The Border Fortress 8

Gild led the "northern immigrants" into the forest near the border. In the dead of night, the deep forest was pitch black, yet they did not stop. With their superior physical abilities, they moved swiftly along the rough beast trails without slowing down, finally stopping in a slightly more open area. Though it was more open, the surrounding trees still obstructed their view. Gild stopped and turned, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the knights, which should have been invisible in the darkness.

“How much did you hear?”

It was a vague question, but the knights Gild had chosen understood his meaning perfectly. Half of them, including Yeori, raised their hands. Gild was asking if they had heard the conversation he had had with Margrave Kennys and Vice-Captain Maurice in the private room. Normally, such a conversation would never have been leaked, but it seemed that about half of those present had heard some of it. However, the extent of what they had heard seemed to vary. Gild nodded slightly and briefly explained the situation in a low voice, a volume that would be lost in the sound of the night wind rustling the trees and the noises of nocturnal insects and animals. Yet, every single one of them stared at Gild with a serious expression, determined not to miss a single word.

Once the brief explanation was over, the gathered "northern immigrants" had looks of understanding on their faces. One of them raised a hand. When Gild looked at him, he asked a question.

“So, you’re saying there’s one of our own in the enemy camp?”

“Probably.”

“But if that’s the case—shouldn’t they be unable to attack us?”

The knight who had asked the question frowned, feeling a sense of unease. But Gild shook his head.

“There are ways. All they have to do is make you think you’ve been branded.”

The older men immediately grimaced. The younger ones, like Yeori and Innyeboli, tilted their heads in confusion. Gild added, “And what if they force an oath? We’re weakened right now, we have almost no way to resist.”

A bitter atmosphere instantly filled the air, even among the younger ones. One of the knights let out a sigh and said, “—If only the captain were one of us.”

“There’s no point in saying that,” Gild dismissed it, saying it was a pointless hypothetical. The knights turned their gazes to him, who had said it so casually. Gild met all their gazes unflinchingly and shrugged.

“That’s why I’m stepping in between the margrave and you guys. My master is someone else, but my position shouldn’t be a bad one.”

“With all due respect, Gild. Even after hearing that, I’m not entirely convinced I can trust you.”

One of the knights raised an objection. To them, Gild was a man who had appeared out of nowhere. They knew he was one of them, and that he was trying to help them. But now that they knew there was one of their own on the enemy side, they didn't think they could completely trust Gild either.

That wasn't all. The enemy knew how to neutralize the descendants of Alvaldi. Another knight also looked at Gild with suspicion.

“And even if we could trust you, can you even stand up to the guy who’s trying to abduct us? As you know, the only ones who know how to neutralize us are the elder or his successor. That means his ability is probably higher than anyone here.”

Gild listened to their arguments in silence, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

It seemed Margrave Kennys had a firm grip on the hearts of these comrades of his. Gild couldn't suppress his amusement at their attitude of valuing someone else over one of their own. The men, noticing his grin, frowned. They must not have understood why he was smiling in a situation where he was being unilaterally questioned.

But Gild said it anyway, unconcerned.

“Don’t mind it. I’m just happy for you, as if it were my own business, that you found a master you can acknowledge even in a foreign land like this. And one who isn't a descendant of Alvaldi, at that. People like that are rare.”

You’re lucky, he said, and everyone stared at Gild, trying to read his true intentions. Even Yeori and Innyeboli, whom Gild had rescued from the human traffickers, looked at him with eyes that were not entirely trusting.

Gild’s smile deepened. A dangerous atmosphere filled the air. The tension in the place rose.

“My name is Gild. But you probably know me by this name, don’t you?”

He said, slowly looking around at the knights’ faces. The wind blew, and in the strange tension, Gild said in a low voice—the name he had not used since he had come of age.

“My name is Managarmr, son of Hroðvitnir.”

The knights gasped. They even took a step back. Their vigilance rose to its peak. More than half of them got into a defensive stance. Gild’s body swelled. Everyone was overwhelmed by his overwhelming dominance. Gild, watching this with what seemed to be pleasure, said, “I am the son of the hero of old, branded a destroyer and exiled as a traitor to the ends of the earth.”

Silence enveloped the area. A gust of wind blew through the place where no one moved.

＊＊＊＊＊

Around the same time, Liliana, who had followed Maurice, was in a room in the fortress. Maurice had hidden the "northern immigrants" that Gild had not taken with him in a part of the fortress, and had then gone to Margrave Kennys's room to report.

After knocking on the door and getting permission to enter, Maurice went inside. The margrave was sitting at his desk, reading a report.

“How did it go?”

“I was told to put only a part of the ‘northern immigrants’ under normal guard, so I have protected them in a room in the fortress. As for the barrier, I have left it to Ben Draco-dono.”

“Good. —Where is Gild?”

“He took the majority and headed towards the forest. I don’t think he’ll just disappear, but—the captain is still here, so.”

Maurice was well aware that the "northern immigrants" were devoted to Margrave Kennys. For them, their admiration for the margrave was their reason for fighting; they had little interest in the margravate or the Kingdom of Slibegrad. They followed Maurice’s orders as vice-captain only because Maurice had been fully entrusted by the margrave. It was doubtful whether the "northern immigrants" would remain in the Kennys Knights after the margrave retired from his post as captain. At the very least, if the margrave, who was now looking grim before Maurice, were to die, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they would leave, having no reason to stay in this land.

“Do you still not trust Gild?”

“With all due respect.”

Asked by Margrave Kennys, who had shifted his teasing gaze from the report to Maurice, Maurice’s face stiffened slightly. For a moment, he had decided to trust the margrave’s words and leave it to Gild. He had intended to cast aside his doubts, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of whether he was a man truly worthy of trust. While he thought it was disrespectful for a mere vice-captain like him to doubt, Maurice also encouraged himself that it was necessary to protect the Kennys Knights. Taking a small breath, Maurice looked straight back at the seated margrave.

“Though he is the bodyguard of the Duke Clark’s daughter, at his core, he is a mercenary. To put it bluntly, he is no different from any common ruffian. Even if he has no intention of betraying us now, if the situation changes, he will quickly turn to the enemy—that is the way of a mercenary.”

Margrave Kennys’s lips curled up slightly into a smile. “That is good,” he said.

“I would be troubled if you trusted him unconditionally.”

“—Then why did you decide to trust him, Captain?”

Maurice watched the seated margrave with a probing gaze. To say he would be troubled if he were trusted unconditionally meant that the margrave himself must have trusted Gild with some kind of conviction. Maurice had ultimately followed his judgment because he trusted the margrave, and if Gild truly would not betray them, there was nothing more reassuring. Maurice, like the margrave, had been astonished by the eye-popping physical abilities Gild had shown in today’s battle.

“If we can trust him, our knightly order’s offensive power will undoubtedly increase. It would be good if his stamina has not decreased like some of the others, but even if it has, his original movements are a threat. An opponent like this could be annihilated in a day or two—if he were so inclined, that is.”

Even the “northern immigrants” had higher physical abilities than ordinary knights. They were still no match for renowned and seasoned knights like Margrave Kennys and Maurice, but they could achieve victory with their extraordinary physical abilities against a knight who had only been training for a few years.

However, Gild’s strength easily surpassed even theirs. They had never fought, but Maurice had a feeling that he would put up a good fight not only against him but also against Margrave Kennys. He even thought somewhere in his heart that he might lose.

“Yes. Why did I trust him—was it?”

The margrave murmured, crossing his arms as if in thought. He stared at the air with half-closed eyes. After a while, he looked at his trusted subordinate with a calm gaze.

“I cannot speak of the details. But I have one conviction. Gild is—almost certainly, one of them.”

Maurice’s eyes widened. It was the reaction of someone who had been told something completely unexpected.

“So you are saying he is a ‘northern immigrant’?”

“Yes. We call them ‘northern immigrants’ as a group, but they do not necessarily all come from the same country. Among them, there are probably those with particularly high physical abilities. I believe that those with high combat abilities like Yeori and Innyeboli are of that clan, and I think Gild is also of that clan.”

“The reason Gild did not take all the ‘northern immigrants’ with him was—”

“He probably excluded those who were not of his clan. The method he is about to take probably has no effect on those who are not of his clan.”

Having explained that much, Margrave Kennys fell silent for a moment, observing Maurice’s reaction. Maurice, who had looked shocked, quickly recovered, as befitting his long service as vice-captain. He let out a deep breath and nodded.

“And you believe that someone in the enemy camp is also targeting that clan.”

Maurice had not immediately understood what the margrave was thinking. Gild had only explained it as “northern immigrants,” but if a specific group within them was being targeted, and Gild belonged to that group, then his actions were understandable. The “northern immigrants” themselves had a strong sense of camaraderie, and while they did not reject the people of the kingdom, there was always a sense of distance.

Margrave Kennys nodded.

“I have no proof of that. But I believe the possibility is high.”

“—Understood.”

Maurice finally understood. Margrave Kennys was more cautious than Maurice. He would never make a decision that would put the knightly order or his domain in danger. Despite that, he couldn’t understand why he had decided to accept a mercenary named Gild who had appeared so suddenly.

“You did not believe that he swore loyalty to this country, the Kennys Knights, the margravate, and the captain—but rather, you trusted his heart to protect his comrades.”

Margrave Kennys grinned as if to say, 'Correct.' Maurice, who had finally relaxed his shoulders, bowed his head. “As you wish.”

“Then I have nothing more to say. I will do my best to assist him—Gild.”

“Yes, I am counting on you.”

Maurice, satisfied, turned on his heel and left the office. Liliana, still invisible, decided to stop by the mansion in the Kennys Border Margravate before returning to her own home. She intended to check on the battle situation from time to time, but there was basically nothing she could do. In the first place, it was impossible for her to be here.

After leaving the margrave’s office, Liliana used a teleportation spell in an deserted area just in case. Her vision changed in an instant, and she had moved to the sleeping mansion in the Kennys Border Margravate.

—-

ToC

Chapter 173