Chapter 187

Chapter 187:  I’m not sure… if this will really work.

A secluded yard, far removed from the Imperial mansion.

A group of knights stood in formation, heavily armored and aligned in neat rows.

At the very front stood a standard-bearer holding a flag emblazoned with the sun and a sword. Right beside him stood a handsome man with long hair.

Lucilis von Digdarion.

The vice-captain of the Imperial Knights bowed his head and spoke.

“Vice-Captain Lucilis von Digdarion, along with 63 knights, 5 Imperial mages, and 410 regular soldiers. We have completed all preparations for the subjugation.”

“...You’ve done well.”

Opposite him, a man whose height appeared to be nearly twice that of Lucilis spoke in a voice as deep and heavy as a cave.

With black skin and eyes like those of a black panther, his entire body bulged with muscles, making the uniform he wore seem ready to burst.

His identity…

“No, Commander Matchell.”

Lucilis bowed his head again as he replied.

Matchell Ben Strong.

Captain of the Imperial Knights, and one of the Empire’s Five Great Knights—a legendary figure who had risen from the bottom to his current position without any prestigious lineage or backing.

With his usual stoic expression, Matchell stroked his chin and asked,

“Is there anything else you need, or any last requests before departure?”

“...Just one thing.”

“Speak.”

“Must we really bring the Daphne Viscounty along for this subjugation?”

“Reason?”

“Although it is an imperial order… When I saw them previously, the standard of the Daphne Knights was unimpressive. The man called Hardin Daphne fell far short of the expectations set by the rumors.”

Matchell stroked his chin silently.

“Well… they’re the ones chosen by Princess Medeia. That alone must mean something.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t understand. Why would Princess Medeia associate herself with the likes of them…? I’m certain they’ll only be a hindrance on this mission.”

A faint trace of irritation surfaced on Lucilis’s face.

“Lucilis…”

“I believe this mission can be completed with just me and my men. There’s no need to invite unnecessary variables by letting uninvited guests tag along.”

“The enemy is Demonkind. There’s no harm in reinforcing our strength, even a little.”

“But still…”

“This is the will of the Princess, and His Majesty has accepted her decision. Surely, there is something you’re not seeing.”

“That’s impossible. I saw it with my own eyes. Those people don’t even have a decent level of mana to begin with—”

As Lucilis’s voice grew louder—

Matchell cut him off firmly.

“Lucilis. That is an order.”

Lucilis’s shoulders trembled slightly, and he clenched his fists as he nodded.

“My apologies. I spoke out of turn.”

“Good. Then carry out your mission. And… make sure it succeeds. With the cooperation of the Daphne Viscounty.”

“Yes. Understood.”

A look of displeasure crept across Lucilis’s face as he replied.

---

The former territory of the Count of Tread, now under the domain of Duke Ignima.

Inside the large main conference room of the estate that once belonged to the Count of Tread, retainers were frantically reporting as they sifted through piles of documents stacked like mountains on the table.

“A large shipment of sugarcane has come in through the port.”

“As for the weapons produced from Salamander’s Tongue, over thirty percent have already been sent to the main house, and the rest are—”

At the head of the conference table—

“Well, I get the gist. Handle it as you see fit.”

Jubilen, currently the acting governor of Tread and the hound of Ignima, waved his hand with an uninterested expression while letting out a light yawn.

‘Nothing but boring affairs.’

Managing some backwater territory.

No matter how much of this dull work he did… it wouldn’t bring him any closer to gaining actual power within the house.

With a vacant expression, he gazed around the conference room.

“Due to the effects of the last quarter’s territorial war, we expect to see a slight decrease in tribute.”

“As for replenishing the corps—”

The retainers went on and on, their chatter unending.

Was it because Jubilen was present?

They all seemed desperate, as if trying to prove their worth to him.

But to Jubilen’s eyes…

‘Nothing but half-baked fools.’

If they were truly capable, they wouldn’t be looking so pitiful.

It was in the midst of this ongoing meeting that—

Bang!

The door suddenly burst open, and a dwarf in a crow-feather robe walked in.

Completely ignoring the meeting, the dwarf strode across the room.

“……”

“Grrrhh.”

The retainers wore expressions of displeasure, but none of them dared say a word.

Because…

“You’ve arrived, Crow.”

“Yes. I bring news.”

Jubilen, who had worn a bored expression the entire time, now fixed his eyes solely on the dwarf known as Crow, his face openly lit with expectation.

“Everyone, leave.”

“But the reports aren’t finished yet—”

“I said leave. Didn’t I?”

A murderous gleam flickered in Jubilen’s eyes.

Gulp.

The retainers swallowed hard and replied,

“M-my apologies. Let’s… all go.”

“Yes, sir.”

Everyone understood well.

Making a clumsy move here might just cost them their heads.

Once the room was cleared, Crow spoke again.

“Daphne and the Imperial Knights have both begun to move.”

“Fuuuu, took them long enough. This information hasn’t gotten out to the others, has it?”

“Of course not. No information has leaked outside—only we know.”

Not bad.

If any pesky flies had caught wind of it, things could’ve gotten annoyingly complicated.

As a sly grin crept across Jubilen’s face, Crow asked once more.

“Shall I summon the Executioner Unit right away?”

“No, have them depart slowly and at their leisure. After all, the hunt should begin when the prey is exhausted.”

“...Understood. I’ll give the orders accordingly.”

The Crow bowed and promptly exited the conference room.

“Daphne and the Imperial Knights, huh...”

Schlip.

Jubilen licked his lips slowly, his tongue slithering across them with a sticky sound.

---

The fog-choked canyon of Veritarun.

In front of a fortress built at the entrance of the canyon, the knights of the Daphne Viscounty had gathered.

They had pitched tents and lit campfires all around, suggesting that they'd been stationed there for quite some time.

“There’s still no news, right?”

“Yes, we haven’t heard anything in particular either...”

When Mikkelsen asked with a pout, the soldiers at the fortress entrance responded with troubled expressions.

Then Jerry added his own remark from the side.

“Jeez, they send us out for a mission but can’t even show up on time. Ain’t that right?”

“Totally, totally.”

“Well, the thing is...”

As the two kept sneering and poking fun, sweat beaded on the sentinel’s forehead.

“Young Master, are you sure the agreed time was really yesterday?”

“I told you it was.”

At Manton’s question, Hardin stomped the ground with frustration and sighed.

‘Why are they so late?’

It had already been more than three days since the date they were supposed to rendezvous with the Imperial Knights.

He had let it slide when they were a day late.

But now it had turned into two, then three days—it was only natural that Hardin would be annoyed.

‘Are they messing with us on purpose? Or was the operation called off?’

His mind began to race with possibilities.

Either way, without the Imperial Knights, the Daphne contingent couldn’t proceed into the canyon.

Of course, in his heart, he desperately wanted to pack up and go home right now.

— Hardin! You must do well out there!

— Yes, Father! I will succeed—no matter what—and claim the title of Count!

He had even departed with a grand farewell ceremony from the family...

How could he possibly back down now?

‘Soup or bread, either way, I’ve drawn my sword—I’ve got to do something with it…’

Damn it. If they’re going to be late, at least send a messenger… or a carrier pigeon or something to say the operation’s been delayed or canceled!

Crunch! Crack!

Hardin began crushing a poor, innocent stone in his hand until it turned to powder.

Clop-clop, clop-clop!

— Neighhh!

At the sound of hooves approaching from behind, the Daphne personnel turned their heads.

“Hmm?”

“That’s…”

Then they saw them—an approaching group of knights bearing the imperial banner, along with conscripts trailing behind them in far greater numbers.

Beryl, who had been chewing on bread nearby, asked,

“Is that the Imperial Knights, Young Master?”

“...Yeah, that’s them.”

At the very front, atop a white steed, rode a long-haired man.

Lucilis von… something—what was it again?

Anyway, he was the one who had introduced himself as the vice-captain of the Imperial Knights.

“Tch, you sure took your time getting here.”

The moment Hardin saw that face, he let out a sharp breath through his nose, clearly irritated.

Of course, the thoughts running through the minds of the Daphne knights behind him were quite different.

‘So this is the Imperial Knights…’

‘The aura they’re giving off… this is no joke.’

Tension crept across their faces, and their bodies stiffened slightly.

Each of the heavily armed Imperial knights exuded an intimidating presence that made the Daphne knights shrink back.

‘Well, their level must be higher than ours anyway.’

The average combat level on their side was around 2-star Master, with Beryl and Manton being the only ones who had just crossed into the 3-star Expert class.

Considering that most of the Imperial Knights appeared to be at least 3-star mana users, the Daphne forces were, on average, a full tier below.

No wonder they felt overwhelmed just by the pressure alone.

Especially Lucilis, the vice-captain…

‘He’s probably a 4-star, maybe even beyond Expert.’

Among all the Imperial Knights present, he stood out with an overwhelming presence.

Seeing this, Hardin blew sharply through his nose, then gave Beryl, who was standing beside him, a few hearty slaps on the back.

“Hey, why are you all stiff like that? Stand up straight.”

“Well, how could I not be? I mean, they’re the Imperial Knights… and their mana level’s clearly way higher than ours.”

“So what? You’re stronger than them.”

“...Excuse me? Come again?”

“I said, you’re stronger. Stronger than those imperial peacocks.”

Beryl narrowed his eyes and replied,

“Come on, be serious.”

“Eh-heh, I am serious. You think being a knight is all about having big mana circuits? You’ve been learning swordsmanship from me all this time—why are you talking like that now?”

“Siiigh… but still, there’s a limit, you know? And it’s not like the imperial guys don’t train with the sword.”

Just as the two were in the middle of their back-and-forth—

“Greetings, Young Master Hardin.”

“Eeek!”

At the sudden voice from right beside him, Beryl flinched and whipped his head around—only to see Vice-Captain Lucilis had quietly approached and was now standing right next to them.

Hardin waved his hand and replied,

“Oh, yes. Hello.”

“U-uh… about what we were just saying, sir… that was just silly banter, not something we meant seriously…”

Lucilis smiled slightly.

“Oh, I’m looking forward to it, then.”

“Yes? What kind of expectations do you mean?”

Lucilis put on a thoroughly insincere smile as he replied,

“I’m talking about the performance of the Daphne Viscounty. Since Young Master Hardin seems to have great confidence in your abilities, I figured I could look forward to a spectacular contribution in this subjugation.”

“Ah…”

We’re doomed.

Beryl’s face turned pale, and Manton, standing behind him, brought a palm to his forehead.

Hardin, however, raised his thumb high and said cheerfully,

“Ah-hahaha! Just leave it to us, Lucilis. Me and my men are gonna put on a show so impressive, you’ll be able to kick back and relax.”

No, no—he’s obviously mocking you! He’s mocking you right now!

As beads of sweat formed on Beryl’s forehead—

“Yes, I’ll be sure to look forward to it. The knights acknowledged by Princess Medeia herself… let’s see just how great they are.”

Lucilis curved his lips into a smirk and gave an exaggerated noble’s bow.