Chapter 22

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: There Is No Mercy Chapter 22

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Surprised, I turned to look beside me. One of the knights who had been maintaining his gear was heading toward the training grounds—still in session—with just a single sword in hand.

He was a knight of such massive build that he could be called a giant.

As he moved for the training grounds, the other knights tried to stop him, but he shook them off like they were hanging on him and pushed toward the center.

The knights in the midst of training stared at the approaching giant with impassive eyes before their lips curled into smirks one after another.

At the blatant mockery, angry veins bulged on the giant's forehead.

"Laughing? Look at these bastards. You think this situation's funny?"

"We're laughing 'cause it's funny. What, you want us to cry?"

The knight commanding the training from the center stepped forward to confront the giant.

He was a sturdy man whose physique didn't pale much even compared to the hulking giant.

"Who's that man?"

I nodded my chin toward the one trading barbs with the giant.

Obern took a step aside to check his face.

"That's Gilbert Vice Knight Captain. The man appointed two months ago."

"Two months ago?"

"He was an imperial knight serving at the court, but due to family matters, he gave up his imperial post and came to Brilloxen territory. His skills are top-notch, his record solid, so he filled the vacant vice captain spot perfectly."

"First I've heard of it."

"I reported it separately, but the count entrusted the knight order and private troops entirely to me, so I handled it myself. But..."

While I was talking with Obern, Gilbert smashed his fist into the giant's cheek.

The blow landed so hard that the massive man flew back like he'd been launched and crashed to the ground.

Gilbert shook out his fist, wincing dramatically as if it stung badly.

His sudden move drew fierce backlash from the knights who had been holding back the giant.

Likewise, the training knights bared their teeth protectively around Gilbert and squared off against them.

It was a razor-sharp standoff, like a pack of beasts squabbling over a single piece of prey.

"The knights in the same order don't get along well, do they?"

"Haa... My failure."

I glanced at Obern, and his mouth opened slowly.

"Truth be told, I pushed my personal judgment pretty hard when Gilbert was appointed. He trained under the same master as me—a fellow disciple. I'd seen his skills and character firsthand. Diligent enough to become an imperial knight, always a step ahead of me. I figured he'd bolster our knight order when he came here, but..."

"Not the man you remember anymore? Just causing trouble instead of helping?"

"Ashamed as I am, yes. He seemed fine at first, but before I knew it, he formed a faction and started picking fights. I've admonished him several times, disciplined him harshly too, but he won't listen."

"Then why keep him? Cut him loose."

"Captains can appoint knight order members, but we can't dismiss them. I've brought it up with the count multiple times regarding this, but he said to give it a bit more time."

"Even so, this is getting out of hand."

I pulled my gaze from Obern and fixed it on Gilbert.

Gilbert's opposing faction in the knight order tried fierce resistance a few times, but in a world where hierarchy was absolute for knights, the vice captain was an insurmountable mountain.

"Damn it!!"

In the end, the giant stomped the ground in rage and turned away.

Gilbert watched the giant's heavy retreating footsteps with a smirk, then nodded his chin.

"Next time, come with proper respect for the vice captain. Keep up that insolent attitude, and you'll get severe punishment. Watch yourself."

The giant halted and glared back at Gilbert's jeers to the bitter end, but he didn't charge like before.

Gilbert and his faction pointed fingers at the giant's back as he smashed a shelf against the wall and stormed off.

Once the giant withdrew, the tension eased, and an awkward peace descended on the training grounds once more.

"My apologies. I showed you something unseemly. I'll handle it better."

Obern bowed his head, looking mortified.

Instead of answering Obern, I traced the path where the giant had vanished with my eyes before slowly speaking.

"Those two. I'd like to meet them separately."

"...You're saying this yourself, my lady?"

"Yes. First, the giant one. What's his name?"

"Gibson."

"Gibson first."

I stared blankly at the shelf Gibson had wrecked, then shifted my gaze to bore into Gilbert's back.

"Bring him here. Now."

Knock knock.

While sitting in the office flipping through documents, someone knocked on the door.

"Come in." With my curt reply, Gibson—his massive frame making the door look narrow—stepped inside.

He shuffled in awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

Unlike his ferocity on the training grounds, he didn't seem belligerent at all as he stood there blankly. I pointed at the chair with the documents still in my hand.

"Sit there."

"Ah, yes, ma'am."

His response was stiff with nerves as he walked over a bit clumsily and sat down.

Wait, was that chair always so small? It was meant for four, but with Gibson in it, it felt like a two-seater.

I stared at him silently.

His back was ramrod straight, shoulders squared firmly.

His shirt was clearly too small, the outlines of his arm muscles on full display.

But for all his beastly traits, Gibson's eyes darted nervously toward me.

Something about it was oddly cute, and a small laugh escaped me.

"Is... is something wrong...?"

At the sound slipping through my lips, Gibson—who had been sitting still—finally fidgeted in his seat.

I shook my head, stood, and sat across from him, placing the documents on the desk.

Gibson's eyes flicked downward briefly before lifting again.

I let the silence hang for a moment. His gaze dropped anxiously.

"It's nothing..."

"If it's about the brawl with the townsfolk last month, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Brawl?"

I tilted my head at his out-of-left-field remark as he started to continue.

Gibson confessed gravely in a solemn tone, face composed.

"The owner of my usual bakery is an elderly man weighed down by his child's debts to loan sharks. That day, I went to buy bread, and a loan shark barged in, trashing the place. I meant to intervene, but I ended up swinging my fist without thinking."

"Was that it?"

"Knights must protect the lord and the people, yet I resorted to violence. If you're going to punish me, I'll accept it gladly."

Bowing deeply from his seat, he looked quite resolute.

I could even sense his iron determination to accept whatever I said.

His eyes, waiting for my reaction after lifting his head, looked clearer than before.

Was he worried about that? His offbeat confession drew another laugh from me.

"Hee hee—"

"My lady...?"

"Ah, sorry. Not funny, but it just slipped out. Don't worry. Loan sharking's illegal, and they started the violence first, so it's not your fault. No need to fret."

"R-really?"

His relief was obvious, though a faint smile lingered on my lips.

I took a long breath, then gazed at his eased expression in the calm atmosphere before speaking softly.

"I called you because your report caught my eye."

"My report... you mean?"

"It says you were raised on knightly ideals from childhood, walking the path of the warrior single-mindedly. A strong sense of justice, protecting the weak and standing with them. Your comrades say you're affable, gets along with everyone, doesn't lose your temper easily."

I closed the report. Gibson rubbed his neck embarrassedly.

His thick, sturdy neck sank slightly into his solid shoulders as his upper body pulled back.

"Haha... Is that what it says? Nothing special. Just what I was taught knights should do."

"Everyone learns that, but few live it. But here's the odd part. I stopped by the training grounds earlier and saw quite the spectacle."

Gibson's embarrassed smile froze for an instant.

I leaned back against the chair, setting the report down.

"A man who rarely gets angry was raging wildly, fiercely denouncing not just any knight, but the vice captain himself. Hard to imagine anywhere else."

"That was..."

"Oh, I'm not calling you here to blame you. With my parents away, I'm handling things in the mansion now. And the knight order's crucial to running the territory. So tell me."

Gibson's hand, rubbing his neck, slowly dropped to rest on his thick thigh.

His eyes lifted straight to meet mine steadily.

"Why did you end up fighting the vice captain?"

Gibson's eyes shook slowly.

Baran Nemir Viscount, Aden's usually stoic adjutant whose expressions rarely changed, stood before the door looking unusually troubled.

Even in broad daylight with the sun high overhead, long shadows darkened Baran's face intensely.

Baran gazed longingly at the closed door like a heartbroken lover, sometimes raising his hand to knock.

But his hand never struck, dropping again and again in repetition.

The servants passed his back cautiously, murmuring things like "What's he doing?" or "Still there?"

After pacing under the hot scrutiny for a while, Baran finally raised his heavy hand in resignation.

"Your Grace. He's waiting."

Knock knock.

Baran's hand tapped out a crisp sound, but no reply came.

A small sigh circled his lips before fading quietly.

Baran, head slightly bowed, steeled himself and knocked again.

Knock knock.

"Your Grace. It's been an hour already."

"..."

"He says he'll wait until Your Grace comes out."

Baran's persistent call echoed hollowly.

No answer came; his voice just dispersed into the air.

Staring at the door with a woeful look, Baran seemed determined that surrender was for counting cabbages—not this—and raised his hand once more.

"You Grac..."

But before his hand could knock, the door opened first.