WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

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◈ Sword Master of the Fallen Kingdom

Chapter 13

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What Was Lost and What Was Gained (2)

The three of them accepted Mihail's offer and headed for the inner castle at the city's center.

Dornel was far larger than Traben, and it hummed with life to match. Travelers who had just cleared the checkpoint and were still searching for somewhere to sleep mingled freely with residents who had lived there all their lives. Things that shouldn't mix, oil and water, churned together in the streets. But it didn't feel discordant. It was a different texture from Traben, the free city with no lord, governed only by a mayor.

"Wow."

"Count Metis is one of the most prominent high nobles in Brendel Kingdom. Of course his home city is going to be this size."

"I know that. I just meant there's a difference between hearing about something and actually seeing it."

Veil's explanation was aimed at Katrin, who had let the small exclamation slip. She grumbled right back at him.

"It's not that big, really. The imperial capital or the federation parliament city, each of those is three or four times the size."

Kyle said it without looking at either of them. Dornel was above average for a city, no question, but it wasn't in the same league as the true metropolises. Archandia, capital of the Ellandor Empire. Renavik, where the Grandesia Federation parliament sat. There were plenty of other great cities scattered across the continent too, famous for their military or cultural significance.

He had spent years wandering the continent and had seen many of its notable places firsthand. But plenty remained out of reach. Most notably, Renavik, the Kalov Kingdom's capital and seat of the federation parliament, and Sanctum, where the papal seat of the theocratic nation Crescent stood.

Ten years. Some days it felt like an eternity. Other days, not nearly enough.

"Anyone listening would think I've never been to a big city in my life."

Katrin snorted, muttering to herself.

"Didn't you say you came from the regular army rangers? And you're still young. Rangers typically serve long mandatory terms, so it's completely understandable..."

"That's not the point!"

Katrin and Veil bickered in their usual way. Just then, a line of large wagons trundled down the middle of the road.

"It's lively here. I suppose that's how you stay calm when things go badly."

The young man at the front glanced back at that moment. Both of them, caught looking, shut up immediately, as if nothing had happened. At the head of the group walked not just the young man but also the middle-aged knight guarding him, and an elderly man in a monocle who looked to have come from the count's household.

"Oh, I should have introduced myself sooner. I'm Soren Metis, second son of Count Metis. I can't thank you enough for your work on this journey. Veil-nim, Katrin-nim. And... Kyle-nim."

The slight young man smiled faintly.

"Nothing worth thanking us for. We finished what we were hired to do."

"I disagree. Without Kyle-nim, we wouldn't be standing in Dornel right now, we'd be buried in that forest. He's more than earned the title of benefactor, as far as I'm concerned."

Soren shook his head. The warmth in his gaze when he looked at Kyle was impossible to hide.

"Soren Metis?"

The news that he was Count Metis's son seemed to catch Katrin off guard. She murmured as if she'd only just processed it.

"So you're the count's son...."

"......."

"Has the count happened to mention us at all? Something about extra payment?"

"Katrin."

"What? Is asking not allowed?"

"It's quite all right, Veil-nim. Katrin-nim's curiosity is understandable. You three contracted separately in Traben, and your performance speaks for itself. The additional payment will be settled properly. Even if I have to bring it up with my father myself."

"So does that mean we can ask for things other than money, too?"

"Pardon?"

Soren blinked.

"A retainer position with the count's household, for instance. I'd be perfectly satisfied with even just a captain of the guard."

"That's not really my place to...."

Soren smiled, tight-lipped. Mihail, leading at the front, glanced back at Katrin with a sharp look.

"We're here."

The group had arrived at the inner castle gate.

The two soldiers on guard recognized the knight out front.

"Sir Mihail. Back already?"

"That's right. Guests of the count. May we pass?"

"Well...."

The soldier's gaze drifted past Mihail to the three figures behind him.

A heavily armed mercenary with a halberd strapped to his back. A red-haired archer loaded down with bow and daggers. And a figure in an all-black cloak, hood pulled low, no clear identity to speak of.

That much wasn't the problem. The real problem was what the figure held in one hand: a sack. It had clearly been white once. Now it was stained dark red. And once the soldier noticed that, the single sword hanging at the figure's hip started to look considerably more unsettling.

"Excuse me, are these really the count's guests?"

The soldier's expression sat somewhere between doubt and discomfort.

"They are. Any issue with that?"

"...No, sir. Please go through."

But Mihail was a knight the count trusted. The soldier stepped aside, reluctantly.

"Thank you. Keep at it."

Inside the inner castle, Mihail stopped after only a short distance. He turned and met Kyle's eyes, then Veil's, then Katrin's.

"We'll head on ahead. I need to make a report to the count. And...."

He glanced at Kyle's right hand. Kyle thought about it for a moment, then handed over the sack without argument. He had been planning to show it to the count anyway. Handing it off early made no difference.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting. It won't take long. Hans-nim here, our head butler, will see you settled."

Soren nodded toward the old man with the monocle, who had stood in silence until now.

"If you'll follow me."

With the two of them gone, the old man led Kyle's group alone. He brought them inside the castle and stopped in front of a room.

"Please wait here. Make yourselves comfortable inside."

When the old man left too, all three of them stepped in. It appeared to be a guest parlor, plush sofas, an ornate table, elaborate furnishings arranged for the comfort of important visitors.

"Wow... these are so soft. A count must be absolutely drowning in money."

Katrin dropped her gear the moment she was through the door and sprawled across the sofa.

"Don't get too comfortable. We might have to leave soon."

"That's exactly why I have to enjoy it now. When do people like us ever get to live like this?"

She looked at the table in front of her. A few desserts had been set out, apparently prepared in advance.

"These... we can eat them, right?"

Expensive at a glance, the kind of thing set out for guests. But desserts like these were normally reserved for nobles or guests of equivalent standing. As mercenaries who would be paid and sent on their way, reaching for them felt a little presumptuous.

"Go ahead."

Kyle said it as he pulled back his hood, done watching her stare.

"Really?"

"If anything comes of it, I'll take responsibility. Stop looking at them like that."

"Okay then...."

Katrin picked up a cookie with great care and bit into it. Her eyes went wide almost immediately. A hit. Kyle, whose palate had been shaped by food from Earth and who didn't particularly care for sweets, couldn't quite understand the reaction.

"It's so good... I've never had a cookie this sweet before."

"You have a sweet tooth?"

"Yeah. I just can't usually afford it. Sugar isn't cheap, you know. The money I'd spend on these could go toward actual gear."

For a mercenary, equipment was life. No matter how well things were going, throwing money at luxuries was never wise. Especially not for someone who had come up from nothing, with no backing and no foundation beneath them.

"Speaking of which, how do you think they'll pay us?"

Veil. He picked up a scone the same way Katrin had.

"Probably gold."

"Gold coins?"

"It's easier for everyone."

"Gold, hm. Clean, at least. Base was ten, and given what we did, maybe fifteen?"

Fifteen gold. For a ten-day short-range trade escort, a steep sum.

But given the midday attack and everything they had dealt with along the way, it wasn't exactly a windfall either. Without Kyle, the convoy would likely have been wiped out before it ever reached Dornel. Both of them knew it. That was why neither Veil nor Katrin looked particularly pleased. Whatever they themselves deserved, Kyle had earned far more. They both genuinely believed that.

"We'd be lucky not to get stabbed in the back."

Kyle said it to the chandelier, not looking at either of them.

"Stabbed how?"

"Assassins."

"They can actually do that?"

Katrin asked, cheeks still stuffed with cookie.

"Among nobles, it's common enough."

"......."

"For all we know, that knight Mihail could walk back through that door with soldiers any minute. We know too much. Killing us is cleaner, and it saves them the trouble of paying."

Silencing witnesses. In noble power struggles, it happened all the time. Kyle knew that world well. Just recently, Baron Vulk had paid the Dex Mercenary Corps to have him killed.

"Uh...."

"Hmm...."

The two of them went quiet, desserts in hand. It was only now sinking in, slowly and unpleasantly, that their lives might be balanced on a knife's edge.

Kyle glanced at them briefly, then closed his eyes. The fatigue in his body settled. The noise in his head quieted. From that stillness, he could think clearly about what needed doing and what didn't.

The most pressing issue was the magic stones.

This job had cost him. The stones Kyle used were the highest grade, one hundred percent pure with no impurities. Stones like those weren't just expensive, they were nearly impossible to find.

He had used seven of them. The losses ran into the hundreds of millions.

Ten gold wasn't going to cut it. He needed more. A magic tool would do, or an artifact, or an ancient relic. Kyle wasn't leaving this castle until he received something capable of dealing with the curse that bound his body, or its equivalent in coin. Unlike other knights or mages, he couldn't generate mana on his own.

This was why money was never enough, no matter how much you had. At least for him. If it came down to it, he wouldn't hesitate to use force. Whether Count Metis was foolish enough to push that far remained to be seen.

Knock, knock.

"Is anyone in?"

The knock broke his thoughts. The parlor door opened and a young man stepped inside. Soren.

"Oh, you're all here."

He came toward them.

"Your payment, as promised. Katrin-nim, Veil-nim, and Kyle-nim, nine gold after the advance, plus an additional ten on top. Please check."

Three small pouches landed on the table, heavy for their size. Katrin and Veil checked inside.

"Oh...."

"Well."

Even with just the strings loosened, golden light caught the eye. Five gold more than the fifteen they had expected. Both their faces broke into quiet satisfaction.

"So we won't get to meet the count? I was rather looking forward to it."

Katrin had swept up her pouch before anyone else could claim it.

"About that...."

Soren hesitated, glancing toward Kyle.

"Kyle-nim."

"Go ahead."

"Would you come with me for a moment? It concerns your additional payment."

***

Leaving Veil and Katrin behind, Kyle stepped out of the parlor and followed Soren.

The household staff they passed in the corridors started to acknowledge Soren, then spotted Kyle directly behind him and quickly lowered their heads instead.

"Kyle-nim."

"What is it?"

"Well...."

"......."

"Never mind."

Whatever Soren had meant to say, he let it go. Kyle didn't push.

"Here we are. Go right in."

After a long walk, Soren stopped. He stood there a moment, glancing at Kyle. Kyle pushed the door open himself.

The room was nothing like the parlor. Where the parlor had been built for comfort and grandeur, the count's study was plain, functional, stripped down to what it needed to be. The furniture told the same story, classic without being ostentatious, each piece a quiet reflection of its owner's tastes.

A low, long table at the center, flanked by sofas that looked somewhat less forgiving than those in the parlor. Near the window stood a desk that looked well-used, the kind a man does real work at. Standing beside it was Mihail, positioned like a sentinel.

"Welcome. I've been waiting."

Count Metis said it from behind his desk.

"I received your gift. Not what I was expecting, but I received it."

"......."

"Keeping a guest standing isn't proper. Do you drink tea?"

He rose and crossed to the center of the room. He settled onto the sofa with the ease of a man entirely comfortable in his own space, then gestured toward the seat across from him with a graceful hand. Kyle sat down.

Knock, knock.

The study door opened and a maid entered, setting a small tea table between them.

"Thank you. That will be all."

The maid bowed and withdrew. Kyle looked down at the cup in front of him. White steam curled up from the freshly poured tea.

"A proper introduction, then."

The count cleared his throat. Mihail took his place just behind him.

"Lord of Dornel, Alvaro Metis. And this is my personal guard knight, Mihail. Though I imagine you already know that."

Relaxed. At ease in his own skin, with a brief nod back toward the man behind him. There was a quality to how he moved that no commoner could replicate.

Any ordinary mercenary would have felt it in that moment, a particular shrinking, a reminder of the gap. The difference between being born into something and learning it from nothing was not small. The wall between noble and commoner was that high.

"Mercenary. The name's Kyle."

But Kyle was different. He didn't shrink, and he didn't overcompensate. Matter-of-fact. Neither too casual nor reaching for ceremony.

"Kyle... a fine name."

For just a moment, something flickered in the count's eyes.

"A pleasure to meet you like this, Kyle. Or would you prefer the other name, the Night Crow of Kirian?"

The count's voice dropped. Kyle showed nothing.

The Night Crow was a name everyone in this world knew, from fellow mercenaries to the nobles who hired them. The story of the man who had deliberately turned down promotion to gold rank had made the rounds more than once.

The count had likely already finished looking into him. From the moment Kyle handed the sack to Mihail, he would have received a full report on everything that happened during the journey. Max, the branch head in Traben, had known the name Night Crow well enough. There wasn't much to investigate beyond that.

"First, my thanks. The trade route was completed safely because of you. The Night Crow lives up to the reputation."

Kyle said nothing and reached for his cup.

"I had it prepared in advance, though I wasn't sure you'd care for it. Do you enjoy tea?"

"To some degree. I don't drink."

"My. A mercenary who doesn't drink. That is unusual. From what I know, most in your line prefer a bottle to a cup."

Kyle lifted the cup with practiced ease and tasted the tea. The count watched him, not missing a single thing.

The way he held the cup. How he sat while drinking. The expression as he tasted.

Small things. But the count learned a great deal from them.

People who had spent their whole lives as nobles carried something that couldn't be hidden or faked. As a high noble of Brendel himself, Alvaro knew this better than most.

So the moment Kyle took the cup, he was certain. Through the tasting, through the way he breathed in the scent afterward. There was a quality that no ordinary mercenary could ever develop. Something that only came from being born into it.

Black hair and dark eyes catching the evening light through the window. Features too exotic for anyone native to the Velia continent. And that nagging sense of familiarity that had been building since they arrived.

The count thought: the mercenary sitting across from him, better known as the Night Crow, had once been a knight. Not just a knight. A nobleman of considerable standing.

"The tea is good. Monecha from the Novera region?"

Kyle said it like a quiet assessment.

"Correct. Quite the refined palate, to know it on the first taste."

"Someone I knew used to drink it often. Loved it, actually. That's all in the past now."

"Is that so."

The count smiled, quiet and knowing. Kyle set down his cup carefully.

"The matter of payment."

"Ah, right. I got carried away, it's been a while since I've had a real conversation with someone of your caliber."

He added with an easy smile.

"I was told the base pay in Traben was ten gold. Is that right?"

"That's right."

"And additional pay based on merit. My knight Mihail tells me you were the primary reason this trade run succeeded, handling a goblin shaman variant, and on top of that an unexpected bandit attack. Quite an achievement. And so...."

He trailed off, letting the silence sit. Kyle watched him.

"Ten gold base, forty additional, fifty total, plus one magic tool or artifact of your choosing from our family's vault. Take whatever catches your eye, whatever the type. You've already received twenty, so the remaining thirty will be ready for you on your way out."

Fifty gold and your pick from a noble house's vault. For one trade escort, more than generous.

And yet.

"Is that all?"

"...Pardon?"

The count blinked. Kyle looked back at him with a flat expression.

"The numbers don't add up."

"Numbers? What do you...."

Kyle tilted his head slightly. His dark hair shifted with the motion, slow and unhurried. Between the strands, his eyes fixed on the count like a blade aimed straight through him.

"Yes, there was the goblin shaman variant. But the bigger problem was the horde it was leading. At least a hundred strong. Orcs, and trolls mixed in among them."

"......."

"And the ones who hit the convoy practically at Dornel's doorstep weren't ordinary bandits. At least four of knight-class combat strength. Did you not look at the gift I sent?"

Monsters during a trade run, that could happen to anyone.

The second part was a different matter entirely. The enemies Kyle had faced that day were in a completely different class from ordinary bandits.

If his read was right, they were knights belonging to some great house. The soldiers who had burst from the undergrowth on both sides were the same. Unlike ordinary mercenaries, they had the bearing of disciplined military training. The whole setup was obvious, dress up as mercenaries, invoke some killing as pretext, ambush the convoy.

"Interesting."

The flat expression Kyle had held throughout finally cracked into a brief, thin smile.

Fifty gold and one artifact. If the trouble had been ordinary monsters, he would have taken it and walked away.

Not now. That ambush near Dornel had cost him seven magic stones.

What the count had offered wouldn't even cover his losses. Unlike other knights or mages, Kyle couldn't use mana on his own.

And that wasn't even the main point.

"I help with smuggling disguised as a trade run, and this is what I get for it. Did you take me for a pushover?"

His tone flipped. The sudden drop to informal speech left the count blinking, mouth slightly open. Behind him, Mihail's brow twitched.

"Transporting something important enough to draw an attack from another house. Not a letter, carrier birds handle those well enough."

Kyle kept talking, unhurried.

"Magic tools. Artifacts. No, relics. More than one or two."

The reason Count Metis had gone to the trouble of disguising it as a trade run and attaching his own son and personal knight to it.

"Looks like someone found a trove of ancient relics somewhere. Those four knights and their soldiers, they belong to a house you're at odds with?"

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