The three of them emerged from the cellblock. Brando had effortlessly dealt with the three guards patrolling various parts of the floor, and the entire process had been completely silent, executed with frightening skill. Freya had always suspected that Brando had undergone special training in the past, but did Highland Knights really need that kind of training?
The underground prison beneath the barracks housed very few people to begin with, and its security was extremely lax. Ridenburg had another dungeon for ordinary criminals; this black prison was mainly used to hold deserters and bandits. However, the army usually executed such people on the spot, so this place had rarely been used since it was built. Even the jailers merely went through the motions.
But in the game, this dungeon was specifically used to imprison players, and its condition was completely different. It was packed to the brim. If the White Mane Legion had any mortal enemy in the game besides Madara, it was undoubtedly a dungeon like this.
After dealing with the patrolling guards, the four of them made their way toward the center of the floor. When the guard in charge of the keys saw several people emerge from the darkness, he was startled and instinctively turned around to draw the sword hanging on the wall.
Brando immediately raised his protective gauntlet to intercept it. A faint blue glow spread across the gauntlet and blocked the guard's sword. The blue light was about the size of a soccer ball, and within it seemed to be a force pushing outward, deflecting the sharp blade.
The White Mane light infantryman was caught off guard, and Brando seized the sword from his hand. The young man then shoved him backward into the wall, making him grunt before passing out. In Brando's eyes, these were merely ordinary soldiers. Since he had the ability to do so, he had not dealt them a killing blow—he had merely knocked them unconscious with a single move.
Freya watched him knock down the last enemy from behind and could not help saying, "So you're actually this powerful, Brando. If I hadn't come out this time, I would've remained a frog in a well."
"You're not bad yourself, so don't belittle yourself. You're at about the middle level among White-Rank swordsmen, which is more than enough to join the Guard Detachment." Brando found the key to the upper floor on the guard and answered as he spoke.
"White-Rank swordsman?"
"That means unranked." The young man Charles explained from the side, "The three ranks of swordsmen—Black Iron, Silver, and Gold—correspond to the three titles of knight's squire, formal knight, and high-ranking knight. In Eluin, Black Iron swordsmen are also called knight reservists. Any noble child with even a little potential is sent to the household of a great noble to become a retainer."
"Traditionally, swordsmen of this rank have the right to greet local gentry and lower nobles such as lords without removing their hats. However, that tradition had all but died out half a century ago. Below Black Iron swordsmen are the unranked. Generally speaking, members of your Guard Detachment and militia are all at this stage, though there are differences between the upper and lower levels."
"I see." Freya finally understood. In the past, her horizons had been limited to being the best swordsman among the militia. Only now had they truly broadened.
But Charles was not finished. He had probably noticed that his lord was trying to cultivate this girl, so he continued, "Black Iron swordsmen represent first-level power (3–20 Oz), Silver swordsmen represent second-level power (20–100 Oz), and Golden swordsmen represent third-level power (100–500 Oz). For mages, the corresponding levels are intermediate mages, first-circle mages, and second-circle mages. Priests and other professions have similar divisions. In fact, this ranking system is not based on any particular country or family. It was strictly established by the Temple of Flames."
Freya and Roman could not help blinking. They had never known there was so much to it. In truth, this was not difficult knowledge to come by among commoners. It was simply that Buchi was too remote.
"You should know that in powerful empires such as Gryz and Banse, even ordinary soldiers in standing armies are at least lower-level Black Iron. Almost no one at the rank of captain is below Silver. But here in Eluin, even more than half the frontline soldiers in border legions fail to reach the level of Black Iron swordsmen. Even captains qualified to serve as knights are often only middle-level Black Iron." Charles spoke with another obvious implication.
"Charles, if those words get out, we could be beheaded."
"If my lord isn't afraid of losing his head, then naturally I, as his retainer, have nothing to fear." The young man replied cleverly, then continued, "My lord should have reached the level of a Black Iron swordsman by now, right? For someone your age, that is extraordinarily rare. Charles is deeply honored to follow such an outstanding person."
Even if we leave aside being an Enlightened One or a Chosen One, anyone born with knightly talent isn't anything special. Brando thought. His achievement was certainly bizarre when one considered that he had accomplished it in just a few days, but Charles did not know that. Besides, being flattered felt rather good, so he could not be bothered to expose him.
After all, Roman and Freya's slightly astonished gazes made him feel rather pleased, didn't they?
Charles glanced at the unconscious soldier on the floor and asked in a lowered voice, "There seem to be other prisoners in cells 5, 17, and 22. Should we release them and have them help us escape, my lord? If there's a barracks outside, our chances of success should be higher with more people."
Freya immediately glared at him. What kind of terrible idea was that? Brando had already said that the people imprisoned here were all truly heinous criminals.
"No need. More people will only interfere with my plan." Brando answered confidently.
"As you wish."
Brando turned around again. "Roman, do you know where your aunt is?"
Roman shook her head. "I don't know either. But I heard she was staying with a cousin?"
"Where does that cousin live?"
"I know. At Ponoan Market. I heard Auntie say that the person was one of Aunt Roman's distant relatives, a small wool merchant named Hood." Freya answered.
Brando glanced at Roman. "Your family certainly has a tradition of merchants."
The Merchant's Daughter gave him a sweet smile in reply.
Now that they had confirmed their destination, things became easier. The first floor of the dungeon beneath the barracks was even smaller, and it had only one jailer. Only then did Brando realize that the four jailers on the floor below had been added temporarily because of them. After dealing with this floor, they continued upward and arrived inside the barracks.
Brando knew the place like the back of his hand. He first retrieved Freya's Empress of Wind Half-Plate from the temporary storehouse, then searched each person and armed them with a sword. It was a pity that knocking out those soldiers gave no experience. Otherwise, Brando would not have minded waking them up and knocking them unconscious several more times.
During the journey, Charles suggested more than once that they stir up all the prisoners and have them escape amid a riot. His reasoning was simple: dealing with one or two White Mane light infantrymen through a surprise attack would be easy enough. But once they reached the courtyard outside, the four of them would find it extremely difficult to fight their way out alone.
Brando rejected all his suggestions.
As they spoke, they had already slipped into the highest level of the barracks. Brando opened the wooden door at the top of the tower and stepped outside. Beyond it was an open-air walkway, with parapets on both sides for temporary defense. Brando knew without looking that below lay a tributary of the Yusong River running through the city. From here, they could probably see one-fifth of the city.
But he had not come to admire the view. They had knocked out seven guards on their way up, and given the White Mane Legion's level of training, the anomaly would probably be discovered in about ten minutes. Brando raised his head and glanced at the sky. The moon was beautiful tonight, and even the thick clouds could not conceal the silver disk hanging in the night sky.
"What are you doing, Brando?" Freya could not help poking him from behind. She could not help wondering whether this fellow had escaped prison just to look at the moon. It seemed unlikely, but given his disgraceful past, it was not entirely impossible.
She glanced at Charles as well. The young man was standing with his hands behind his back, gazing at the sky alongside his master without saying a word. Master and retainer certainly had perfect rapport.
"The moonlight is lovely tonight," Brando answered casually.
"You—" Freya ground her teeth in anger. She really wanted to punch him in the face and see whether he could still smile.
"Auntie said the moon's name is Luca. Luca was born because of Elaine, and Elaine was Alice's younger sister—the twin goddess. It was because of the moon that mystery came to exist in this world." Roman tilted her little face upward and gazed at the moon.
"Your aunt knows quite a lot," Charles replied from the side. "This is a secret passed down among the mages of this world. There is a book called Dark Epic that tells of events from countless ages in the past."
"Are you saying Roman's aunt is a mage?" Freya was stunned.
"Not necessarily. Perhaps she is simply someone connected to magic. Some village witches also know a few rumors about this."
The long-ponytailed girl could not help glancing at Roman. The latter seemed not to have heard them and remained in a daze, staring at the moon. But Freya thought Aunt Jenny was indeed rather mysterious. She often brought strange things back from outside. The villagers all said she was a witch and rarely interacted with her family.
But as Brando listened to the three of them, a strange sentence suddenly surfaced in his mind:
XVI: THE TOWER—
The lost "moon" stole away the light.
He froze, thinking he had hallucinated. He hurriedly shook his head, but he could not stop himself from remembering the dream he had experienced while unconscious that night.
In a quiet, dark environment, everything in the dream had seemed bizarre and surreal. Yet one thing had remained constant throughout: a black moon, and a solitary tower standing quietly in the center of a pitch-black lake.
After that, he had encountered Freya. But just as he thought of this, he heard the Merchant's Daughter say while staring at the moon, "Something is coming, Brando."
The other three all raised their heads.
After about twenty seconds, everyone present heard the deep sound of wings beating in the sky. Freya was puzzled and uneasy, but Brando and Charles remained calm. Brando, in particular, raised his head.
The next moment, a gargoyle with spread wings leaped out from the clouds beneath the moonlight. The stone demon, its wings outstretched, formed a mysterious scene in the clear moonlight above the clouds, reflected in the eyes of the three people—
"Brando, that's your gargoyle!" Roman recognized it at once.
"Yes. Are you afraid of heights?"
The Merchant's Daughter hurriedly shook her head.
"W-What are you trying to do, Brando?" Freya suddenly realized something, and her face turned deathly pale.
When Lord Golden Fruit stormed into Burnley's home with a face as dark as still water, the self-proclaimed workshop magnate and industrialist—an honorable noble in name—was examining an exquisite brass suit of armor through a magnifying glass. After all, armor in the style of the Year of Glory's Return was priceless in any collector's hands.
Burnley unhurriedly lowered the magnifying glass in his hand and glanced at his companion. With a hint of mockery, he said, "What? Did that fellow take people out of the city overnight?"
"It isn't that serious. The prisoners escaped tonight!" Seber could not help fuming when he mentioned it. In truth, that was not what angered him most. What infuriated him was that the madman had actually come to his residence and shouted at him.
"That is only a minor matter. How did they escape?"
"That isn't what I'm angry about." Lord Golden Fruit shook his head and took a deep breath. "I'm angry that Lyckbeson, the 'Tiger' of the White Mane Legion, actually came to my door and demanded to know whether I had imprisoned the descendant of a Highland Knight in his dungeon because I wanted to cause trouble for him!"
"A Highland Knight?" Burnley was startled.
"Yes. He said one of the three people was a Highland Knight. He was with his Mage Retainer as well. Heavens, he actually came to demand that I hand the person over, saying that I could not touch him and that he absolutely had to recruit him into his legion." Lord Golden Fruit nearly exploded whenever he mentioned it.
"What happened in the end?"
"In the end, I have to take people and settle this matter. In the middle of the night, that fellow is simply too overbearing!" he replied irritably.
"Don't act rashly. Have Granson handle it. I'll draw some men from my private army to help you." Burnley answered with a beaming smile.
Lord Golden Fruit looked at him gratefully. For the first time, he felt that even that round face was not so annoying. But after thinking it over, he reminded him, "Actually, I came because there is another matter. I heard you recently transported a batch of armor into the city. Be careful. Although cultivating your own forces is not a serious matter these days, take care not to leave anyone holding evidence against you."
He could not help glancing around the room.
"It's merely a personal hobby." The industrialist replied with a beaming smile.
(PS. Strange. Why do I always feel as if my results are much worse?)
Before you continue