Chapter 48: The Sinister Sword (1)
After giving her the bracelet, Sirien started crying, so I ended up staying with her a bit longer.
At first, I wondered if I had done something wrong. I was so flustered that I even thought maybe she saw the gift as an insult rather than a present.
For a brief moment, I nearly cursed the shopkeeper who sold me the bracelet.
Fortunately, Sirien reassured me that she was crying out of happiness.
The shopkeeper in my mind went from being a sworn enemy to a capable and kind salesperson again.
“Why are you crying if you like it so much?”
“I didn’t mean to cry... It just happened all of a sudden.”
“Your face is a mess now, even though you did your hair so nicely.”
“Shut up. Just lend me your arm again. If you make fun of me for crying, I’ll hold a grudge forever.”
“I’m not making fun of you.”
It didn’t take long for Sirien to calm down.
Once her cheek, which had been resting softly on my collar, lifted, her expression quickly changed, and a smile spread across her face.
It was a smile that looked a little foolish yet purely innocent.
Just seeing such a bright smile made the bracelet worth every penny. Sirien hugged my arm, and I could hear her whisper clearly.
“Thank you. I’ll cherish it.”
“If I knew you’d like it this much, I would’ve bought it for you sooner.”
“There weren’t many chances until now, right? But I’m so happy right now.”
The way she held the bracelet close to her chest was truly beautiful.
Sirien reached up to the sky, making the bracelet sparkle, and then she fiddled with it in her hands, smiling bashfully.
After enjoying the gift to her heart’s content, it seemed like it was time to head back, so I got up.
Sirien, not wanting to show her tear-streaked face, covered it with a veil as she usually did.
“She must’ve been waiting inside for a long time. Let’s go back now.”
“Okay.”
On the way back, something was different from when we first arrived at this street.
I started noticing women dressed provocatively and men with rough appearances.
Among them, there were some who looked like sewer rats—quite a few of them, actually.
We hadn’t walked far, yet I felt like I had already seen four of them.
They were hiding in places where they wouldn’t be easily spotted, but they couldn’t escape my eyes.
It seemed like they were watching each passerby carefully.
Looking at them now, their intent seemed pretty clear. They were probably searching for Isha.
Especially when they glanced at Sirien, their startled reactions were obvious.
Sirien had a similar build to Isha, and in this Requitas, young girls were a rare sight.
Naturally, she drew their attention.
They hadn’t started searching the street indiscriminately yet, but the situation might change soon.
Sure enough, before long, about four sewer rats blocked our path. Their intentions were as clear as day.
One of their filthy fingers pointed at Sirien.
“Hey, sorry to bother you, but could we take a quick look at that girl’s face?”
“I’d rather not show it to you.”
“Just once is enough. It’s not like it’ll wear out if we see it, right?”
“No, I’m not feeling it. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but get lost.”
A bunch of mean-looking faces moving together naturally created an intimidating atmosphere.
The people on the street began to part for them.
Now, if they came up to me and said something like, “We’ve got a score to settle,” they’d be indistinguishable from common thugs.
I was curious to see what their opening line would be.
“We’ve got a score to settle.”
“Well.”
“You’re laughing?”
The one who picked the fight first was the lion. I’d heard that feline beastmen had nasty tempers.
Whether that was true or not, he seemed more aggressive than the bear.
The lion looked furious, while the bear’s expression shifted into something more complex when he looked at us.
Was it complex? It was hard to read beastmen’s expressions accurately. But that was the impression I got.
The lion grabbed my shoulder.
“No one has ever defied us in Requitas and lived to tell the tale.”
“And no one who’s messed with me has lived either. Well, actually, that’s not entirely true. A few are still alive, but I’ll be paying them a visit soon—they’re just a bit far away.”
“This bastard still doesn’t get it, does he?”
My dilemma was whether I should use my sword against these beastmen.
Drawing my sword would likely result in excessive bloodshed, but not drawing it meant I’d have to deal with their formidable toughness.
Yeah. I didn’t really want to kill them.
What I wanted was to help Sirien carry out her “minor trick,” not to make sworn enemies right away.
At that moment, something caught my eye—a club hanging from the bear’s waist.
If I could just grab that and beat them with it, it would feel pretty satisfying.
I could save the conversation for the next group that showed up.
Just as I was about to reach for it, the bear let out a frightened sound.
“Could it be the Sinister Sword? Why is someone who should be at the Arctania Gate here?”
He had recognized me and Sirien.
* * *
[Saintess, Reverse Harems are Impure! Excerpt from Volume 11, Page 121]
One of the most challenging aspects of our confrontation with the Duke of Eilencia was the inability to gather mercenaries.
No mercenary in this empire wanted to fight against Count Bertus.
During the early stages of the war, we went to great lengths to recruit them. Their strength was crucial to bolstering our insufficient forces.
To counter the reluctance they might have about allying with demons, we offered them unprecedented terms.
The rewards we promised were so extravagant that no one but the Golden Duke could have even imagined offering them.
Yet, despite all this, the mercenaries steadfastly refused to oppose Count Bertus. Only a scant few responded to our summons.
- Saintess-nim, that man is like a legend among us mercenaries.
- Among those who’ve fought in the northern conflict zones, there isn’t a single soul who doesn’t know Hivras... and Count Bertus.
- Call us cowards if you must, but the thought of crossing swords with that man... we don’t even want to imagine it.
When Eilencia ’s holy forces crumbled, many mercenaries deserted the battlefield.
But by the end of the war, those who had dared to oppose Count Bertus could be counted on one hand.
To the mercenaries, Count Bertus was nothing short of a living nightmare.
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