"Ugh…"
Pascal opened his eyes as a dull, throbbing pain spread from his jaw. It was still dark all around.
For some reason his lower back felt stiff, and with the constant sensation of being jolted up and down, Pascal hurriedly checked his condition.
All he could see were sturdy, well-shaped legs moving powerfully beneath a horse's barding and the rough bare ground below.
"Ghk."
Realizing that he had passed out while draped over a horse, Pascal tried to move. But he couldn't budge at all something had him tightly bound.
"You awake?"
When Pascal barely managed to lift his head, Eugene came into view.
"Sir! What do you think you're doing!?"
"What does it look like? We're traveling on horseback."
At Eugene's reply, Pascal fully grasped his situation and ground his teeth.
"Sir! Do you really think you'll get away with this? I'm Lord Bommel's nephew! While I'm still being polite"
"Polite or not, I'm employed by Lord Fairchilden. And Lord Fairchilden and Lord Bommel are on the brink of a territorial war. Or has it already started?"
"Ghk! You dare pull such a cowardly stunt without even a declaration of war?"
"I heard you captured Lord Lobos and demanded a ransom. If you hadn't declared war, the proper course would have been to punish him appropriately or simply release him. That's the custom, isn't it?"
"…!"
"But demanding a ransom is practically the same as starting a territorial war already. Isn't it?"
"Ghk."
Faced with the sharp rebuttal, Pascal had no answer and clenched his teeth.
But he soon snapped back angrily.
"So what, you plan to take me to Lord Fairchilden and demand a ransom? No you're thinking of exchanging me for Lord Lobos, aren't you?"
"Something like that."
"Then you should treat me as a noble! This gravely stains my honor, sir!"
"I suppose it's understandable you'd misunderstand. Whoa there."
Eugene halted Silion and loosened the ropes that had been securing Pascal to the saddle with a dagger.
"I tied you up because it looked like you'd fall off otherwise. Don't read too much into it."
"…."
Even so, his wrists and legs had been bound far too tightly, but Pascal answered only with an irritated glare.
Unbothered, Eugene warned him as Pascal rubbed his numb limbs.
"As you know, don't even think about running. Considering your status, I won't kill you but if you try, I'll break a bone or two on the spot."
'He stripped me of all my gear. Damn it.'
Pascal's face darkened when he spotted his chainmail and longsword hanging from Silion's saddle and barding straps.
The threat of broken bones aside, he knew that wandering around alone dressed only in his underclothes was practically suicide.
Nine times out of ten he'd be targeted by monsters or wild beasts and even if he were incredibly lucky, he'd likely be caught by bandits and taken hostage again for ransom.
"Fine. I swear on my honor that I won't try to escape. In return, you must treat me as befitting a noble and take me safely to Lord Fairchilden's castle."
"Isn't this guy way too shameless for a prisoner? Are all nobles like this? Well, that ice-cold bastard was about the same, so I guess."
As Mirian said, it was an audacious attitude for a captive, but since this was fairly typical of nobles, Eugene merely shrugged it off.
"I'll decide how to treat you based on your behavior but I'm not taking you to Fairchilden Castle."
"What!? D-don't tell me you're going to"
As Pascal turned pale and stumbled back, Eugene raised his visor and shook his head.
"I'm not going to kill you, so relax. If I wanted you dead, I'd have done it last night. Why would I go through the trouble of bringing you all the way here just to kill you?"
"Hmph."
He didn't like how lightly Eugene spoke of his life, but since it wasn't wrong, Pascal felt a bit relieved.
"Then what exactly do you want from me?"
"I need you to guide me to Lord Bommel's castle. I tried going on my own, but it seems I took a wrong turn."
In truth, Eugene had deliberately ridden in circles, but he said it anyway. Pascal had been unconscious the whole time and couldn't possibly know.
"What? You're going to my uncle's castle right now?"
"That's right. It's not a loss for you, is it? I'm escorting you to your lord."
"Hm…"
Pascal narrowed his brows deeply.
He didn't know what Eugene was plotting, but going to Lord Bommel's castle could only benefit him, not harm him.
'If I'm lucky, I might be rescued by patrols near the lower town. But what on earth is this man thinking, heading there?'
A knight clad entirely in black armor, even his hair black, like the legendary Black Knight Britling who had made his name across several kingdoms decades ago.
Judging by his exquisitely handsome face alone, one might mistake him for a pampered noble knight decked out in top-tier equipment but recalling last night's battle sent chills down Pascal's spine.
'There are three knights hired by my uncle in the castle, and over a hundred troops. No matter how confident he is in his skills, he won't be able to run rampant there. Hmph! Just another man hungry for fame.'
Defeating mercenaries alone and capturing him, the administrator, would already earn this knight considerable praise from Lord Bommel.
Even if he was employed by Viscount Fairchilden, praising a knight this skilled and bold enough to march alone to an enemy's castle was only natural for a noble.
"Fine. I'll guide you."
"An excellent choice. Then let's rest briefly and set off. Oh, are you thirsty? Want some water?"
"Hm. I'd appreciate that."
Somewhat moved by Eugene's unexpectedly courteous attitude, Pascal nodded.
Taking the leather flask Eugene handed him, Pascal drank deeply, the water feeling refreshingly cool just from the look of it.
"Khah! This water tastes wonderful. Where did you draw it? A stream? A spring?"
"Oh, that… well, just from along the way."
Since he couldn't very well say it had been 'spat out and produced' by a water spirit, Eugene brushed it off vaguely.
"It's the coolest, best-tasting water I've ever had! Truly superb."
"Did you hear that? You heard it, right? I told you water made that way tastes better! Ahem! Aheeem!"
Watching Pascal gush with admiration while Mirian puffed up proudly above his head, Eugene felt oddly conflicted.
'Well, they're both satisfied.'
That was enough.
* * *
"What did you say!?"
Slamming his hand down on the armrest, Baron Bommel sprang to his feet as the mercenary leader who had returned from Rangbon hurriedly bowed his head.
"My apologies! It was the dead of night, and the knight's horse was far too swift we couldn't possibly catch up!"
"You call that an excuse!? My nephew was taken, and you just stood by and watched!?"
"I'm sorry!"
With their foreheads pressed to the floor, the mercenaries had no other choice.
Baron Bommel wasn't a particularly unreasonable employer, and he had never once delayed their pay.
Letting a patron's administrator especially his own nephew be captured right before their eyes left no room for excuses.
"I trusted you with Rangbon, and this is what happens…"
Baron Bommel slumped back into his seat, then soon let out a sigh.
"Haah. So he told us to come to Fairchilden Castle?"
"Yes. We believe he intends to exchange prisoners for Lord Lobos…"
"Enough. Do you think I wouldn't know that?"
Baron Bommel glared at the mercenary leader until he fell silent, then turned his gaze toward the knights who had been watching the mercenaries with disdain.
"What do you think, sirs? Apiel is my late brother's only son. Exchanging him for Lord Lobos would be the proper course, wouldn't it?"
"Of course. However, the Fairchilden family may have made some preparations. It might be better for us to go first, break their momentum, and then proceed with the prisoner exchange."
"I agree with Sir Polmon. If they want a siege, we'll meet them with a siege. If Lord Fairchilden values honor and prefers a pitched battle on open ground, then a field battle it is. Either way, we're ready."
"Oh! Hearing that from you is most reassuring. Then should we leave Lord Lobos as he is and march out with all our forces?"
Although nobles received far broader education than commoners, not all of them were knights or well-versed in the art of war.
With a few rare exceptions, most titled lords entrusted fighting and warfare to knights. That was, after all, the reason the knightly class existed.
"Lord Bommel, I suggest leaving about half the forces behind."
At that moment, one knight who had been quiet until now calmly voiced his dissent.
"Hm? And why is that, Sir Raviola?"
Unlike the other two knights clad in fine plate mail, the young knight wearing an old, heirloom plate coat drew Baron Bommel's frown.
"If Lord Bommel himself were to lead the troops, then mobilizing the entire force would make sense. However, if not, men must remain behind to protect both you and the castle."
"Hm?"
Reading Baron Bommel's expression, which clearly asked for further explanation, Raviola continued.
"This is effectively no different from a formal declaration of war already. We don't know what preparations the Fairchilden family may have made. Half the force or if that's difficult, at least thirty percent should remain here."
"Hmm."
Baron Bommel still looked unconvinced.
That was only natural. Though he put on the airs of a commanding employer before the knights and mercenaries, in truth the domain's standing funds were nearly exhausted.
Paying three knights and well over a hundred mercenaries for almost a month had drained his coffers.
'If this territorial war isn't settled in one stroke, the expenses will keep piling up. I need to end this as quickly as possible.'
Having made up his mind, Baron Bommel spoke solemnly.
"No. All the mercenaries will march out. My own soldiers will be sufficient to defend the castle. And my sons will each do their part."
The Bommel family held a royal title, and their territory was not small.
As such, they maintained a standing force of about fifty men led by Pascal, the domain knight, and a fairly capable retired mercenary as captain of the guard armed with leather armor, spears, and blades.
"If Lord Fairchilden has another plan, won't we encounter his forces on the way out? After all, there's only one route between us."
"Hm…"
Sensing that Raviola still had more to say, Polmon the knight who had spoken first sneered.
"Sir Raviola, your problem is that you're too cautious. Caution is a virtue for a knight, but taken too far, it can be mistaken for cowardice."
"What did you say?"
As Raviola snapped his head around, another knight chuckled.
"I think the same. You're not planning to leave one of us behind while you monopolize the glory, are you? Your enthusiasm is admirable, but that would be rather petty."
"Sirs! How dare you speak such insults"
"Enough. That's quite enough."
Baron Bommel clapped his hands, and the knights promptly bowed their heads.
"Sir Raviola, I understand your concerns well, but I do believe your caution is excessive. You will march out with the others."
"If you insist… then I will comply."
Both the decision and the responsibility rested with the employer; a mere freelancer had no choice but to yield.
* * *
"Sir Eugene, why aren't we entering the castle?"
"..."
"No, you said you'd take me to my uncle's castle! Why aren't we going straight in, and instead hiding out here?"
Pascal snapped in irritation at Eugene, who had been waiting for hours on a low mountain overlooking Baron Bommel's castle and village.
"If you say one more word, I might stop treating you like a noble altogether. I said I'd take you to the castle, and I'll keep that promise so stay quiet."
"Ggh…"
Faced with the heavy warning, Pascal finally shut his mouth.
In truth, this red-eyed knight had neither abused nor humiliated him, and had taken reasonably good care of him while bringing him this far.
"Oh! The gate's opening!"
At Mirian's outcry, Eugene lowered himself further and sharpened his gaze.
He saw a sizable force crossing the drawbridge, led by three mounted figures.
'They said Baron Bommel hired around a hundred mercenaries, right?'
It was too far away to count precisely, but it looked about right.
"Huh?"
Only then did Pascal notice the troops leaving the castle, and he tilted his head in confusion.
Then, as realization dawned, his eyes widened.
"No way…!"
Slide.
Pressing a dagger to Pascal's throat, Eugene whispered,
"If you shout, there'll be no 'noble treatment' or anything else. Keep that in mind."
Of course, even if he did shout, no one would hear him from here.
(To be continued in the next chapter)