Chapter 2
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The man sat in a chair and waited for the report while wiping blood from his longsword. Torchlight lit the hall soon after and his right-hand man, Giggs, approached.
“All 25 of them were found,” Giggs reported the extermination of the family and approached the man submerged in darkness as he carefully held out something, “Please take a look at this. Is this what you were looking for?”
The man reached out and took what Giggs had proffered. He fiddled with it, his back to the torch. A ring. It was his father’s ring, stolen seven years ago. He had finally recovered it. However, his fingers moved unexcitedly, his expression indifferent.
“Will you speak to the king yourself? He said he’d definitely return the title if you took care of this commission,” Giggs asked, looking at him with anticipation.
The man remained silent for a moment, then slowly opened his mouth to say coldly, “I’ll only reclaim the estate. I don’t want to live as someone’s dog anymore.” He placed his well-polished longsword on his waist and slowly got up from his seat.
“Hansen,” he called.
“Yes, sir,” Hansen, his left-hand man, replied this time.
“You go to the king with the duke’s head and get my seal back.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Giggs,” the man called out.
“Yes?”
“Get the men ready. We’ll leave soon.”
“Understood.”
The man continued to fiddle with the heavy ring on his palm after Hansen and Giggs had left. It had taken him seven years to find it.
His cold lips suddenly drew into an icy smile. “I’ve finally got it back, Father,” he muttered to himself.
He had never forgotten the family he had lost. He couldn’t, as the misery of that time still plagued him when he closed his eyes. He turned the ring over in his hand, continuing to think. Killing Duke Blaim and his family had been a commission from the king, but he had done far more than he would for any regular job; the reason for that was this ring. The man soon closed his palm and clasped it tightly.
The man carried the scent and stain of blood with him always. His name was Gareth, and he was the most vicious and skilled mercenary in existence.
* * *
Gareth’s notoriety shook the whole country long after the extermination of Duke Blaim’s family. He and the eleven mercenaries who followed him were called madmen, and it was said that death followed in their wake. This was truly an age of utter confusion; a world where even kings hired mercenaries, the warring states period where power trumped everything. The current king lacked the power to control the lords’ selfish infighting and power struggles, and the chaotic era gave them all the more reason to hire mercenaries.
It was especially true for mercenaries like Gareth who never failed. He and his men never lacked for work due to the constant disputes. He had his pick of commissions, and only took the ones he wanted. His continued success only meant that the price to hire him kept growing.
However, Gareth wasn’t just after money; he was after survival. He considered his subordinates irreplaceable. In return, his subordinates put absolute trust in him. They believed that they would not die or be betrayed as long as they followed Gareth’s orders, and there was one truth that they knew to the very marrow of their bones: “you will die if you make Gareth your enemy.”
* * *
The first daughter of Count Townsend was struggling to stay calm. Her proudly straightened back was showing an uneasy tension that she barely managed to hide, and her hands trembled. She was only 17, but she managed to endure nevertheless. She looked at the man sitting in front of her, her face pale but her gaze straightforward and arrogant.
“I’m waiting for an answer now, Elena.” Count Logan had wolfish brown eyes that revealed his cold yet violent temperament. He placed his muddy gaiters on the old table, then pretended to trim his nails with a dagger in a laid-back manner. He urged her again, narrowing his eyes and staring at her astonishingly abundant black hair. A bloodthirsty smile formed on his lips at that moment.
Elena could clearly sense Logan’s lewd desires escalating, threatening to ensnare her. She gritted her teeth. “My answer will always be the same.”
“Is that so?” Logan asked.
“I will never marry you,” she said firmly.
There was a loud noise as Logan pushed his chair back and bolted upright. He approached her with quick steps, grabbing her trembling chin. “Do you know what I want to do every time you act like this? I want to rip this dress up and grab you. You won’t be able to say such arrogant words if you felt me just once. I would make you worship at my feet.”
The woman glared at him with deep green eyes, then spoke every word through her teeth as if to spit out her anger. “I’d rather a beast than you.”
Logan let out a faint sneer, bending so close to Elena’s lips she could feel his hot breath as he said, “Your father spoke so coldly two years ago, and you are just the same. You can’t properly judge the reality of the situation because you’re tied to useless pride.”
The places his breath touched felt like they were rotting, but Elena couldn’t shake him off. Her father, Count Townsend, had left for the capital to accuse Count Logan of invading his territory on various pretexts and continuously causing conflict. As a result, Elena was in charge of the Townsend estate until her father returned. She had no choice but to lean on her pride and endure these terrible insults.
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The man sat in a chair and waited for the report while wiping blood from his longsword. Torchlight lit the hall soon after and his right-hand man, Giggs, approached.
“All 25 of them were found,” Giggs reported the extermination of the family and approached the man submerged in darkness as he carefully held out something, “Please take a look at this. Is this what you were looking for?”
The man reached out and took what Giggs had proffered. He fiddled with it, his back to the torch. A ring. It was his father’s ring, stolen seven years ago. He had finally recovered it. However, his fingers moved unexcitedly, his expression indifferent.
“Will you speak to the king yourself? He said he’d definitely return the title if you took care of this commission,” Giggs asked, looking at him with anticipation.
The man remained silent for a moment, then slowly opened his mouth to say coldly, “I’ll only reclaim the estate. I don’t want to live as someone’s dog anymore.” He placed his well-polished longsword on his waist and slowly got up from his seat.
“Hansen,” he called.
“Yes, sir,” Hansen, his left-hand man, replied this time.
“You go to the king with the duke’s head and get my seal back.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Giggs,” the man called out.
“Yes?”
“Get the men ready. We’ll leave soon.”
“Understood.”
The man continued to fiddle with the heavy ring on his palm after Hansen and Giggs had left. It had taken him seven years to find it.
His cold lips suddenly drew into an icy smile. “I’ve finally got it back, Father,” he muttered to himself.
He had never forgotten the family he had lost. He couldn’t, as the misery of that time still plagued him when he closed his eyes. He turned the ring over in his hand, continuing to think. Killing Duke Blaim and his family had been a commission from the king, but he had done far more than he would for any regular job; the reason for that was this ring. The man soon closed his palm and clasped it tightly.
The man carried the scent and stain of blood with him always. His name was Gareth, and he was the most vicious and skilled mercenary in existence.
* * *
Gareth’s notoriety shook the whole country long after the extermination of Duke Blaim’s family. He and the eleven mercenaries who followed him were called madmen, and it was said that death followed in their wake. This was truly an age of utter confusion; a world where even kings hired mercenaries, the warring states period where power trumped everything. The current king lacked the power to control the lords’ selfish infighting and power struggles, and the chaotic era gave them all the more reason to hire mercenaries.
It was especially true for mercenaries like Gareth who never failed. He and his men never lacked for work due to the constant disputes. He had his pick of commissions, and only took the ones he wanted. His continued success only meant that the price to hire him kept growing.
However, Gareth wasn’t just after money; he was after survival. He considered his subordinates irreplaceable. In return, his subordinates put absolute trust in him. They believed that they would not die or be betrayed as long as they followed Gareth’s orders, and there was one truth that they knew to the very marrow of their bones: “you will die if you make Gareth your enemy.”
* * *
The first daughter of Count Townsend was struggling to stay calm. Her proudly straightened back was showing an uneasy tension that she barely managed to hide, and her hands trembled. She was only 17, but she managed to endure nevertheless. She looked at the man sitting in front of her, her face pale but her gaze straightforward and arrogant.
“I’m waiting for an answer now, Elena.” Count Logan had wolfish brown eyes that revealed his cold yet violent temperament. He placed his muddy gaiters on the old table, then pretended to trim his nails with a dagger in a laid-back manner. He urged her again, narrowing his eyes and staring at her astonishingly abundant black hair. A bloodthirsty smile formed on his lips at that moment.
Elena could clearly sense Logan’s lewd desires escalating, threatening to ensnare her. She gritted her teeth. “My answer will always be the same.”
“Is that so?” Logan asked.
“I will never marry you,” she said firmly.
There was a loud noise as Logan pushed his chair back and bolted upright. He approached her with quick steps, grabbing her trembling chin. “Do you know what I want to do every time you act like this? I want to rip this dress up and grab you. You won’t be able to say such arrogant words if you felt me just once. I would make you worship at my feet.”
The woman glared at him with deep green eyes, then spoke every word through her teeth as if to spit out her anger. “I’d rather a beast than you.”
Logan let out a faint sneer, bending so close to Elena’s lips she could feel his hot breath as he said, “Your father spoke so coldly two years ago, and you are just the same. You can’t properly judge the reality of the situation because you’re tied to useless pride.”
The places his breath touched felt like they were rotting, but Elena couldn’t shake him off. Her father, Count Townsend, had left for the capital to accuse Count Logan of invading his territory on various pretexts and continuously causing conflict. As a result, Elena was in charge of the Townsend estate until her father returned. She had no choice but to lean on her pride and endure these terrible insults.
The man sat in a chair and waited for the report while wiping blood from his longsword. Torchlight lit the hall soon after and his right-hand man, Giggs, approached.All 25 of them were found, Giggs reported the extermination of the family and approached the man submerged in darkness as he carefully held out something, Please take a look at this. Is this what you were looking for?The man reached out and took what Giggs had proffered. He fiddled with it, his back to the torch. A ring. It was his father's ring, stolen seven years ago. He had finally recovered it. However, his fingers moved unexcitedly, his expression indifferent.Will you speak to the king yourself? He said he'd definitely return the title if you took care of this commission, Giggs asked, looking at him with anticipation.The man remained silent for a moment, then slowly opened his mouth to say coldly, I'll only reclaim the estate. I don't want to live as someone's dog anymore. He placed his well-polished longsword on his waist and slowly got up from his seat.Hansen, he called.Yes, sir, Hansen, his left-hand man, replied this time.You go to the king with the duke's head and get my seal back.Yes, sir.Giggs, the man called out.Yes?Get the men ready. We'll leave soon.Understood.The man continued to fiddle with the heavy ring on his palm after Hansen and Giggs had left. It had taken him seven years to find it.His cold lips suddenly drew into an icy smile. I've finally got it back, Father, he muttered to himself.He had never forgotten the family he had lost. He couldn't, as the misery of that time still plagued him when he closed his eyes. He turned the ring over in his hand, continuing to think. Killing Duke Blaim and his family had been a commission from the king, but he had done far more than he would for any regular job; the reason for that was this ring. The man soon closed his palm and clasped it tightly.The man carried the scent and stain of blood with him always. His name was Gareth, and he was the most vicious and skilled mercenary in existence.* * *Gareth's notoriety shook the whole country long after the extermination of Duke Blaim's family. He and the eleven mercenaries who followed him were called madmen, and it was said that death followed in their wake. This was truly an age of utter confusion; a world where even kings hired mercenaries, the warring states period where power trumped everything. The current king lacked the power to control the lords' selfish infighting and power struggles, and the chaotic era gave them all the more reason to hire mercenaries.It was especially true for mercenaries like Gareth who never failed. He and his men never lacked for work due to the constant disputes. He had his pick of commissions, and only took the ones he wanted. His continued success only meant that the price to hire him kept growing.However, Gareth wasn't just after money; he was after survival. He considered his subordinates irreplaceable. In return, his subordinates put absolute trust in him. They believed that they would not die or be betrayed as long as they followed Gareth's orders, and there was one truth that they knew to the very marrow of their bones: you will die if you make Gareth your enemy.* * *The first daughter of Count Townsend was struggling to stay calm. Her proudly straightened back was showing an uneasy tension that she barely managed to hide, and her hands trembled. She was only 17, but she managed to endure nevertheless. She looked at the man sitting in front of her, her face pale but her gaze straightforward and arrogant.I'm waiting for an answer now, Elena. Count Logan had wolfish brown eyes that revealed his cold yet violent temperament. He placed his muddy gaiters on the old table, then pretended to trim his nails with a dagger in a laid-back manner. He urged her again, narrowing his eyes and staring at her astonishingly abundant black hair. A bloodthirsty smile formed on his lips at that moment.Elena could clearly sense Logan's lewd desires escalating, threatening to ensnare her. She gritted her teeth. My answer will always be the same.Is that so? Logan asked.I will never marry you, she said firmly.There was a loud noise as Logan pushed his chair back and bolted upright. He approached her with quick steps, grabbing her trembling chin. Do you know what I want to do every time you act like this? I want to rip this dress up and grab you. You won't be able to say such arrogant words if you felt me just once. I would make you worship at my feet.The woman glared at him with deep green eyes, then spoke every word through her teeth as if to spit out her anger. I'd rather a beast than you.Logan let out a faint sneer, bending so close to Elena's lips she could feel his hot breath as he said, Your father spoke so coldly two years ago, and you are just the same. You can't properly judge the reality of the situation because you're tied to useless pride.The places his breath touched felt like they were rotting, but Elena couldn't shake him off. Her father, Count Townsend, had left for the capital to accuse Count Logan of invading his territory on various pretexts and continuously causing conflict. As a result, Elena was in charge of the Townsend estate until her father returned. She had no choice but to lean on her pride and endure these terrible insults.
