Shylock could not believe what he was seeing.
It felt as though his brain had simply stopped working.
Rumors had claimed that Edward had slain a templar knight with a single strike, that he had toyed with William—the man no one in these lands dared touch.
Shylock had dismissed them as baseless, but now he realized they weren’t.
Edward truly did have the power.
That brat cut down an Aura User…
The Edward Shylock knew was a weakling, far from swordsmanship.
Not only frail in body but also devoid of talent.
Was it magic?
He had dabbled in dark magic, but due to his chronic illness he could barely wield mana.
With no capacity to store it in his body, the only spells he could cast were the practice spells that borrowed passing traces of mana.
And none of those enhanced the body.
Aura, after all, was the power that strengthened the body.
Aura Users were several times faster in reflex than ordinary men.
Yet the mercenary who had just been slain, weak though he was as a first-star Aura User, should never have been struck down by a mere blade wielded without aura.
It made no sense.
Has he built this up in secret?
Shylock, a second-circle mage, invoked Mana Vision to examine Edward.
This spell allowed one to perceive the opponent’s mana core.
Nothing?
Neither a magic circle nor an aura star appeared.
How is this possible?
He strained his mind, searching for an answer.
But with all the knowledge he possessed, none could explain what he had witnessed.
Clang! Clang!
“You bastard!”
The mercenaries, enraged at their comrade’s death, belatedly drew their swords.
The domain’s soldiers, who had been watching from the sidelines, also unsheathed their weapons.
“You dare bare steel without permission? In my domain?”
Edward’s voice was like ice.
Even with twenty mercenaries pointing swords at him, he showed not a trace of fear.
Instead, his killing intent pressed down on them so heavily that the mercenaries faltered.
What’s happened to him?
The last time Shylock had visited, Edward hadn’t even left his room out of fear of meeting him.
As the heir of the family, he should have stepped forward in his father’s absence, yet he had left everything to the steward and hidden in his chamber.
That same coward now cowed him and his mercenaries with nothing but eyes filled with fury.
A rumor surfaced in Shylock’s mind— the tale that Edward had out-bargained an inquisitor and squeezed money from him.
He had dismissed it as nonsense.
Perhaps it wasn’t.
“W-what do you think you’re doing!”
Shylock forced his voice through his tightening throat.
Though he had every advantage, he felt as if terror itself were strangling him.
“You are Shylock?”
Edward spoke as though meeting him for the first time.
They had in fact met several times, and before witnessing his father grovel before Shylock for loans, Edward had even asked him for news of the city.
But now, acting as if he were a stranger, he left Shylock dumbfounded.
“What are you talking about?”
“I asked if you are Shylock, the moneylender.”
“Yes. And what is the meaning of this?”
“That’s what I should be asking. By what right do you strike down the people of Griffith?”
“They… they failed to repay their debts.”
“And so?”
“They signed over their bodies. I have the right.”
Shylock waved the contract in the air.
Edward casually gestured with his hand.
In the past, Shylock would have ignored such arrogance.
But now the situation was different.
He signaled a mercenary to deliver the contract.
The man, trembling so hard it was shameful, handed it to Edward.
“Today is the deadline.”
Edward’s face was expressionless as he looked over the contract.
“Yes,” Shylock affirmed.
The mood seemed to tilt back in his favor.
“Did you know?”
Edward’s eyes swept over the townsfolk.
“No! He tricked us!”
Logan, bloodied and beaten, shouted as loud as he could.
“You signed the contract! Don’t spout lies!”
Shylock roared back.
Edward raised a hand, silencing him.
“Logan.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Can you read?”
“…No.”
“Anyone else?”
“We’ve never learned…”
“Nor I.”
The others shook their heads.
“You dared deceive my people?”
“It was a lawful contract!”
“You altered the date, didn’t you? That’s why you wrote it in words, not numbers.”
“That’s true!”
The townsfolk seized the moment to raise their voices.
“They’re the ones mistaken! I clearly said today was the deadline!”
“All of them? Do you truly think so many could all be mistaken?”
“Regardless, it’s a legal contract! It’s notarized by the city officials—”
Flames flared from Edward’s hand.
He burned the contract to ash.
“What are you doing!”
“The kingdom’s law forbids slavery. Any contract demanding the forfeiture of a body is void.”
The Kingdom of Aerok had always forbidden slavery.
Its founders had themselves been slaves of other nations.
Fifteen hundred years had passed, and Aerok had forgotten its roots.
Though the law remained, under the Marshal dynasty it had become meaningless.
“It’s nothing but words! No one in the kingdom obeys that law. Even in the nearest cities, there are slave markets—”
“That’s their business.”
Edward cut him off.
“This is Griffith. Here, my word is law. And I will follow the kingdom’s law.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to kill my mercenaries!”
“Only I have the right to punish my people. Only I may authorize the use of weapons. And I never granted you that right.”
Edward’s killing intent washed over the mercenaries like a blade.
“And I hold the right of summary execution.”
They averted their eyes.
The mercenary who had been slain was their strongest.
Useless trash…
Shylock seethed.
That man, an Aura User, had been paid handsomely, and yet his head had flown with barely a swing.
Damn it.
Perhaps if Shylock and all the mercenaries struck together, they might still win.
The soldiers were few, their arms pitiful.
All they needed to do was kill Edward.
But attacking a noble in such a public place was madness.
Even if the Griffiths were a fallen house shunned in this region, nobles always united to punish commoners who dared act out of line.
“Hey.”
As Shylock was turning these thoughts over in his mind, a man appeared from around the corner of a nearby building.
“Where’s the tavern keeper?”
It was William, Griffith’s bastard son.
“What brings you here?” Edward asked.
“They say I’m a Griffith too, don’t they? I come and go as I please.”
“Hey! Tavern keeper! Where are you?”
“I-I’m here.”
One of the townsfolk surrounded by mercenaries timidly raised his hand.
“Why’s the tavern closed?”
“I’m not serving today.”
“And who decided that?”
“Eh?”
“Bastard, who said you get to decide that?”
“As you can see, with all these mercenaries around—”
The tavern keeper gestured helplessly at the mercenaries.
Edward simply watched with a faint smile.
“What are these idiots?”
William swaggered toward the mercenaries, walking bow-legged.
The mercenaries raised their swords but backed away.
No one in these lands who lived by the sword was ignorant of William’s vicious reputation.
“You call those swords? With those toothpicks you couldn’t even pick a goblin’s nose. Pathetic.”
Even with twenty blades flashing near his throat, William only scoffed.
“Hey, tavern keeper.”
“Y-yes?”
“Open your doors while I’m still asking nicely. And bring out some food.”
“But last time you didn’t pay—”
“William.”
Edward frowned, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched.
“You didn’t pay for your drinks?”
“Only sometimes.”
“Really?”
Edward turned to the tavern keeper.
The man glanced nervously between the two brothers and said nothing.
“No wonder you’re still here when you don’t even farm…”
Shylock found that strange too.
Those who borrowed from him were usually poor farmers struck by drought.
The others, who had trades, never begged him for money.
Yet the tavern keeper had taken a hefty loan.
“What else was I supposed to do? The old man never gave me an allowance. I don’t have an uncle like you who sends me coin every month.”
That was odd.
Shylock had heard William was disowned, especially despised by Edward.
But now William seemed rather close to him.
Even cowed by Edward’s glare.
And William even revealed something Shylock hadn’t known.
He knew Edward’s maternal uncle, Count Lancer, was a great lord in the east and a powerful figure in the kingdom.
But he hadn’t known that the count cared enough to send his nephew money every month.
“You, with all your limbs intact, should be working for coin instead of leeching off the people!”
“And you don’t work either! You just sit holed up in your room all day doing nothing!”
The brothers snarled at each other, pointing fingers.
It was humiliating.
The last time he had come, these people had treated Shylock like a king.
When they missed their deadlines, he could beat them, even drag some away as examples, and no one dared speak against him.
But now these two brothers treated him and his men as if they didn’t even exist.
And Shylock couldn’t press harder.
Edward had become dangerous enough.
With William here too, any fight would end in a massacre.
“E-excuse me.”
Still, Shylock couldn’t return empty-handed.
“What the hell is this, an orc’s nipple?”
William’s roar made Shylock stagger, his fear so great he even forgot his humiliation.
“I lent these people money.”
“So what?”
William glared.
“Eh?”
“I said, so what, you bastard!”
William stormed toward him.
The mercenaries tried to block him, but they shrank back instead of attacking.
William seized Shylock by the collar with one hand.
“D-debts must be repaid! That’s the law of the world—urk! Gah!”
William hoisted him into the air.
“There are only two laws in this world. One, I need a drink right now. Two, you look like an orc’s nipple.”
“William, enough.”
At Edward’s word, William dropped him.
“Oof!”
Shylock landed hard in the mud.
“Shylock, I’ll repay the villagers’ debts myself.”
Edward spoke calmly.
“You, my lord?”
Not only Shylock, but the townsfolk were stunned.
“This should cover it.”
Edward produced a plain gold ring.
Shylock blinked.
“Th-that can’t be enough.”
“Whether it is or not, an appraisal will tell.”
Half in disbelief, Shylock cast an identification spell on the ring.
This…!
His hand trembled violently.
It was an artifact that greatly enhanced the user’s charm and doubled their mana.
No artifact in the world could increase charm.
And though many enhanced mana, none doubled it.
“Where did you get this?”
Such a treasure could buy an entire castle.
“Not your concern.”
“It’s valuable, yes, but still not enough.”
“Then the deal is off.”
“W-wait!”
Edward reached as if to take the ring back.
Shylock recoiled, panic surging.
His greed burned uncontrollably.
He had been an ugly man since childhood, mocked for his looks.
He had sought to overcome his inferiority through magic, but with so little innate power he had never risen beyond the second circle.
So he had turned to moneylending.
With wealth, people’s attitudes changed.
At least before him, no one dared mock his face or lack of talent.
But with this ring…
They would truly admire him—not pretend, but genuinely.
“Fine. I’ll take this for the interest—”
“The principal as well.”
“What?”
“Unwilling?”
“N-no, but…”
“The family’s debt will be handled separately.”
Shylock thought quickly.
The Griffith family owed far more than the villagers.
With crushing interest on top, there was still much to squeeze from them.
The villagers, however, would never repay.
Shylock had only wanted to sell them as slaves.
And there were more than a few ways to achieve that.
“Very well, my lord.”
“A wise decision.”
Edward smiled brilliantly as he spoke.
Cliche Novel 