The Cavalry Captain was utterly astonished. A man who had originally been stupid, shortsighted, greedy, and smug had become clever and decisive, with precise judgment, in just a few breaths.
Was that possible?
He thought of the voice from earlier. That had to be the Evil God.
As a mercenary, he had naturally heard legends of the Evil God—in taverns, inns, and from his lovers.
He had simply never taken them seriously.
On the battlefield, what mattered were blades, spears, and armor, not some Evil God.
Yet now, he had no choice but to believe. The Evil God's power was far too formidable.
He felt a slight regret. Perhaps he should have agreed earlier.
No one present understood better than he did the value of a capable commander on the battlefield.
But now, he could only follow Sir's orders and gather the cavalry.
In fact, the cavalry had long since formed up.
They were all hired cavalrymen. His five subordinates stood beside their horses, wearing polished Inlaid Armor. Iron plates had been set into the vital areas beneath the leather.
Their faces showed a trace of panic.
In contrast, the horses remained spirited, showing no fear at all.
Mercenaries could only fight battles they were winning.
"Everyone, get ready. In a while, we'll escort Sir as he breaks out," the Cavalry Captain shouted at his men.
"Ready," all five answered together.
"Good. Wait for orders."
The Cavalry Captain then went to gather the Attendants. The Attendants belonged to the Sirs; other than him and the Sirs themselves, no one else could summon them.
Soon, twenty Attendants clad in leather armor rushed over.
Twenty-six people. They were the only people in the castle who had any fighting ability, the only ones who could go onto a battlefield and see blood.
The