I drew my sword.
I brought the blade's tip to the neck of the plump Duke.
I had no intention of drawing blood, but even the slightest graze caused red to seep out.
Perhaps when there's more flesh, there's more blood too.
The Duke's body trembled.
But his eyes were different. They weren't broken. Eyes that still had something left in them.
"Y-you bastard..."
Don't tell me.
Is this man planning to shout, "I cannot surrender to the son of the man who made me like this! I'd rather die, so charge at once!"?
After all, wasn't he a man once considered to have the qualities of a Swordmaster?
That's not something achieved through talent alone, nor through grit alone. It's a realm that only heroes possessing both talent and grit could even attempt to reach.
Of course, he was simply unlucky enough to encounter a monster with even greater talent and grit, which ruined everything, but that doesn't mean what he originally possessed disappeared.
If that were the case, my plan would fall apart.
Even if I captured the Duke, if he resolved himself to death, a hostage's value drops.
And with those eyes, he seemed fully capable of that.
The Duke's lips trembled and slowly parted.
And then...
"Please spare me."
Out came the legendary line supposedly spoken by the last Emperor of the Eastern Roman Empire.
Let's overlook the fact that he never actually said such a thing, since that's not particularly fun, cool, or sexy.
I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. But I didn't change my expression.
"Hahaha!"
Sir Karl's hearty laughter burst forth.
"That's the kind of man he's always been. Those rumors about having the qualities to become a Swordmaster—he spread all of them himself. Even when he was in good shape, his skills weren't at that level."
The Duke's eyes blazed. His lips parted as if to refute something.
But when his eyes met Sir Karl's, it was the Duke who looked away first.
"If you'd just quietly accepted the gold when it was offered, none of this would have happened, would it? Explain what scheme you were trying to pull by stalling for time."
My first thought was simple.
Was he trying to prevent me from going to Lantheim Castle in the south to rescue Father?
But that thought was quickly dismissed.
At most he could delay us by a day or two—the cost-benefit ratio wasn't good.
"You lot, spill everything!"
The Duke shouted at his retinue, including the fake duke.
"But Your Excellency, you didn't give us detailed explanations."
"Spill it! Just spill it anyway!"
"I'm just a mercenary to begin with. You didn't tell me anything specific."
The fake duke said.
"Just spill it anyway! Do your best according to the contract!"
Ah, this bastard.
"Speak yourself, you bastard."
The informal speech came out naturally.
According to noble etiquette, as the heir of a ducal house, I should use honorifics with an active duke.
But I couldn't show respect after witnessing this disgrace.
The Duke's eyes widened.
"Y-you illegitimate brat!"
I put force into the blade's tip. A bit more blood seeped out.
"You don't seem to grasp the situation. With just a little pressure on my sword, you die. And my soldiers will crush your rabble!"
House Grantz was never particularly known for strong military forces to begin with.
The fake duke before me was also a mercenary. Likely a significant portion of that 10,000-strong army was hastily gathered mercenaries too.
In fact, from what I could sense in the distance, the army was already collapsing from the rear, and deserters were trickling out, albeit slowly.
If 10,000 clashed with 10,000 in this state, we'd take some casualties, but we'd definitely win.
"Fine! Fine! I'll talk! No, I will speak!"
A thought suddenly occurred to me. Walther Von Krustein, who ended things by destroying just one mana hole and two semen holes without killing such trash—wasn't he a kind of saint?
As one who inherited a saint's blood, I exercised my own patience and refined my words.
"I'll ask one last time. What scheme were you plotting?"
"From the south! From the south! Reinforcements were supposed to come! If we could somehow tie you down for about 4 days, we'd attack you together with them in a pincer movement!"
Informal and formal speech were mixed together strangely.
But I didn't particularly care about that. That wasn't what mattered now.
"Four days means..."
"Yes. One day has already passed."
"What's the size of the reinforcements?"
"F-five thousand. But unlike us, they're elite troops."
Five thousand. Well, I didn't think combining this rabble with 5,000 could defeat us, but if they were truly elite, they could at least tie us down.
"Who's the commander?"
...
...
Duke Grantz spilled every piece of information as asked. Of course, there was no guarantee it was all true, but judging from how he shook his head and his subordinates' expressions, it didn't seem like lies either.
I was able to extract most of the information this way. Now I just needed to cross-check it in various ways to confirm its accuracy.
But I was curious about more.
"I understood your house maintained neutrality. You suddenly acted like this because you thought you could land a blow on Father, right?"
"Y-yes, that's right."
The answer came quickly.
"With troops like that? They don't seem very well-trained."
The enemy camp's situation as sensed through mana perception.
The rear collapse was intensifying even more than I'd felt earlier.
The mana of deserters was moving away one by one.
"A significant number are just serfs holding spears and wearing leftover armor."
The interjection didn't come from the Duke. It was the mercenary captain who'd been pretending to be the duke until just now.
I turned my gaze.
Contempt filled his eyes as he looked at the Duke.
Well, I understood. A man who became an idiot trying to cheat mercenaries out of their pay.
What mercenary would want to risk their life for such a person?
House Grantz was famous for being despised by mercenaries.
Yet it was a house that had no choice but to depend on mercenaries for national defense.
Their neutrality was probably maintained not because they wanted to, but because they had no choice.
"Should I call you Your Excellency?"
I asked in a deliberately sarcastic tone.
The mercenary captain dismounted. Then he knelt.
"Please spare my life. I've always admired Krustein's lofty name!"
It was a quick judgment.
"Fine. How many mercenaries do you command?"
"500 men. Besides that, there are about 1,500 mercenaries led by others. Of the 10,000, 2,000 are mercenaries, 1,000 are standing army, and the remaining 7,000 are peasant rabble."
"I-if you tell them that, what will..."
I brought the sword closer.
"Ah! No! Let him continue speaking!"
The effect was perfect.
The mercenary captain's gaze turned to the Duke. It held even more blatant contempt than before.
"Are the other mercenary captains here too?"
"Yes!"
With his answer, the mercenary captain gestured. Shortly after, three people came forward in turn. Two men and one woman. All three wore similar expressions.
Well, I understand. I would have done the same.
I turned my gaze to Duke Grantz.
"Your Excellency will surrender, correct?"
"O-of course."
That was enough.
I sheathed my sword.
Only when the blade left his neck did a sigh of relief escape him.
It was a pathetically pitiful sound.
I turned my gaze to the mercenary captains.
"Well, it wasn't a house that kept faith to begin with. But with this man's surrender, you're no longer obligated to keep faith either. Therefore, I make a counter-proposal. Be employed by me."
A brief silence flowed. The mercenary captains looked at each other. They seemed to exchange something through their gazes.
"As for money, well, I have plenty. Far more than the gold I showed earlier."
Before those words finished, all four mercenary captains knelt in unison.
It was a quick decision.
I'd been thinking for a while that it would be good to hire additional mercenaries.
But reality was harsh.
With war breaking out in the south, all the capable mercenaries had been sucked in that direction.
Even if some remained, there was no time to conduct hiring negotiations and write contracts.
But suddenly 2,000 mercenaries had rolled right in.
Lucky.
Of course, they weren't trustworthy. They were enemies just moments ago, weren't they?
Our house's reputation is supposedly high among mercenaries. Because of the "successful former mercenary" label attached to us.
But trusting that alone and turning our backs on them was still premature.
Well, it's fine.
Soon they'll be in a position where they can't betray us.
"Lise. Bring parchment and a map of the area."
"Yes!"
She moved quickly. Shortly after, two sheets of paper were in my hands.
I picked up a pen and marked a specific point on the map. Then I thrust it at the Duke.
"The enemy is stationed at this location. Send a letter telling them to come quickly, ambush, and launch a surprise attack. If the full army is difficult, tell them to send at least the cavalry first."
The Duke's face contorted.
But what could he do? He nodded.
That was enough.
I turned my gaze to the mercenary captains.
"This is your first battle after being hired. And I'll pay additional income based on enemy heads taken."
At those words, the corners of the mercenary captains' mouths rose.
Money. In the end, that's what moved them.
And one more thing.
If they cut down enemies in battle, they won't be able to betray us anymore.