A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles

“Are you saying that House Lerum has sent an envoy of surrender?”

“Yes. They have sent Sir Polcar as the envoy.”

“Well…”

Lucian let out a dry, incredulous laugh.

Only a single day had passed, and they were already talking about surrender.

If it was going to end like this, why had they dared to provoke Lucian so recklessly in the first place?

To make matters worse, they had chosen none other than Polcar as the envoy—the very source of nearly this entire disaster.

At a glance, it might have seemed like an appropriate choice, but in truth, it was nothing more than sending a vassal as a scapegoat.

In terms of the relationship between lord and subject, that was equivalent to throwing away mutual trust, the most important thing of all.

“Is the viscount out of his mind? Throwing away, on his own, the honor he valued so highly.”

“I suppose he finally ran headlong into reality. While he hesitated, he must have realized that his family could truly be annihilated, and only then did he react.”

“Well, he certainly reacted early.”

Grumbling, Lucian stepped outside the tent.

Under the gaze of the soldiers, Polcar was kneeling with his forehead pressed to the ground, not moving in the slightest.

Even as an envoy of surrender, it was an excessively humiliating posture for a knight.

“The unworthy Polcar presents himself before His Majesty the King!”

“The King, you say?”

Hearing Polcar’s shout, Lucian smiled with irony. Until now, they had only called him “Your Majesty,” carefully avoiding the word king.

But now that war was at the doorstep, no one had even asked them to, and they were already rushing to use that title.

That sudden change in attitude drew a sneer from Lucian’s lips.

“How pleasant that sounds. I’ll have to tell Marquis Bernhardt. That House Lerum has called me king. I’m sure he’ll be delighted and consider them the pride of the west.”

“Of course. Until now, we failed to show the proper respect to His Majesty the King, but having come to our senses, even if late, how could that not be a cause for joy? The marquis will surely be pleased as well!”

Far from being startled, Polcar immediately accepted Lucian’s mockery and pressed his head even harder against the ground.

Servility that would have been unthinkable in the Polcar of before.

Lucian clicked his tongue.

“Impressive. That a person can change so much in just one day is truly admirable.”

“Thank—”

“Enough. Shut your mouth. It’s starting to sound more like sarcasm than flattery.”

When Lucian’s voice turned cold, Polcar shuddered.

Just as he had suspected, it was not pure flattery, but a clumsy, desperate attempt at resistance.

So pathetic that it was utterly meaningless.

“Take out the surrender document the viscount gave you. I’m curious to see what nonsense he wrote this time.”

Though he pressed his lips together at the blatant humiliation toward his lord, Polcar took the document from his chest.

Lucian received it through a soldier, read it, and formed an icy smile.

“So you’ll throw open the castle gates to welcome me, and in exchange, I leave your territory intact?”

“That is correct. The viscount wishes—”

“At a glance, it’s a trap. The moment I cross the gates, you plan to assassinate me.”

“W-what?”

“In any group, losing the leader is enough for everything to collapse. The viscount thought this through well. And in a chaos that has barely even begun—who would have thought he’d be this adept at strategy.”

At those unexpected words, Polcar’s face turned white as paper.

He had come personally to deliver the document, prepared to become a sacrificial outlet if necessary.

He had even endured humiliation that would remain an eternal disgrace to his lineage.

And yet—assassination?

“It’s a misunderstanding! This is nothing more than—”

“I don’t need such pitiful excuses. If you want to prove it’s a misunderstanding, tell the viscount to come himself and kneel.”

“Y-Your Majesty the King!”

“What? Is that unreasonable? If the head of the family comes in person, no one will doubt your sincerity.”

Polcar was about to argue back, but when he met Lucian’s eyes, he stopped.

He understood instantly that no matter what he said, Lucian had no intention whatsoever of changing his conditions.

“Go and tell the viscount. Tell him not to send another scapegoat and to come himself. And if this time as well he intends to protect his honor to the very end, tell him that I will strip away everything else.”

“…Yes.”

Despite the humiliation of the condition, Polcar could only nod, lacking the strength to do anything else.

After all, he had not even managed to fulfill the role of sacrifice that had been assigned to him.

***

Viscount Oleg Lerum, lamenting Lucian’s proposal but with no other choice, personally went out through the castle gate.

Accompanied only by a minimal escort, he reached the camp and spoke in a dry voice.

“Your Majesty the King, as you ordered, I have come in person.”

“So you came yourself. The head of a noble family, kneeling to come beg for forgiveness.”

“…”

“Don’t you have even a shred of dignity? No, I misspoke. Why was someone without dignity so arrogant in front of me?”

At Lucian’s insults, Viscount Oleg trembled with shame.

He knew he had been summoned with the intention of humiliating him, but experiencing it firsthand was far more painful than he had imagined.

He had never thought that, as the head of his family, he would be treated in such a manner.

For a moment, he even thought it would be better to die fighting than to endure such humiliation, but he did not have the courage to do so.

As the one responsible for his lineage, he could not allow a momentary impulse to doom his entire family.

“…Even if I had ten mouths, I would have nothing to say. I can only beg for your forgiveness, Your Majesty.”

“Forgiveness? It’s not impossible to grant. As long as you pay the price for your sins.”

“If you indicate a punishment befitting my offenses, I will carry it out with complete sincerity.”

“Until the bridge is fully repaired, you will treat my soldiers generously. In addition, you will pay compensation befitting the injuries suffered by my knight, Hugo. And you will hand over an arm from the knights who insulted me.”

The viscount’s eyes shook violently.

The first and second conditions, though painful, were acceptable.

Lucian had deliberately left the terms ambiguous to inflate the cost, but even so, they were payments the family could bear if it squeezed all its resources.

But the third condition was impossible to accept.

“I will comply with any other demand, but please do not touch my knights.”

“They insulted me. Didn’t they call me an incompetent king and a parasite king? At this point, it wouldn’t even be strange to cut off their heads.”

“Your Majesty the King…!”

Viscount Oleg struck his forehead against the ground, begging desperately.

Sending Polcar as a scapegoat had been, barely, something tolerable.

Although he had fallen into a trap, Polcar was responsible for at least half of the conflict, and moreover, he himself had vehemently insisted on taking on that role.

He had probably believed that sacrificing himself was the only way to recover honor already sunk in the mud.

But cutting off the arms of the knights was an entirely different matter.

Unlike Polcar, they had only muttered a few words in secret.

Demanding an arm from them for that was excessive.

‘Even if it’s an order from their lord, what knight would hand over an arm that is worth as much as his life?’

For a knight, losing the use of an arm was not merely becoming crippled.

It meant completely losing his art with the sword, his reason for existing, and never again being able to return to the battlefield.

Using a lord’s authority to demand arms as punishment for insults would not only destroy the knights’ loyalty, but would also turn the viscount into an object of contempt throughout the entire Empire.

Even other vassals might turn their backs on him.

“Your Majesty the King, I beg you to reconsider the third condition. I will do anything else…”

“Anything? Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

The viscount answered without hesitation.

He did not believe it possible that Lucian would propose something even worse.

Satisfied, Lucian asked.

“Let me ask you something. Can the river be crossed?”

“Eh? The bridge is still destroyed…”

“I’m not talking about moving an entire army. I mean sending one or two people to the other side of the river.”

“That is possible.”

It was not easy.

Even a strong swimmer could be dragged to death by the current.

Even so, with safety ropes tied around the waist and people pulling from behind in case of emergency, it was possible to send one or two people across.

“Good. Then send a messenger.”

“A messenger? To whom…?”

Lucian smiled darkly.

“To the feudal lords who, like you, decided to grab my ankle along the way.”

“…”

***

“Is the bridge still destroyed?”

“Yes. It seems it broke again when it was already almost repaired.”

“Puhahaha! Viscount Oleg is doing an excellent job!”

Karyan Baltz, viscount of House Baltz, burst into laughter.

When he first heard that an army of five thousand men from the north was advancing, he had been extremely tense.

If such a force unleashed chaos in the west, he would have no way to stop it.

But now, what was happening?

They could not even get past House Lerum, located on the western edge, and were just going around in circles without advancing.

It no longer looked like an army of five thousand men, but five thousand idiots.

“At this rate, they might return to the north exhausted before even reaching our lands. I prepared thoroughly at the marquis’s request, and it turns out Oleg will take all the credit by himself.”

Though he said it that way, there was no real regret on Karyan’s face.

Allowing an outside army of five thousand men to enter his territory was hardly a pleasant experience.

‘It’s about time they learn their place and go crawling back to the north.’

“Viscount! A letter from House Lerum has arrived!”

While calmly drinking his tea, Karyan blinked at the voice from outside.

A letter just after receiving the report that the bridge was still destroyed?

“How the hell did they send a letter if the bridge is broken?”

“It seems the messenger swam across the river!”

“What? But why?”

Karyan frowned, perplexed.

It was not the first time a messenger from House Lerum had crossed the river by swimming when a natural disaster destroyed the bridge.

In the past, someone skilled at swimming would cross first and then shoot the letter tied to an arrow, keeping it from getting wet.

However, it was a dangerous method, with a real risk of drowning, used only in extreme emergencies.

‘What urgent matter could House Lerum have now to risk a messenger like that?’

With doubts, Karyan took the letter. The seal was perfect, and despite having been carried by someone soaked, the text was intact.

He sat down calmly and opened it.

The moment he read the first line, his expression froze.

— The duke has occupied my castle.