My Demons - Chapter 48

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“Phoenix!”

As I observed the bandits fleeing, a recognizable voice called out.

“Ellen?” Are you injured in any way?”

“I specifically advised you not to wander off alone–”

The girl who was complaining interrupted my sentence as she scanned her surroundings.

Ellen, who had rushed over, was followed by Luke and Arnal. Fortunately, they didn’t appear to be injured.

With a sigh, Ellen quelled her anger and regarded me with a pale face.

“–Are you alright?”

Unsurprisingly, I was in a sorry state, pierced by a spear and struck by arrows. I looked terrible, but thanks to my tenacity, I was hanging on.

Suppressing her words of concern, Ellen was about to retrieve a potion when I halted her.

“Ugh, I’m fine. I won’t die.”

“Still–”

“I said it’s fine. Have you seen Grania? I haven’t seen her.”

As I scanned the surroundings and asked, a man beside me removed his helmet and chuckled.

“Ah, such brotherly affection. All the mercenaries have been taken to the priest’s tent, so don’t worry.”

It was the very knight who had just saved me.

I recalled the knight, who had been addressed by name, and nodded my head in gratitude.

“Thank you, Sir Randel. You saved my life.”

Randel briefly tilted his head and then smirked.

“It seems you’re mistaken. I’m not a knight, just a mere soldier.”

“…What?”

A mere soldier, fully clad in plate armor and riding a horse?

Noticing my confusion, Randel, or rather, Mr. Randel, frowned.

“I thought you were a seasoned mercenary. Haven’t you ever seen a knight before?”

“Uh, well–”

“Anyway, what’s important now is not that. Come along. Our lord will be looking for you.”

With those words, Randel handed the reins to his comrade and started walking. Arnal quickly approached me and supported my left arm on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“Ugh, I can walk on my own.”

“Don’t be foolish. You’ll worsen your injuries.”

Uncertain whether she was aware of Ellen’s gaze, Arnal whispered softly,

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not leaving Grania behind.”

“Thank you? I simply did what was right.”

“…You make it sound so natural.”

As I looked around, aided by either Arnal’s shoulder or her arm, Arnal grinned and spoke up.

“The knights are over there.”

“Huh? Then who are these people…”

“They’re probably the private army of the nobles or something like that.”

Excluding Randel, six heavily armored soldiers were holding the reins of their horses.

Each was clad in similar armor, a combination of chainmail with additional plates.

There were six who appeared to be knights, distinguished by their colorful cloaks and shields with unique emblems.

Upon closer inspection, unlike the other heavily armored infantry, each knight sported uniquely stylish plate armor.

The knight wielding a two-handed sword and the one in the blue cloak with a sturdy presence were indeed knights.

They had handed their armored horses over to other infantry or attendants and were making their way toward the tent at the center of the encampment.

As I marveled at the knights’ armor, a head of golden hair suddenly appeared on my right.

“Phoenix, look over there.”

“Hm? What?”

With her eyes, Ellen pointed to a flag fluttering nearby.

It bore the emblem of a golden lion.

“It’s certain that there’s royalty here.”

I then recalled the name of this place.

‘The Prince’s Encampment.’

Contrary to the name, in the game, you couldn’t meet the prince here.

When the player arrived at the encampment, the prince happened to be away, so it was the ‘Arrogant Sir Liam’ who received the lord’s message.

Wait a minute, speaking of which–

This place was hundreds of kilometers away from the capital. It was extremely unusual for high-ranking royalty to lead an army to such a distant location.

No, it’s not just unusual… As far as I know, there was only one prince who would find himself in such a situation.

I couldn’t be certain because I hadn’t read the scenario, but if my guess is correct, the owner of this garrison is—

“Draw your weapons.”

The soldier guarding the entrance issued a stern command. My companions and I obediently disarmed and entered a large tent filled with about ten men.

Seven knights in plate armor, two wizards in robes, one clergyman with a cross hanging from his neck, three soldiers wearing wide, dish-like helmets, and two attendants in neat clothing.

I scanned the tent again but found no one dressed like a prince.

Observing my confusion, one knight lifted his faceplate and asked in a booming voice,

“What are you searching for, friend?” He was the hulking knight wielding a two-handed sword, half a head taller than me and considerably broader in physique.

His face bore scars, and he sported a rugged beard, giving him a fearsome appearance.

I chose my words carefully before responding.

“I was looking for the owner of this tent, Sir Ankir.”

At my reply, Ankir chuckled, and Arnal whispered while widening her eyes.

“Ankir? The ‘Great’ Ankir?”

“Yes, I am that ‘Great’ Ankir.”

Hearing Ankir’s playful tone, Arnal’s face paled.

“Uh… please forgive my impertinence, my lord.”

“Explain why you were being pursued by bandits, mercenary. Depending on your answer, I may or may not pardon you.”

Ankir had a faint glint of anticipation in his eyes.

Contrary to his rough demeanor, his eyes were large and clear, like a calf’s.

“We are messengers who have escaped from South Harbor.”

“Messengers?”

“Yes. We have brought a letter from the Lord.”

Upon my response, a knight wearing a blue cloak raised his faceplate.

“So Count Seiben is aware that we are here?”

“He suspects that there are reinforcements sent by the nearby lord, Sir Langbolt.”

“… you know me?”

The mustachioed knight of hefty build was Langbolt Ealshore, also known as ‘Roaring Wave.’ Like Ankir, I remembered him due to his memorable actions in the game.

“I’ve heard rumors about you, Sir Langbolt.”

“Rumors?”

“I’ve heard you are an exceptional warrior.”

Langbolt appeared momentarily uneasy, then stroked his mustache and asked,

“Do you also know who owns this garrison?”

“I have some idea.”

Upon my answer, the atmosphere inside the tent turned icy.

Did I say something wrong?

As I wondered, a knight with a feathered helmet drew his sword.

“Indeed, he’s suspicious! What are you all doing? Arrest him!”

What is this nonsense?

I was too startled to speak.

Fortunately, the other knights remained still, arms crossed or leaning on pommels.

Soldiers rushed into the tent at the loud voice, but a youthful voice stopped them.

“No need for that.”

“But, my lord—”

“Enough, Sir Liam. Do you think my brother would send people this far?”

“…Very well, as you wish.”

The one who intervened was wearing armor adorned with gold. He was the very knight who had been expertly shooting arrows.

“What’s your name?”

“Phoenix.”

Upon closer examination, the golden adornments on his shoulders and chest were fashioned to resemble a lion’s mane. His attire was significantly more extravagant compared to the other knights.

“Phoenix. What’s your last name?”

“A last name—”

Phoenix was either a commoner’s child or a descendant of a fallen noble family. Having a surname would be typical, but…

“I don’t have one.”

Could one recall such a thing?

“Hmm. So you’re just a mercenary?”

“That’s correct.”

Through a small opening in his faceplate, deep blue eyes sparkled.

“An intriguing matter. A mere mercenary who can wield blood magic.”

“Your skills are also exceptional. You managed to defeat several of the cavalry.”

“Well, I was fortunate.”

The knight clad in armor resembling a golden lion let out a chuckle and turned his gaze to the other knights.

“What do you think, Sir Ankir? How many bandits do you reckon you could dispatch without mounting your horse?”

At that, Ankir thumped his breastplate and boasted.

“Do you not know my capabilities, my lord? Handling a hundred of those ruffians would be no challenge!”

“Haha, I knew you’d say something like that. How about you, Sir Langbolt?”

Langbolt, upon hearing the question, stroked his mustache and shrugged.

“It would depend on the terrain and circumstances. But in a general sense, around seventy-seven would be manageable.”

“Seventy-seven, huh. Even a renowned swordsman from the East agrees with that estimate.”

The knight with the gold embellishments then directed his gaze back at me. Feeling the scrutiny, I remained silent.

After a brief pause, the knight shrugged.

“No one would be foolish enough to employ such capable men as spies or assassins. Isn’t that right, Sir Liam?”

“…You speak the truth, my lord.”

“Now, then… Answer, mercenary Phoenix. Do you know who the lord of this place is?”

Damn, how should I respond?

Hesitating for a moment, but ultimately encouraged by the knight’s expectant look, I spoke up.

“Yes, His Highness, the Prince.”

“…Haha!”

Upon my response, the knight laughed and immediately removed his helmet. Streams of shimmering silver hair cascaded around his neck.

Indeed, the man was strikingly handsome.

With a well-built physique that matched his upright posture, long hair flowing down to his chest, long straight eyebrows, slender yet profound eyes, a tall nose bridge, and lips that were red in contrast to his pale skin, he exuded a mysterious aura.

I staggered and knelt on one knee. It was a rough approximation of something I’d seen in a movie, but considering that the rest of the group also knelt, it seemed I hadn’t botched the protocol.

Gazing down at the assembly, the Prince in his mid-twenties wore a radiant smile.

“Welcome, messengers from South Harbor.” His voice, which had been deep, seemed to have cleared upon removing his helmet.

Suddenly, I looked up and noticed that the golden mane etched on his helmet had lost its luster due to dirt and blood.

However, the long silver hair that had settled on his breastplate gleamed in the torchlight.

“I am Ulkar, the third son of His Majesty King Lionel III of Millanol.”

With his impressive armor, valor leading the knights, an extraordinarily handsome face, and an inviting voice, Prince Ulkar possessed the ability to enchant anyone meeting him for the first time.

In the presence of his peculiar charm, my body tensed with caution.

It wasn’t because of his lofty status, the knights surrounding us, or the pain from where I’d been struck by an arrow.

Striving not to appear awkward, I spoke.

“It is an honor to meet you, the third Prince.”

Saying so, I bowed my head to the boss of the sixth chapter.

“Lift your head. There is much I want to hear.”

And the man who wore the radiant smile you’d expect to find only in a fairy tale would later be known as the ‘King of Slaughter.’

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