Chapter 39
The envoy from Delgain brought 400 gold in cash and a single promissory note. The note, handwritten with ‘600G’, was stamped with the Delgain family seal—effectively a bill for 600 gold.
Of that, 400 gold was Hebron’s due payment for exterminating the Bebe Bandits. In other words, the full 600 gold was meant as ransom for the captured soldiers.
Hebron currently held Sir Histon and 47 of Delgain’s soldiers as prisoners. Yet Baron Delgain shamelessly insisted this was all the doing of his nephew, Rustic de Nurha, and tried to buy back his men with a mere 600 gold.
“He dares insult me.”
Riiip—
I tore the promissory note in half. Such a note only had value as long as the issuing family retained wealth and power.
Delgain hadn’t fallen yet, but its fate might as well have rested in my hands. If I executed every knight and soldier we had captured, Delgain wouldn’t have the strength left to defend its land, and the baron would be forced to sell off his title.
And yet—just 600 gold? I was stunned by Delgain’s pettiness.
“They expect me to believe that knights and soldiers of Delgain were duped into starting a war by a brat rejected from the Royal Academy? And the best they could offer to support this ridiculous tale is a 600 gold promissory note? Is that all the Delgain tongue is worth? I’ll give them a week. I want exactly 1,000 gold in cash. Not a single coin less.”
The envoy trembled, watching me carefully.
“I-I was instructed to give you this, in case the baron was unable to meet your satisfaction…”
“Did Spiel tell you to offer this?”
“N-no, it was the direct order of Baron Delgain.”
What the envoy handed over next was another piece of paper—this one a bit more substantial than the last.
‘A land deed, huh…’
Most nobles would’ve taken it gladly.
But not me.
‘The victor of a war between noble houses takes all. It’s just that the process is more complicated, and the royal taxes are a nuisance. Considering that, this land deed might actually be more profitable.’
A soft chuckle escaped me.
I found myself curious about this Spiel. He had clearly foreseen this outcome.
‘Spiel… did you really predict Amy’s and my every move?’
This land deed was undoubtedly his doing. Knowing they’d lose the land anyway, they offered it up in advance to minimize their losses. For a noble, their land was second only to their title—so there was a certain logic to it.
I didn’t tear the land deed.
Instead, I threw it back at the envoy.
“Cash. One thousand gold, not a single coin short. If you come up short, I’ll put Baron Delgain on a scale and carve off the difference in flesh.”
The envoy turned pale and retreated in terror.
After putting that much fear into them, Delgain would surely get the message. In fact, they had no other choice.
“The guildmaster will be pleased.”
The Serpens’ Guildmaster maintained official neutrality. They had assisted both Delgain and Biskin in their war preparations—and made a hefty profit in the process. Even now, they remained in the Delgain territory, waiting with cash in hand for the baron’s hidden treasures to emerge.
As expected, Baron Delgain sold off heirlooms to gather the money. Holding onto them would have doomed his family anyway—it was the only option left.
* * *
The Guildmaster looked like he was holding a smile with stitches. He faced me, barely suppressing his laughter.
“How much did you make?”
“That’s a trade secret, my lord.”
“You made at least two thousand.”
“Two thousand would be difficult. If you consider production costs and logistics, not even half that.”
The biggest winner of this war was clearly the Serpens’ Guildmaster.
“You definitely passed fifteen hundred.”
They had sold war supplies to both houses and bought up the heirlooms that Baron Delgain had offloaded in desperation—at dirt-cheap prices. The guildmaster was in no rush, they could wait for a proper buyer and make big profits later.
And the bigger the Serpens’ Guildmaster grew, the more Hebron would benefit. They fed us information, managed the trade route linking the Zylson Viscounty to Hebron and Nurha, and now their reach would extend to Biskin and Delgain as well.
“Got any good swords?”
“There’s one heirloom from Delgain. Would you mind if I removed the jewel?”
“I don’t care. I need the sword, not the decoration.”
The guildmaster ordered a subordinate to bring the sword.
“It’s a decent sword, but… a bit disappointing.”
The sword I’d received from Viscount Zylson had the ability to evenly channel aura. The one brought by the Serpens’ Guildmaster was merely a well-balanced longsword.
“Do you have a longsword by Uruz?”
“Excuse me?”
“If not Uruz, then at least a weapon by Charlion.”
Uruz was a sixth-class mage and a renowned artifact creator. His weapons were sold to high-ranking nobles, including the Duke of Breio. Ordering one meant waiting at least a year.
Charlion was Uruz’s blacksmith partner. Though his weapons lacked enchantments, many would buy them and request spellwork from the Mage Tower afterward.
All members of the Breio Knight Order were armed with Uruz’s longswords, while their squires were issued Charlion’s.
“I’ve only heard rumors—never even seen one in person.”
Moments like this reminded me all too sharply that I was just a low-ranking noble from the borderlands. Without the right connections, I couldn’t even catch a glimpse of decent weapons.
“Are you planning to march?”
“Still haven’t been paid.”
The guildmaster nodded.
He seemed to interpret my words as ‘I’ll march once I get paid’.
He wasn’t wrong. Stripping Baron Delgain of his hidden stash was the top priority.
When I conquered Biskin, the profits turned out to be underwhelming. The treasures of House Biskin had vanished. I managed to recover part of the slush fund by shaking down the house servants, but I suspected the baron had hidden a significant portion elsewhere.
From that experience, Amy and I devised a better money-making strategy.
—Drain the gold first, claim the land later.
That’s how it began. Just as planned, Baron Delgain started scraping up his secret funds and offering them to me. Soon, Hebron’s coffers would be overflowing with gold coins.
* * *
Baron Delgain, Spiel, and the last remaining knight of the house, Sir Sniff, gathered in one room. Grim silence hung heavy over them. The tea had long gone cold, but no one so much as lifted their cup.
Spiel, who had been nervously picking at a hangnail out of habit, finally opened his mouth with a determined look.
“It would be better to surrender to Baron Hebron.”
“What nonsense is this?!”
“Regrettably… Delgain’s fate is already sealed. It’s clear that Baron Hebron anticipated this situation. There have long been rumors that the Serpens’ guildmaster was close to him, and from the recent actions of the guildmaster, those rumors seem true.”
Spiel had only just realized the connection between Serpens’ guildmaster and Hebron. He had underestimated Hebron as nothing more than grass-eating Hebron.
“You’re saying the guildmaster colluded with Hebron? Sir Sniff! Go arrest him at once! And if he’s gone, seize every last member of the company!”
Sniff stood and saluted the baron.
“At your command.”
After the knight exited the meeting room, Spiel took a sip of the cold tea.
“Sir Sniff… may have already left.”
“What?”
“One of the maids told me yesterday—he’s put his house up for sale at a throwaway price.”
The house had been granted to Sniff by the baron himself.
Baron Delgain wasn’t shocked. He knew full well that Sniff’s sword had been broken ever since he was captured while attempting to exterminate the Bebe bandits.
Delgain recalled his territory, now devoid of even a single regular soldier.
‘…It’s over.’
The soldiers he had stationed to defend the domain might very well turn into bandits and invade the manor.
“…Are you planning to leave too?”
Delgain glared at Spiel.
A flicker of resentment passed through him—then quickly cooled.
It had been his own decision to follow Spiel’s counsel.
Delgain tried to picture a future where he sold off his domain, his castle, and his title, living out his remaining years in obscurity.
His breath caught in his throat. The very idea of such a defeated life made his blood boil.
Spiel sensed the desperate emotion. He too didn’t want to retreat like this.
It was unbearable to admit defeat in such a disgraceful way.
“There’s one last option.”
“Speak.”
“If we choose this path, it will cost you your title, regardless of the outcome.”
“So be it.”
Delgain looked out the window. The scenery was so familiar, he could picture it with his eyes closed. He stared, again and again, trying to imprint it in his mind forever.
“There are rumors that Viscount Zylson is friendly with Baron Hebron.”
“And?”
“Zylson’s lands border the territory of Viscount Slein. Both houses are gearing up for war. No one knows when it’ll erupt.”
Delgain gave Spiel a glance.
It meant, Keep going.
“Convince Viscount Slein. If you can draw his forces into Delgain, Hebron will be crushed—along with Zylson.”
“And if Baron Hebron attacks before that happens?”
“That’s why we need to resort to our final option.”
Spiel removed his jacket. For him, that black uniform was like a second skin. Not once, even in the hottest summer, had he ever taken it off.
Delgain had purchased Spiel from a slave trader. He was sharp and literate, so Delgain had planned to entrust him with administrative duties. Within three days, Spiel had gathered irrefutable evidence of embezzlement by the House Steward and presented it to the baron.
From then on, he continually offered shrewd advice, gaining Delgain’s trust.
But his status remained that of a slave.
“What is this final option?”
“I will summon the Dogs of the Wasteland.”
“They… they still exist?”
“I’m sorry, my lord.”
Delgain’s eyes trembled.
He could not shake the wave of dread that gripped him.
Slaves were incapable of lying to their masters. And yet, Spiel had told him, more than once, that the Dogs of the Wasteland were all dead.
This raised the horrifying possibility that Spiel was not his slave at all.
“You would bring them here?”
“The Dogs of the Wasteland do not abandon their kin. That is how they survive. But it means they will learn where I am… and I will devote the rest of my life to their purpose. My lord, once this matter is finished, I must return home. I will never forget the kindness you’ve shown me.”
Hebron, Nurha, and Delgain’s southern border were all defined by the Wasteland. It was said that if you crossed that vast wasteland, you would eventually reach the ruins of the old Antaria Kingdom.
That was all most people knew.
—The Dogs of the Wasteland live in the southern Wasteland.
It was a tale Hebron’s elders told their children.
The elders had heard it from their own parents as children.
—A wild dog that served a hunter its whole life was cast out in its final years and driven into the Wasteland. Each night, it howled with longing for its master, and its cries stirred sandstorms across the barren land. So never cry out in the dark of night. The cries of the night are the cries of wild dogs. And the sandstorm may come to swallow you whole.
