Staring at the tent's flap for a few moments, Alistair finally turned his attention to his two companions.
“Are you two alright?” he asked.
The two were sweating heavily, their faces pale.
“Jeez, you need to warn us before doing something like that, Gramps,” Albert replied, taking deep breaths. Alistair smiled at him before looking at the woman.
“How are you holding up, Brita?” he asked with concern, placing a hand on her shoulder. His demeanor had changed; no longer was he the domineering clan head who had just terrified the enemy envoy.
“I'll be fine soon, my lord,” Bridget said after a moment. “Your aura caught me off guard; I should have prepared myself better.” She lowered her head as she spoke.
“We were both caught by surprise. Don't blame yourself; it's definitely this old man's fault,” Albert said, gesturing with his thumb at Alistair.
Rolling his eyes, Alistair chose to ignore Albert and walked toward the back of the tent, rummaging through one of the bags.
“We're all friends here, Brita. You should drop the formality when it’s just us.”
“My lord, I... surely I shouldn’t...” Taken aback by the sudden consideration, Bridget found herself at a loss for words.
“You can call me Al. Your father and I were close friends. Soon, you will be the new marchioness of Brahdeun. You need not hesitate.”
After a moment, Alistair finally found what he was looking for. He stood up, holding a small crystal ball in his hand.
“Or were you hoping for me to address you as 'my liege'?” Alistair teased, a smirk on his face.
“No! No, of course not, my lo... Al. I wouldn't dream of it,” Bridget replied, her sincerity shining through with a smile.
“Good! Now here.” Alistair presented the crystal ball to Bridget. A white glow appeared briefly on its surface before fading away.
“A tracking ball? What is this for?” Bridget asked, receiving the crystal ball with both hands and tilting her head in curiosity.
“This tracking ball is tuned to my mana. You can use it to track my mana within a 10-kilometer range.”
“Why would I need to...?” Bridget responded, confusion evident in her voice.
“The sword,” Alistair explained. “When I held it earlier, I planted a wisp of my mana in it. It should last for at least a week before dissipating.”
With her eyes wide open, Bridget finally understood the count's intention.
“At tomorrow's battle, I give you permission to lead as many of your cavalry units as necessary to reclaim the sword. Knowing that little prick, he'll probably run away the moment the battle shifts in our favor. So you need to move quickly.”
“At your command, sir!” Bridget replied energetically, standing straight with her left fist over her right chest, performing a formal salute in the Aenduil Army.
She had always respected the old man standing in front of her, but this meeting had revealed much more about him.
First, she learned just how strong he was. The aura he released was the most potent she had ever felt, even surpassing her father's at his peak. The way he unleashed it so effortlessly suggested that he was still holding back.
Bridget knew that Alistair was likely the strongest man in the kingdom; she just never imagined the gap would be this vast. He was in his nineties already—how powerful had he been before he peaked?
And that sword. Leaving mana inside an object not designed for it—how had he managed that? Any attempt at imbuing mana into a non-runic item should have been fleeting. She had never heard of anything like that being done before. But after witnessing his power firsthand, she wouldn’t be surprised to discover that the man was this capable.
The second, and more important, revelation was that the man held her—and her family—in high regard.
Her father had always told her that the close relationship between the Hammonds and the Roettgers was a key reason both families could thrive. But she hadn’t realized just how close that bond was.
The tracking ball was typically used on criminals of the highest charges. If they managed to escape, it allowed for a swift recapture. It was also employed for nobles, ensuring rapid rescue efforts in case of abduction. She even had one attuned to her own mana.
However, in the latter case, the ball was usually kept at home, guarded like treasure. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could be used against them.
The fact that the Count had so easily given her the ball meant he trusted her and wanted to foster a strong relationship. While she was expected to return the tracking ball after the battle, the gesture still held weight.
By entrusting her with the tracking ball and allowing her to seek vengeance for her father, the Count demonstrated his belief in her strength. For that trust, she would not let him down.
____________________________________
After dismissing Bridget, only two people remained in the tent.
Albert took the scabbard from his waist and placed it down on the table. He unbuttoned his jacket, then poured drinks into two glasses. He took both glasses and handed one to Alistair while taking a sip.
“That was quite a consideration you showed her. Do you have something in mind?”
“It's not that strange, is it? She'll soon be the head of House Hammond.” Alistair took the glass and sipped, gently stroking his face.
“It looks fine,” Albert remarked, noticing the Count. Alistair nodded and took another sip.
“Hooo, but I know you. If it were just to foster a future relationship, there would be no need to act so friendly. 'Call me Al'; yeah, right.” Albert scrutinized his companion's expression, squinting his eyes.
“Were you courting her? I know it's been a while, but the family would be glad if you took a wife,” Albert teased, winking at the Count with a smirk on his face.
Rolling his eyes, Alistair took another sip of his drink.
“You remember when I probed that little prick's group earlier?” Alistair asked after a moment.
“Yes. You stopped probing them when I felt it.” Albert's tone turned serious as he noted Alistair's expression.
“Well, she reacted to it before you did.” Alistair took another sip and looked Albert straight in the eyes.
“!! She... she's stronger than me?” Albert exclaimed, nearly dropping his glass in shock.
“No. Outside this tent, I don't think anyone is stronger than you. You still outlevel her by at least ten levels.”
“Then what do you mean?” Albert inquired, frowning.
“She didn't actually feel my probing, but her mana definitely reacted to it.”
“What does that mean?”
“If her mana is that sensitive, she likely has higher control over it. I saw her fight before; she definitely didn't know how to utilize it. With proper training, she should be able to increase her strength and maybe even develop her own style.”
“I see. Your newfound kindness toward her makes sense; you're considering taking her on as an apprentice.” Albert downed the rest of his drink, suddenly realizing something.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Wait! Is that why you released your aura earlier? Were you trying to impress her? Jeez, I thought it was strange that you got provoked so easily.”
“Sorry about that.” Alistair looked away, scratching his nose.
“You know what, I always—” Albert stopped mid-sentence as Alistair raised a hand to silence him.
The Count stared into the dark corner of the tent.
“Do you have anything to report?” Alistair assumed his authoritative persona while addressing the empty space.
The shadow in the corner began to shift, and a figure emerged from it. The person approached the Count and knelt on one knee before him.
Although the figure was now fully illuminated, their entire body remained shrouded in darkness. The shadow continued to shift and flow around them like liquid, making it impossible to discern any features.
“My lord, we might have some clues about the target.” The shadowy figure spoke, their voice a strange blend of low and high tones.
“Oh? You're Edward, right? Where's your father?” Alistair asked after studying the figure for a moment.
Surprised by the statement, the figure hesitated. Finally, the shadow peeled away from their body, splashing to the ground before dissipating.
A man was revealed, kneeling before Alistair. Clad in Aenduil knight armor, he had black hair and eyes. His cheeks were sunken, and his nose was crooked. At first glance, one might assume he was ill.
“Yes, I'm Edward, my lord. Due to the lack of time and preparation, our intelligence-gathering capability has been significantly reduced. My father decided to infiltrate the enemy camp himself to find information about the person who killed Lord Hammond,” Edward explained, this time in a normal voice.
“Okay, give me your report.”
The man stood up from where he was kneeling.
“It was a man named Olli. The army register lists his full name as Oliver Anders, son of a baron from the Crilia kingdom. However, we suspect he might actually be from the church-state of Radroveth.”
“What makes you think he came from Radroveth?” Albert asked from the side.
“He was wearing standard guardsman armor from Crilia. However, the sword he carried, more specifically the scabbard, bears the same design as those used by Radroveth's paladins. Eyewitness accounts indicated that Lord Hammond was killed by two squads of knights in white armor carrying large shields, which we now believe were crusader units.”
“Tell me more about John's death,” Alistair asked, a hint of dejection in his voice.
“My lord, the witnesses have discrepancies in their accounts, but most agree that the two crusader units focused on subduing the marquess rather than killing him. Even after losing half their men, they persisted.”
“Any ascended among the crusaders?” Albert inquired.
“We don't know for sure, but probably not. All witnesses described the units as wearing the same armor, indicating they likely didn't have an ascended commander. If they did, they shouldn't have lost that many men to Lord Hammond.”
“But on the other hand,” Albert, still unconvinced, continued, “I don't think two units of high-leveled grand masters would be enough to kill Lord Hammond, let alone subdue him.”
“Actually, that’s possible,” Alistair said, drawing the attention of the two men. He continued, “Radroveth has its own… unique training for their church’s awakened warriors, one aspect of which is formation skills. In this case, I assume they used some kind of sealing formation.
“Of course, they shouldn’t be able to seal John, but if they’re willing to sacrifice their lives, these Crusaders might be able to hold him down for a while at least. Although I never considered the Crusaders to be the sacrificing-their-own-lives type.”
“What happened after that?” Alistair asked Edward.
“My lord, after managing to hold the Marquess down, Olli then stabbed Lord Hammond through the heart. He was either fighting alongside the Crusaders or waiting in the back until the Marquess was subdued. We don’t know, but judging by the minimal damage to Olli’s armor, we assume the latter.”
“What do you have on this Olli person?” Alistair inquired, deep in thought.
“Not much, my lord. We don’t even know his level. As for his class, he is either a Prime Crusader, an Altum Paladin… or a Hero.”
“Wait, a Hero?!” Albert exclaimed. “That can’t be right. It’s been hundreds of years since the last Hero died. Unless there is a significant threat against humanity, a Hero wouldn’t be born. A Hero is a unique class, meaning that there can only be one at a time, and they are born with it. The boy is what, twenty years old? There’s no way a demon incursion has been occurring for the last twenty years without us knowing.”
“It's the sword, right?” Alistair inquired the man. “You suspect that the boy is carrying a holy sword.”
“Yes, my lord. We were confused about why the crusaders would go to that extent to let the boy take the kill. Although Lord Hammond has a very high level, the boy won't get much experience from the battle; he barely did anything. But still, the sword exuded some kind of light after Olli killed Lord Hammond. The only way it would make sense is if it was a holy armament.”
“How would a holy sword make sense?” Albert asked.
“A Hero receives a holy armament from the goddess. One of the weapon's effects is that it would take full experience of any being that it kills,” Alistair explained, while he seemed to still be pondering something.
“That's... that's cheating,” Albert said, wide-eyed. “Wouldn't that mean that with proper support, a Hero can level up quickly?”
“Yes, one of the perks of being a chosen one,” Alistair sighed. “But it doesn't matter. Just like you said, the chance he's a Hero is meager. But that sword might be a problem, though...”
When the two men kept staring at him, Alistair realized they were waiting for him to continue. He took a deep breath before continuing.
“Holy armaments are meant for Heroes, so only a Hero can fully utilize the weapon's effects. But that doesn't mean a non-Hero couldn't use it.
“Holy armaments are growth-type weapons. You can say they have their own level. The weapons are supposed to grow alongside their designated Heroes. You already know how they can give their Hero full experience of their kills. But what if a non-Hero handled the weapon? All those experiences would go to the weapon, thus doubling its leveling-up speed.
“So, even if the boy couldn't utilize some of the sword's effects, it doesn't change the fact that he wields a powerful weapon.”
“Should we assassinate him?” Edward asked after a while. “Father is still near him right now.”
Alistair contemplated the suggestion. He stood up and began pacing around the tent. After some thought, he finally made his decision.
“No, let him be. There are still too many uncertainties. Unless Wade can subdue the boy secretly and bring him here... No, that's not possible. The boy would have his own shadows. There's no way Radroveth would leave him unguarded, especially not with that sword he's carrying.
“If they're feeding the sword high-experience targets, then tomorrow, they'll be aiming for me. Either they want to grow the sword, or they plan to use it on me. Either way, by tomorrow, the boy won't be a problem anymore.”
The other two in the tent came to the same conclusion, though Albert didn’t seem entirely comfortable with it.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“? Yes, I'm sure. I’m the strongest in our kingdom. If they’re saving the sword for someone, that would be me. The boy will aim for me tomorrow.”
“No, I mean... are you sure about confronting him? You just said the sword is a problem. Is it wise? I think you should bring two more elite cavalry units.”
Alistair noticed how troubled Albert seemed. He walked over and placed his right hand on Albert’s shoulder.
“There’s no need to worry. Even if, by some chance, the boy could harm me, I can always retreat.
“Bringing more elite men with me might actually scare him off. If we lose him now, who knows when we’ll get another chance. With Radroveth backing him, he could vanish, and that’s a problem I don’t want to deal with later.”
Seeing the resolve in Alistair’s eyes, Albert couldn’t find another argument to dissuade him. He nodded slowly, accepting the decision.
Directing his attention to Edward, the Count once again addressed the young shadow.
“Tell me about the army. According to the intel, they should be a standard army, no?”
“Yes, my lord. The intel is correct. My father and his men have finished scouring the enemy's camp. Most of the soldiers are unclassed. For those with class, except for some elite units here and there, most of them are below master level.”
“Details?”
“Around 60% are unclassed, 10% are initiates, 20% are adepts, and 10% are masters. Besides that, there should be no more than 70 grand masters. Father couldn't approach some of the large tents of the army, but he was sure that there were no ascended.”
“Wait,” Albert seemed to realize something. “That should be, what? 5,000 awakened with 70 grand masters, but not one ascended?
“That doesn't make sense. John's was an awakened army, was it not?”
“That's correct,” Edward answered. “Among the 2,000 in Lord Hammond's army, there were supposed to be around 200 initiates and adepts. They were part of the hunting group active around the border. The rest were masters, with 150 grand masters and Lord Hammond himself, who was an ascended.”
“With that kind of force,” Alistair said, “even if they were heavily outnumbered, they should be able to defend their position until reinforcements arrive. Even more so, with the enemy's composition, they should be able to counterattack after a few days of defending.”
After thinking for a moment, Alistair asked the young shadow again. “Any information about other ascendeds? Maybe some were killed or injured and had to retreat?”
“None, my lord. My father rushed to the frontlines as soon as the first reports of the invasion came in. He managed to infiltrate the enemy by the end of the day when the battle concluded. If there were any ascended, he would’ve mentioned it in his report.”
Alistair and Albert looked at each other, both seeming to share the same thought.
“An elite detachment unit,” Albert said. “They probably formed a unit consisting of all the ascendeds they had, plus some of their highest-leveled grand masters. That has to be it—there’s no way they could’ve killed John without an ascended.”
“That would explain things,” Edward interjected. “Eyewitnesses said that Lord Hammond died on the field, outside his defended position.
“If the enemy used an elite unit comprised of ascended and high-level grand masters, they would strike at the flank or rear of Lord Hammond's army. The plan would be to disrupt the defense's formation and mount a pincer attack from both within and outside the formation.
“But it didn't go according to their plan. Instead of staying confused, Lord Hammond decided to abandon his position and charged straight at the enemy's commander.”
“I would have done the same,” Albert added. “If the enemy commander has no ascended protecting them, targeting them would be a no-brainer. It was probably even more than that. John was quite mana-sensitive. I think he not only felt the absence of the ascended in the enemy camp, but he also sensed their approach from the flank or rear before they even neared his position. He likely abandoned his position before the ambush occurred.”
“So it was luck, then.” The count shook his head slowly, looking down. The apparent non sequitur from the count caught the two men's attention.
“The detached unit was supposed to wear John down. After incurring enough damage, the two crusader units would step in and seal his movement. Finally, the holy prick would feed John to the sword.
“That was a terrible plan; too many things could go wrong. But although things did not go according to their plan, nothing went wrong. It was pure luck.
“If John had chosen to stay and fight the ascended unit, the enemy would have realized that he was much stronger than they thought. He probably wouldn't be able to defeat them, but he was strong enough to hold on and safely retreat when things went south, long before the two crusader units could reinforce the ascended unit.
“On the other hand, when John confronted the crusader units, they probably thought he was running away after losing a fight against the ascended unit. That's why they were confident enough to go against an ascended with only two crusader groups—they believed he was heavily wounded.
“If only they knew he was unharmed. Instead of trying to seal him, they would have tried to buy time for the ascended unit's reinforcement. That, of course, would have led to their demise: the enemy commander died, and John retreated safely.
“Huh, would you look at that? Two wrongs did make a right this time.” Alistair looked up at the tent's ceiling and sighed.
BAM! Alistair slammed the glass onto the table. The glass, the liquid in it, and half of the table disintegrated instantly. The resulting shockwave shattered the chairs and knocked over the rest of the furniture.
Albert immediately summoned a mana shield, while Edward did the same. However, Edward was pushed back three steps before collapsing to the ground. His face turned pale, but he quickly scrambled to his feet, though his legs trembled slightly.
Alistair’s mana had been agitating ever since they began discussing Lord Hammond, and that strike on the table unleashed an unintentional mana wave.
A low, lingering hum filled the air, accompanied by a faint vibration.
Taking deep breaths, Alistair closed his eyes. Slowly, his mana began to settle.
Several soldiers rushed to the entrance of the tent, but Albert stopped them with a raised hand and gestured for them to leave.
After a moment, Alistair turned toward the two men, his expression apologetic. That wasn't supposed to happen. Bowing his head slightly, he acknowledged the unintended outburst.
“I apologize. You had to witness that unsightly side of me.”
“No, my lord!” Edward immediately dropped to his knees. “We understand how close you were to Lord Hammond. Please, lift your head!”
“He's right,” Albert added. “Given your relationship with John, not showing any reaction would’ve been strange.
“And if it still bothers you, just hold on until tomorrow. You’ll get to meet that boy face-to-face.”
“Yes,” Alistair muttered. “One way or another, everything will be resolved tomorrow,” he said, staring toward the enemy camp.
“Now, let's continue. There's more we need to discuss.” Alistair clapped his hands once, looking at both men. “How much information do we have about the enemy's hidden second army and the traitors within our ranks?”