Outside the city gates, Baron Kenning stared at the three floating fireballs.
"A spellcaster… hmph."
Not far off, Solon and Jensen, who hadn't yet reached the gates, also saw it.
"Let's go! Baron Kashir has sent his mage, this city's about to fall!" Solon shouted to the soldiers nearby.
"My lord, your safety-" Jensen began, but one look from Solon shut him up.
What kind of duty is this? Next time Daemon can watch over the young lord, and I'll go charge the front, Jensen grumbled internally.
Inside the city, Gysella and her companions heard the explosion as well.
"That was no man-made noise!" Gysella's expression changed dramatically.
"It's magic! We have to go, the city is about to fall!"
Ignoring any sense of noble Gysella, she lifted her skirts and ran through the alley, her maid carrying Cynthea close behind.
At the north gate, Willis and his group also heard the explosion. Although he was a disfavored marquis' son, as a noble, he knew a bit about supernatural powers.
"A mage…" Willis' face darkened. "Let's go, now!"
His followers were all elite troops. Though there were only fifty or so, most were cavalry. They also had a few wagons, loaded with his wealth.
The northern gate had faced only token resistance. If they could break through, and with the map of Morpheus Forest and deeds to a Evenstar estate, Willis was confident he could make a comeback, perhaps live even better than in Northwild.
As the gate slowly opened, Willis and his troops fought their way through the ring of infantry. Just as they thought they'd escaped, a larger unit of cavalry blocked the road. Both sides were clearly surprised.
Willis felt intense pressure from the armored figure at the head of the enemy riders. He himself had secretly cultivated his combat aura to a Elementary knight's degree, but this man was even stronger. A bad feeling crept over him.
"My lord…" a middle-aged man in full armor stepped forward and whispered to Willis.
"When the time comes, run." He then turned to the surrounding cavalry and barked,
"Protect the lord!"
"Yes, sir!" came a chorus of responses.
Willis widened his eyes. Even the powerful warrior he'd secretly recruited couldn't handle this knight. Just how strong was he?
Though the defenders had fought fiercely, the city was eventually taken. By midday, the gates had been breached. The remaining Northwild troops, having retreated to the city lord's mansion, realized they had been abandoned by their liege. After a brief resistance, they surrendered.
By evening, Storm patrols roamed the streets of Faircastle. After the gates fell, Northwild refugees erupted in rioting, looting, burning, and smashing. The chaos inflicted more damage on Storm troops than the remaining defenders had.
Fortunately, the Storm side had experience handling such matters. Dozens of looters were hanged on the streets, and the unrest was finally quelled.
Daemon had just left the barons. The two nobles were still arguing about who had breached the gate first. Oddly enough, the gates taken by Daemon's unit and the one blasted by Kashir's mage had fallen almost simultaneously. That, combined with the defenders being caught in a pincer, had led to their rapid surrender.
Daemon next visited Solon.
Solon was unharmed, but his protector Jensen hadn't fared as well. Perhaps because he'd shielded Solon too fiercely, the Northwild forces had mistaken Solon for someone important. He'd rarely faced formal attacks, but arrows had rained in waves. Thanks to his strong armor and aura, Solon was only grazed. Jensen, however, took an arrow to the left waist. His half-armor protected only the upper ribs, the archer had aimed with brutal precision.
In a lavish courtyard, Daemon reported to Solon the status of their unit. The scar across Solon's nose gave him a new air of ruggedness, and he was pleased by Daemon's thoroughness. It made Solon feel like he truly had a unit of his own, and a competent officer to lead it.
In his joy, Solon issued a reward: a roll of fine red silk and a stalk of red seaflower. Clearly, he knew Daemon kept a lover, why else offer these items? The red seaflower, in fact, was something Daemon had personally picked. This time, he'd gathered 50% more, just in case. That Solon carried such a rare item even during war hinted at its true value.
Daemon politely declined the invitation to dine together, citing a need to visit Jensen. Solon was even more pleased. He preferred loyal subordinates who valued their superiors and comrades.
Jensen was recovering in a small courtyard, attended by two soldiers from their unit. A waist wound like his might've been serious in the past, but now, with combat aura helping to heal, he'd be fine in a week.
Seeing Daemon brought mixed emotions: gratitude and excitement. Jensen insisted Daemon stay the night. Daemon hadn't yet found a place to sleep, so he agreed. Jensen kept insisting: next time you guard Solon, I'll go fight!
By the time Daemon left, the moon was high. He refused Jensen's offer to share a place. As company commanders, they were each entitled to their own living quarters. Better to sleep alone than share with someone else.
These courtyards had belonged to merchants and nobles near the city lord's mansion. Daemon looked for somewhere quiet, after the day's battle, his aura had advanced, and he needed time to reflect.
He walked through the streets, where Storm soldiers ransacked shops. This looting was tacitly allowed. After risking their lives, soldiers deserved booty. The shops didn't have much, but soldiers still combed the rubble like treasure hunters. Even a single Golden Dragon would be a windfall, worth 50 Silver Stags at logistics. Shop owners had fled, and what was left wasn't worth much, but it didn't dampen enthusiasm.
Daemon had been one of them once. As a squad leader, he had a record of hitting three streets in one night. Now, as a company commander, he didn't need to loot personally. Squad leaders brought him their shares. The real loot, gold, arms, and food, was secured early by the baron's cavalry. The city treasury, the armory, and especially the luxurious city lord's mansion, where even a porcelain piece could fetch several gold coins, were tightly controlled.
Daemon's old companions like Hugo and Karlon had learned well from his looting techniques. He was sure they'd "eat well" tonight.
He stopped thinking about it. His priority now was to find a place to sleep.
He walked into a dark alley behind the city lord's mansion, a wealthy area. He came upon a redwood door.
"This is it."
Bang! He kicked the door open. Likely the owner had fled. If not, too bad. This place now belonged to Daemon. If someone dared object, he'd "persuade" them.
The courtyard was clean. No fallen leaves under the tree, clearly maintained. Either the owner had just left, or was still here.
There were two buildings besides the gatehouse. He'd checked the gatehouse, empty. He eyed the two closed doors.
Drawing his sword, he approached the smaller room, likely not the master's. Sword ready, he slowly entered. No one inside. A faint fragrance lingered, clearly a woman's room. The bed was messy, someone had left in a hurry.
He backed out and approached the main room. Quiet. Someone might still be inside. He gently pushed the door, it was pitch black.
As the door swung fully open, a flash of silver streaked through the dark,
Daemon's instincts flared. He rolled forward, sword striking at the silver gleam. Clang! Steel met steel. He surged his aura into the blow, but the attacker held firm. Daemon failed to disarm them, so he charged forward instead.
At 178 cm, Daemon was solidly built. He crashed into the attacker, who cried out, a woman's voice.
Daemon grabbed her neck with his right hand. Warm. Smooth. But no hesitation. On the battlefield, mercy gets you killed.
As he was about to see who it was, a shadow lunged at him from the dark. He threw out his left hand, and grabbed something soft. He instinctively squeezed.
"AHHH!!" A piercing scream filled the courtyard.
Moonlight spilled in. Daemon's eyes adjusted. Two beautiful faces appeared, one youthful, one mature.
His left hand… had grabbed the older woman's chest. Her eyes welled with tears. Lips purple from pain. Daemon had unconsciously used all his strength.
Realizing what he'd done, he finally released her. She collapsed to the floor.
He wasn't worried about a counterattack, no one could take that hit and keep fighting. But the girl he still held, she was dangerous. She had parried his aura strike. Not ordinary.
"Who are you?!" he demanded.
Judging by their outfits, the girl was a maid, blue ribbon in her hair. The fallen woman wore a black dress, dirty now, but finely made. She was clearly the mistress.
"Cough, cough… let Raffi go! You're choking her!" the woman cried, rushing up and tugging wildly at him.
Daemon stared at her. He'd never seen someone so unreasonable.
The women he'd known were either barmaids, flirting to survive, or quartermaster girls buttering up soldiers. Even Cassie was obedient. This woman was… bold.
The girl he held was nearly unconscious. Eyes bulging, breath faint. Even a strong man would be near death now. He let go.
The older woman, Gysella, of course, rushed to the maid's side.
"Raffi! Are you okay?"
Raffi weakly nodded, then passed out coughing. She was alive, but just barely.
Daemon sensed something familiar in her energy, like those who practiced aura. She wasn't just a maid. But how strong was she? He wasn't sure.
Gysella was panicking, but relaxed when she saw Raffi was still breathing. Then she froze again, remembering she was still in the presence of a dangerous man.
Again, Daemon asked, "Who are you?"
"We… we're just residents of the city. She's my maid," Gysella said smoothly. As expected from a famous socialite, her lie was polished.
"Lies. How does a maid know aura?" Daemon's gaze pierced her.
Gysella flinched. She had no idea Daemon had used aura earlier. She thought he was just strong.
That was the difference between Storm and Northwild. In Storm, soldiers could earn the right to train in aura through merit. In Northwild, aura was hoarded by nobles. Some officers didn't even have it.
Looking at Daemon, Gysella figured he was likely a commoner, not trained in noble ways.
Daemon didn't know the difference in training systems. He just knew that in Northwild, aura users were rare, and valuable. Uncle Joshek had told him: anyone with aura was rich or noble. Killing one meant loot, armor, swords, maybe even enchanted rings.
The maid's uniform was simple. No visible jewelry, just a gold bracelet on her wrist. Daemon pocketed it. Better than nothing.
This woman clearly wasn't going to talk. He'd use tougher methods if needed. He never showed mercy, another reason he'd survived so long.
"Gugu…" a soft child's voice broke the silence.
Dawn arrived, and Faircastle was still in chaos. Though a small city, thousands of civilians and refugees remained. Smoke and destruction filled the air.
Cries, curses, crashes, this was the city's new soundtrack.
Even the city lord's mansion was in turmoil.
"What did you say?! The city lord ran away?! Why wasn't I told yesterday?!" Baron Kashir's roar shook the walls.
"He's just a city lord. Why the fuss?" Baron Kenning casually wiped his coat with a handkerchief.
"Just a city lord? He's a marquis' son! He alone could've been worth half the city!"
"A disfavored son. What more did you expect?" Kenning remained unfazed.
Kashir still wanted to argue, but Kenning cut him off.
"You want a bigger share? Fine, take an extra 10% from the armory and treasury."
"The granary-" Kashir started.
"No." Kenning shut it down. "My own food stores are running low. Half each, as agreed."
Their armies were private noble forces. The military covered only a small portion of pay and supplies, the rest came from their own pockets.
"…Fine. It's settled," Kashir relented, sensing he'd reached the limit.
After Kashir left, Ser Willas and the steward appeared in Kenning's chamber.
"Explain," Kenning said coldly.
"My lord," Ser Willas began, "the city lord escaped with about fifty cavalry. Their equipment and skill were inferior to our battle-hardened troops, but still formidable."
He paused. "There was one Intermediate Squire, and two Elementary Squires. They worked together to hold me off."
"Oh?" The baron finally looked interested. "One intermediate, two elementaries?"
Even Baron Kashir only had one Elementary Squire and a mage.
"Yes, sir," Ser Willas answered respectfully. There was no pressure here, the baron himself had Elementary strength and radiated command presence.
"That Intermediate one fought like he wanted to die. He took one of my blows head-on to delay me."
Kenning could imagine it. Taking a direct hit from a High Squire and surviving, that required powerful techniques.
His expression softened. "We'll let it go, then. You hid the goods?"
"Yes, my lord. In the forest outside the city. I've posted guards."
Though the city lord escaped, Will's cavalry had recovered three of five wagons.
One wagon held over a thousand Golden Dragons. Another, Northwild's jewels and crafts. The third, armor and weapons.
Unlike the city treasury, which had mostly silver and copper, the gold alone covered the cost of the entire siege. The jewels were even more valuable. But they'd be hard to move, he'd have to smuggle them back to Peters Territory to convert their worth.
"Good," the baron said, clearly satisfied.