Chapter 27

“Among those you command, who is the strongest?”

Young Dale drew the knight’s sword slung diagonally across his belt. The blade’s tip glinted blue in the pouring sunlight.

The crux of this battle ultimately lies in the clash of cavalry forces commanded by two great lords—the Black Count and the Holy Knight.

That said, it does not mean the forces commanded by the two barons are insignificant.

“Did you call, my lord?”

At Dale’s call, a tall knight strode forward and answered.

The knight guarding the baron’s closest side. A faint scent of alcohol wafted from his breath.

“……”

Dale did not answer immediately.

Dale dismounted, twirling the hilt of his sword as he thrust it into the ground.

Simultaneously, the hem of Dale’s surcoat began to flutter wildly.

“Greenbelt-gong must surely be—”

More precisely, the artifact ‘Shadow Cloak’ disguised as a black serge coat.

“You must doubt my capabilities.”

Dale continued, his cloak fluttering.

“To entrust such a crucial battle to a mere ten-year-old child without a single word of consultation.”

“Th-that is…”

Caught off guard, Baron Greenbelt couldn’t hide his bewilderment and trailed off. It was a direct hit.

“But I share your doubts about the capabilities of the soldiers you command.”

Dale spat out coldly. Depending on how one heard it, it bordered on outright insulting provocation.

“There’s no surer way to dispel our mutual doubts.”

Swoosh!

“Understood, Your Highness.”

As if responding to the provocation, the knight guarding the Baron drew his sword.

“I, Harvek, swear on my knightly honor to prove the sword of the Baron’s house!”

“Very well, Sir Harverk.”

Dale nodded impassively.

An impromptu duel.

Soon, an aura, refined through his inner energy, spread from Sir Haverk’s dantian throughout his entire body.

The most certain proof he was giving his all as a knight.

Dale, too, spun the circle in his heart, generating a current of magical energy within his body.

Though not comparable to that of knights, it is not impossible for mages to ‘enhance the body using mana power’. Above all, Dale’s beloved sword was never a knight’s sword planted into the ground.

“You’ve heard of my sword, haven’t you?”

“Haha! I am well acquainted with Your Highness’s ‘mysterious sword’.”

Dale asked just in case, and Sir Haverk replied as if to say there was no need for concern.

‘Does he have some hidden confidence?’

Dale tilted his head in momentary puzzlement at the man’s overwhelmingly confident demeanor.

But the fact that Dale was never much of a ‘traditional knight’ to begin with is hardly surprising.

‘Better this way. Now I can relax and give it my all.’

Thwack!

The duel began, and it was Sir Haverk who struck the ground first.

It was swift. Yet it lacked the mastery to imbue the blade with the power of aura. Indeed, how many knights across the entire continent possessed such mastery to begin with?

Even among the knights under Dale’s command, only a handful of high-ranking knights could wield the ‘Aura Blade’.

And even if one could wield an aura blade, the image of a sword master single-handedly slaughtering enemies on the battlefield remains closer to fanciful ‘chivalric literature’ in this world. The true strength of knights does not lie in a mere aura blade, but in the tactical destructive power born of thorough organization.

But the best way to recognize that thorough organization is, ultimately, the raw strength of each knight.

Clang!

The ‘Shadow Blade’ erupting from beneath Dale’s feet intercepted Sir Harbuck’s strike swung right before his eyes.

Even if it’s just a mock duel, the opponent is giving it their all. Therefore, Dale too sharpened the killing intent at the tip of his blade to match.

A sword for killing, utterly dedicated to taking the opponent’s life.

“……!”

Sir Haverk urgently parried Dale’s blade, dripping with killing intent, and once more, shadows writhed at Dale’s feet. Following the shadows of his cloak, dozens of shadow blades materialized, beginning to orbit around Dale.

Blades of darkness that swept without restraint, unconstrained by the size, shape, or even the number of sword hilts.

Even if it was merely a theoretical possibility dependent on the user’s capabilities, to Dale it was never mere idle speculation.

He kept pressing the attack relentlessly, as if it were someone else’s problem.

‘His skill is just average.’

How much could one possibly expect from a mere knight of the baron’s domain?

‘What on earth is he relying on…’

In stark contrast to Dale, who maintained his composure throughout.

‘N-No way!’

Under the barrage of shadow blades surging in from all directions, Sir Haverk’s movements grew increasingly frantic.

He never for a moment considered letting his guard down simply because his opponent was a mere ten-year-old child. It wasn’t complacency. But given that he was exerting his full power through the force of aura, he simply couldn’t conceive of the possibility of defeat against a ten-year-old brat, no matter what.

‘This is impossible!’

A knight exerting his full power through the force of aura was being pushed back in a pure sword duel.

Even if it was an ominous sword born from a dark artifact, the very idea that he, who had honed his sword skills his entire life, was being overwhelmed by a mere ten-year-old brat with a sword!

The opponent was at best a ten-year-old child!

It was unthinkable.

──Even if he neglected his training and spent his days reveling in debauchery and wine every single day.

──Even if he had skipped his sword practice this very morning and gotten thoroughly drunk with his men.

In any case, by Lord Haverk’s standards, it was an ‘impossible thing’.

Pfft!

‘Huh?’

Then an unexpected sound rang out.

“Aaah!”

Along with an unexpected scream.

“Aaah, aaaah!”

“Sir, Sir Harberk!”

Baron Greenbelt raised his voice, unable to hide his shock.

‘Huh?’

Seeing that, Dale had to doubt his own eyes once more. Because even seeing it, he couldn’t believe it.

Dale’s Shadow Blade had torn through Sir Harbuck’s shoulder blade and upper arm, protruding through the wound.

‘No.’

The man called the ‘strongest knight’ among Baron Greenbelt’s men had been defeated after barely exchanging a few blows.

‘He couldn’t dodge this? Seriously?’

And to make matters worse, he suffered injuries severe enough to end his combat, accompanied by the knight’s name being dragged through the mud and his own wails of agony.

It’s truly an unbelievable sight. Yet I have no choice but to believe it.

“…Is this for real?”

Dale muttered, utterly dumbfounded.

Even though he hadn’t expected much, he never imagined it would be this utterly pathetic.

“Da-da-Dale, young master!”

Leaving behind the ‘Strongest Knight’ who could no longer continue the battle.

“What on earth is going on here?!”

Baron Greenbelt raised his voice, unable to hide his shock.

“With such an important battle ahead, has our baron’s elite knight not been rendered incapable of fighting?!”

As if reprimanding Dale’s actions.

‘This is maddening.’

To be honest, it was a situation even Dale hadn’t anticipated.

Even so, a proper knight who wields the Oru Mind Technique—who would have thought he couldn’t handle even this much and would be shattered?

“Even if you are the young master, such behavior is…”

It was at that very moment.

“Who do you think you’re raising your voice at?!”

One of the pitch-black knights assisting Dale spoke up in an angry voice.

Swearing endless loyalty to the eldest son of the Duke’s house, alongside five hundred knights gathered under his command.

The Night Raven Knights, the pride of Saxony, the foremost great duke of the North.

“Hee, hee-yik!”

The earth-shaking roar startled Baron Greenbelt, who stumbled backward and landed on his backside.

Dale silently stretched out his arm to restrain his knights.

“Baron Greenbelt.”

After stopping them, Dale spoke coldly.

“Do you not understand your predicament?”

He spoke in a cold voice, devoid of even a trace of emotion, to the Baron of Greenbelt, who was frantically doubting his own abilities.

“Did you simply sit back and watch, twiddling your thumbs, as your sword rusted and lost its edge, trusting in the name of our House Saxon?”

Not a trace of the former gentleness remained in that voice.

“Th-that…”

“Is this the man you boast is the ‘strongest knight’—one who suffers such a helpless defeat before a mere ten-year-old brat?”

With a sneer bordering on self-mockery, Dale continued.

One could understand a defeat stemming from the ‘difference in talent’ that Dale possessed. But Lord Harberk’s defeat was never one born solely from talent with the sword.

Dale knew this because he had honed his combat experience throughout his life.

“We Saxons will not hesitate to become a shield for loyal houses.”

A flicker of warmth crossed Baron Greenbelt’s face, but Dale continued dispassionately in his emotionless voice.

“But that does not excuse you from neglecting your duties as lord of this land.”

“……!”

“Therefore, until the battle approaches, the knights of our duke’s house will sharpen your swords.”

Leaving the five hundred Saxon knights behind him, Dale spoke.

“So bow your heads immediately.”

Before him, the decisions available to a mere minor lord and his rabble of knights were few.

That night, in a chamber of the baron’s castle.

‘There’s no answer.’

That was Dale’s first impression after inspecting the forces under Baron Greenbelt.

“…I was a frog in a well.”

And he realized just how wretched the world outside the well truly was.

How strictly and to what high standards he had grown up.

Receiving knighthood and mastering the Oru Mind Technique is not the end. Just as Dale hones his sword relentlessly every dawn at the duke’s castle, clashing blades with the Saxon knights, ceaselessly refining his skill without slackening his training is a knight’s duty.

But not every knight in the North can be like those of the Saxon ducal house.

‘Even so, I never imagined it would be this extreme.’

This was not just about Sir Harberk. The rest of the knights were no exception. They were all a rabble unworthy of the knightly name.

Reports even indicate they form gangs, skipping their duties day after day, indulging in debauchery and revelry.

Needless to say, the conscripts drawn from the serfs of the fiefdom were even worse.

‘An unexpected ambush has appeared.’

Even if the core of this battle lies in the cavalry forces of the two great noble houses, one cannot dismiss the entire force of the baron’s domain as worthless. Having thought that far, he soon realized.

This is precisely the opponent’s scheme. At the very least, the Holy Knight must have assessed the actual state of this territory beforehand and specifically targeted the Greenbelt Baronage.

Under the banner of the North, he targeted the ‘weakest link’.

The Holy Knight’s trap.

‘So that’s how you’re going to play it, huh.’

War is ultimately like that. Because the enemy is never a fool. Even before the clash begins, plots and schemes intertwine, and one always faces unforeseen circumstances.

At least for Dale, who had weathered every storm, it was hardly a novelty.