Chapter 178: The Pact of Silent Blades

Chapter 178: The Pact of Silent Blades

The Pact of Silent Blades

Midlandia

As Bengrieve heard the news from the Capital, Sir Stan and the two captains watched him closely. His complexion turned pale as he settled into a hastily repaired wooden chair. Unfolding the letter, his eyes clouded over, and he stared blankly at the ground, his lips muttering gibberish—an unusual departure from his typical composed demeanor that alarmed the other men in the room.

The three exchanged glances, and Sir Stan approached Bengrieve. "Talk to us. What's causing your angst? Weren't we expecting this?"

Clenching the letter in his fist, Bengrieve answered, "No. I did not expect this. Not like this." He was still processing the news. "It can't possibly fail. What are the chances that Gottfried failed to take the Capital, and instead, a bunch of armed peasants did?"

Distraught by his words, Sir Stan urged, "I think it's time for you to reveal the plan. Don’t leave us in the dark. Midlandia and everyone are at stake."

Bengrieve stared at his cousin and the two captains. They had all been loyal followers of his house, and their doubts about his plan stemmed from their professional roles as military officers, not out of self-importance. "Originally, I had calculated that the Capital could withstand anything except an imminent attack from Gottfried," he began.

"But now, not only has it fallen to angry mobs, but it was also plundered clean. The Palace and the ministries were destroyed. Worse, Duke Alvaro also arrived."

"There's an indication that the Duke will not hold it," one of his captains interjected.

"It doesn’t make a difference," Bengrieve replied. "Without the Sages, my plans are doomed."

Sir Stan and the captains, hearing about all this for the first time, traded concerned glances.

"I was expecting Gottfried to take the Capital. I know he had powerful men in the Palace; he only needed to show up. Once he paraded his troops, they would throw open the gates for him and celebrate his arrival like a hero."

The three could only listen carefully. Rarely had they heard about the dealings behind the shadows.

"Gottfried isn't ambitious, but he would be compelled to take the seat. His people want it. So, he'll attempt to rule and, with the Dukes and us to worry about, he'll resort to finding the middle ground. That means appeasing the Sages. He's likely to allow the ministers to sort out their own rivalries. He'll turn a blind eye to the massacres within the ministries as the Sages blame each other for their corrupt nature. However, he would be a fool to trust the remaining ministers."

Bengrieve's gaze drifted into the distance as he continued, "Even those who supported him will eventually lace his food with poison that'll slowly degrade his health in a few years. Or, they could have one of his sons do it, in exchange for the Sages' support for the Northern Throne. Whatever the outcome, it would be a boon for Midlandia. But now..." He paused, rubbing his forehead. "'Now, everything is a mess."

Sir Stan raised his brow. "I'm still at a loss," he admitted. "Whether it's Gottfried or the rebels, the Capital is finished, and no Great Entity has awoken to shoot fireballs in defense of the palace. So, we have no issue."

"Indeed, My Lord," his captain agreed. "Isn’t the most important issue whether the Emperor is alive or not? Now that the palace is razed, we can finally be free and bury this Imperium facade."

"No," Bengrieve replied firmly. "Now that we no longer have the Sages, we can't let Gottfried take the capital."

Sir Stan frowned, and so did the other two.

"Don't you get it?" Bengrieve asked. "Without the Sages, Gottfried will rule. He'll lay claim as the successor, probably by marrying someone he claims is the daughter of the Emperor. Then he could take the regency as Prince, and his son could eventually become the 4th Emperor. And with control of the entire Northern Province, Arvena, and Tiberia, his House has a significant chance of succeeding."

Sir Stan stroked his chin, his gaze now steady and sharp. "Now that you mention it, his taking the throne and the capital seems dangerous for us."

"That much is certain," Bengrieve confirmed. "Midlandia and Elandia’s strategic positions are threats to his rule. He'll grow wary of us who could strike at his veins and jugular, either Tiberia straight to the Capital or Arvena, his biggest shipping port to the Northern provinces. It's only natural for him to try to find excuses to eliminate us as soon as he is ready."

The three nodded, their expressions grave as they considered the bleak prospects.

Bengrieve kept quiet. He loosened his tunic, his mind racing to formulate a new plan.

Sir Stan knelt next to him, drawing his attention, and spoke, "You can't fight this alone."

"I have you and the army in Elandia."

"That's not what I meant." Sir Stan maintained his gaze. "You need outside help, an ally."

"Lansius," Bengrieve uttered the name that now felt so pleasing on his tongue.

The baronet whispered, "I know you have his mother and sister."

Bengrieve stared at him questioningly. Their identities were a secret.

"I've been with a few maids, and they've been quite talkative under the blanket," he stated, without a hint of shame.

Bengrieve shook his head weakly. "It seems I've underestimated you."

"You assess your peers well, but you often overlook those beneath your station," Sir Stan rebuked.

Bengrieve exhaled deeply, his expression one of regret. "I will take your words to heart."

"You better," Sir Stan remarked as he stood up. Turning to the two captains, he said, "Let's wait for more news before we decide anything. Rushing is meaningless if we're going in the wrong direction."

"No," Bengrieve interjected firmly, prompting the three to look at him. He rose from his seat and declared, "Stan, you'll stay. I'll ride back to Elandia. I'll find a way to prevent Gottfried from marching to the Capital."

Sir Stan's shoulders tensed. "You're going to do what? Battle the King of Brigantes?" His words were devoid of jest.

"No, that’s stupid and reckless," Bengrieve retorted firmly. "I believe there are ways to sway him to stay put in Arvena."

Sir Stan nodded, but his expression remained cautious. "What exactly do you want me to do here?" he asked. "I can't possibly take your role. I'm a poor speaker."

"Free Cascasonne," Bengrieve replied firmly, bracing himself for the inevitable verbal tirade.

The veins on his cousin’s forehead bulged. "We don’t even have three hundred! They have at least ten thousand,' Sir Stan exclaimed. 'I’m not going to risk my limbs in a losing battle."

"Stop acting like a spoiled child," Bengrieve countered sharply. "You can win this. Just stick to the plan I’ve laid out for you."

"Against such gargantuan forces, I’ll need more than just plans," Sir Stan insisted.

Bengrieve looked at the two captains, who showed their somber agreement, clearly aligning themselves with Sir Stan's position.

"Fine," Bengrieve snapped, his lips curling in displeasure. "As you wish, I shall beg and ask the Lord of Korelia. Let's hope he'll be happy with adding Toruna to his fief."

"Oi, oi, not my land. Give him Reginald's," Sir Stan smirked, clearly amused by Bengrieve's change of heart.

"My lord," one of the captains stepped forward. "Even if we involve the Lord of Korelia, may we know your plan for Midlandia?"

"You are to scout, rescue, or kill a specific target within hostile territory," Sir Harold lectured the candidates. "Do it successfully, and you might prevent or end a major conflict swiftly, with as little bloodshed as possible. You’ll be hailed as heroes. But first, you need to complete the objectives and return alive. Now, repeat your creed."

"I am the sharpest instrument of the Shogunate," the eight men began. "I am the one upon whom the Lord Shogun relies to advance further, faster, and fight harder, both within and beyond his domain. Wherever he needs me, I shall arrive by horse, by boat, or by air. I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong, and morally straight. My conduct, how I dress, and how I care for equipment shall set an example for others to follow. I'll defeat the enemies by being better trained and better prepared. Surrender is not an option. Silence is preferable. Under no circumstances will I ever embarrass the Shogunate."

"Good," Sir Harold was satisfied. "Now march back to your hideout and reflect on it. We'll send random patrols, and if they spot your place, your group will camp further out."

Dismissed, the men began their march to their hideouts. The staff found their compliance and non-complaining attitude refreshing. They had to admit that the Lord’s insistence on recruiting not the strongest, but fit men with good intellect, proved to be a wise decision. These men proved easier to teach, emotionally stable, more resilient, and capable of thinking independently to improve their skills.

"Good luck," Farkas said, his voice sympathetic. They responded with smiles and a thumbs up.

"Aren't you being too harsh?" Francisca asked Sir Harold as they began to tally and reset the wooden targets.

Sir Harold smiled. "To tell you the truth, I'm proud of them. They've shown much progress in such a short time."

"Then why do we keep failing them?" Francisca asked without hesitation.

"She has a point," Farkas chimed in. "I think they're doing fine. I counted eleven targets, each with two bolts in the torso."

Sir Harold looked at them and nodded, signaling his agreement. "The problem is the task the Lord wanted them to excel at—frankly, it's near impossible. Imagine asking just eight or twelve people to infiltrate a town or castle, capture the leader, rescue a prisoner from a dungeon, or open the gatehouse for our advance party."

Francisca nodded, acknowledging the explanation. Yet Farkas, appearing unresolved, proposed, "If the issue is skill, why delay? Why not allow the candidates to try several more times today?"

"There’s a point to this," Sir Harold replied. "Lord Lansius believes that waiting wreaks havoc on people’s minds—constant waiting, the dullness, the restlessness, and the lack of sleep. That's why he included it as part of the training."

"Can't argue with that, but it still seems so demanding," Francisca said, tilting her head slightly.

"I'm convinced that the Lord has experience with such elite groups in his homeland, otherwise I don't know where he got that confidence and planning. He even structured it so that the group's official function is search and rescue," Sir Harold reassured.

"A pretty inconspicuous function for a group tasked with hostage rescue or assassination," she commented.

"Funnily enough, he often said that such objectives can be achieved through various means. That's why he purposefully made the training complex and hard; he wanted them to win through good tactics, not just by being better, but through trying new approaches, clever deception, or even outright cheating."

"Cheat?" Farkas’ tone carried a hint of amusement as he realized the possibility for the first time.

"Yes, it’s also part of the training. The Lord wanted them to think outside the box," the knight explained, similarly amused.

Farkas chuckled and then one of the veterans who worked with them as support and safety officers approached. "Sir, the second batch of trainees is ready."

Sir Harold looked at the sky and said, "Yes, send them in. Let's hope this batch also does not disappoint."

...

The training was repeated three times against three different teams and finished well before midday. Farkas wrapped his crossbows in leather before packing them in a canvas bag. Despite being prepared to shoot training bolts, he hadn't fired them today; there was no need. No teams had sighted him, which was worrying, but he hoped it would teach them a lesson.

"Care to join us for lunch?" Francisca asked.

"Unfortunately, with the tribesmen, guildsmen, knights, and prominent figures all in Korelia, I need to be where my agents can find me quickly," Farkas replied.

"Sir Michael and Sir Omin are quite competent, are they not?" Sir Harold asked, stroking his chin.

"They are, but they're not locals like me who know where to listen for whispers and talks on the streets," Farkas explained.

"True, one thing the Lord hates the most is surprises," the knight nodded in agreement.

Farkas was about to say something when Francisca asked first, "Is that why Lord Lansius asked me to send a letter, praising and asking Lord Beatrix for more of my kin?"

The knight looked at her, smiling. "No, he wants them as mentors. You see, most commoners in Korelia cannot read."

Francisca furrowed her brow. "I'm not sure why the Lord wants everyone to be able to read. I mean, for farmers, the common alphabet isn't really going to help them grow crops."

"Isn't it the same as how Kaen the Hero wanted your kin to be able to read and write, despite your ancestors feeling they had no need for it?" said Farkas.

"Indeed," but then her eyes widened. "Wait, how did you know about that?"

The acting captain of the skirmishers turned smug; he was no longer merely the innocent hunter-turned-lieutenant from Korelia, known for his tasty brown grains. His experiences with Sigmund, Dame Daniella, Sir Harold, Sir Morton, and Lord Lansius, coupled with the events at Three Hills, had transformed him into an effective agent, always listening, yet rarely seen.

"The scrolls," Francisca exclaimed. "You actually obtained and read Kaen's dialogue scrolls."

"It is my obligation to do so," he answered humbly.

"Now, I have more respect for you."

"Am I that threatening?" Farkas quipped, hinting that he understood that respect among the half-beast culture was derived from threat assessment.

Francisca laughed and turned to Sir Harold. "This man is dangerous."

"Being dangerous is good. Perhaps, I should study the scrolls from him," Sir Harold said, unable to resist a light tease.

"No, you should ask me instead," the half breed replied heartily.

"But you didn’t bring the scrolls with you on your travels," Farkas remarked ever so casually.

"H-how did you know that?" She was both flabbergasted and curious.

Farkas shrugged, eliciting a hearty laugh from Sir Harold. "But seriously," the native Korelian said in a much more serious tone, "for security reasons, I welcomed more half-breeds into Korelia."

His words surprised Francisca. "I hope you aren't naive enough to think that all half-breeds will be loyal to Lord Lansius."

"I'll accept that risk," Farkas stated. "Our Lord has antagonized the new House of Midlandia, likely wounding their pride or making them feel threatened. My sources believe there's a high chance they'll send assassins here even only to make a statement."

***