Episode 65
When Dale regained consciousness in the depths of night, he found himself in a world that felt all too familiar.
“You finally came to see me, didn’t you?”
A girl with the horns of a black goat stood there, her dark dress fluttering as she danced across a world of chilling cold.
“I’ve been waiting for you, brother.”
Her smile was like that of a child seeing their father return from a long trip.
Seeing that smile, Dale recalled a story his father, the Black Duke, had once told him.
“Do you know of the world of truth?”
A forbidden realm one must reach to attain the 9th Circle.
“Ahahaha!”
The girl burst into laughter, as if she couldn’t contain her amusement.
“What’s so funny?” Dale asked, puzzled.
Still laughing, the girl clutched her sides and replied, “It’s just that…”
She seemed unable to stop laughing.
“I was born in that very world.”
”…!”
Dale swallowed hard. It all made sense now. The Book of the Black Goat wasn’t just any magical tome. And the being before him wasn’t merely an avatar conjured by a wizard’s imagination.
Could it be that the immortal Frederick had also touched the world of truth?
How many wizards had reached that realm, and yet why had no ‘9th Circle wizard’ ever appeared in the history of the continent?
“Then, are you…?”
Dale asked again, hesitantly.
“One of the demons from that world?”
“Demon? What’s that?”
The girl tilted her head innocently, then smirked coldly, as if looking down on a mere insect.
─ Do you really think a mortal, bound by the chains of thought, could ever understand ‘us’?
”……!”
An overwhelming pressure emanated from her, unlike anything Dale had felt before. Tentacles emerged from beneath her dress, beginning to engulf Dale’s world in a darkness as deep as an abyss.
“You know, I…”
The girl approached Dale, her voice softening.
“I like you, brother.”
She embraced him, whispering in his ear.
“Your loneliness, your solitude, they’re so endearing I can’t resist.”
It wasn’t the voice of a young girl. It was a woman’s voice, filled with ecstasy and obsession.
“So, I’ll stay by your side.”
Yet, there was no warmth in the girl’s embrace.
“I’ll be the ‘good child’ who listens to you.”
A sensation of cold and darkness seeped into his heart.
“What’s your name?” Dale asked, amidst the chilling sensation.
“Shub.”
“Shub…”
With her answer, a fierce wind howled around them, so strong it was impossible to stand firm.
When Dale came to his senses, he was back in his bedroom.
His heart throbbed painfully. Three circles entwined around it.
‘Three circles…?’
No, that wasn’t it. He realized then. Though not fully formed, there was a ‘fragment of a circle’ clearly etched above the three circles, along with the presence of tentacles constricting it.
As a 3rd Circle master, the path to the 4th Circle was beginning to reveal itself to him.
Reaching the 3rd Circle in his early twenties was a remarkable talent, and the 4th Circle was something many could never achieve, even in a lifetime.
Yet here was an eleven-year-old child on the brink of the 4th Circle.
Even calling him the greatest talent of the empire seemed insufficient.
Some time later, at the barracks of the heavy infantry led by Sir Yones.
“Ah, nothing beats the taste of a drink after a hard day’s work!”
“Indeed, nothing compares to this after being put through the wringer!”
“The meals are hearty, and the training is worth it!”
“Haha, being able to feast on meat every day is a blessing!”
Raising good soldiers is akin to raising fine warhorses. It’s not just about working them hard; it requires systematic care, including quality meals.
A luxury unimaginable for mere mercenaries.
Their growing physiques and skills left no trace of their former ragged mercenary appearances.
A hundred strong heavy infantry.
Individually, they might not match a knight’s prowess, but their organized defense could even halt a cavalry charge.
“Being the duke’s eldest son isn’t for just anyone.”
“Indeed.”
The mercenaries, tipsy, began discussing their commander. Sir Yones nodded as he took a swig.
“At first, I thought he was just a cocky brat…”
“Ah, our commander, whining about being bested by a kid, seems like just yesterday!”
One mercenary laughed, downing his drink.
“Shut up, you damn fool.”
And they recalled the ‘Black Prince’s’ feats on the battlefield.
“Does he look like an ordinary kid to you?”
“Well, he is the empire’s greatest genius!”
“Sir Yones is nothing compared to him. Even the Night Raven Knights are at his beck and call.”
That day, when he single-handedly crushed an orc warlord during the demon migration.
And when they heard the duchy was under attack by a black tower elder, the hundred mercenaries armed themselves and fought alongside the Night Raven Knights.
There, Sir Yones witnessed the ‘monsters of the Saxon Duchy’ mercilessly slaughtering their foes.
These monsters, who knelt and pledged loyalty without a hint of doubt.
It wasn’t something that could be described merely as the greatest talent or genius.
An embodiment of the absurd.
“Well, for us…”
Sir Yones’ subordinates chimed in.
“A superior who trains us well, feeds us well, and clothes us well is the best.”
“And that superior is the duke’s eldest son, our commander!”
“Indeed, knowing where to align oneself is key.”
“To the commander!”
“To the commander who bested our lieutenant like a dog!”
No matter how harsh the Night Raven Knights’ training was, the mercenaries knew.
The fate that awaited those who neglected discipline and training on the battlefield.
Thus, they understood the value of the Night Raven Knights’ rigorous training. Along with luxurious meals and armor that a mere mercenary could only dream of.
A hundred strong heavy infantry, personally nurtured by the ‘Black Prince.’
“And he’s even grown hair down there, hasn’t he? He’s already a man!”
“Haha, indeed!”
Just then.
“How many times are you going to talk about that?”
A familiar, clear voice interrupted the mercenaries’ crude jokes. Their commander, who didn’t hesitate to visit his subordinates’ barracks even late at night.
His black surcoat fluttered in the night breeze.
“C-Commander!”
Their new commander, Dale, stood there. The mercenaries’ faces turned pale. An awkward silence fell, but Dale didn’t mind.
He calmly walked among them and spoke to the stiffened Sir Yones.
“Pour me a drink.”
”…Yes.”
Awkwardly, Sir Yones accepted the drink Dale poured.
“Drink it all.”
”…Yes.”
Silence reigned.
“I remember the valor you showed against the elder’s death knights.”
“We only did what was right for the commander and the Saxon family!”
After a moment, one mercenary shouted, and Dale smiled quietly.
“By the way, it’s about time we named our unit.”
Initially, they were known as the Kenneth Mercenaries, a rather uninspiring name.
While it’s common for lower nobles to use their family name to gain fame, it’s different when it comes to a ‘ducal family.’ Using the ducal name recklessly carries many risks.
With that in mind, Dale spoke.
“From today, we are the ‘Black Armor Company.’”
And there stood a hundred heavy infantry clad in the black armor of the Saxon family. Black armor. A name more definitive than anything else symbolizing the Saxon family.
A military organization that fulfills the extensive demands of clients wishing to wage war. A war-conducting corporation.
A name that would become the continent’s premier military company (PMC).
“Ooh, the Black Armor Company!”
“For the Black Armor!”
“For the commander!”
The mercenaries cheered like children, excited by the new name.
“The Black Armor Company, you say?”
The Duke of Saxon inquired, and Dale nodded.
“Are you planning to raise just another mercenary band?”
“It’s not just any mercenary band.”
Dale shook his head at his father’s question.
“What I envision is a mercenary organization with ‘operational capabilities stronger than the client.’”
“Stronger operational capabilities than the client?”
His father tilted his head at the unexpected statement.
“Typically, mercenaries are just numbers to fill ranks at the employer’s command.”
No matter how strong or renowned they are, that concept doesn’t change.
“But what we intend to sell at the Black Armor Company isn’t ‘soldiers.’”
“Then what do you plan to sell?”
Dale replied.
“A victory in war, indeed.”
Not just a battle, but a victory in war.
“We’ll intervene in every aspect of the operations necessary for our client to win the war.”
As a consummate professional in warfare, he would be involved in every strategic process.
Typically, nobles wouldn’t entrust their pride to mere mercenaries. Planning major strategies and tactics was their domain, while mercenaries were just foot soldiers to carry out orders.
Yet, the final piece to make this audacious plan possible was right there.
“As the eldest son of the Saxon family, even they can’t ignore the hierarchy.”
It’s rare, almost unheard of, for the heir of a grand duke to lead a mercenary company. Especially when that heir is the ‘Black Prince,’ hailed as the continent’s greatest genius.
Dale’s talents weren’t limited to swordsmanship or magic, and by now, people were well aware of that.
Beyond individual prowess, Dale’s extraordinary strategies and his genius as a military tactician were undeniable.
A prodigy of war.
That’s why Dale explained the concept of the “Black Armor Company” once more, as if detailing a business plan to investors.
Carefully selecting each mercenary to train them into an elite force, securing the funds and resources to undertake missions beyond mere combat.
Additionally, reinforcing the Saxon cavalry for integrated joint tactics was essential.
Everything that could be used had to be used, and the name of the Saxon duchy was no exception.
“What do you think?”
Dale asked again.
“I believe it’s an investment worth making.”
“What an unexpected form of organization.”
The Duke of Saxon stroked his chin, intrigued by Dale’s words.
“A mercenary company that handles the war itself…”
Given that combat was an integral part of Dale’s endeavors, the Duke had no reason to refuse. Moreover, the scale of the ‘investment’ from a father concerned for his son was so significant that even Dale had to catch his breath in surprise.
“Truly, being born with a silver spoon is the best.”