"Can I really be this lucky?"
Sitting in the saddle, Eugene inwardly tilted his head in disbelief.
The original plan had been to provoke the people in the castle during the exchange of Lobos and Pascal, just enough to get something like a half-hearted "If you can get in, do as you please!" kind of permission.
Then, under cover of night, he would infiltrate the castle, take out the weak-looking soldiers, and seize Baron Bommel or his family as hostages.
With all the troublesome knights and mercenaries having marched out, that would have been far too easy.
What he hadn't expected—not even for a moment—was that the so-called heir would actually fall for the provocation and come out in person.
"Sir Eugene, what has you so deep in thought?"
Lobos cautiously spoke to Eugene, who had been lost in contemplation.
The hot-blooded young knight treated Eugene like a lord—after all, Eugene had not only saved him but had also single-handedly forced Baron Bommel to surrender.
After hearing of Eugene's exploits from the guild merchant Delduan, Lobos felt unbearably ashamed of how he had let his jealousy and impulsiveness get the better of him and rushed out that day.
From the beginning, they hadn't even been comparable. Seeing what happened yesterday made him realize that completely.
"It's nothing. How's your condition? I heard you were injured."
"This is nothing. I'm fine. Baron Bommel treated me honorably, so I wasn't particularly uncomfortable. That said, it might be a bit late to say this, but…"
Lobos glanced at Pascal, who was walking silently beside the slaves, and lowered his voice.
"Wouldn't it have been much better to take Sir Franz Bommel with us? My lord would have been far more pleased."
In short, Franz was far more valuable as a captive than Pascal, and it seemed a waste.
It was a bit of a hassle, but since Lobos was a knight of Viscount Fairchild and treated Eugene with respect, regarding him as a benefactor, Eugene replied.
"I didn't bother."
"Didn't bother?"
"From what I heard, the two lords don't actually want to fight to the death. They seem to want to wrap things up at a reasonable point. And if that's the case, Sir Bommel would probably end up resenting me."
"Hmm!"
Lobos' eyes widened, and Pascal stepped in.
"Sir Eugene is right. To begin with, if you hadn't invaded our territory, there wouldn't have been much of an issue. Sir Bommel was planning to settle things with a short group battle or a tournament."
"Ahem."
At the mention of that embarrassing black chapter of his life, Lobos' face flushed.
"But if Sir Eugene takes the heir of Fairchild as a prisoner, that's basically declaring a full-scale war. If it were your heir who'd been captured instead of Sir Eugene, how do you think Lord Fairchild would have reacted?"
"..."
Lobos fell silent.
Needless to say, he might have flown into a rage and personally led all his troops into battle.
"Sir Eugene thought that far ahead and wrapped things up accordingly. We once crossed blades, but I acknowledge both Sir Eugene's valor and his strategy."
"I don't think we ever actually crossed blades."
"I was speaking figuratively."
Pascal, recalling his own embarrassing memories, felt his face heat up as well.
"But the troops that marched out should be surrounding our castle right now. How do you plan to get past them?"
"That's why I brought this."
"Huh?"
Lobos looked to where Eugene gestured behind the saddle.
There was a backpack and three large spears, and neatly folded atop them was the banner of the Bommel family.
* * *
"Why on earth is Lord Fairchild not giving us an answer?"
"He's obviously just trying to buy time! We should just attack!"
Knight Polmon raised his voice.
At that, Raviola, who had been quietly listening, spoke up.
"This time, I agree with Sir Polmon. No matter how you look at it, something's suspicious. It would be best to break their momentum quickly and exchange the prisoners as soon as possible."
"Right? Anyway, a full siege right away might be a bit much, so we provoke them for a few days, then at dawn when they're exhausted—"
"Sir Knights!"
"What is it?"
Polmon shot a fierce glare at the mercenary leader who had rushed into the tent.
"A messenger! A messenger has arrived from Lord Bommel!"
"What are you talking about? What knight do they have besides us?"
"Well, it's Sir Pascal of Rangbon—"
"What!?"
The startled knights hurried out of the tent.
"A messenger sent by Lord Bommel?"
"That's what they say. Look, the one holding the banner— isn't that Sir Pascal?"
"Wait, wasn't he taken prisoner?"
As the mercenaries who had cleared a path murmured among themselves, the knights watched the group pass calmly through the center.
The man bearing the Bommel family banner was unmistakably Pascal, the steward of Rangbon.
Behind him followed a knight clad in black plate armor and Lobos, who had been a prisoner until recently, each mounted on horseback. At the rear were two slaves carrying a large chest.
"Sir Pascal!"
Polmon ran up to him, eyes wide.
"What's going on? I heard you were captured! Why are you like this?"
"...By my lord's command."
Pascal wanted to reveal the truth immediately.
But having already broken his word twice—and knowing that another reckless move might cost him his life—he answered as Eugene had instructed beforehand.
"And what message do you claim to be delivering now—"
"Enough! You said it's the lord's command, didn't you? Are you planning to disobey your employer? Step aside!"
"Sir Pascal, tell us what really happened. We came here to rescue you. We need to know the circumstances—"
"The Bommel family banner, and here is a certificate bearing Lord Bommel's seal. Is there really any need for further words?"
At the new voice, everyone turned their heads toward its owner.
Lifting his visor, Eugene cast a cold gaze at the knights and spoke.
"I am Yan of the Eugene family. The territorial war is over. Now step aside."
"What!? What kind of nonsense is that!"
"It's not nonsense. Your employer said so. Surely you don't intend to disobey Lord Bommel's orders?"
"...!"
The knights were shaken.
For hired knights, the command of their employer—especially a titled noble—was not something they could defy.
If hired knights or mercenaries acted against a lord's will?
Setting aside the noble's furious wrath over the damage to his honor and authority, no other noble would ever employ a knight who disobeyed orders again.
"And take a look over there."
"...?"
The knights, nervously swallowing, naturally turned their gaze to where Eugene pointed.
"Gasp!"
Someone let out a sharp breath.
No wonder—the tightly closed castle gates were opening, and knights and troops were marching in orderly fashion onto the drawbridge.
"If Sir Lobos and I were to start causing trouble here, what do you think would happen? They'd begin their attack immediately, and things would get interesting in all sorts of ways."
As their gazes returned to him, Eugene placed a hand on the hilt of the short sword hanging from his saddle belt.
As if on cue, Lobos did the same.
"...!"
The three knights flinched.
He was right.
If two mounted knights were to throw caution to the wind and cause chaos, their own camp would collapse from the inside.
And if the Fairchild family's troops charged in at that moment, the odds were high that they would be completely helpless.
If both you and I die, then so be it—and even if we somehow survive, unless we flee to a foreign land, disobeying orders will end our lives as knights.
"Then I'll be on my way."
Clop, clop!
The horses carrying Eugene and Lobos passed straight through the ranks of knights. Pascal swallowed hard and hurriedly moved to the front.
"..."
In the heavy silence, all one hundred soldiers could do was stare as Eugene's party strolled through their formation as if it were their own living room.
* * *
"Sir Eugene!"
The first to greet Eugene were Partek and his companions.
"Thank goodness you're safe! But what on earth happened? We recognized you from the castle walls and rushed to report it, so we came out like this, but still…"
"Did you? In any case, thanks."
"Not at all."
As Partek shook his head excitedly, the knights of Viscount Fairchild gathered around.
"Oh! Sir Lobos, thank goodness you're safe! And are you Sir Eugene? I am—"
"Gentlemen, my apologies, but I think I should first report to Lord Fairchild."
"Oh, of course."
These were the words of Eugene, who had not only brought back the captive Lobos but also Baron Bommel's nephew as a prisoner.
The knights of Viscount Fairchild pulled their troops back into the castle and personally guided him inside.
* * *
"…And so, I obtained this document from Lord Bommel and brought back his nephew, Sir Apiel Bommel Pascal."
"What extraordinary valor! Ha! When I only heard the guild merchant's report and sent my steward, I was half in doubt. But you, sir, are truly a lion crouching in the bushes!"
Just as Baron Bommel had, Viscount Fairchild praised Eugene in a somewhat old-fashioned, aristocratic manner befitting a true noble.
At that moment, a knight who had remained on the walls even after Eugene entered the castle, carefully watching Baron Bommel's forces, hurried into the audience hall.
"Lord Fairchild! The troops sent by Lord Bommel have withdrawn!"
"Oh! Is that truly so?"
"Yes! We confirmed that they've completely disappeared beyond visual range. Scouts have been dispatched, so you should receive more detailed news within a few hours."
"Excellent, excellent. Hahahaha!"
Viscount Fairchild—a handsome man in his early forties with a refreshingly bold appearance—burst into laughter that perfectly matched his looks.
After his laughter subsided, he raised his command baton with a dignified expression.
"Bring out what was prepared as a gift for Sir Eugene."
"Yes, my lord!"
A short while later, two castle servants carried in a large chest.
"The silver we agreed upon. I added a bit extra as a special allowance, so take it as such."
"My thanks for your generosity, Lord Fairchild."
"Of course, that's not all. Mills."
"Yes, my lord."
Dressed in a proper black tailcoat befitting a noble's steward, with a monocle over one eye, Mills respectfully presented something to Eugene.
"A letter of recommendation I wrote to my father-in-law, Count Winslon. I'll send the same contents immediately, so he should learn of you soon enough."
"My thanks once again."
Eugene was impressed by Viscount Fairchild's thorough preparation.
It seemed that Partek and Mills had prepared everything the moment they arrived at the castle.
If Eugene returned successful, it would serve to display the viscount's generosity; if he failed, they could simply burn it and be done with it.
As expected, true nobles are different.
"Haha! I'm sorry that this is all I can offer to such an honorable and valiant knight. By the way, my steward tells me you had no intention of receiving a knighthood from me in the first place?"
"Oh, that is…"
As Eugene briefly pondered how to explain himself, Viscount Fairchild laughed heartily again.
"Hahaha! Just a jest. I didn't mean to fluster you, but seeing a fearless knight like yourself show such a reaction—it feels rather human, and I like that."
Calling a vampire "human."
Thinking that for a true noble his judgment of people was somewhat lacking, Eugene bowed his head.
"I'm grateful that you see it that way."
"Still, having achieved such a great victory, we ought to hold a banquet. But given the circumstances, I ask for your understanding that we must restrain ourselves for now. It's not that I don't wish to praise your achievements."
"Of course. Though Lord Bommel is an honorable noble, one never knows how matters may turn out. I'm quite all right."
Having achieved his goal and eager to return to Maren as soon as possible, Eugene replied without hesitation.
"Ha! To think a valiant knight who achieved victory single-handedly would also be so thoughtful. Yan of the Eugene family, I truly admire you."
Viscount Fairchild nodded repeatedly with a benevolent expression, as though he genuinely liked Eugene.
Yet his mind was racing.
I desire him, but I can't keep him. If I make him a territorial knight, Bommel would surely be displeased.
Though they had ended up in a territorial war, Baron Bommel was meant to become family by marriage.
Showing a measure of consideration would avoid offending the other party and would only further enhance his own honor.
Still, I should give him something even better to truly uphold my dignity… Ah, that's it!
After a brief moment of thought, Viscount Fairchild's eyes lit up.
"Bring me the sword!"
"Yes? My lord, which sword do you mean—?"
"Is there any other sword I would mean?"
"Oh… yes!"
After hesitating, Mills quickly departed.
"You may look forward to it."
Viscount Fairchild smiled faintly.
A short while later, Mills returned, carefully holding a short sword in a jet-black scabbard with both hands.
"Yan of the Eugene family."
"Yes, my lord."
Rising with the dignity befitting a lord, Viscount Fairchild took the sword from Mills and offered it to Eugene.
"This sword is called Wolfslaughter. It is a blade my father-in-law bestowed upon me with my bride's dowry—a favored sword of Sir Belgrin Entailer, one of the famed knights who brought glory to the coat of arms of the House of Winslon."
The old man had been terribly reluctant to part with this when he gave it to me. Still, this makes me look generous to the boy. And if the old man truly knights him, returning it would be the same as giving it back—he'll be grateful to me as well.
With an expression overflowing with affection and dignity—betraying none of his thoroughly calculating inner thoughts—Viscount Fairchild declared:
"From this moment on, you are the master of Wolfslaughter."
(To be continued in the next chapter)