Idiot.
Edward smirked as he watched Shylock’s carriage disappear into the distance.
For now, Shylock might feel as though he owned the whole world, but soon enough his mind would break, and the ring—no, Edward—would become his master.
He felt no pang of conscience.
Through the Eye of the God, Shylock’s soul had appeared pitch black.
It was almost astonishing that a man could live in such a way as to accumulate that much corruption.
What an amusing sword.
Edward wiped the blood from the Demon King’s blade, Hubris.
The mercenary who had used Aura had underestimated him.
Even his face right before death revealed his disbelief.
The cursed sword had absorbed that arrogance, becoming immensely stronger, and now it was capable of decapitating an Aura User at a speed they couldn’t even perceive.
“William.”
“What?”
William replied indifferently.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
Edward only smiled faintly.
Even if William pretended otherwise, Edward knew his brother had intervened to help.
Mentioning their uncle and intimidating Shylock’s mercenaries had been deliberate.
If Shylock had insisted on dragging the villagers away, Edward would have been forced into a drawn-out fight.
And long battles still carried the risk of his mana surging out of control.
But thanks to William, the enemy’s momentum had been crushed completely, and Edward had negotiated on outrageously favorable terms.
“I’m leaving.”
William turned away.
“Already?”
“The mood’s ruined.”
He lumbered toward the village outskirts.
“William.”
William glanced back.
“Pay for your drinks next time.”
William scowled, raised his middle finger, and went on his way.
“My lord!”
As soon as William left, the villagers—who had been watching him nervously—rushed toward Edward.
“Thank you, truly thank you!”
“You are our savior, young master!”
They bowed deeply.
Had it not been for Edward, their lives would have ended as slaves.
“That ring… wasn’t it something important to you, my lord?”
Logan, still bloodied, asked.
Though beaten nearly senseless after his wounds from William hadn’t yet healed, he was still standing—sturdier than most knights.
“It was my mother’s keepsake.”
The ring was worth as much as the villagers’ combined debts.
They must have wondered where he had found such a thing, and why he hadn’t used it before.
If he claimed it came from the Demon King’s castle, people would flock there seeking sudden fortune.
This excuse, however, not only avoided that hassle but also bound the villagers’ loyalty to him.
“To think you would give up such a treasure for us…”
“Kh… khhh.”
Tears choked their voices.
“My lord… hhhhk.”
They did not simply cry—they wailed.
Edward had only meant to inspire gratitude and guilt, but their grief-stricken sobbing was so overwhelming it became uncomfortable.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take it back someday.”
“For you, we’ll do anything! Just command us!”
“Our lives are yours, my lord!”
“We’ll work ourselves to the bone until we repay the debt and restore your ring!”
The villagers, overcome with emotion, knelt before Edward, crying their hearts out.
He had to sweat through calming them down.
“My lord.”
When the crowd had settled somewhat, the soldiers who had been loitering nearby approached.
“We beg your forgiveness.”
Led by Sergeant Patrick, every soldier lowered his head.
They were duty-bound to protect the villagers, yet they had only watched as Shylock’s mercenaries beat them.
Not until Edward beheaded a mercenary had they moved at all.
“Why?”
“The truth is… we, too, are heavily indebted to Shylock.”
So they had been unable to stand firmly against their creditor.
“It’s my fault as well. You only fell into debt because your wages have gone unpaid.”
He hadn’t yet been able to give them all their back pay.
He could, but if he did, the territory’s finances would collapse again.
Until he could liquidate the gold he’d retrieved from the Demon King’s castle, this was the only way.
“Still, from now on, act as soldiers of Griffith. As long as I’m here, you’ll never suffer harm for fulfilling your duties.”
The money was one problem.
But the deeper issue was that the soldiers lacked faith that the Griffith family would protect them if they carried out their obligations.
Though Shylock was a commoner, he was a power in the nearby cities—too great an opponent for a collapsing house like Griffith.
“We’ll remember, my lord.”
This show of Griffith’s authority would help the soldiers regain their confidence.
“My lord!”
At that moment, Frederick came running, out of breath.
“You’re late.”
“I was shopping in the next village.”
Other houses would have had servants for such tasks, but Griffith was too short-handed. Frederick had to do it himself.
“I heard Shylock came. What happened?”
Edward stuck to the facts, but the villagers did not.
Spittle flew from their mouths as they poured out praise for Edward’s bravery, mercy, and righteousness.
“You are magnificent, truly magnificent.”
Frederick’s eyes shone with admiration.
“Are there any pigs left at the castle?”
“Of course.”
“Slaughter one of the big ones.”
“There’s no need. We still have meat left from last time.”
“It’s not just for me.”
“What?”
“Everyone here will eat. And bring out the rest of the ale.”
“…?”
“People are shaken. They need comfort. No work today.”
Even nobles, in wartime, sometimes ate with soldiers from humble birth.
But never in peace.
“That was good.”
After sharing food and drink with the villagers, Edward dabbed his lips with a handkerchief.
For one who had once treated them like livestock, this new image was shocking.
“Everyone full?”
“Yes, my lord!”
“How was it?”
“Delicious, my lord!”
“Good. If anyone’s not finished, keep eating as you listen.”
The villagers’ eyes turned to Edward.
“We’ve had many troubles. Thankfully, some are solved.”
He had executed the corrupt priest who exploited them, repelled bandits once, his health was improving, and farming had begun anew.
Now even their debts were gone.
Despairing villagers were beginning to feel hope again.
“But many problems remain. The drought is the greatest, but the most urgent is the bandits.”
At the word, their faces darkened.
Last time, for whatever reason, only ten had come.
But normally they numbered in the dozens.
Even Edward couldn’t handle them all alone.
“You knew they’d return, right?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Having been crushed, they’ll be sharpening their blades for revenge. They could even strike tonight.”
Without the knights returning with their horses, defeating them was impossible.
At least, that was what everyone thought.
“From tomorrow, every man will begin training.”
The crowd stirred.
“You mean… we’ll fight the bandits ourselves?”
“Yes.”
The festive air evaporated.
Farmers owed military service, and as acting lord, Edward’s orders could not be refused.
They wanted to help him.
But wanting and being able were two different things.
“C-can we really do it?”
They had lived in fear of the bandits too long.
“They’re foes even knights couldn’t handle. How could we face them?”
“Precisely because you’re the ones who can.”
The villagers blinked in confusion.
“If knights fight the bandits, who wins?”
“The knights, of course.”
“Exactly. The reason knights failed is because the bandits avoided them. But against you, they’ll come charging, careless.”
To the bandits, villagers weren’t enemies—they were loot.
So naturally, they’d underestimate them.
“We’ll draw them here, into this square.”
Edward began laying out his plan.
The more he explained, the more the villagers’ deep fear lightened.
A flicker of maybe we can do this spread like fire through dry grass.
“Maybe it could work…”
Someone muttered, and the people remembered who their young master was.
A man who made the impossible possible.
One who always created miracles.
His recent deeds gave them certainty.
And they longed to do something for him.
Only hours earlier, they had vowed they would even die for Edward.
Remembering that, their fists clenched tight.
“We’ll do it!”
“Trust us, my lord!”
***
The next day.
Griffith entered a state of wartime readiness.
Early in the morning, the villagers hitched up their carts and followed Edward toward the mountain where the Demon King’s castle had stood.
At the cave entrance, as he’d said, weapons once used by the Demon King’s soldiers were piled high.
“These are the arms I found yesterday. I’ve already appraised them, so there won’t be any harmful effects.”
They looked vicious, but there was no doubt they were fine weapons.
“We might actually be able to put up a fight.”
“Those bastards will piss themselves just seeing these.”
“Heh heh, that’s right.”
The superior gear bolstered the villagers’ courage.
“Listen up. Here’s our schedule starting today.”
After issuing the equipment, Edward spoke.
“Wake-up is at 5 a.m.; the bell will signal the time. Assembly is 5:30, and from then, two hours of physical training with me.”
After breakfast, they would tend the fields for two hours. Then they would regroup and drill tactics until noon. In the afternoon, they would conduct a kind of endurance training and learn to use the weapons.
After dinner came free time.
There would be no days off, but Edward would provide all meals. He had prepared a special diet to boost the soldiers’ stamina.
“We start today.”
In the morning, after learning their routes according to the plan, the villagers began endurance training in the afternoon.
“This spear is sharp enough to pierce horse and rider in a single thrust.”
Edward raised a spear made of black steel.
“What I want from you isn’t to fight, but to stand still with your spears leveled.”
It sounded easy when explained.
“Do not move until I give the order. Understood?”
“Yes, my lord!”
Edward lined the villagers up in a straight row. Then he rode toward them driving a string of horses from a distance.
There were eight in total. All the horses in the domain had been mustered, and six of them had been taken from the bandits last time.
Edward gripped the reins of seven horses in one hand, leaving them long. Driven that way, the eight animals moved as one mass.
“Wow.”
Even the stablemaster, who handled horses daily, was impressed by the horsemanship.
Thud-thud-thud.
Kicking up dust and rumbling the ground, the horses charged the villagers.
Gulp.
Someone swallowed audibly.
Watching the herd thunder toward them at tremendous speed, their hands began to shake.
“F-felt like we’re going to get trampled.”
The villagers started to waver.
“Hold it together a little longer.”
“He wouldn’t actually run us down, would he?”
“No matter how talented the young master is, you can’t just stop horses going that fast on a dime.”
“He told us to stand still. All we have to do is stand.”
But that was easier said than done.
“They’re coming!”
“Aaagh!”
When the horses drew within arm’s reach, the villagers bolted without anyone needing to shout.
Thud-thud-thud-thud.
Contrary to their fears, the horses Edward led swerved sharply and swept past to the side.
They did not so much as nick the line he’d told the villagers to hold.
“Haa…”
“See what I said?”
“This is maddening.”
Shamefaced, the villagers couldn’t lift their heads.
“Again.”
Edward ordered, his expression stiff.
“Aaagh!”
But the second attempt ended the same way.
“Again!”
On the third try—
“Waaah!”
A cheer rang out instead of screams.
Others ran, but the one who shouted held his ground. Edward, instead of turning away, skimmed right past the man’s side.
Thud-thud-thud-thud.
Even as the herd roared by in a quake of sound and vibration, the man stood like a stake, eyes screwed shut.
“Huff… huff…”
The last man standing panted hard. Sweat poured off him like rain.
His legs trembled, but his face wore a broad grin.
“Well done, Logan.”
Edward clapped Logan on the shoulder. On the first day of training, one man had conquered his fear.
Cliche Novel 