Episode 57
“Please, have mercy! Forgive my foolishness!”
The elder of the Black Tower, a sixth-circle dark mage, knelt and pleaded. Across the continent, high-ranking mages trembled, not daring to resist.
“I’m begging you! Please!”
Once the commander of the Eighth Division of the Black Order, a dark mage who conducted all manner of experiments in pursuit of truth. A hardliner who rejected the Black Duke’s regime and didn’t hesitate to become a monster of truth.
That very “Demon Commander” was now on his knees, begging.
Before a man who had turned his back on the darkness of the old era, choosing to be bound by trivial morals.
“Do you seek my mercy?”
The man asked.
“Please, show mercy! I swear my lifelong loyalty! Please, please…!”
“Do you remember what you did to my son?”
After a pause, the Black Duke asked, his face devoid of any emotion.
“I, I… I…”
He had secretly allied with the Red Tower, crossing the Saxon River to provide information to the Purifiers. He had informed them that Dale would lead his cavalry in a separate action. The elder chuckled bitterly at the thought.
He knew there was no chance this man would show him mercy.
Yet he had no intention of resisting or struggling pointlessly.
As an elder of the Black Tower, he understood better than anyone the weight of the Black Duke’s name.
Even knowing this, he laughed at his own foolishness for daring to ally with the Red Tower.
”…Right, there’s no way you’d show mercy.”
He muttered weakly.
“Black Duke, do you think there’s a more despicable hypocrite than you?”
And with nothing left to lose, he hurled insults.
“Second Commander of the Black Order. How many prisoners were sacrificed for your ‘experiments’ there? How much blood was spilled to open the gate?”
The true purpose of the Black Order, which the Empire desperately tried to conceal.
“The real monster is you.”
”…”
“Do you think you can escape your past?”
The Black Duke remained silent.
“Would your son still be proud of his father if he saw your true self? Ah, but as the child of a monster, perhaps he would!”
“Grim Reaper.”
After a long silence, the Black Duke finally spoke. A swirling black aura formed around his feet, taking shape.
The Reaper, cloaked in a robe of darkness.
A shadow loomed beneath the hood, but it was not a shadow. It was an unfathomable darkness, writhing beneath the hood.
“Black Duke, you are the true monster! A monster we small fry can’t even begin to imitate!”
The Reaper’s arms, made of darkness, wielded a scythe. The Grim Reaper. The harbinger of a cleansing bloodstorm.
Not long after, the eldest son of the Saxon family returned safely to the Saxon Duchy.
As always, tales of his exploits at the Imperial Academy spread from mouth to mouth among the gossipers.
Just as the bloodstorm of purges, in the name of the Black Tower Lord, swept through the duchy.
Saxon Ducal Castle.
“Dale!”
At the familiar voice of a young girl calling his name, Dale turned. A girl clad in black armor stood there, fully armed. She held a custom-made double-edged sword of the Saxon family.
It seemed she had been diligently training day and night.
“Charlotte.”
“Yes, welcome back.”
Charlotte smiled warmly, as if she had been eagerly awaiting Dale’s return.
“How’s your sword training going?”
“Well, it’s going alright!”
Charlotte nodded confidently, and Dale chuckled softly at the sight.
“Why, why are you laughing?!”
“Just because.”
After laughing, Dale continued nonchalantly.
“It’s nice to see you again.”
“Ugh…!”
Charlotte’s tongue twisted, and she closed her mouth at the unexpected compliment.
“What’s wrong? Did you bite your tongue?”
“N-no, it’s nothing!”
“Well, that’s good then.”
Dale replied casually, unaware of her face turning crimson beneath her black helmet.
“Ugh, really… you fool.”
“Why am I a fool?”
“Because you are, you fool!”
The girl’s heart swelled day by day for the boy she liked.
As usual, when Dale appeared where the Night Raven Knights were training, the knights knelt and planted their swords in the ground.
“Welcome, Lord Dale!”
Among the Night Raven Knights clad in black armor, a familiar face greeted Dale.
“Sir Yones.”
“Lord Dale!”
“Is your sword training going well?”
At Dale’s question, the Night Raven Knight instructing Sir Yones bowed his head.
“His talent is exceptional, and his skills are improving rapidly.”
The knight, who had reached the level of an Aura Knight, praised Sir Yones without reservation, prompting him to bow again to Dale.
“All thanks to you, Lord Dale.”
“Good. And the mercenaries’ training is going well too?”
“Rest assured, my men are doing just fine!”
Sir Yones replied confidently. The hundred or so mercenaries under his command shared a camaraderie akin to brotherhood.
Thus, they were provided a place to stay within the duchy and received training from the knights, ensuring they didn’t neglect their skills.
While Dale was at the Imperial Academy, following the great demon migration, it was time to assess their growth under the Night Raven Knights’ tutelage.
A mercenary company of about a hundred.
It was a formidable force for Dale to command, and the only remaining task was to ensure they were ready.
Wandering without a home, fighting endless battles.
The romantic notion of a mercenary is, in truth, a fanciful illusion.
As a second son of a minor noble family, Sir Yones had once roamed the continent as a wandering knight with only a sword.
It’s no wonder that mercenaries often dream of “returning home safely.” The reality of their romanticized life is often bleak.
In this regard, the opportunity Dale offered to Sir Yones’ mercenary company was nothing short of a miracle.
A personal guard under the Saxon Duke’s eldest son.
The pay was generous, and they were provided a place to stay, along with systematic training from the Night Raven Knights, renowned as the continent’s finest.
Not every soldier on the battlefield could be equipped with the shining black armor of the Night Raven Knights and receive top-tier training. But Dale had the power to make it possible.
“Welcome, my lord!”
“Call me captain now.”
“Haha, understood! Captain!”
“Salute the captain!”
Sir Yones’ mercenaries lacked the strict discipline and ironclad rules of the Saxon knights. Yet their informal demeanor was something Dale appreciated. Especially after a few drinks.
“And this one is now the vice-captain.”
“Of course!”
The feelings the hundred-strong mercenary company held for Dale were indescribable.
Sir Yones willingly stepped down to vice-captain, and the mercenaries knelt before their new captain, Saxon’s Dale.
No, they were now respectable heavy infantry, loyal to the Saxon Duke’s eldest son.
“Alright.”
Even for Dale, it was impossible to provide warhorses for all hundred soldiers. But a skilled heavy infantry company of a hundred was no less intimidating on the battlefield.
“Are you all training hard?”
Thus, Dale spoke.
The meaning of the Saxon Duke’s eldest son taking them as his own. There was give and take. And the invaluable things Dale offered them were not given freely.
“We’re pushing them to their limits.”
The knight in charge of the mercenaries’ training replied.
“Good.”
Not for the Saxon Duke, but for Dale alone. There were those among the Night Raven Knights who would move for him. But that changed nothing.
“After all that hard training, it’s time for some real action, isn’t it?”
“Leave it to us, my lord!”
“We’re itching to get into battle!”
Growing “Dale’s forces” alongside what was given to him as the Saxon Duke’s eldest son was a task that could not be neglected.
“I’m thinking of starting a new venture.”
Dale’s organization, Dale’s people.
The hundred “Men-At-Arms” here were just the beginning.
From basic combat operations to strategy and tactics, even intelligence activities. A brain and combat agency that could intervene in operations and exercise supreme command.
They weren’t just a mercenary company to let their potential go to waste. A military organization that could comprehensively handle the extensive demands of clients wanting to conduct warfare.
War Inc.
To become the continent’s premier private military company (PMC).
That evening.
The sun, slanting towards the western sky, had gradually deepened into a rich shade of purple.
Dale was inspecting the training of the heavy infantry unit, pondering over what to name their division.
“Ah, here you are.”
A voice unfamiliar to him broke the silence. He turned his head.
“You returned from the capital sooner than expected.”
”…”
A blond boy stood silhouetted against the burning twilight.
“And who might you be?”
Judging by his age, he didn’t seem much older or younger than Dale.
“My name is Ray. Ray Eurys, the eldest son of the Marquis of Eurys.”
”…!”
Dale’s breath caught for a moment.
The son of the Blood Marquis, heir to the Red Tower.
The Marquis of Eurys was unmarried, yet rumors of an ‘unrelated son’ were not unknown to Dale.
“Pleasure to meet you.”
Moreover, Ray Eurys was not known for any notable achievements, unlike Dale of Saxon. His name was rarely mentioned, shrouded in an ominous silence. Yet, no one from the Red Tower dared to deny that Ray was indeed the heir.
“Is there something you need?”
Dale asked cautiously, not letting his guard down.
“Lord Dale of Saxon.”
Ray spoke with a smile.
“Son of the Black Duke, heir to the Black Tower.”
He continued, echoing the reputation of the ‘Black Prince’ that circulated among the gossipers.
”…”
“May I humbly seek guidance from the one hailed as the empire’s greatest genius?”