Everyone fell silent, surprised by the young noble's unexpected reaction.

The commander narrowed his eyes defiantly under Elysian's piercing gaze. "Young master, we've been investigating the matter since it was reported. These things take time—"

"Time?" Elysian interrupted, his eyebrows arched. "While you dawdle, honest merchants like Sir Benedict suffer. I expect better from you, Commander."

The atmosphere suddenly grew tense at Elysian's reproach. The troops were flabbergasted by the criticism thrown at their superior. Even though Elysian was the Baron's son, he wasn't the Baron himself, and many felt he had overstepped by castigating the commander so publicly.

Cedric bristled at the young noble's tone. Instead of responding verbally, he remained silent, letting his smoldering eyes convey his displeasure.

Benedict observed this exchange with growing interest. A beaming smile spread across his face as he sensed an opportunity emerging from the conflict.

Elysian, maintaining his act, turned back to Benedict with a sympathetic expression. "Sir Benedict, rest assured that Ironspire's full might will do its utmost to prevent such incidents in the future."

Benedict, emboldened by what he perceived as an unexpected ally, bowed deeply. "You're too kind, young master. Your support means the world to me in these trying times."

As Benedict groveled, Elysian allowed the briefest smirk to cross his face before quickly replacing it with a look of concern. "Indeed. These are truly trying times. Chaos reigns in Ironspire, and at the worst possible moment, with my father and the bulk of our forces away."

"All you've said is indeed correct, young master," Benedict nodded in agreement.

"Not only that, we are besieged on all sides by outside forces," Elysian muttered, before sighing in apparent powerlessness.

"What do you mean, young master?" Benedict paled, his complexion suddenly losing its luster.

"Traitors, good sir," Elysian savored the moment as he studied the merchant's face. "I'm talking about traitors." Glancing at Cedric, he continued, "Isn't that right, Commander?"

The commander's frowning face softened as he realized where this was going. A vicious smile spread across his features. "You're right, young master." He paused for emphasis. "Traitors."

The atmosphere in the training ground suddenly grew tense. This time, the tension wasn't directed at Elysian but at the merchant himself.

"That's a very dangerous accusation to throw around without evidence, young master," Benedict said, chuckling nervously as he tried to ease the suffocating tension. "Having close relationships with nobles from other territories doesn't necessarily mean being a traitor. We aren't at war with them. It's just a matter of diplomacy and necessity for peace and prosperity to build close relationships for the betterment of Ironspire."

"I concede. You're right, sir," Elysian sighed, nodding his head in agreement. "Of course, you speak the truth. Building relationships with our neighbors is indeed not betrayal but necessary and important. More so for Ironspire, which has such poor natural resources to support its large population."

This concession brought a smile to the merchant's face, his expression softening considerably.

Elysian continued, his tone deceptively casual, "As long as these relationships don't supplant or surpass one's loyalty to their land and lord, wouldn't you agree?"

"Young master, I assure you my loyalty to Ironspire and your father is unassailable," Benedict declared, his unease returning. "I swear that to the gods themselves."

"May the gods curse and punish those traitors, liars, and charlatans," Elysian nodded, his eyes as scrutinizing as a serpent's. "May they and their entire lineage be extinguished from the rivers of fate. Isn't that right, Sir Benedict?"

"Right, young master," the merchant's smile looked strained, each word seeming laborious. "Right."

"We never doubted your loyalty to Ironspire." Elysian glanced at Cedric. "Isn't that correct, Commander?"

"Correct," Cedric responded, but his glare spoke otherwise. This was echoed by the watching soldiers, their responses blending into a cacophonous sound so forceful and full of emotion that it made the merchant tremble, nearly falling to his feet from the pressure.

"And what do we do to traitors, Commander?" Elysian asked again, this time with a smirk in his voice as if this was nothing but the product of his whims.

Cedric's lips curled into a cruel smile. "We skin them alive, young master. We cut each part of their bodies slowly and painfully. We make sure to keep them alive. To make them suffer worse than death. After we are done with them, they sure wish we just killed them."

Benedict's face had gone ashen, sweat beading on his brow from the indirect threat. He glanced frantically between Elysian and Cedric, his mind racing in panic.

"However, since we know you are loyal to my father and the barony, you have nothing to worry about," Elysian said with a relaxed and playful laugh, as if nothing had happened. "Isn't that right, Commander?"

"Absolutely, young master," Cedric chuckled, playing along while the soldiers surrounding them responded in chorus, adding to the pressure of the moment.

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"See? Even the commander and the soldiers have unwavering faith in your loyalty, sir," Elysian chuckled upon seeing the merchant's constipated look. "And to ensure that belief stays strong in these tumultuous times, why not make a donation to the military?"

Benedict's eyes widened in surprise while the commander and soldiers' smiles broadened into grins, as if they had just cornered their prey.

"By giving a heartfelt donation, you'll ensure that these soldiers will continue to believe that you have an unwavering loyalty during these trying times," Elysian continued nonchalantly. "Additionally, this will give them extra incentive and motivation to safeguard your wares from the wolves prowling the streets of Ironspire at the moment."

Benedict's eyes darted around, taking in the hungry gazes surrounding him.

"Isn't that a win-win situation, sir?" Elysian pressed when the merchant remained quiet, his mind clearly racing. "Not only are you ensuring you won't be robbed again and suffer such considerable losses, but you're also proving your loyalty. I'm sure when my father returns, he'll be most grateful for your steadfast support, especially compared to those other despicable, traitorous nobles who continually and shamelessly consume Ironspire from within."

The merchant swallowed hard, glancing around at the hungry eyes bearing down on him. "M-may I ask how much I would need to donate to show my undying loyalty to you, young master?"

"Tsk, not to me, good sir," Elysian sighed, feigning disappointment. "But your undying loyalty to my father, the Baron, and Ironspire and its people. Don't confuse the two, alright?"

Benedict nodded powerlessly. "Then, how much would I need to donate to show my undying loyalty to the Baron and Ironspire, young master?"

"Good, good," Elysian chuckled, nodding approvingly. "It's nothing much, just ten percent..."

Benedict's face paled at the amount. "Young master?!"

"Of sales," Elysian continued, grinning widely. "Not profit, good sir. Sales." He emphasized as the merchant reflexively stepped back, stumbling and falling to the ground. Benedict's words caught in his throat as he couldn't utter a sound upon learning the amount he had to pay. Only his widened eyes and gaping mouth spoke to the state of his mind.

'Greedy bastards. Ironspire and its people have been dying away, while you and your ilk bragged and celebrated, sucking it dry to quench your unrelenting greed. Now, let's see how you'll feel when it's your turn to be drained.'

Elysian strolled closer and leaned in to Benedict, his voice barely above a whisper. "You see, Sir Benedict, loyalty is a curious thing. It's not measured by grand declarations or oaths to the gods. It's proven through actions, through choices made when no one is watching." He paused, letting his words sink in. "And sometimes, it's revealed in the things we say and do when we think we're being clever. I hope this serves as a lesson and a warning," he paused for a moment to drive his point across. "And maybe an opportunity, a hope that you can get away from this unscathed"

The merchant opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Then, before long, he sighed, realizing and coming to terms with the fact that he had no choice but to accept the reality of his situation.

"Excellent decision," Elysian whispered before he straightened, addressing the gathered soldiers. "Gentlemen, Sir Benedict here has graciously agreed to show his unwavering support for Ironspire. I trust you'll ensure his generous contribution is put to good use in strengthening our defenses and making it a much safer place for someone as loyal as Sir Benedict here."

The soldiers nodded enthusiastically, their earlier menacing looks transforming into expressions of mocking respect for the merchant's "generosity."

Benedict slowly rose to his feet, dusting off his clothes with trembling hands.

"To celebrate this wondrous occasion," Elysian announced, his voice ringing with mock joviality, "you can all eat and drink to your heart's content at the Silver Feast today. All expenses paid by our generous patron here." Even though he merely clapped Benedict softly on the back, it nearly sent the already unsteady merchant tumbling to the ground again. The weight of his mounting losses, both from the previous night and this unexpected 'donation,' seemed to physically press down on Benedict's shoulders and greatly weaken his knees.

"Isn't that right, sir?" Elysian prompted, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

"Y-yes," Benedict nodded, his smile a rictus of pain and barely concealed despair. "If you'll excuse me, young master." The merchant hurriedly made for the exit of the training ground, moving with the desperate energy of a man who feared that every additional moment in this place would cost him more than he could afford to lose.

As Benedict's retreating form grew smaller, Elysian called out to the assembled soldiers, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Why don't we give our patron a round of applause for his kind generosity?"

The air filled with the thunderous sound of clapping, punctuated by whoops and cheers. The mock celebration seemed to spur Benedict to even greater haste. His gait became a comical mix of speed-walking and near-running, his desperation to escape evident in every movement.

In his haste, Benedict stumbled several times, each fall eliciting a fresh wave of laughter from the crowd. The once-proud merchant, now reduced to a fleeing jester, provided a spectacle that the soldiers reveled in. Their mocking laughter echoed across the training ground, a cacophony of derision that chased Benedict as he fled.

Elysian watched the scene unfold with a mixture of satisfaction and contempt. This public humiliation served multiple purposes: it solidified his own position and image with the soldiers, gave a financial reprieve to the already stretched thin coffers of the military, and provided a much-needed morale boost for the troops. The young noble had orchestrated a masterful display of political theater, turning a simple shakedown into an event that would advance his goals a step ahead than before.

As the soldiers dispersed, still chuckling and discussing the unexpected entertainment, Elysian allowed himself a moment of quiet reflection before turning to Cedric. His voice was low but filled with authority as he spoke, "Ensure our dear patron follows through on his promises, Commander. And keep a close eye on his activities in the coming days. If he shows any adversarial response, inform me immediately."

Cedric nodded, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips. "With pleasure, young master. We'll make sure he understands the full extent of his new... responsibilities."

"Good, good," Elysian chuckled, nodding his head. However, he soon noticed the commander's piercing gaze, squinting tightly as if deep in thought while quietly observing the young noble. "Is there a problem, Commander?"

Cedric did not respond for a long moment before he sighed. "There is none, young master. There is none." He turned his back and began to walk away, but then paused. "I don't know what you're planning or how you're involved in the recent events, but I hope you've thought it through carefully. Don't throw us and Ironspire into a pit of snakes, young master."

Glancing back for a moment, Cedric nodded, a smile of appreciation crossing his weathered features. "No matter the case, thank you, young master. This will greatly help the soldiers. We won't forget what you did today."

'I hope so, Commander. I hope I haven't added to this already chaotic situation.'

Elysian watched the commander disappear into the distance before lifting his gaze to the noon sun, sighing deeply. The weight of his actions and their potential consequences pressed heavily upon him. He turned towards the exit, his voice tinged with a mixture of determination and weariness. "Let's go," he said, as his two silent companions fell into step behind him.