This Bastard is a Dark Mage! (3)
Andrew and Rio anxiously waited for Ghislain. The soldiers didn't even touch the food and alcohol they had been served.
The Swipel forces had locked down the area around the lord castle like an iron fortress. No matter how one looked at it, this was not a gathering for a banquet. Everyone present could feel it in their bones.
Andrew and Rio needed to go inside, but now, there was no invitation to enter. It was clear from the beginning that Ghislain was the true target.
Naturally, the atmosphere was tense. Both sides stood in formation, glaring at each other.
Tyrann rubbed the back of his neck and said,
"This is taking too long. Why don't we just storm in?"
"Hmm…"
Andrew pressed his lips together in deep thought. Ghislain had promised to give a signal once the job was done, but there was still no sign from inside.
"Let's wait a little longer."
Though uneasy, Andrew chose to trust Ghislain. Making a reckless move could ruin everything.
As they anxiously waited, a sudden explosion echoed from within the castle.
Boom!
A section of the castle crumbled as a burst of flames shot into the sky.
Andrew and Rio's faces lit up.
"It's a success!"
That was the signal Ghislain had promised. It meant the plan had worked.
The Swipel forces didn't understand the meaning of the signal, but they knew something had gone terribly wrong.
According to the original plan, the lord should have appeared with his knights by now.
The Swipel commanders, now flustered, shouted urgently,
"Enter the castle immediately! Something's happened to the lord!"
Andrew wasted no time in giving his own order.
"Block them! Don't let them enter the castle!"
"Waaahhh!"
With the so-called banquet already forgotten, both sides clashed, ready for battle.
What stood out was that the knights of Nordhill and Lacus were all armed with iron clubs instead of bladed weapons.
They were the first to charge into the Swipel forces, swinging their heavy clubs wildly.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
"You bastards think you can stop us?!"
"You picked the wrong fight! You're dead today!"
"You will feel the full force of my pent-up rage!"
The allied knights seemed unusually furious. After enduring hellish training, they were unleashing their aggression without restraint.
The Swipel forces outside the castle had barely any knights among them. Most of their knights had gone to the banquet hall, leaving only a few in command.
Moreover, their numbers were far fewer than the allied forces. They stood no chance against the rampaging knights.
"B-Block them! Hold them back!"
No matter how much the commanding knights shouted, the Swipel soldiers were pushed back with embarrassing ease.
The Yulian Mercenary Corps moved quickly as well. In particular, Osval surged ahead of Tyrann, swinging his massive war hammer.
"This is Osval! Today, I will show you my true strength! I never retreat!"
Osval's defining trait was his boldness in battle—especially when his side had the advantage.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
"Aaaargh!"
The Swipel forces couldn't even enter the castle before being beaten down.
Their only stroke of luck was that their enemies were mostly wielding blunt weapons rather than blades.
Because of this, the Swipel soldiers were beaten down rather than killed outright.
This was all part of Ghislain's instructions. Once they captured Count Swipel, they could absorb his troops into their own ranks.
The Swipel forces felt the overwhelming difference in power.
"W-What's going on?! How are they this strong?!"
"Since when did these guys become so powerful?!"
"Maybe we're just weak?"
Even though the Swipel forces were outnumbered, the gap in skill was too vast.
Their enemies weren't even using blades—just clubs. And yet, they couldn't stand their ground.
Allied forces had been pushed to their limits in Ghislain's brutal training. Their strength had skyrocketed as a result.
Surviving an hour inside a raging fire was far worse than fighting people. And at least in battle, they could vent their frustration.
So, the allied forces fought like men possessed.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
"Urrghh!"
The Swipel army crumbled almost effortlessly. Their mindset and skill levels were worlds apart.
As the Swipel forces were getting beaten down, Ghislain appeared and shouted loudly,
"Everyone, stop!"
His voice boomed across the battlefield, but neither side stopped fighting immediately.
They were caught up in the frenzy—especially those venting their frustration.
Ghislain clicked his tongue and stomped his foot, yelling even louder,
"Count Swipel has been captured! Stop immediately!"
Boom!
A wave of powerful mana spread out, shaking the ground. Only then did the soldiers snap back to their senses and turn their heads.
Sure enough, Ghislain was holding Count Swipel by the collar. The count's face was twisted in agony as he clutched his injured leg.
With the battle momentarily halted, Ghislain continued,
"Count Swipel tried to assassinate us and betray Nordhill and Lacus! Now, we will make him pay for his crimes!"
The Swipel forces finally understood—they had completely lost.
If they had successfully captured the Yulian Mercenary Corps leaders in the banquet hall, it wouldn't have mattered if the allied forces had more troops.
Upon hearing that their leaders were captured, the allies would have panicked, losing morale. Meanwhile, the high-level knights of Swipel would have joined the fight.
But instead, the high-level knights who had followed Ghislain were now completely disarmed. They weren't even tied up, yet they had already given up on fighting.
"Three people… took down all those high-level knights?"
"And there were high-level knights in there!"
"We can't win against them."
The Swipel soldiers let out hollow sighs and dropped their weapons.
Even the knights dispatched by Marquis Falkenheim alone could have destroyed the Swipel territory. And yet, those very knights—along with Swipel's own forces—had been subdued by just three members of the Yulian Mercenary Corps.
Fighting against such monsters would be suicidal. Surrender was the only rational choice.
Count Swipel's expression twisted in agony as he watched his soldiers drop their weapons.
"Ugh… Ughhh… How could this happen…?"
He had been utterly mistaken. He thought he had prepared well, but his enemies were beyond his expectations.
He should have accepted the alliance's proposal and peacefully divided Crest County's land.
As Andrew and Rio approached, Count Swipel crawled on the ground, pleading.
"Baron Nordhill! Baron Lacus! Spare me! I was wrong! I must have lost my mind for a moment!"
"..."
The two men said nothing and turned to Ghislain.
Ghislain shrugged and smiled.
"I'll leave the decision to you two."
It was a heavy responsibility. But they knew it was theirs to make.
Ghislain was just a mercenary. The ones who would rule this land were them.
Andrew glanced at Rio beside him. The timid man wasn't suited for these kinds of decisions.
With a grim expression, Andrew stepped forward and drew his sword.
"Count Swipel, you betrayed your allies. You tried to kill us first. You have no right to beg for mercy."
"W-Wait! I said it was a mistake! Please, spare me! I'll give up my land and live quietly!"
Count Swipel clung to Andrew's ankle, pleading desperately. He didn't care that his soldiers were watching.
His survival came first.
But Andrew remained firm.
"That's not possible. Leaving you alive would be a risk to us."
"No! I won't do anything! Please… just…"
Thud!
Andrew swung his sword without hesitation, severing Count Swipel's head.
The count's head rolled across the ground, and silence fell over the battlefield.
In that heavy silence, Andrew raised his sword high and shouted,
"The Yulian Mercenary Corps has triumphed over a treacherous ambush! From this moment, Swipel County is ours!"
"Waaaaahhh!"
A deafening roar erupted from the allied soldiers.
Regardless of the circumstances, they had secured victory without suffering major losses, and their territory had expanded.
The larger their domains grew, the greater the rewards for the soldiers. Andrew and Rio were different from other nobles—they knew how to share their wealth.
It was only natural that the soldiers rejoiced.
Once things settled, Ghislain immediately called for a strategy meeting. Now that Marquis Falkenheim had drawn his sword, they had to move even faster than before.
"As discussed earlier, Baron Nordhill will take Swipel County, along with half of Crest County. The remaining half will go to Rio."
The division of land had already been loosely decided.
Rio was a capable lord, but he wasn't suited to becoming the kingdom's real power. That's why they had chosen to push Andrew forward as the figurehead while Rio supported him from behind.
Ghislain laid out the next steps without hesitation.
"First, we must report to the royal court and request a title elevation."
Seizing a county didn't automatically make one a count. The royal family had to officially recognize the conquest and grant the title.
It was merely a formality, but an important one nonetheless.
"Soon, you both should accompany me to the capital. Once your titles are confirmed, you must stabilize your territories quickly. That's the only way to protect yourselves from Marquis Falkenheim's threats."
Andrew and Rio swallowed hard and nodded.
Everything had escalated so quickly. Frankly, they weren't even sure how things had spiraled this far.
They had simply followed Ghislain's lead, and before they knew it, they were here.
'It feels like riding a dragon… and now I can't get off.'
'And why do I feel like these major events are happening at an increasingly rapid pace?'
As always, they had no choice. If they wanted to survive, they had to keep following along.
Not that they minded following Ghislain. They just wished things could progress a little more safely and slowly.
***
Ghislain and his group didn't head to the capital immediately. First, they had to integrate the Swipel forces and fully absorb the new territory.
They also needed to carefully decide what to do with the captured high-level knights.
As a result, administrators and soldiers were kept busy, while the mercenaries either trained or lounged around as usual.
During this time, Ghislain secluded himself in a large warehouse, working on something alone.
"No one, absolutely no one, is allowed to enter. Understood? I want to be alone."
With Ghislain's stern warning, no one dared approach the warehouse. They simply carried on with their daily routines.
After about a month, strange rumors began circulating among the guards stationed near the warehouse.
"Hey, have you heard the rumor?"
"What rumor?"
"That mage inside the warehouse… they say he's really sick."
"Astion? Astion is sick? What's wrong with him?"
"His head."
"What do you mean?"
The soldier glanced around before whispering cautiously.
"He keeps talking to someone who isn't there. He mutters to himself all the time. The lord locked him up in the warehouse because of it."
"Gasp! Are you serious?"
"Yeah. They say it's some kind of… split personality? Or schizophrenia? Whatever it is, he's lost it! He's probably in there right now, mumbling to himself."
Ghislain usually spoke to Astion in his mind to avoid looking insane.
But when he was alone, he sometimes spoke aloud. Naturally, the nearby attendants overheard him.
Ghislain had played it off as talking to himself, but the real problem arose when Astion temporarily took over his body for magic training.
Astion wasn't yet used to silent communication, so he often spoke out loud when conversing with Ghislain.
Worse yet, Astion had a habit of muttering to himself, even when he wasn't talking to Ghislain.
"What does he say when he talks to himself?"
"He keeps saying he wants to fall in love. Apparently, he'll be reading a book, then suddenly start muttering, 'I will find love. I must fall in love.'"
"Hah! Love? He's losing his mind over romance?"
"That's what I'm saying! I've never seen anyone go crazy from wanting to be in a relationship!"
"Tsk, tsk. He doesn't even need to bother. And here I thought powerful mages had it all together."
"They say most mages are crazy anyway."
"Yeah, yeah. Let's never become mages."
The rumor spread quickly, and Astion's reputation plummeted without him even knowing.
As the gossip spread, Ghislain truly was in the warehouse, muttering to himself.
However, he wasn't talking about romance.
He was meticulously repeating an incredibly important magic incantation.
A massive magic circle was inscribed on the warehouse floor, radiating an ominous aura.
It had taken an entire month to prepare. Ghislain's face showed clear signs of exhaustion from the painstaking process.
"Hoo… Finally, it's done."
With a satisfied smile, Ghislain swung his staff through the air a few times.
Black energy seeped from the staff, slowly pouring into the magic circle.
Thick, dark mist began to rise from the formation, filling the warehouse and obscuring his vision.
Fwoooosh!
The black mist condensed at the center of the magic circle, taking shape.
Soon, it formed into the figure of a knight clad in black armor and a dark helmet.
[Where… is this place…?]
A chilling voice echoed through the air, like the wail of a tormented soul.
Within the helmet, the knight's crimson eyes glowed ominously. A sinister energy radiated from him, making his tattered black cape billow.
A Death Knight.
A warrior returned from death now stood before Ghislain.
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