Karl climbed into the carriage and, the moment he was out of people’s sight, immediately held out his hand to Harmon.
Knowing that Karl wasn’t as foolish as the rumors claimed and didn’t waste time, Harmon perceptively handed him the documents.
“Shall I explain them to you?”
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
At Harmon’s polite offer, Karl replied firmly and focused on the documents.
Harmon awkwardly shifted his gaze. He assumed Karl wouldn’t be able to understand such difficult material on his own.
But that was a serious underestimation.
Karl had read countless books in the library, had already listened to Harmon’s full explanation of this monster subjugation mission, and above all, he retained the experience of being a modern person.
Strangely, while he remembered nothing about that modern person’s family, he clearly recalled the trivial, mundane scenes of an ordinary life.
Karl quickly read through and reviewed the information about the Barony of Hilpin and the monsters.
The Barony of Hilpin was a territory located in the northern frontier of the Empire. Since it lay far from the imperial capital of Himeren, the journey would require a long time in the carriage.
Although it was considered a frontier, it wasn’t entirely remote. Territories bordering other nations had to concentrate significant power for defense and were naturally granted considerable rights.
Such lands were usually elevated. They were recognized as duchies ruled by dukes, or governed by counts who were granted marquis titles. They were not places a mere baron would hold.
In that sense, the Barony of Hilpin occupied an awkward position.
The northern frontier and its surrounding territories were tightly controlled by Marquis Gasto, leaving Hilpin with no special privileges. It had no notable local products, poor roads that hindered commerce, and it was too far from the capital.
Simply put, it was an unimpressive rural territory.
In the original story, it was only briefly mentioned early on in relation to Ilias.
But later, it became somewhat significant.
After Eingir became emperor, Marquis Gasto allied with the northern Valturan people and demanded independence. When Eingir refused, a war broke out and its battleground was none other than the Barony of Hilpin.
Of course, preoccupied with other wars, Eingir soon lost interest.
In other words, even in the original story, it was only highlighted once due to war. It was a land with nothing of value.
So this is the place where Gasto’s independence war was ended in a single blow!
Karl pressed his lips together as he carefully examined the map of the Barony of Hilpin.
For a moment, it felt like he was going to visit a famous landmark from a movie, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself.
Get a grip. This isn’t a trip.
Karl turned the page and refocused.
“Subjugate the gnolls that have appeared in large numbers in the forest to the west of the Barony of Hilpin…”
It sounds simple when you put it like that.
Even with such a straightforward objective, Karl couldn’t smooth the furrow in his brow.
Gnolls are not such easy monsters. They possess intelligence, can crudely work iron to arm themselves, and are physically superior to humans.
But even so, they are by no means enemies that a baronial house couldn’t subjugate by mobilizing its forces within its own territory. No matter how weak the house might be, there are limits…
The fact that this matter was passed down all the way to Karl which was originally meant for Ias in the story was itself rather strange.
Even in the original, Ilias had resolved it in one swift stroke.
As Karl repeatedly reviewed the information on the gnolls, an uneasy feeling settled in.
Something about it felt deeply off.
***
On the way to the Barony of Hilpin, Karl spent most of his time inside the carriage.
It was comfortable befitting a member of the imperial family, but more importantly, he couldn’t reveal his true self to soldiers he couldn’t trust.
Whenever they stopped to rest, Karl would wander around casually as if taking a light stroll.
Then, like a child throwing a petty tantrum, he would pester Catherine and Bilford, take up an awkward stance, clash wooden swords a few times in what could barely be called sparring and then slip right back into the carriage.
To anyone watching, he looked like someone out on a leisurely trip, which only deepened the soldiers’ resentment toward him.
“Why is Sir Karl acting like that?”
Riding alongside Catherine, Bilford asked in a low voice.
Though it hadn’t even been a week since he met Karl, he knew Karl wasn’t truly that incompetent.
And yet, the Karl they saw now looked exactly like a foolish, complacent, and sickly fourth prince.
“Bilford, that’s not our concern.”
Catherine cut off his question sharply.
“Focus on the duty given to you. Follow your lord and devote your sword. You and I, in the future are knights, not nobles playing political games.”
“But, Lady Catherine, this is—”
“Bilford.”
“…Yes, understood.”
Though Bilford nodded at her stern voice, he couldn’t truly accept it. His expression twisted with dissatisfaction.
Even if Karl wasn’t worthy of being served as a lord, he was certainly not some fool deserving of contempt from mere soldiers like them.
Through teaching him swordsmanship, Bilford had clearly seen how hard Karl worked despite his frail body and how much talent he had.
Someone who works that hard shouldn’t be insulted.
That was what bothered Bilford.
“Stop.”
At that moment, Harmon leaned out from the coachman’s seat and spoke, bringing the carriage to a halt. Naturally, everyone else stopped as well.
“Call Physician Milton.”
“Yes.”
They summoned Milton from the carriage behind and brought him over.
“…Unbelievable.”
The muttered words of one of the soldiers carried farther than expected in the quiet surroundings.
The moment Bilford snapped his head around, his body suddenly froze.
“…….”
His breath caught under the pressure of Catherine’s mana-laced presence as he glanced toward her.
Catherine looked at him silently, then firmly shook her head.
Bilford pressed his lips together and faced forward.
It was hard for him to understand why Catherine who was upright and loyal as she was did not draw her sword at the insult toward her lord, Karl.
An insult to one’s lord is also an insult to the knight who serves him.
And since a knight exists to serve their lord, Catherine’s restraint here seemed like a clear failure to fulfill her duty.
“The anger you feel belongs to you alone.”
“…….”
Catherine spoke to Bilford in a heavy, measured tone.
As a knight, she follows her lord’s will. Because Karl wishes it, she endures even this contempt.
If Bilford were to draw his sword and kill the soldier who spoke out of turn, that would not be what Karl wants.
It would merely be Bilford’s personal anger and an act that goes against Karl’s will.
Catherine wanted to make sure he did not confuse the two.
“Do not invoke your lord for the sake of your own anger.”
“…My apologies, Lady Catherine.”
“Anyone can make mistakes. But not everyone learns from them. Do not forget this.”
“Yes.”
Bilford was deeply moved by the words of the knight he respected.
Only then did he reflect on Karl’s situation.
Though Bilford, a common-born squire, knew little about politics, he had heard various rumors within the Imperial Knights, where high-ranking nobles were everywhere.
It seemed Karl was deliberately hiding himself. If that was the case, then staying quiet was the way to help him.
There’s so much I still need to learn!
Bilford keenly felt the vast wall between himself and the nobility.
Even if she came from a fallen noble house, Catherine could see far beyond anything he could imagine. She had received advanced education from a young age for the sake of her family’s future.
At the same time, Bilford felt incredibly fortunate to have become her squire.
Catherine spared no effort in advising him, faithfully teaching him all manner of martial skills, strategy, tactics, and the art of war, guiding his future with a steady and brilliant hand.
She was a respected mentor and a benefactor who had opened the path of his life.
“Lady Catherine, we’re ready to depart.”
After Milton stepped out of the carriage, Harmon spoke to Catherine.
Unlike earlier, when he abruptly told the coachman to stop, his tone was now extremely polite.
Just what on earth happened inside that carriage?
“Move out!”
At Catherine’s command, the small subjugation force begins moving again.
Absurdly, despite being a force led by an imperial prince, it didn’t even have a flag.
And so, in such a shabby state, the subjugation force once again set off toward the Barony of Hilpin, leaving a trail of dust behind.
***
It took nearly ten days to reach the Barony of Hilpin.
The soldiers’ frustration had almost reached its breaking point; if they hadn’t been imperial troops, and if Karl hadn’t been a prince, there was no telling when they might have exploded or what they might have done.
The reason was that, incredibly, Karl had not stayed in a single village or city during the entire ten-day march.
They simply passed through, purchasing supplies to replenish their provisions….that was all. As a result, the soldiers had to camp out for all ten days.
If they had been pressed for time and needed to hurry, or if Karl had at least stepped out of the carriage to ride a horse or offer a few words of encouragement, things might not have turned out this way.
But Karl never left the carriage, except when he pestered Catherine and Bilford to play around by casually swinging a sword. He ate in the carriage and slept in the carriage.
Was it that, since he was comfortable, he simply didn’t care what happened to the soldiers, who marched all day in heavy armor and then had to camp at night?
What further amplified their discontent was that the moment Karl arrived at the Barony of Hilpin, he stepped out of the carriage and mounted his large, splendid white horse.
Though his frail frame looked unimpressive, wearing a red cloak and riding such a fine white horse made him look somewhat the part.
Even so, the sight of him seemed like a childish display of bravado, making their insides churn with resentment.
“Lady Catherine, please send a messenger to the House of Hilpin.”
“Yes, Prince Karl.”
Catherine signaled to Bilford as Karl’s horse drew closer.
Bilford slung a white flag over his back to mark himself as a messenger. However, absurdly, he had no token to prove that he was a messenger of Prince Karl, the Fourth Prince, and so he couldn’t set out immediately.
Karl had not been granted an imperial banner, nor did he possess even a common accessory like a brooch or scarf.
There were only two things that proved he was of imperial blood. One of them was the carriage, which was not an option.
So Karl had no choice but to give Bilford the other one.
“Bilford, take my cloak.”
“…Yes. I will guard it with my life.”
As Bilford received the red cloak Karl had taken off and handed to him, he seemed momentarily at a loss for words at the sight of Karl’s frail, exposed shoulders.
However, recalling Catherine’s words, he carefully folded Karl’s cloak, held it close to his chest, and replied with firm resolve.
“That will do. It’s only a cloak.”
Karl said this with a small smile, then leisurely guided his horse forward with his slight shoulders fully exposed to all.
Bilford pressed his lips together tightly, spurred his horse on, and rode off at full speed.
He knew that Karl didn’t attach much significance to it.
But entrusting someone with a cloak that signified one’s affiliation and rank was not something that happened lightly.
A cloak was also a symbol of authority. Bilford understood well just how heavy a single piece of cloth could be.
Watching Bilford’s figure rapidly disappear into the distance, Karl slowly drew in a breath.
Winter was approaching. And having come quite far north, the temperature had dropped sharply.
The chilly wind was harsh enough to be felt against bare skin without even a cloak, yet Karl did not feel the cold in the slightest.
His body, infused with two energies as one, possessed a resilience far greater than his appearance suggested.
It begins now.
To calm the tightness in his chest brought on by tension before battle and an unidentifiable unease, Karl let out a long breath.
It was only a subjugation of gnolls, so it should be simple enough…
And yet, somehow, he could almost smell blood in the air.
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