tragic, the blame could not be placed on the victor of the duel.
This led to a significant conflict between father and son, and unexpectedly, during the argument, Lamost suddenly called in a group of loyalists, binding his father and sending him to prison.
Dusan Bradley spent three days in a cold cell before realizing, amidst his own filth, that this was not a nightmare; Lamost had undoubtedly betrayed him, having colluded with the orcs.
Recalling Lamost's gleeful expression before he was taken away, Dusan Bradley estimated that he would likely never see a day of reconciliation between father and son.
Cleverly utilizing his still-held title of duke, he found a way to escape from prison and fled with his most trusted servant to the Blackstone Pass, where he surrendered to the Northwest Legion.
In fact, even without experiencing this family tragedy, Dusan Bradley had long harbored a deep hatred for the orcs.
According to the original agreement, the orc army was merely to act as mercenaries for the Bradley family, entering the northeastern region of the Aldor Kingdom to drive out the royal forces, and then take their payment and return to the plains. The Bradley family would then become the complete rulers of northeastern Aldor, just like Giles in the southern region.
However, the subsequent developments completely deviated from Dusan Bradley's initial intentions.
After defeating the kingdom's army, the orcs showed no signs of stopping; they continued their advance, marching west to the Blackstone Pass and south to conquer the Giant's Plain, as if they intended to swallow the entire Aldor Kingdom.
At this point, Dusan Bradley began to see the astonishing ambition of these barbaric plainsmen—they wanted to leave the plains and attempt to occupy the world of humans.
Duke Bradley fell into a state of great panic; Aldor was weak now, and if the orcs truly took advantage of the situation to destroy the kingdom and occupy its fertile lands, the name Dusan Bradley, and even the surname Bradley, would be forever nailed to the pillar of historical disgrace, associated with great evil in the eyes of future generations. Even humans outside of Aldor would spit on him.
At this moment, Duke Bradley still held onto a fantasy—perhaps he could stab the orcs in the back and wash away his shame. Forced to disguise his surrender due to the circumstances, but still a dark hero with noble intentions, waiting for the opportunity to strike back—such a historical evaluation was not impossible.
But the combat strength of the orc army left the duke in fear, and he found no way to resist.
Until he heard the news of his eldest son being killed by the orcs, Dusan Bradley collapsed.
"I want revenge; I will use every means to take revenge!" Dusan Bradley swore to the Lord of Light.
He chose to throw caution to the wind; while his own power was insufficient, he could leverage the strength of others, such as Paul Grayman, who had once defeated the orcs.
(End of the Chapter)
---
📖Read (FF) on Pa.treon@CinderTL - c874. [+0]
🔑Early Access at $5.
✍Translated (6) Series, (3K+) Chapters, (4.2M+) Words.
💥Flat 30% Discount on All Tiers Available Till 26th July, Use Code 3KCHAPTERS to Avail.
🎁NEW SERIES UPLOADED: Checkout [Demonic Cultivation: Starting as a Horse Bandit]