Chapter 35
It was only natural that Bernie’s sword ended up aimed at Ambrod’s neck.
"That's enough."
Stop.
Bernie’s sword halted just as it was about to thrust into Ambrod’s throat. Ambrod looked down at the sharp wooden sword pressing against his neck.
“You’ve lost, Ambrod.”
Ambrod didn’t answer. He simply let go of his sword, letting both his arms and single leg fall limp. He looked relieved.
He lifted his head slightly to look up at Bernie and said.
“…I lost. That was a good fight, Bernie.”
Bernie didn’t respond. He just stared at Ambrod with empty eyes.
Seeing that lifeless gaze, Ambrod let out a bitter chuckle. Lifting his upper body, he turned to me and asked.
“Will I end up like that too?”
“It’s better to bind your mind as well. You’ll be treated mercilessly.”
Slaves were brainwashed to obey their master’s every command. Drugs were used to clearly establish the master-servant hierarchy, and emotional restrictions were imposed.
That was why slave-soldiers could continue their training even in the harshest conditions without giving up.
“I’ll endure it, as your knight.”
Ambrod declared that he would preserve the spirit of a knight, even as a slave. I was pleased with that answer. It finally felt like he had returned to being the Ambrod I had wanted to possess.
“I’ll push you past your limits. Whatever you imagine your breaking point to be, you’ll realize again and again—it was never your true limit.”
“That’s exactly what I hoped for.”
Using the wooden sword as a cane, Ambrod stood up. He hopped forward on one leg. I ordered Bernie to support him.
“I’ll return tomorrow to sign the contract. I need to convince my brother first.”
“I won’t wait long.”
“I’ll hurry.”
* * *
The next morning, Ambrod returned as promised and signed the slave contract.
He even put on the restraint himself—a magical item typically used to control non-human slaves like orcs, which delivered a shock when orders were disobeyed.
Word soon spread that Viscount Zylson’s furious shouting had echoed beyond the castle walls.
But that afternoon, what arrived at my doorstep was not a warning laced with rage.
It was a large chest filled with 1,000 gold coins.
Inside the chest was a small note.
–Take care of my brother.
–Broy
When one became the head of a noble house, there were many things to give up—and one of them was your name. Just as I had become Baron Hebron, Broy de Zylson had become simply Viscount Zylson.
But this note wasn’t from Viscount Zylson. It was from Broy, Ambrod’s brother.
‘As expected, weak bloodlines are a burden.’
The Duke of Breio had been right.
And yet, I envied Ambrod.
‘A brother who cares for his sibling… So they really do exist outside of novels.’
Suddenly, I thought of my soon-to-be-born younger sibling.
I imagined what kind of family I could be to them, and at the same time, I pictured that sibling aiming a sword at my throat.
‘Can I kill you?’
* * *
Sir Brown looked up at me. The neatly shaved mutant sheep looked more like a thug than livestock, with its sturdy muscles. When he walked and swaggered his shoulders, he looked every bit like a thug sheep.
Even inside the lord’s manor, I rode Syang. The hallways were wide and sturdy enough to handle this massive creature strutting through them.
“Are you really going to keep riding that thing?”
“It’s fast. Strong, too. You saw Syang crash into that rock, didn’t you, Sir Brown?”
Two days ago, Syang had shattered a rock with its horns. It was part of an effort to fix his timid nature, and he had charged the rock head-on without hesitation. Against inanimate objects, he showed no fear.
“Still… a lord riding a sheep just doesn’t seem right. I worry nobles from other territories might mock you.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Baryan’s going to make Syang a suit of armor soon.”
“…Armor? For a sheep?”
“It’s the same as putting armor on a warhorse. Syang’s wool is tough enough on its own, but we’ll go with something flashy—for the dignity of a noble.”
It’s not that I completely ignored the pride of noble families. Even though I had left House Breio and become Baron Hebron, shedding old notions was never easy.
I saw potential in Syang. He possessed speed and strength beyond that of a warhorse, and his firm, warm wool could be shaved regularly.
A single Syang was more valuable than a goose that laid golden eggs.
‘Father loved Syang too.’
He would wash Syang’s wool and make vests out of it—light garments designed to protect vital organs. Eleven of them were set to be made.
The very first vest that was made was sent to Viscount Zylson. It was compensation for being allowed to freely use his hunting grounds, and also a gesture of thanks for the thousand gold he had bestowed upon me.
“I never expected Viscount Zylson to be such a sly fox.”
Not long after, the vest sent to Zylson was passed along to Marquis Silverberg, a man renowned as a dominant force in the North. The wool vest made from Syang’s wool was well-suited for the chilly northern climate, making it an excellent piece of armor.
The marquis even sent a messenger to beg for additional ‘cold-weather vests’ to be made. He offered a hefty sum of 200 gold per piece—apparently valuing Hebron’s vest more than a steel armor.
‘Well, if you wear steel armor across snow-covered plains, you’ll probably end up with frostbite and have to amputate your limbs.’
I decided to keep three vests and sell the rest to the Marquis. Even after various deductions, it would be a deal that netted over 1,300 gold.
“Understood. If that is the baron’s will, I shall comply.”
Sir Brown withdrew without protest. In Hebron, I was the law.
“I’m off to train. If there’s nothing urgent, head home early.”
“No, I’ll finish my personal training before I leave.”
“You could train at home, you know.”
There was still no word of pregnancy from the Brown couple.
They were giving it their all, believing this was their last chance.
“Then I’ll check in on the soldiers before heading out.”
“You promoted the ones who awakened their aura, right?”
“Yes. They were promoted and given bonuses as well.”
“Good. That kind of incentive helps them push harder.”
The soldiers of Hebron had begun learning Monolith Spear Technique.
Some of them had started accumulating aura in their dantian, and I promoted them to sergeants and centurions.
The Hebron army was becoming more organized. The forces of Nurha had been absorbed into Hebron, and even knights who had once served Baron Nurha now pledged their loyalty to me.
‘It’s about time to move on to the next phase.’
After Nurha, the next target was Baron Delgain’s territory. They had long been wary of Hebron and increased their military, but even the combined forces of both territories couldn’t rival Hebron’s.
I called out to Amy in front of her office.
“Amy!”
“Y-Yes, my lord?”
Amy looked up at me riding Syang with a nervous expression.
“Have you finished investigating Delgain?”
“Shall I brief you?”
“While we’re on the move.”
“W-Where to?”
“The Nurha border.”
“Right now?”
I held out my hand.
Startled, she took my hand, and I pulled her up onto Syang’s back.
“We’ll get there quickly. Hold on tight.”
With a light kick to his side, Syang let out a loud ‘Baaaaaa!’ and charged forward.
He started off at a trot, then quickly picked up speed until he was sprinting like a mad beast.
“Baaaaaaaaa!”
* * *
Thanks to Syang, it only took two and a half hours to get from the Hebron lord’s manor to the Nurha border. The road connecting the two territories had been newly refurbished.
When we reached a high ground from which Delgain’s castle walls could be seen, Amy slid down from Syang’s back.
She collapsed flat on the ground, panting for breath.
Having only dealt with well-trained soldiers lately, Amy looked especially weak—like a paper doll—by comparison.
“Learn to ride properly. You’ll be spending a lot of time on horseback from now on.”
“I did learn to ride. But this… this thing isn’t a horse!”
Amy looked ready to throw up. She gagged several times, puffing out her cheeks. Syang let out another ‘Baaaaa!’ seemingly trying to comfort her. Amy forced a smile and gently stroked Syang’s nose.
“Report. What happened to the Nurha bloodline that went to Delgain?”
“Baron Nurha’s second son, Rustic, had his royal academy admission revoked.”
“So Rustic’s finished.”
Rustic had been scheduled to enroll in the Royal Academy. It was rare for a second son of a baron’s house to gain entry. The cost was simply too high, and typically, only heirs were sent.
But Baron Nurha had placed great importance on education, and after his eldest, he’d tried to send Rustic as well.
Now stripped of their noble title, admission would have depended solely on merit—but it seemed Rustic’s abilities had failed to impress the academy’s faculty.
“There are rumors that Baron Delgain plans to adopt Rustic.”
“And how credible are those?”
“He’s sent someone to the capital, likely to push for Rustic’s admission again. At the same time, they’re also looking into enrollment at Cyrus Academy.”
Cyrus Academy was the second most prestigious school after the Royal Academy. Run by the reclusive Duke of Cyrus, it was famous for producing exceptional graduates.
“Can we use that as a pretext?”
“No. We accepted 400 gold in exchange for sending Baron Nurha’s wife and Rustic to Delgain. If we pick a fight over this, we’d have to return the money.”
Hebron needed funds. The obvious move would’ve been to raise taxes on the newly acquired Nurha populace, but Hebron hadn’t raised a single coin. In fact, I had invested in the Nurha market and improved local facilities—for Hebron’s future.
“What about subduing them by force and dealing with the fallout afterward?”
“That’s a backup plan. But we might lose the moral high ground. If that happens, neighboring lords could unite and resist Hebron. Also, Delgain reportedly has a brilliant strategist.”
“If you’re saying that, they must be pretty capable.”
“Spiel. A man shrouded in mystery. Some say he’s the real power behind Delgain, but we couldn’t dig up anything concrete. He just appeared in Delgain one day and became the baron’s strategist. Rumors say he’s either an orphan or a former slave, but no one knows the truth.”
“...They’re trusting some orphan without academy credentials to be a top strategist? Isn't that suspicious?"
Amy shrugged—she had nothing more to report.
They were just a barony. Lacking power and influence, they couldn’t afford to hide secrets or conceal strength. There was no need to be overly cautious against opponents like that.
“What’s Delgain’s main source of income?”
