"…Do you really want to be mercenaries for the rest of your lives?
Do you really want to keep living a life of licking blood off the blade, never knowing if you'll survive the next day?
Do you really want to always fight for coin, and never for honor?
Now, a chance stands before you!
A chance to change your destiny!
A chance to achieve military merit and glory!
A chance to cast off your commoner status, become nobles—even earn a fief!
So take up your blades and swords! Follow me! Follow Marquis Charles! Follow House Saint Hilde—and defeat the trolls!"
…
Watching the mercenaries stirred into fervor by Sal's speech, Colin suddenly chuckled and said to Oliver beside him:
"I'll admit, this dutiful son is actually a pretty good speaker—I almost got swept up in it myself."
"He's nothing more than a despicable bastard," Oliver replied, face dark with unease. The situation was getting out of hand. "What now? Are we really heading to Mirror Lake?"
"Do we have a choice? That kid was willing to kill his own father."
"But…" Oliver was clearly reluctant.
Still, he knew he had no choice.
Without the Foxfire Mercenary Company as protection, there was no way he could get his goods safely to Falconfall.
But if he followed them to Mirror Lake, there was a high chance his cargo would be seized as military supplies. The army's "honor" shouldn't be overestimated—especially in wartime.
And if his suspicion was correct, the troops gathering at Mirror Lake under Marquis Charles weren't a victorious army—they were likely a defeated one.
That made the trip even more dangerous.
Compared to the wavering Oliver, Colin had already made up his mind—he wanted to go to Mirror Lake.
Because Baron Angre, his father, had gone to war with Marquis Charles. If the Marquis's forces had retreated all the way to Mirror Lake, that meant he might find his father there.
Since his father was possibly so close, there was no need to travel all the way to Falconfall to seek help from his sister.
As for the dangers of the battlefield…
Well, Colin could always play dead.
And nobody would do it better than him.
On the other side, Sal had completely seized control of the situation and was now appointing squad leaders, ordering everyone to pack up and prepare to depart.
The squad of knights from House Saint Hilde had already ridden off—likely heading to find more unfortunate souls nearby—leaving only the stench of horse dung and Saru's lonely corpse behind.
Corpse?
Colin suddenly stepped forward.
"Where are you going?" Oliver called out nervously from behind. He was clinging to Colin as his last shred of stability in this chaos.
"To bury Saru," Colin replied without turning his head.
"You…" Oliver stared, shocked. Why would Colin go collect Saru's body?
Were they even that close?
Wasn't he afraid of provoking Sal?
Oliver hesitated but didn't follow.
Colin walked alone to Saru's corpse and began digging.
Ever since his advancement, Colin had noticed a significant increase in his strength. He had also learned to control the holy light energy within him to accelerate recovery and boost his power.
This was a perfect opportunity to test and adapt to his new strength.
Soon, he had dug a pit over a meter deep.
As Colin climbed out of the pit, he found himself face to face with the emotionless Sal.
"Want to help me lift him?" Colin grinned and pointed at Saru's corpse.
Sal didn't move. He simply said coldly, "Burying a traitor could damage your reputation, Sir Karn."
"Haha, it's fine. I'm a wandering knight who's already lost his fief. I've no reputation left to lose." Since Sal refused to help, Colin dragged Saru's body himself and tossed it into the pit.
At the same time, he muttered inwardly—Karn Sudor's reputation has nothing to do with Colin Angre, anyway.
Thud!
The body landed in the pit, raising a puff of dust.
"Sir Karn, you'll be joining us at the Mirror Lake camp, I assume?" Sal's voice drifted down from the edge of the pit.
"Of course. It's my duty as a knight. And a great opportunity to restore the honor of House Sudor," Colin answered solemnly.
"Excellent. We leave in half an hour. I look forward to fighting alongside you."
"Very well. I'll be right there."
Colin wiped sweat from his brow as Sal's footsteps faded, then quietly pulled out a dagger and a waterskin.
Shhhk!
Gulp, gulp…
⸻
By the time the Foxfire Mercenary Company caught sight of the army camp by Mirror Lake, the sky was completely dark.
Sentries on patrol had already spotted them. After checking Sal's emergency conscription order, they directed them to the assembly area.
Oliver trudged along behind the group, looking utterly dejected.
Colin sipped from his "waterskin" as he walked, his mood no better.
He had just discovered something disappointing—drinking the blood of Saru, a Tier 2 warrior, did nothing to increase his strength.
The effects were no different than drinking deer blood or the blood of that no-name bandit. It only helped restore stamina.
Colin now suspected two possible explanations.
One: his previous advancement was just coincidence, and had nothing to do with consuming Knight Carter's blood.
That would be the worst-case scenario—it would mean blood offered no real benefit to his strength.
Two: not all high-ranked professionals' blood was effective. Maybe only knight blood could enhance him.
He'd need more tests to be sure.
But the idea gave him a headache.
Knights were far rarer than common warriors, and most were of noble birth. Their blood wouldn't be easy to obtain…
Upon entering the camp, Colin realized just how massive the place was. He couldn't even see the end of it.
The place was packed with people—though from the looks of it, their section wasn't a proper army unit but a ragtag group of conscripted fighters, like the Foxfire Mercenaries.
Their weapons and gear were all mismatched. Some people were even holding farming tools like hoes and sickles—probably just dragged from their fields.
It was, clearly, an army of cannon fodder…
Once they had settled in, Oliver came over again. "Sir Karn, did you see the east camp?"
"That should be House Saint Hilde's regular army, right?"
The army by Mirror Lake was split into two main areas. Unlike the chaotic west side where they were, the east camp was orderly and heavily guarded.
"Exactly. I tried walking that way just now but was stopped by patrols before I even got close."
Not surprising. Regular army camps wouldn't let just anyone enter.
Colin could tell what Oliver was getting at.
"You want to get into the east camp?"
"Yes," Oliver nodded quickly. "Look at this place—we'll be the first to die once the fighting starts!
We need to find a way into the east camp. That's where it's safer. I can't get in, but you can. If you reveal your identity as a member of House Sudor, they'll let you in for sure."
But Colin hesitated.
He knew that his fake identity as "Karn Sudor" could fool the mercenaries and Oliver—but it likely wouldn't work on the real nobles here.
Of course, he could go using his real name instead—and that might make it easier to find his father, Baron Angre, if he was here.
But what if his father wasn't here…?
"Sir Karn, if you make it to the east camp, please inform the Marquis that I am willing to donate all the goods I've brought—free of charge—to House Saint Hilde!"
Colin was stunned by the fat merchant's sudden pledge. He was impressed by Oliver's decisiveness. "That's… generous of you."
"What choice do I have…" Oliver forced a bitter smile, then added, "And of course, I won't forget your help. If I survive this, both I and the Tulip Trading Company will reward you handsomely."
Seeing Oliver's earnest and hopeful eyes, Colin finally nodded. "Alright. I'll give it a try."
He left the tent and made his way east.
As he walked, still debating whether or not to reveal his true identity, a voice suddenly called out:
"Master Colin—is that really you?"