Translator: CinderTL
Eastern Golden Valley Kingdom, Gutian Territory.
Count Balthasar swirled the amber wine in his glass with smug satisfaction, basking in the flattering laughter around him.
He was currently in the lavish banquet hall of his estate, where brilliant lights and boisterous laughter created an illusion of isolation from the outside world.
Inside the hall, many beautiful but terrified commoner women, forced into ill-fitting, ornate gowns, trembled as they served wine and food to the nobles.
They weren't favored for their beauty, but rather reduced to tools for the nobles to flaunt their power and satisfy their twisted desire for domination.
Balthasar watched a girl spill a few drops of wine out of nervousness and chuckled softly, showing no anger.
This sense of superiority—the power to control life and death—was the essential ingredient of the banquet.
"Once news of victory arrives from the front lines, the fertile river valley of the River Domain Nations will be added to our territory..."
A corpulent viscount waved his short, stubby arms, saliva flying as he fantasized about dividing the land's resources and population.
The hall erupted in sycophantic laughter and greedy cheers, no one noticing the looming disaster.
Suddenly—
An ear-splitting, terror-filled scream tore through the night's tranquility, instantly silencing the banquet's clamor.
The music abruptly ceased, and the laughter froze on their faces.
Immediately afterward, the heavy, rhythmic pounding of hooves, like the thunderous beat of war drums, surged from the distance, striking the earth and the eardrums of every noble present.
Intermingled with the hoofbeats were the sharp clang of metal, short, terrified shouts, and, most chillingly, the abruptly silenced wails of the dying.
"W-what's happening?"
"Are they beasts?"
"Guards! Where are the guards?!"
Panic spread through the opulent banquet hall like a plague.
The nobles, seized by terror, huddled together in a frantic mass.
"Silence! Everyone, be quiet!"
Count Balthasar roared, forcing himself to appear calm as he tried to quell the surrounding chaos.
"These are merely some foolish bandits who don't know when to quit, or perhaps just some lost beasts! Why are you all so panicked?"
He puffed out his chest, striving to project an air of composure.
"Don't forget, I have two exceptionally skilled knights under my command! Whatever comes, they'll be dealt with swiftly..."
His words had some effect; a few nobles began to calm slightly, attempting to believe this was just a minor disturbance.
However, this forced calm did not last long.
The sounds of fighting and screams outside the door didn't subside as quickly as Balthasar had predicted. Instead, after a brief, intense clash, they abruptly vanished.
The utter silence that followed was more terrifying than the preceding chaos, sending shivers down everyone's spines.
A thick, nauseating stench of blood seeped through the door cracks and drifted in on the night wind, choking the air and making it nearly impossible to breathe.
Just then, a series of clear, steady, and oppressively heavy footsteps echoed from outside the door, each step reverberating on the marble terrace like a hammer blow to the hearts of everyone inside the banquet hall.
Thump... thump... thump...
The footsteps finally halted outside the tightly sealed banquet hall doors.
Under the gaze of countless terrified eyes, the heavy, ornately carved doors slowly creaked open.
Where the dense night darkness outside met the brilliant lamplight within, a tall, cold, and imposing figure materialized.
He stood amidst the overwhelming stench of blood rising from the sea of corpses, like a judge emerging from the abyss, his icy gaze sweeping across the terrified faces in the banquet hall.
Without a word, Roland raised his hand and tossed two heavy objects onto the polished floor.
They were the heads of Count Balthasar's two most prized knights, their faces twisted in the petrified horror of their final moments.
The dull thud of the heads hitting the floor shattered the last vestiges of hope in the fairground, plunging the area into a deathly silence broken only by suppressed gasps.
As Roland gazed at these once-untouchable nobles, now trembling like lambs awaiting slaughter, a wave of disbelief washed over him.
It seemed like only yesterday he was a youth struggling desperately for a mere blacksmith apprentice position.
To him, these noble lords had been like figures in the clouds, utterly beyond his reach.
Even the lowest-ranking baron had been a figure he dared not offend.
Yet now...
His thoughts snapped back to the present.
With an impassive expression, Roland drew a roll of parchment from the leather pouch at his waist. The edges of the parchment were worn, its surface densely covered with the countless crimes of the Arno Territory's powerful elite.
He began to read aloud in a low, clear voice, each name causing the person named to shudder violently. Among them was Balthasar, his face ashen as death.
When Roland's icy gaze locked onto Balthasar, the earl seemed to muster a final, desperate show of aristocratic pride, barking out a defiant command.
"Who are you? Do you even know who I am—"
Before he could finish, Roland lost patience and waved his hand dismissively.
Soldiers who had been waiting outside immediately surged into the banquet hall, the cold glint of drawn swords instantly replacing the warm glow of the candlelight.
"Clean this up. Don't harm the innocent."
The next moment, desperate screams, pleas for mercy, and the sickening sounds of blades cleaving through flesh erupted behind him.
Several nobles who had trained in the Knight's Breathing Technique attempted to resist, but against Roland's current power, their efforts were as futile as throwing eggs against stone.
The overwhelming stench of blood instantly drowned out the aroma of fine wine and food.
Roland flicked the blood from his Mithril Longsword, sheathed it, and strode out of the hall of chaos and death without looking back, sealing off the carnage behind him.
He tilted his head back to gaze at the deep night sky, lost in silent contemplation.
The situation had unfolded exactly as he had predicted.
Arno's sudden defeat had left him no time to warn the nobles within his territory.
Deprived of unified command and early warning, Duke Arno's vassals were utterly unprepared for the meticulously planned military campaign orchestrated by Roland and Duke.
Duke divided his forces into three columns, each commanded by himself, Gloria, and Roland respectively.
These three columns advanced like sharp spearheads, piercing deep into the heart of Duke Arno's territory.
The advance proceeded with remarkable ease, meeting only sporadic and feeble resistance.
Within a mere few months, nearly half of Duke Arno's territory had changed hands, and the fall of the remainder seemed only a matter of time.
Yet despite this smooth progress and the near-absence of meaningful opposition, Roland felt no sense of relief, let alone any joy of victory.
A persistent unease lingered in his heart.
Throughout this period, neither the forces he personally led nor those under Gloria or Duke had managed to uncover any concrete traces of Arno himself.
The gravely wounded enemy, corrupted by the abyss's strength, had vanished without a trace, as if he had completely evaporated.
"Where could he be hiding? Could it be..."
Roland turned his gaze westward, toward the direction of Golden Grain City, the royal capital of the Golden Valley Kingdom.
As Roland was deep in thought, a tall, lanky figure staggered toward him, a strong scent of alcohol wafting in his wake.
Seemingly oblivious to the lingering stench of blood, the man raised a remarkably ornate wine bottle and took a long swig.
"Hey, Roland! Try this!" he slurred, waving the bottle. "Just found it in the wine cellar—vintage stuff! Packs a punch!"
"No need, Galvis," Roland replied, declining the offer with a hint of exasperation. He gazed at his perpetually unreliable companion and asked, "You didn't come all the way here just to drink with me, did you?"
"You're such a buzzkill," Galvis muttered, his lips curling into a pout. He quickly sobered up, his tone turning slightly more serious.
"Alright, let's get down to business. Word from the Duke's camp—they've tracked down Arno and engaged him in battle."
He paused, his expression darkening.
"Rumor has it Arno's power has surged again, making him even more ferocious. The Duke was injured, but fortunately, their overwhelming numbers forced Arno to retreat."
Roland's gaze sharpened.
"Which direction did Arno flee?"
"Golden Grain City," Galvis spat out the name before tilting his head back to gulp down another mouthful of wine. "We're closest to Golden Grain City right now. Should we just take the troops and chase him there directly?"
Roland shook his head firmly, rejecting the suggestion.
"The fact that Arno managed to severely wound Duke proves his control over the abyss's strength has reached a new level," he analyzed calmly. "Moreover, unlike the Eastern Lands border of the Golden Valley Kingdom, Golden Grain City lies deep within the kingdom's heartland. The nobles there, including Prince Lucius in the royal capital, must have already received news of the disturbance. The capital region's defenses and vigilance are undoubtedly far stronger and more alert than the Eastern Lands' weak and lax security."
"Then what should we do now?" Galvis asked, scratching his head.
"First, we'll regroup with Gloria and Duke's forces," Roland decided, his thoughts already drifting northward. "Now that we've secured a road connecting to the north..."
"The abyss is too mysterious, and Arno's current strength is impossible to gauge. To be safe, we need to find more reliable allies."
His fingers unconsciously tapped lightly on the hilt of the sword at his waist.
"For example, King Monen, who is currently locked in a fierce battle with the orcs," Roland murmured, a flicker of barely perceptible doubt crossing his eyes.
Could that king truly be completely unaware of everything happening within his own borders?
The thought stirred within him like a hidden undercurrent, quietly gathering momentum.
(End of the Chapter)
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