“Hey, knight sir. Just as you said, we’ve fled to this mountain, but what’s the plan from here on?”

In the eastern borderlands of the Dragnaut Duchy, within the Maris Mountains, a man with a face marred by a sword scar, an unkempt beard, and a strong body odor that wafted over from a distance, characteristic of a mercenary, called out to their leader who was commanding them.

Although he was referred to as a knight, the leader was, of course, not a true knight. He was a bandit who, due to his particular attention to appearance and discipline, was mockingly called “knight-like” by his subordinates.

In response to the man’s inquiry, the leader replied in a low voice.

“We’re to hole up in this mountain for a while. Just keep quiet.”

“For a while, huh? Being stuck in this mountain with nothing to do, we’ll die of boredom. The others are saying it too; we can’t stand it unless we bring in some women. Don’t worry, knight sir, we won’t trouble you. Just give a few of us permission to head down the mountain, and we’ll take care of the rest.”

There were no residents in the Maris Mountains, but if one descended and went a bit further, there were villages dotted around. The plan was likely to abduct villagers at random.

Upon hearing this, the leader’s eyebrows furrowed, and he glared at the man before him.

“I won’t allow such actions. If it becomes known that we’re abducting villagers, Astrid will discard her caution towards the empire and attack us. She is that kind of woman.”

Remembering the face of the enemy general who once belonged to the same country, the leader responded. The disreputable-looking man snorted with laughter.

“Then that’s even better. With that fearsome weapon you’ve got behind you, you could turn the deputy commander of the Dragon Knights into a honeycomb.”

Looking where the man gestured, there were five ballistae lined up. These were mobile, large-scale launchers, not shoddy products made from off-the-shelf materials but the real deal, used by armies for besieging castles.

The arrows fired from the ballistae were as thick and long as spears, capable of piercing through targets. Any half-decent shield or armor was practically useless against them, and a hit on a human would shatter the body beyond recognition. Even the proud Dragon Knights of the Canary Kingdom would have no chance against a concentrated attack from these ballistae.

Naturally, such armaments were not something that ordinary bandits could prepare. The fact that these weapons were already hidden in the mountains indicated that this operation was based on a thorough plan.

However, the leader immediately dismissed the man’s suggestion.

“These ballistae are a precaution for the worst-case scenario. Our role is to prolong the chaos in the Dragnaut Duchy as much as possible, not to kill Astrid.”

“If we take out the Duke of Dragnaut’s daughter, the chaos in the duchy will inevitably drag on, I’d think.”

“Enough! I didn’t ask for your opinion. Return to your post at once. Needless to say, you are not permitted to leave the mountain.”

“Yeah, yeah, understood, knight sir.”

The man left with a sarcastic shrug, not bothering to lower his head.

Watching his retreating figure, the leader kicked at the ground in annoyance.

Those who had fled to Maris Mountain were a collection of destitute stragglers. He had never expected manners or respect from such rabble.

Yet, the man’s behavior irked him more than he would like to admit.

—No, what truly irked him was his current position.

The leader thought this as he twisted his lips. Once a knight serving the Canary Kingdom, he was now commanding such mercenary refuse, laying waste to his homeland. It was natural for him to feel frustration at his fallen state.

He thought he had long lost any fastidiousness about dirty work, but it seemed remnants of his knightly ideals still lingered within him.

The irony of him, who had once slain innocent people while disguised as a bandit, now posturing as a knight protector of the people, did not escape him, yet the unease in his chest did not subside.

Perhaps it was largely because his adversary was Astrid Dragnaut, he considered.

The leader and Astrid had once been in the same unit. However, with her being the legitimate daughter and deputy commander from the ducal family, and he being a commoner-turned-knight, they hardly exchanged words.

Still, Astrid’s presence made the leader reflect on his past self. He couldn’t help but feel inferior comparing himself, who had walked the shadowed path, to Astrid, who continued walking in the sunlight.

The leader shook his head, trying to suppress the feelings of self-deprecation.

“Lord Dragnaut is a spineless sycophant who bowed to the empire, and Astrid is a weakling who cannot even advise her father against such actions. I am following Lord Daren’s orders to protect this country from the empire. Even if I stain my hands with heinous deeds for a time, it is I who truly worries for the nation.”

To the leader, who had been disgraced and stripped of his knightly status after a dispute with a noble officer and had fallen low before being taken in by Lord Clovis, Lord Clovis was both a benefactor and a respected patriot.

With the marriage of Prince Azar and Princess Sakuya, the Canary Kingdom came under the Adoastera Empire’s influence more than ever before. It was only a matter of time before it would become a vassal state of the empire.

Radical measures were necessary to cut through this trend. Measures like removing Lord Dragnaut from the position of prime minister so that Lord Clovis could take up the mantle again.

Such radical measures often come with the pain of bloodshed.

This didn’t just refer to the people the leader had killed. It included his own life as well.

After all, he was acting as a bandit within his own country. It was imperative to never reveal that Lord Clovis was behind this. Naturally, if captured, he could not expect any help from the duke and would only face execution as a bandit.

Lord Clovis had made this clear from the beginning, yet the leader had still accepted the mission.

Just as the leader had convinced himself there was no need to demean himself by comparing to Astrid, from the direction the dismissed mercenary had left, the sound of grass being crushed underfoot approached.

Thinking the man had more to say, the leader turned his gaze in that direction, only to have a spherical object thrown abruptly before him.

It was the size of a human head, and indeed, it was one.

The man who had mockingly called him “knight sir” just a while ago was now reduced to a head, rolling on the ground. His face still bore a slight smirk, as if he hadn’t realized he had been slain.

The leader, sensing the presence of a skilled swordsman, instinctively leapt back, drawing his sword from his hip.

Before him stood a young man with unfamiliar black hair, about twenty years old, from whose black sword dripped red droplets.

It was clear that these were the mercenary’s blood. The leader thought that had his reaction been any slower, his own head might have been severed as well.

However, calmly considering the situation, if the enemy had intended to ambush, he wouldn’t have announced his presence by throwing the head. Alerting him to his presence was a sign of the young man’s confidence, deeming a surprise attack unnecessary against mere bandits.

Realizing he was being underestimated, the leader clicked his tongue and spoke.

“You’re one of Dragnaut’s men. I commend you for sneaking up here, but you’ve wasted your young life. Now, you’ll serve as rust on my sword—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a blade flashed.

The leader had anticipated the attack, yet still couldn’t react in time.

In the next moment, his throat was deeply slashed by the enemy’s black sword, nearly severing it.

Blood gushed from the wound as if a dam had been breached.

The leader pressed his hand against his neck trying to stem the bleeding, but it was futile. He realized he had sustained a fatal wound.

Yet.

“Gu… h-haha…”

The face of the leader, upon realizing his death was imminent, bore not despair but a defiant smirk, proud of having accomplished what he had set out to do.

Though it was disguised, the leader’s sword was of imperial make, as were the ballistae.

The aim was to make this incident appear as an act orchestrated by the empire.

It was a trick, indeed. However, the existence of hawks like Crown Prince Richard within the empire made it difficult to outright dismiss these maneuvers as complete falsehoods.

And, if the empire’s involvement were suspected, it would naturally cast suspicion on Princess Sakuya, an imperial herself. Or rather, it was Lord Clovis’s intention to steer things in that direction.

By stirring up bandit trouble to diminish Lord Dragnaut’s influence and simultaneously spreading bad press about the empire and Princess Sakuya, the operation was a stone killing two birds for the anti-imperial Lord Clovis.

And now, the leader had fulfilled that strategy—a conviction that brought a smile to his face at his final moments.

The rest was up to Lord Clovis. As if it were his last duty, the leader, with his throat more than half severed, trembled as he formed his final words.

“To the empire, glory be.”

With those words, the leader’s consciousness faded to black.

His body, which had fallen to the ground with a thud, would never rise again.