Gaiden's eyebrow twitched in anger at the unilateral termination of the contract.
"You bastard! Do you think you'll get away with this?"
"And what if I don't? What happens then?"
Despite Gaiden's threats, Eric remained unfazed. It wasn't uncommon for mercenaries to rebel against their employers. This happened when wages were consistently delayed, promises were broken, or when the employer completely lost credibility and trust.
If they judged the situation to be hopeless, they'd overturn everything right then and there. And to Eric, now was precisely one of those times.
"Have you forgotten who I am? I am Gaiden Borel, vassal of the Corleone family!"
Gaiden continued to raise his voice, relying on the power and influence of his employer. When the employer's power was overwhelming, no matter how reckless, mercenaries couldn't act against them. The only reason Gaiden could wield such authority over the mercenaries until now was due to the backing of the Corleone family.
"The Count will not tolerate such a unilateral breach of contract!"
"Oh, really? He's a man who truly cherishes his subordinates. But do you think he'll still cherish a vassal who tried to kill his son?"
"W-What?"
Gaiden's eyes trembled violently. Kill him? Though he intended only to intimidate, he never actually planned to kill him.
"What nonsense are you spouting!"
"You told us to take the young master into a monster-infested area, didn't you?"
"When did I ever—!"
"Hey, cowardly knight."
Eric whispered to Gaiden, who was about to deny it as usual.
"It's the truth. Our entire mercenary group heard it. Should I inform the young master and that knight of yours, and take it to the Count's estate as witnesses? Hmm?"
"..."
Gaiden came to his senses at those words. Until now, he had been able to wield authority as he pleased because his voice held the upper hand. However, after the troll incident, his authority had crumbled. Now, both the illegitimate son, Roderick, and the mercenaries all regarded Gaiden with disdain.
'If everyone here were to join forces and support this man's claims…'
Gaiden could only envision his ruin. Facing reality, cold sweat trickled down his body. Eric smirked and licked his lips.
"Oh dear, my mouth feels so itchy. What's going on? I suddenly feel the urge to blurt out someone's orders."
"H-Hey."
"Ah! I can't hold it in any longer! The young ma—!"
"Alright, alright! You can do whatever you want with the contract!"
Gaiden grabbed Eric's arm and shouted desperately. But Eric merely shrugged his shoulders lightly.
"You're just going to end it like that?"
"What?"
"You should pay the remaining balance. We did successfully complete the mission, didn't we?"
"What do you mean!"
"Oh! My mouth feels itchy again!"
"...."
Seeing Eric fidget, Gaiden grimaced. He had no choice left.
***
The journey that followed was smooth. Gaiden didn't dare attempt any more tricks, and Sylas's party headed straight for the Count's estate by the shortest route. One of the reasons was that the security in the eastern region was particularly stable at the time.
The mercenary group disbanded when Sylas's party reached a bustling city since there was no longer any threat on their path.
"Thank you for your efforts."
"You're most welcome. If you ever need mercenaries again, please remember our Black Axe Mercenaries."
Eric maintained an extremely polite demeanor towards Sylas. A generous spender, someone who didn't give unreasonable orders, and who respected the dignity of mercenaries—the young master. Sylas was the best employer a mercenary could hope for. Eric wanted to leave a good impression, hoping to be hired again in the future.
"I will. I'll be sure to remember you. If something comes up, I'll call on you first."
"Thank you!"
Eric smiled brightly and bowed in response to Sylas's positive reply. For Sylas, having a connection with a mercenary group wasn't a bad thing either.
In this world, there's often a need to hire mercenaries.
Mercenaries make up the bulk of the military force in conflicts. For nobles, the best option would naturally be a standing army, but maintaining one is costly. Even maintaining a few hundred soldiers for a few years could drain the resources of most territories.
That's why nobles often hired mercenaries, spending money only when conflicts arose.
"Those guys are pretty decent mercenaries."
Mercenary groups vary greatly depending on the personalities of their members. Some don't follow orders and act recklessly, while others are as disciplined as an army. From Sylas's perspective, the Black Axe Mercenaries were satisfactory. As long as they were paid well, they followed orders diligently and didn't run away even when faced with trolls.
After the Black Axe Mercenaries left, the journey became even more pleasant. They passed through cities in quick succession, with many high-quality inns available along the way.
"Sir Gaiden, please pay for the lodging."
"Young master, why are you always asking me to pay? Isn't Sir Roderick here as well?"
"Are you refusing? If you don't want to wield your sword or pay, then what exactly do you do?"
At Sylas's sharp remark, Gaiden fell silent and paid the lodging fee. He couldn't protest, as his mistakes were too severe. Instead of protecting the young lord from the troll, he had retreated. At best, he faced demotion; at worst, he could be disgraced and expelled.
"Then, at least return my horse. Surely, there are more suitable mounts for you, young master. Perhaps that large horse over there."
"Hmm, I prefer this one. Why don't you buy that horse instead?"
"..."
Gaiden's last attempt to reclaim his horse was also shot down. Horses vary greatly in price depending on their type, and warhorses are especially expensive. His plan had been to reclaim his horse and charge the young lord's new horse to the family expenses, framing it as Sylas's extravagance.
Of course, Sylas was not oblivious to Gaiden's scheme.
"It seems you have many complaints, Sir. Should I inform my father of your brave conduct?"
"If the young master wishes, I will gladly be a witness."
"N-No! I have no complaints whatsoever!"
In the face of Sylas's ultimatum and Roderick's agreement, Gaiden finally surrendered. As Gaiden slumped his shoulders, Sylas happily feasted on a chicken leg.
"Ah, that's satisfying."
How much had that man tormented him in his previous life? Seeing Gaiden in this state felt like a ten-year weight had been lifted off his chest.
From then on, Gaiden dutifully played the role of sponsor. Sylas intentionally chose inns that were too expensive for Gaiden to bill as expenses, causing his expression to worsen with each stop.
By the time Gaiden's purse was down to just a few silver coins, Sylas's party finally arrived at the Corleone estate.
***
The Corleone estate was surrounded by walls of white stone. The castle, said to be built with ancient stonemasonry, boasted a majestic presence. As Sylas and his party approached the castle, a guard who noticed them stepped forward.
"Halt. Which estate are you from… huh?!"
The guard, recognizing Roderick and Gaiden, was startled and quickly bowed his head.
"Greetings, Sir Roderick and Sir Gaiden!"
"You're doing well. We are returning after completing our mission by order of our lord. Open the gates."
"Yes! But this person is...?"
"He is someone you don't need to know about. Open the gate."
"I-I apologize!"
At Roderick's words, the guard, now pale, hurriedly opened the gate. As Sylas and his party entered, people's eyes were drawn to their unusual appearance. The attention made Gaiden's face turn red with embarrassment. After all, he was walking alone, sandwiched between the two who were on horseback.
"Sir Gaiden, why don't you take a rest now? I believe Sir Roderick alone can manage the escort."
"I-I shall do that."
Grateful for Sylas's mercy, Gaiden quickly stepped back. Sylas chuckled softly and headed toward the castle with Roderick. As they passed, people whispered among themselves.
"The one beside him is Sir Roderick, but who's the other ?"
"His attire doesn't look noble, but he's riding a horse."
"Hey, you know, there were rumors about the lord searching for his illegitimate child."
"Whoa, so that boy is…?"
When Roderick shot them a glare, the people quickly dispersed in fright. But it was only temporary. As soon as the two walked further away, the crowd began murmuring again.
"These ignorant fools…!"
"Just leave them be. They're only curious."
Sylas genuinely didn't mind. After all, this world didn't have many amusements. When there's an interesting topic, people naturally get excited and talk about it. Responding to every whisper would be endless.
When the two arrived at the lord's mansion, someone had already come out to greet them.
"Welcome, Sir Roderick."
"Master Gordon!"
Roderick was surprised and immediately dismounted when he saw the elderly butler. Chief Butler Gordon—a loyal retainer who had served the family since the time of the previous count and the closest confidant of the current lord. In terms of practical authority, Gordon held a position higher than most knights. Roderick greeted him respectfully.
"I've returned after completing my mission. Is the lord available ?"
"He is resting, weary from his duties. If you have completed your mission, then this young man must be...?"
Gordon's gaze shifted to Sylas. Just as Roderick was about to introduce him, Sylas stepped forward and bowed himself.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Gordon. I am Sylas, grandson of Norman and son of Lyria."
Gordon's eyes twinkled with interest at Sylas's greeting. Though confident, he was not arrogant; respectful, yet not servile. His movements also had a sense of dignity that exuded an unexplainable grace. Although not in line with formal etiquette, it was only natural since he had never been taught.
'Hmm, could it be true that he really grew up among commoners?'
Gordon was quietly impressed. If he could be properly trained in etiquette, he would not fall short when compared to the young noblemen of any household.
'So, the blood of a dragon cannot be hidden, after all.'
Even if raised among commoners, a dragon's offspring must inevitably grow up as a dragon. There was a sense that noble blood was fundamentally different, no matter what.
If Sylas heard this, he would scoff at the thought.
'I spent ten years learning to create this atmosphere.'
When he first joined the family as a bastard, he felt like he would lose his mind. Every time he made a mistake, he would hear nonsense like,
"You can't help being of lowly blood."
Meanwhile, those with noble blood could misbehave and only be called "a foolish child," which made him even more frustrated.
To avoid hearing that lowly blood nonsense, he practiced "cultivating a noble atmosphere" for ten years. Now, he could act with more nobility than most nobles.