At noon the next day,
"You're telling me this lance cavalry squadron you've brought was only assembled less than three days ago? And my twenty-first brother sent you here already?" The hawk-nosed man fixed his gaze on Lorist's face.
Lorist put on a blank expression. "Yes, I have no idea why either. The orders were clear—our squadron was to reach William Mills Castle within a day and a night to assist in its defense. I thought there'd be a major battle here, but there's nothing going on. What a wasted trip. Anyway, does our squadron get to enter the castle or not? If not, we'll just head back."
"Head back? Keep dreaming. Once you're here, you stay put. What's your name, and what's your combat force rank?" The hawk-nosed man snorted from his nose.
Lorist lowered his head. "My lord, this humble one is called Lorist.
"Pfft!" A middle-aged man with a half-bald head burst out laughing from the side. "Now they're throwing any random stray cat or dog into the lance cavalry squadron. A piddling Black Iron three-star gets to be a squadron commander, while we Silver three-stars can only serve as garrison squad leaders. This is absolutely ridiculous."
"Fourteenth Brother, I think the reason the twenty-first brother sent them here is for us to reorganize them. Otherwise, he wouldn't have appointed a Black Iron three-star as squadron commander. We're facing the allied noble forces here. Although they've been behaving themselves lately, the moment they find out the lance cavalry squadron inside the castle is gone, they might come looking for a fight. Father probably considered this and sent them over. He may also have intended to use the allied nobles to temper this freshly formed lance cavalry squadron and forge it into a real fighting force." Another man, wearing chain mail, spoke up.
"Mm, Nineteenth makes a good point. Someone—let the lance cavalry outside into the castle and assemble them in the front courtyard. You there—Lor, was it? You're relieved of your squadron commander duties. We'll revisit that once you reach Silver rank. This afternoon I'll reorganize the lance cavalry, and you can serve as a squad leader in the garrison company." The hawk-nosed man made his decision.
Lorist stood there in silence, looking as though he were unwilling to have his commander's post stripped away. The hawk-nosed man paid him no further mind, turning to discuss matters with the men around him. "Which of you will go to the lance cavalry squadron? Send two, and pick some men from your squads to swap places with the cavalry. It'll help us control this newly formed unit…"
Then the hawk-nosed man spotted Tagle, trembling behind Lorist. "Well, well—if it isn't Tagle! You coward—what are you doing in the lance cavalry squadron? Did you stop being a watchman?"
"E-Eight… Eighth Master, this… this humble one shouldn't have… shouldn't have spoken back to the Twenty-first Master, and… and the Twenty-first Master said I'm Black Iron and belong in the lance cavalry squadron, so he… he forced me in." Tagle stammered through his chattering teeth.
Tagle was filled with regret. How had Lorist taken a liking to him? He had no particular abilities—he just enjoyed gathering gossip and analyzing the situation, that was all. And now this Master
William Mills Castle was guarded by the Count's eighth illegitimate son, the Eighth Master. Not only was he Gold two-stars with formidable strength, he was also meticulous and cunning—no easy opponent. And sure enough, when Master Norton had arrived at the castle disguised as a lance cavalry squadron, they'd been barred at the gates. Only the leader was allowed in, pending interrogation before any decision was made.
If you were going to bring someone into the castle, you should have brought that Gold-rank sharpshooter
The more Tagle thought about it, the more terrified he became. And now the Eighth Master was ordering the gates opened for Master Norton's men. Who knew if those men would strike the moment they entered? If they did, Tagle was truly finished. When they'd first entered the hall, Tagle had kept his head down and stood quietly behind Lorist, trying not to draw attention. But now he'd started shaking, and the Eighth Master had noticed. Fortunately, Tagle was quick-witted enough to come up with a half-decent excuse on the spot.
"Mm, the twenty-first brother must have been drinking too much again. But Tagle, you coward, are you really that afraid of battle? You've been trembling ever since you arrived. What happens when you actually see combat—will you faint on the spot? Ha ha ha…" The hawk-nosed man burst into laughter.
Lorist angled his body slightly and peered out the second-floor hall windows with the corner of his eye. His men had begun entering the castle. Good—the main gate was secured.
Many of the garrison soldiers, having just finished lunch, were still lying in corners with blankets draped over them, dozing in the sun. This was the perfect moment for a surprise attack…
Lorist drew his sword. "He's trembling because you're all about to die. He's rather sensitive to corpses…"
The hawk-nosed man froze for an instant, then erupted in fury. "You dare raise your hand against a superior? Have you got the gall of a bear and the courage of a tiger? You'd draw your blade in front of me? Seize him—he'll make a fine example for these lance cavalrymen—"
The Eighth Master was usually shrewd, but in this moment he'd made a miscalculation. He assumed Lorist had drawn his sword out of resentment over being stripped of his squadron commander post.
The other two Silver-rank garrison squad leaders rushed forward. The first one didn't even bother drawing his sword—he simply reached out to grab Lorist. In his mind, this was just a puny Black Iron—capturing him would be effortless…
Tagle crumpled to the floor. It's over. It's really over. Is this Master Norton out of his mind? You're Black Iron—how can you draw a sword against one Gold and four Silvers? And you had the audacity to say they're the ones who'll die? It should be us two Black Irons who die first! Master Norton—Sir Norton—couldn't you have waited until your men arrived before starting the fight? If you're in such a hurry to throw your life away, don't drag me down with you! Poor old mother, and my precious son—what will they do without me as their father…
Tagle closed his eyes in despair. Then he heard two screams. The first scream turned into a wail, followed by a second that was brutally short. Huh? Wait—why were there two screams? He opened his eyes and stared in astonishment. Master Norton was standing there completely unscathed. At his feet lay the first Silver-rank squad leader—the one who'd reached out to grab him. Both of his arms were gone, and he was rolling on the ground, begging through his agony for a finishing blow. Lorist's sword was embedded in the throat of the second squad leader who had lunged forward…
The hawk-nosed man and his two Silver-rank illegitimate brothers leapt to their feet in shock. None of them had expected that this Black Iron had needed only three strikes to finish off two Silver two-star garrison squad leaders.
"Who exactly are you?" The hawk-nosed man stared at Lorist and slowly drew his own sword.
Lorist smiled, calm and composed as a light breeze. "Who I am doesn't matter. All you need to know is that I'm here to take your lives…"
"Nineteenth—sound the alarm! This lance cavalry squadron is an impostor! They're enemies!" The hawk-nosed man suddenly realized the danger and hurriedly ordered the chain-mail-clad man.
"Understood—" The chain-mail man acknowledged, sword raised toward Lorist, backing toward the main door with the wariness of someone facing a mortal foe. He reached the door, turned, and pushed it open to leave.
A long arrow flew in and struck him square in the chest, the force lifting his entire body into the air. He flew two or three meters before crashing heavily to the ground. Blood poured from his mouth and nose. He reached for the arrow shaft protruding from his chest, trying to pull it out, but after a few feeble struggles, he breathed his last.
Jossk appeared at the entrance of the hall, his green longbow in hand.
"Sharpshooter Jossk…" The hawk-nosed man ground out the name one word at a time.
"It's been a while, Eighth Master…" Jossk's eyes had turned red again. This hawk-nosed man—Count Corbilly's eighth illegitimate son, known as the Eighth Master, a Gold two-star swordsman—was the very man who had stormed Baron Umaro's estate castle and inflicted Jossk's crippling wounds. Meeting one's enemy again—the hatred burned all the more fiercely.
"Stop him!" The hawk-nosed man shouted at the half-bald middle-aged man beside him. Then his body erupted like a storm, his sword a streak of rainbow light, as he lunged straight at Lorist.
"Bring it!" Lorist gave a soft hum and raised his sword to meet the charge. The two clashed, and the hall erupted with the rapid, rain-like ring of steel on steel.
The Eighth Master's plan was to have the half-bald middle-aged man hold off Jossk while he took down Lorist first, then they could double-team Jossk together—there was still a chance to turn the tide. After all, Lorist was only Black Iron. It wasn't unheard of for exceptional swordsmanship to beat a Silver, but the Eighth Master himself was Gold rank. Dealing with Black Iron should be effortless. No matter how brilliant the swordwork, Black Iron was still Black Iron—the gap in power was plain as day.
This was the Eighth Master's first mistake. He never dreamed that when he faced Lorist, the difference in combat force would seem to vanish entirely. A Gold-rank swordsman was being forced backward, step by step, by a Black Iron—one moment's lapse and he might fall to the Black Iron's blade. This scene stunned not only the Eighth Master but also the half-bald middle-aged man, Jossk, and Tagle.
Tagle's jaw hung open, drool dripping down his chin—he looked like someone with advanced dementia. So Master Norton wasn't crazy after all. He had the skill to back up his confidence. His swordsmanship was so extraordinary that even the Gold two-star Eighth Master couldn't hold his ground and could only retreat to dodge.
The half-bald middle-aged man was the first to recover his wits. Seeing that Jossk's attention was drawn to the two combatants, he felt a spark of hope and quietly began backing away—flight was the wisest course. This was something the Eighth Master hadn't anticipated, and it was his second fatal mistake.
As a master archer, Jossk noticed the half-bald man's movement the instant it began. The green longbow was drawn full like a moon, and three arrows flew in rapid succession—*thwick, thwick, thwick*—embedding themselves in the wall…
With the half-bald man dead, the Eighth Master's composure shattered. He had already been unable to withstand Lorist's thunderous offensive, and now with Jossk on the sidedrawing and aiming, his nerves were completely frayed. His hands faltered for just one beat, and Lorist forced his way through the center. In a flash of sword light, the hawk-nosed Eighth Master let out a single wail as his head soared into the air. Lorist's body flickered several times, dodging the geyser of hot blood spurting from the headless neck…
"How long do you plan to lie on the ground, Tagle? Get up and hang these heads on the balcony. While you're at it, announce that Goldos City has been taken." Lorist issued his orders.
When those five heads were hung from the balcony on the second floor of William Mills Castle's main tower, the unrest throughout the castle quickly subsided. When seven or eight of Count Corbilly's diehards tried to incite the garrison soldiers to resist the lance cavalry flooding in, Jossk picked them off one by one with his green longbow, accelerating the pace of the garrison company's reorganization. By near dusk, Lorist's force had secured all of William Mills Castle.
"Yuri, eat dinner and then rest for an hour. I'll take Terman's knight squad and Knight Jossk back to Goldos City first. William Mills Castle is yours. Deploy your light cavalry scouts to gather intelligence on the surrounding movements. When you encounter that allied noble army, don't engage—only fight back if they attack the castle. Tagle, you stay here and focus on keeping the garrison soldiers' morale steady. As long as they hold their positions until relief troops arrive, they can return to Goldos City and reunite with their families. Don't worry—it won't be long. A messenger will arrive within ten days." Lorist spoke between bites of a bread roll.
"Understood, my lord. Leave it to me," said Yuri, eating and drinking as well.
Tagle set down the large bone in his hand and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "My lord, with me here, you can rest easy. I guarantee those garrison soldiers won't cause any trouble."