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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Teottry
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The forest was silent. No birds sang, no insects chirped. The only sound was the rustling of leaves as the sharp winter wind occasionally blew through the trees.
The forest’s inhabitants held their breath, watching the humans who had invaded their territory.
Hidden in the forests flanking the road, the soldiers gripped their weapons, their gazes fixed on the horizon. A suffocating silence hung heavy in the air.
After some time,
Clip-clop. Clip-clop.
The distant sound of hooves reached their ears. Their grips tightened on their weapons, the creaking of the wooden handles as loud as thunder.
Gulp.
The sound grew closer. Now, they could also hear footsteps. As the winter wind died down, the sounds of horse and human grew louder.
Figures emerged on the horizon, growing larger as they approached, until they resolved into a force of thirty soldiers.
“…!”
There were ten more than the scout had reported. Moreover, three fully armored cavalry led the vanguard.
Judging by the spare horses and the squires accompanying them, they were undoubtedly knights.
‘Sir Powell?’
Bolton frowned as he recognized the fox crest embroidered on their surcoats.
Powell Osborne had appeared instead of the expected Allen. Had he pursued Allen this far? Then where was Allen? His mind raced.
“Bolton, what should we do?”
The other vassals asked silently, their expressions questioning whether they could simply ignore the commander of a hostile army, especially during wartime.
‘Ignore them.’
Bolton shook his head. They weren’t the prey he was waiting for, and even if they won, it would only benefit Allen.
Powell Osborne thought differently. He recognized the silent forest as confirmation of the information Allen had given him.
There was only one course of action.
“All forces! Attack!”
The soldiers, forewarned of this scenario, didn’t hesitate. They split into two groups and charged into the forests on either side of the road.
“What the…!”
“Betrayal!?”
It was Bolton and the vassals lying in ambush who were caught off guard.
They didn’t have time to think. The knights leading the charge were already cutting down the ambushing soldiers.
“C-Counterattack! We defeated them once! We can win again!”
Bolton’s belated commands were futile. His troops were panicking. They knew their previous victory was solely due to Allen.
Outnumbered and outmatched, their morale plummeted as Muel and his personal guard, positioned at the rear, quietly slipped away.
“I-I don’t want to die—!”
“Damn it, move! Get out of my way!”
The soldiers turned and fled. The enemy forces, like a rising tide, swept over them. Bolton could only watch in stunned silence.
Betrayal? By whom? From the moment they plundered the territories of Ailgar’s supporters, they were all complicit, bound to a shared fate of execution unless they framed Allen.
Betrayal? What fool would tighten the noose around their own neck?
Bolton set aside his anger. Survival was his immediate priority.
“Sir Powell! How dare you repay kindness with betrayal! What is the meaning of this?!”
Bolton yelled at Powell Osborne, who was observing the battle from a safe distance.
“Don’t make me laugh. Kindness? Did you really think I wouldn’t see through your scheme to use me as a pawn?”
Powell Osborne chuckled. Bolton’s face contorted.
“Regardless of the reason, I was the one who released you!”
“Hmm, that is true. Very well. I won’t capture you. So, I suggest you run as fast as your legs can carry you before I change my mind.”
Powell Osborne had discerned that Bolton was Allen’s rival. Judging Allen to be the greater threat, he intended to use Bolton as a means of keeping Allen in check.
Of course, this was merely a precautionary measure.
‘That cunning bastard wouldn’t have released me without considering this. Therefore, I need to go one step further.’
Meanwhile, Bolton, without a moment’s hesitation, turned and fled. The vassals, who had been cautiously observing him, were dumbfounded.
To think the one who orchestrated this would flee without a second glance?
“Bolton!!!”
“You son of a bitch! Come back!”
Despite their cries, Bolton only ran faster.
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The battle ended in a decisive victory for Baron Debussy’s forces. Half of the ambushed troops were killed, and the other half fled. The vassals, who had lost all hope when Bolton abandoned them, chose to surrender.
Having lost everything in the defeat, they weren’t sure if they could even afford the ransom, but they had to be alive to even try.
Powell Osborne didn’t know this. He spared them, hoping for ransom and also expecting them to help him contain Allen upon their return.
Of course, this was all just insurance. He had other plans for Allen.
“Quickly erase the traces and set up an ambush!”
What if Allen had been the enemy commander at the start of the war? And had possessed superior numbers? He wouldn’t have been satisfied with mere plundering; he would have attacked Baron Debussy’s capital.
The very thought sent a chill down his spine. That was why Powell Osborne was determined to use this opportunity to kill Allen, for the sake of his young son.
‘I won’t apologize. Our agreement only extended to attacking Bolton.’
One of his fellow knights, who had finished organizing the battlefield, approached.
“Sir Powell, shouldn’t we deploy troops to the river as well?”
There were two ways to transport the plundered goods from Baron Debussy’s territory back to Baron Rasino’s: by road or by river.
His fellow knight was worried that Allen might try to bypass them using the river route.
“He’s coming this way. He has to.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Why did he use me? There are two reasons. First, to legally seize the plunder his rivals gathered.”
Powell Osborne gestured towards the wagons piled high with loot.
Bolton and his rivals would bear the responsibility, while Allen would reap the rewards. He was a greedy, cunning man.
The more he thought about it, the more determined he became to kill Allen.
“Whew, that’s enough to live on for three generations. A tempting prize indeed.”
“I knew he was greedy from the moment I saw him. The second reason is his ambition. He wants to claim another victory against our weakened forces.”
“He underestimated us.”
“Of course. With his skills, and having already achieved one victory, he’s bound to be arrogant.”
Powell Osborne grinned.
“However, this time will be different.”
His previous defeat was due to his ignorance of Allen’s unconventional abilities. The cause of his defeat was a lack of information.
Now, the situation was different. He had planned based on Allen’s prowess and cunning.
His gaze fell on the elite soldiers who had been defending the capital. They were all armed with expensive crossbows.
‘He’ll learn there’s always someone stronger.’
Thoroughly prepared, Powell Osborne waited for Allen. He waited, and waited. A week passed, and Allen hadn’t shown himself.
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He finally received news of Allen three days later, when a messenger arrived from the capital.
“Our territory is being plundered!”
“What!?”
Powell Osborne had assumed Allen’s delayed arrival was because he was waiting to eliminate Bolton, but the reality was different.
While Powell Osborne had been wasting time dealing with Bolton and setting up an ambush, Allen had been continuing his plunder of Baron Debussy’s territory.
For Allen, legitimately plundering the enemy’s territory was far more appealing than claiming Bolton’s ill-gotten gains. Moreover, with Powell Osborne and his troops away, there was no one to stop him.
“Th-Then where are they now?!”
Powell Osborne encountered Allen again before the tower where their first battle had taken place. Allen had simply returned via the river.
“Sir Powell, you’ve worked hard.”
“Agh!”
Powell Osborne clutched his neck as he saw Allen waving from atop the tower, a smile on his face. His vision blurred despite his being in his prime.
“Sir Powell!”
The knights around him rushed to support him as he stumbled.
“Prepare to attack! I’ll kill that bastard…!”
He pushed the knights away and yelled. The knights hurriedly blocked his path.
“Sir! Calm yourself! Even with our superior numbers, attacking a fortified enemy is too risky!”
“Then plunder the surrounding area! Draw them out!”
“Hasn’t the enemy already plundered everything?”
Thanks to Bolton and his vassals’ thorough plundering, there were no territories left to loot in the area. And there was another problem.
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Pitter-patter.
It began to rain. A heavy downpour, heralding the arrival of spring.
The frozen ground thawed, turning into mud. The road was no different. They had lost their supply lines, and the crossbows they had prepared would lose their effectiveness if exposed to prolonged rain.
“Sir Powell, the rainy season has begun.”
He would have ignored it if it were a brief shower, but this region was known for its concentrated spring rains. This was just the beginning.
“Even the heavens are on his side.”
Powell Osborne looked up at the sky, his face grim. Raindrops pelted his face, streaming down his cheeks.
“Sir Powell…”
“We’re retreating.”
In the end, all Powell Osborne gained from this war was a small portion of the loot plundered by Bolton and his vassals. The territory he had captured was lost again.
As his soldiers retreated, Powell Osborne stared at the tower, unable to let go of his resentment. He thought he saw Allen.
‘I will… I will definitely return.’
He swore, but whether he could keep his promise remained to be seen.
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After Powell Osborne retreated, we also prepared to return. The soldiers leaving the tower were cheerful. And why wouldn’t they be, having profited so handsomely from this war?
The elite mercenaries who had followed me from the start were especially jubilant. They were happy even though their contracts had long expired, and I hadn’t paid them.
“Are you returning to Quaran? Or retiring?”
I asked Dreng, the mercenary captain, as we led the troops. He had earned the most among the mercenaries, so retirement was a possibility.
“Is the war truly over?”
“Hardly. We’re just taking a breather.”
Powell Osborne wouldn’t accept this humiliation lying down. The unexpected victory would also fuel Baron Rasino’s ambition.
War was inevitable.
“Then I will return to Quaran, prepare, and wait. That way, I can reap even greater rewards in the next war.”
The rewards he spoke of weren’t monetary. He had earned enough from this war to live comfortably for the rest of his life.
“I’ll call for you when the time comes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Not everyone was happy.
“Let me go! You filthy traitors! Do you think Lord Segeric, the Baron, will let you get away with this?! You’re all dead once we return to Polton!”
Bolton, bound and restrained, struggled and yelled. Muel had captured him as he tried to flee after the failed ambush. He looked like a beggar, having clearly suffered during his brief escape.
He was being dragged along, bound to a horse’s saddle, his body occasionally scraping against the ground as he struggled to keep pace.
I chuckled.
“Bolton, you should be more worried about your own neck. I doubt the Baron will spare you after you plundered your allies’ territories.”
“That was your doing!”
“Are you trying to cover the sun with your hand?”
Bolton smiled confidently.
“What’s stopping me? I’m the heir to the Bryuen family, the most influential family in Polton! I have the power to crush an outsider like you! You’d be wise to release me and beg for your life!”
Muel, who had been observing cautiously from the side, offered his advice.
“He’s not entirely wrong. The Bryuen family has been a powerful local force in this region since before the Baron even arrived. Moreover, as he only plundered the territories of those supporting Lord Ailgar, Lord Segeric, whose biggest backer is Bolton, will protect him.”
However, Muel added that Bolton wouldn’t be able to shift the blame onto me or escape punishment.
This was because he had left undeniable evidence, and those who had been plundered, Ailgar’s supporters, wouldn’t remain silent.
In short, two defeats and plundering allied territories wouldn’t be enough to destroy Bolton and his family.
I disagreed.
“You underestimate the Baron.”
“What…?”
“What nonsense are you talking about?!”
The Baron even coveted his vassals’ wealth. So why had he left the Bryuen family alone? Perhaps because they were too large to swallow whole?
But the situation was different now. The Bryuen family had been significantly weakened by the war, and Bolton had kindly provided the perfect excuse to attack.
If I were Baron Rasino, I wouldn’t miss this opportunity. Moreover, I had a contingency plan.
I thought of Fiore, who should have reached Polton by now and delivered my letter to the Baron, and smiled.
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Now let’s meet up with fiore man! She’s legit!
Thanks Teot!