Fish in Water, or the Unbridled Foal (2)
The king had said that he would definitely send reinforcements. He also added that they would be a mercenary company but that they would be of more help than one or two knights. However, Berg Berten, commander-in-chief of High Seabreeze Fortress, had long since ceased expecting reinforcements. On the first hand, he judged they would not reach the fortress with ease, and on the second, he knew they would not easily reach the fortress due to the imperial encirclement.
However, the reinforcements that Berg had never expected arrived before his very own eyes.
And it was a single mercenary. Not an army. The commander sighed.
I’d rather just go back. For what did I come to this place for?
Berg was happy that the man came just before the fortress fell, grateful that he rushed here, but the situation was still abysmal and would not change just because a single Sword Master has joined in the defense.
So Berg said to the man, “Help my men to retreat.”
It was all right if the elderly died in this place, so Berg asked that the man save even a single one of Dotrin’s allied troops.
“You can’t do anything as one man, so save yourself.”
Berg went on to say that, as the mercenary was so skilled, he would be of more use on the other fronts against the empire.
The man did not listen this time either.
If these were different times and a different place, Berg would have praised him for his determination, but right now, the old commander was only irked by such noble sentiments.
In the next instant, the paladin who had stepped back with his severed wrist fixed his sword and advanced. The mercenary readied his blades and faced the paladin.
The commander shouted, “If you’re going to fight him, aim for his throat from the start!”
The man replied with regret instead of anger.
“I severed his hand with a purpose.”
“What?”
“I purposely kept him alive.”
The conversation did not continue, as the enraged paladin rushed at the man, who met his strikes with twin swords. Dozens of blows came and went in an instant.
At first glance, it was an even bout, but no one believed it would last long.
Even if they were both Sword Masters, a mercenary could never be on the level of a knight, as the former gathered his mana in a heart and would never best a master of the rings.
It was common sense.
However, common sense collapsed before Berg’s very eyes.
As time passed, the mercenary, who all thought would soon be destroyed, was attacking with vigor while the paladin’s sword began to slow, falter.
Several strikes came and went as one blade clashed with two.
The paladin was now fully on the defensive and could focus only on blocking his foe’s strikes.
Increasing his energy, the man swung his twin swords with greater ferocity.
‘Qluap!’ finally, the mercenary pierced the paladin’s thigh deeply with one of his swords.
The paladin tried to beat his foe back with his sword, but the man pierced down with consummate ease, plunging his other sword into the paladin’s other thigh.
“Noo!” the paladin collapsed with a scream, no longer able to bear the pain of two swords piercing his legs. The mercenary took the kneeling paladin’s sword into his hand and kicked into the knight’s chest.
The paladin fell back, and Berg’s eyes were wide.
He could not believe it, even if he had seen it with his own eyes. The mercenary has defeated a quad-chain knight.
The man pushed his foot down on the paladin and looked back.
As the commander met his gaze, he swallowed his dry saliva.
It turned out that the man had unusual energies about him. The eyes blazing from behind the helmet were mana-filled, and the energy flowing from the man was grand, so grand.
There wasn’t that secular attitude common to mercenaries about the man.
He rather seemed like a knight who had suffered and suffered to reach a state of completion.
If the commander had believed him to be an ordinary mercenary rushing here just before the fortress fell… What kind of sellsword who do such a thing?
Such a spirited man can not be an ordinary mercenary, and Berg believed this with certainty.
“This,” at least Berg believed it until the man spoke, “how much is it worth to you?”
The voice cam tumbling into Berg’s minds, and his eyes widened, for he did not understand the question.
The man laughed at the old commander.
“Even if you can’t believe I bested a paladin, there is no way that I won’t accept payment for doing it.”
Berg Berten frowned. There were no signs left of the knightly aspect he had seen in the man moments ago. It sounded as if the man was haggling over the prices of goods at the market. All Berg now saw was a mercenary bargaining for the price of besting a paladin.
Even the energy that had been raised by the man’s great spirit and swordsmanship was completely gone. The commander, his face trembling, promised the man enormous rewards.
The man’s grin grew broader.
“Then there’s one more thing,” the man said as he tapped the ground with his sword, “How much is this worth?”
Berg looked at the tip of the sword and saw nothing but dirt and blood upon the earth.
He looked at the man with a frown and then spoke as a thought suddenly entered his head.
“Surely…”
“This citadel is certainly not cheaper than a paladin’s life,” the man said as he grabbed onto the neck of the paladin sprawled onto the floor. “Please consider that carefully.”
After he had said this, the man walked toward the gate, dragging the paladin behind him like a crippled dog.
The imperial troops who had broken through Dotrin’s heavy infantry and poured through the fort’s gate parted before the man to both sides in terror. The imperial forces that stood behind them reacted the same to the man’s presence.
And so, the man walked into the forces of the empire, who divided themselves out of fear.
The man came to a halt once he stood under the fort’s gate, having entered the portal that connected the inner walls to the outside world.
The sword he had taken from the paladin was squarely aimed at the knight’s chest.
Then, he gave a fierce growl as he faced the Imperial Army.
* * *
“Everyone halt where you are!”
The imperial soldiers stopped as they heard my words. Still, a few advanced for some time, pushed forward by the troops at their rear who did not understand what peril the front ranks were facing.
“Halt! Halt!”
“All must halt!”
These soldiers stood still after hearing their commanders bellow throat-bursting orders.
“Huuh…” a soldier that stood right in front of me was terrified, and his shoulders trembled.
I gave a glance at his pathetic display and then looked around.
The pale-faced soldiers of the empire were staring at me, the distance between them and me being a spear’s length.
I felt some of them moving toward me while the others were so perplexed. I shifted the sword to the paladin’s throat without a backward glance.
“No!” screamed the paladin, who had a blade upon his jugular. I then pressed my sword to the paladin’s chest and shouted, “Who is this with a severed wrist?”
I could hear those who had secretly been approaching behind my back retreating with moans.
I asked once more, “And if this man’s throat is cut now, whose fault will it be?”
No one answered me, but they understood me well enough.
I was threatening the paladin’s life.
“If anyone moves so much as a foot, I’ll cut your paladin’s throat. And if I slice into his neck, It’ll be because of the guy who moves first.
It was a sleazy masterpiece of a tactic that would not have worked at another time or place.
But now it was working great. I glanced at the paladin’s groaning face where he knelt at my feet. I saw Burgundy’s crest on his chest: The five-headed dragon.
Even the paladins of the more ordinary noble families are treated with the greatest dignity.
The imperial army remained unmoving.
It was funny: I’m just one man, yet here I was, defending one of Dotrin’s strongholds.
No one dared come forward. Not a single soldier or commander would risk their position by being responsible for a paladin’s death.
I glanced back.
The old commander was watching my confrontation with the imperials with a stern face. I motioned with my head, and the commander understood, ordering his remaining troops to assemble before the gate. All those knights and soldiers of the empire who had so courageously rushed at the citadel now staggered back, some of them pulling out.
When I saw those that still stood in the middle of the gate, my expression grew hard. Their expressions as they looked forward and backward were embarrassing. One of the knights stuck in the corridor checked if his comrades have made a decision and then carefully passed me by.
Others quickly followed this knight as they passed out of the fort past my side. A few sneaky knights among them would’ve attacked me, gathering mana in their sword, had I not pushed the sword against the paladin’s chest with greater strength.
“Oach!” the paladin screamed, saying that he was going to die, and that served as warning enough.
The old commander approached me and gave the report that all the imperial forces who had invaded the fort had escaped. “Huh.” I could clearly see that he was stunned by my ridiculous hostage play, and he spat to the ground. Then he asked what my other plans were.
“I haven’t thought about any up till now.”
The commander had an absurd expression as he heard my words.
“Let’s shore up the gates first,” said I.
“It will take time. I don’t think they’ll hang back until then,” he said.
He went on to say that the imperial army would not hesitate to attack forever just because of the paladin’s life. They will say that the paladin’s death is a sacred sacrifice, the martyrdom of a noble warrior, and soon the drums of war shall resound once more.
In fact, there were already signs that this would happen.
A messenger had come with some swiftness to the front lines, and those there now looked at the messenger and the paladin alternately with stiff faces. Apparently, the order for advance had been given. We didn’t have much time.
“Let’s beat them with magic,” I suggested in a low voice to the old commander.
“Do you understand that we don’t have that type of magic around here? We have no such thing as magic to repair the ga-“
“It’s simple. If you damage a large portion of the gatehouse and collapse it into the gap, we will be able to buy some time.”
The commander looked at me with a stern face. Then I nodded when I saw him become determined, yet there was still one problem.
“The wizard is spent.”
The wizard, who we needed to break the gatehouse, was all out of mana.
I sighed. Somehow, things could never be easily solved.
“Do what you have to do, and make sure you get it done as soon as possible.”
“What are you going to do?” the old man asked me.
“Whatever the hell I must to buy us some time.”
The commander-in-chief stood by my side with a tragic expression, and I chided him for worrying so. Although he still trembled, he stepped away and began deploying the troops behind us in preparation for the defense, determined to trust me to some extent.
Meanwhile, the tension in the front line was rising.
I could see that the bearings of the imperial commanders, which had once been hesitant, were now poison-filled and battle-ready. Knights stood in tight lines, almost biting at the bit.
And finally, they could ignore orders no more. They were willing to be the ones responsible for the paladin’s death.
‘Dumdum Dumdum Dumdum~’
The tattoo of the drums signaling the advance broke out. The imperial army had retreated, yet in now came at us again. It was the knights of the empire on the front line, taking the place of the terrified soldiers.
“Time to kill this guy then,” I said and struck down with my sword, ‘Skleep!’
The paladin groaned briefly as the unfamiliar feeling of a mortal wound came to him. Then his head drooped, and he moved no more. The energy of the knights charging at us soared; it seemed that the death of my hostage had angered them.
“You will not die a fine death!” an imperial knight shouted. I threw the sword that I held aside and drew my swords from the paladin’s thighs. As I watched the charging knights, I controlled my breathing.
In my mind, I thought of a Muhunshi poem. The poems of the Leonbergers could not be recited here, for I would be exposed. Luckily, poems weren’t written in Leonberg Alone.
I had just the right verse for me, as a mercenary in a foreign war.
“A soldier, he dies, and becomes six silver coins”
“A knight, he dies, and becomes thirty coins of gold”
Although the mercenary had received the title of king, he was never respected by anyone. He wandered around the world without the will to live and with a singular purpose. It was the song of a knight who was mocked when he reached a high place and mocked when he died.
“Victory is a glorious honor”
“And only in my death-filled hall”
“Will there ever be truth”
It was the [Golden Poem] of the mercenary king, or the knight of the gold coins.
I quietly recited this poem of a long-dead man of wealth.
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