Departure or Falling Out

Bang, bang, bang, bang...

The departure clappers shattered the thin morning mist. The narrow gate of the manor opened, and the expeditionary party was about to set off under the watchful eyes of family and friends.

Sir Davis Tevalin had long since donned his heraldic armor with the help of his squire knight and attendant. Sitting upright on a heavy hunting horse with his whip held upside down, he watched the country bumpkins shakily form up before preparing to depart.

In his eyes, everyone before him was a country bumpkin. One was a young squire knight in armor that clearly did not fit him. The battle scars mottling his armor could not conceal his youthful face or the awkwardness born of inexperience.

Following this green novice were five farmers dressed in ragged long coats patched upon patches, carrying pitchforks, wooden clubs tucked at their waists, and stones in their pockets.

Although Sir Davis had only three people at his side counting himself, they somehow had five horses, and all three men wore armor.

Besides Sir Davis Tevalin's hunting horse for travel and his chainmail-clad warhorse, his two followers rode packhorses while pretending to be armored knights. Another empty packhorse carried supplies.

Though the squire knight and knight attendant wore only a half-length chainmail shirt and a lined leather jerkin respectively, and wielded Sir Davis Tevalin's pennoned lances and warrior swords,

they still utterly outclassed those farmers dressed in nothing but cloth.

In Sir Davis Tevalin's view, he would not even need to lift a hand. The squire knight who had followed him for years could handle Ergons Tevalin, someone of comparable skill but lacking experience in battle formations.

And that knight attendant, whose face had not even lost its peach fuzz, could slaughter all five farmers despite being only fourteen.

"Young Master, you should still take us with you. I can tend to your daily needs on the road, and Adamson can help carry your weapons." Old Servant Adam's eyes remained full of worry.

Ergons put on an aloof expression. "There is no need. With Cousin Davis here, there will absolutely be no danger in this mission. Stay behind and prepare a victory feast for us!"

"Move out!"

Without further regard for the old servant's pleas, he spurred his horse and cracked his whip, charging out through the manor gate.

"Heh, what a greenhorn!"

The party set off amid Sir Davis Tevalin's cold snort, heading toward the place where enemies might be lurking.

Old Adam stood reluctantly at the gate, watching them for a long time as he wiped away tears with his sleeve. His son Adamson approached, carrying two siege crossbows.

"Father, stop acting. If we do not leave now, we will not catch up. I do not know how to wear this armor. You have been to war, so hurry and help me!"

"You little bastard. Are you trying to make trouble for Young Master by openly carrying crossbows?"

Old Servant Adam cautiously glanced around and, only after confirming there was no one else by the gate, relaxed. Even so, he did not forget to reprimand his son for being careless.

The two entered a side room in the manor's main keep. Inside, two armored warhorses were curled up resting. Beside the sleeping steeds lay two sets of long heraldic armor, flat-topped nasal helmets, warrior swords, light lances, and other supplies.

These were the things their young master had shown them after knocking on Adamson's door in the latter half of the night.

Though their young master had not explained where these things came from, Old Servant Adam knew this was not the time to worry about that. Their chance to turn things around rested on them.

After loading steel crossbow bolts, the two helped each other into their armor, led the warhorses out of the manor's fortified enclosure through a tunnel, then spurred them toward a mudflat thirteen miles east.

That was the place Ergons had arranged with Old Servant Adam. Tevalinburg stood on the duchy's frontier, where three kingdoms met. Beyond it stretched a boundless wasteland of mudflats and gravel desert, a natural barrier between the nations.

Because it was a barren land, bandits gathered amid the mudflats when oversight was lacking. If Sir Davis Tevalin intended to set Ergons up, he would certainly head there.

It was also the place they had chosen to turn the tables.

The so-called bandit-hunting mission was indeed, just as Ergons had suspected, a killing ground prepared for him by Sir Davis Tevalin.

On the "mini-map," Ergons could clearly see a group of seventeen bandits three miles ahead of their party.

Their status showed that they were waiting for Ergons Tevalin's party.

The situation before him made him wonder how many trump cards he still held.

After figuring out how to make use of his advantages the previous night, Ergons activated a Level Two function that could only be used six times each month.

Using CTRL+X, which allowed him to instantly teleport to any location, he entered Tevalinburg's armory and filled his inventory with the main family's private stockpile.

What were heavy bastard swords, spiked maces, winged staffs, and military picks...

Items like those did not even qualify for his inventory. He sold them directly to the system in exchange for gold.

What he truly kept were fourteen suits of armor, thirteen helmets, plate boots, scale gauntlets, and the seven warhorses curled up outside the armory.

He sold everything else to the system. Not even a single spear remained in the entire armory, while he had somehow gained more than fourteen thousand gold coins.

Before pressing CTRL+X again to teleport back to Tervain Village, he also opened the prison doors and casually set fire to Tevalinburg's granary.

It was not that he was cruel. Tevalinburg had already decided to kill them, so why should he let his enemies have it easy?

After gathering his thoughts, Ergons, clad in two layers of heavy armor, looked at the desolate land ahead where the green was gradually fading, then at Sir Davis Tevalin, who seemed calm on the surface but had already considered him a dead man.

This young knight of the Tevalin Family was only in his early thirties, yet he was already a battle-hardened Sir. As the biological nephew of the main family's current Baron, it seemed "understandable" that he, a man without lands of his own, had plotted against Ergons and his father.

He slowed his horse and turned it toward Sir Davis Tevalin.

"Sir, beyond this point we will be fully entering the mudflats. Should we trouble your squire knight, Mr. Dickens, to scout ahead..."

Though the squire knight and Sir Tervalin himself were both unwilling, the gap in strength made them truly regard Ergons Tevalin as fish on the chopping block.

Tevalinburg was indeed the duchy's strategic gateway to the outside world, but Tervain Village lay inland under Tevalinburg's protection. Normally, no one came lightly to this most remote barony in the duchy.

With the vast mudflat gravel desert and the region's semi-plateau terrain, no merchant caravans traveling between nations passed through here either.

Seeing that they had traveled far from the village and that there was not a trace of human activity on the desolate road, Sir Davis Tevalin no longer intended to keep pretending.

In fact, while supposedly escorting him home for his father's funeral, Sir Davis Tevalin had ordered his two men to force an entire bowl of poison down Ergons Tevalin's throat.

He had originally planned to toss the corpse into the carriage, seize control of Tervain Village upon arriving, then announce that Ergons Tevalin had died from overwhelming grief after suddenly receiving the tragic news, thereby smoothly taking over the manor.

But he had never expected him to rise from the dead.

So this time, Sir Davis Tevalin would not wait any longer. "You will die to bandits' blades anyway. It makes no difference whether it happens here or in the mudflats."

The squire knight Dickens and the young attendant drew their weapons and urged their horses forward. They were clearly dropping all pretenses now!

Beneath his helmet, Ergons Tevalin's blue eyes were full of amusement. "Sir Davis Tevalin, are you ready to accept my respects?"

His legs struck the horse's flanks, and the warhorse abruptly accelerated. The lance tucked beneath his left arm thrust toward the attendant while the blade in his right hand slashed at the squire knight, making him appear valiant and spirited.

Sir Davis Tevalin only answered with a cold snort. "Overestimating yourself!"