A nation invading another is always a shocking event—but when everyone learned it was the Sith Empire, a quiet thought of "I knew it would come to this" lingered deep in their hearts.
Once, Sith had not been a great power at all. It had been the weakest among countless small nations—so weak, in fact, that it could barely even be called a nation. With a tiny population, no unique resources to speak of, and a territory barely larger than a single city, it had been a pushover for anyone who wanted to bully it. The fall of Sith had even carried a touch of dark humor typical of weak nations. Long ago, two great powers had clashed on the continent. One of them had dispatched an expeditionary force to invade the other, but halfway through their march, a violent storm had destroyed their supply lines. Calculations showed that even if they reached their target, victory would be all but impossible. Unwilling to return empty-handed, they had noticed Sith lying right in their path…
And just like that, Sith had been wiped off the map without a fight, annexed into the invading nation's territory. For a hundred years, they had endured foreign rule—until a century later, when internal strife tore the conqueror apart. Its territories had declared independence one after another, and Sith had finally broken free to become a new nation. But this time, Sith had learned its lesson from history. It had no intention of being content with a quiet, isolated existence. Instead, it had launched a massive campaign of conquest against its neighbors. In barely a year, it had swallowed five surrounding territories, tripling its land area. Though Sith's aggressive expansion had drawn the attention of nearby powers, the entire continent had been mired in chaos back then, leaving no one with the time or energy to intervene. By the time the situation had stabilized, Sith had already grown into a formidable power—one that could no longer be bullied at will.
Even so, the other great nations had not been overly concerned. Despite its expanded territory, Sith was still only a medium-sized country by continental standards. Worse still, no *Source* of Mana had ever been discovered within its borders—a fact that had severely limited its development. So while other nations kept a wary eye on Sith, none believed it had the strength to challenge them head-on.
But everything changed with the emergence of the **Four Scourge Generals**. No one knew their true origins, but their overwhelming power on the battlefield was enough to strike fear into the hearts of any foe. What was more, all four of these generals possessed the abilities of **Innate Knights**!
As the name suggested, Innate Knights were humans blessed with an inborn knightly talent. Known as the Awakened, they were born with greater abilities than ordinary people, far surpassing the average man in combat prowess and their understanding and control of soul power. The knightly rank—a status that ordinary people could only dream of achieving—was within their grasp almost effortlessly. Among the Four Scourge Generals, the youngest, the Puppeteer Sidvi, had attained knighthood at the age of thirteen. The Silver Princess Lindilot had passed her knightly trials *at ten*. To ordinary people, these individuals were nothing short of inhuman monsters!
The arrival of the Four Scourge Generals had completely upended the balance of power on the continent. Knights were already an extreme rarity—fewer than a dozen existed across the entire land. Yet Sith alone boasted four knights in its ranks. This fact had sent a wave of anxiety through every nation on the continent. Compounding their worries was the youth of these generals: apart from the last-ranked Kingmaker Nahias, who was nearly sixty, the others were still in the prime of their lives. Innate Knights might be gifted, but they were still mortal—one hundred years was the absolute limit of their lifespan. Most ordinary people who managed to overcome the final hurdle to become knights did so only in their forties or fifties. For other nations, it had simply been a matter of waiting them out—eventually, time would whittle away Sith's advantage. But the Windbringer Karan was only twenty-three. The Puppeteer and the Silver Princess were mere sixteen and seventeen-year-olds—full of youthful vigor and passion. Could anyone expect them to make calm, prudent decisions?
Other nations might have had the advantage of possessing *Sources*—a resource Sith lacked—but Sources were immovable, their influence limited to a small radius. They were no match for knights, who could fight with freedom and flexibility on any battlefield. To make matters worse, rumors painted the Sith Emperor as a man consumed by ambition. With such a powerful force at his command, would he be content to rule as a mere medium-sized nation's king?
The answer was almost certainly no. Everyone knew that unless the ruler of Sith was a complete fool, he would never let such power go unused. And none of the other nations had anyone capable of standing against an Innate Knight. Once, two neighboring countries had tried to form an alliance, hoping to nip this threat in the bud. But their combined army of fifty thousand had been held at the border by the Silver Princess Lindilot and a mere three thousand troops. They had not been able to advance a single step. In the end, they had been forced to retreat after suffering fifteen thousand casualties—while Sith had lost only five hundred men.
This had proven beyond a doubt the terrifying might of Innate Knights. They were not just formidable individual warriors—their talent for leading armies into battle far exceeded that of ordinary commanders.
From that day on, every nation bordering Sith had watched the empire's every move with bated breath. In their hearts, there was no longer any question of whether Sith would attack. The only question was *when*.
And now, they had their answer.
But this was not a problem that concerned Black—not when he had more important matters to attend to.
"Greetings, honored Lord."
The tall, gaunt man standing before Black wore a full suit of leather armor. He removed his hat and bowed slightly in deference.
"I am Castor, Captain of the Third Watch Battalion of Bull's City. By order of Viscount Vin Byrd, from this day forth, my men and I shall be placed under your command, responsible for the security and peacekeeping of Duskwood."
With that, Castor straightened up, his eyes fixed silently on the young lord before him. In his opinion, there was nothing impressive about this boy at all. In fact, before meeting Black, Castor had held nothing but disdain for the new lord of Duskwood. To his mind, any lord who would beg for aid from another noble's territory must be a spineless opportunist. Now that he had seen Black in person, he was even more convinced of his initial judgment. The young man lacked the haughty arrogance typical of other nobles—and that only made Castor sneer.
"Welcome to Duskwood," Black replied with a smile, nodding at them. He had already studied these soldiers closely—they were indeed well-trained and highly skilled… but there was something off about them.
Black's gaze lingered for a moment on the soldiers behind Castor, then flicked back to the captain.
"Starting tomorrow, the security of Dusk Town will be in your hands. As for the specific details, this young lady will explain everything to you."
He nodded slightly at Ophelia, who had been standing quietly at his side. At Black's words, she stepped forward, her eyes sweeping over the assembled soldiers.
"The area under your jurisdiction will cover the entire Dusk Town, as well as the passage connecting it to the Golden Trade Route. I have already drawn up patrol routes, schedules, and shifts based on your numbers. Your only duties are to obey the lord's orders and to report to Lord Black and myself in a timely manner. Now—do any of you have questions?"
"Indeed we do, my lady," a voice rang out the moment Ophelia finished speaking.
An elderly soldier from the watch battalion stepped forward, his eyes leering at the young woman with undisguised amusement. He grinned as he spoke.
"I would like to ask: if an emergency arises, may we report to you at *any* hour of the day or night?"
"That is correct," Ophelia replied coolly.
"What if something happens in the *middle of the night*?" The old soldier paused, letting his meaning sink in before chuckling lewdly.
"After all, this place is so dark and desolate at night—anything could happen. So… if we have to disturb you and his lordship in the dead of night… well, that would be rather inconvenient, wouldn't it? Heh heh heh."
"There will be no inconvenience whatsoever," Ophelia said, her expression never wavering despite the soldier's veiled insolence. She merely raised an eyebrow, her gaze cold and sharp as she fixed it on the old man.
"If you deem the situation serious enough to warrant disturbing our rest, we will not mind in the slightest. However, I do hope all of you understand your duties clearly. I have heard that you are all seasoned veterans of the watch. I would assume, then, that you possess the judgment to distinguish between a genuine emergency and a trivial matter—without needing someone to hold your hand and teach you, yes? Mr. Aiton?"
The old soldier's face flickered with surprise when she addressed him by name. He glanced awkwardly at his companions, then shrugged his shoulders and fell silent.
"I think that will be all for today," Black interjected smoothly, stepping forward with a smile to defuse the mounting tension between the two sides.
"I have had rooms prepared for all of you. I hope they meet with your approval. Oh—and if you have the time during your rest periods, I encourage you to take a stroll around Dusk Town. Familiarizing yourselves with the surroundings is essential, is it not?"
"Of course, my lord. We shall obey your commands," Castor replied, bowing once more. He turned on his heel and led his men away, following Martha toward their quarters.
"What a spirited bunch of lads, aren't they?" Black said, watching their retreating backs with a faint, amused smirk. He turned to Ophelia beside him.
"I can say with absolute certainty that the Byrd family did not send these men here with pure intentions. You know that as well as I do, don't you?"
Ophelia lifted her head, her eyes meeting Black's directly.
"I assume you already have a plan to deal with them, then?"
"Of course I do, Lady Ophelia."
Black's lips curled into a confident grin as he answered her question.
"Have you ever heard of a saying called… *kill the chicken to scare the monkey*?"
"Kill the chicken to scare the monkey?" Ophelia frowned, searching her memory for the phrase. After a moment, she shook her head. Still, even without having heard the idiom before, she had no trouble understanding its meaning. "I think I grasp your intent, my lord."
"Go inform our poor old mayor: if these men cause *any* trouble whatsoever in Dusk Town—no matter how small—he is to report it to me immediately."
"I will see to it at once, my lord."
Ophelia nodded briskly, then turned and walked away. Only after her figure had vanished from sight did Black speak again.
"Charlotte."
"I am here, Master."
The blonde, blue-eyed maid materialized silently behind him. Like Judy, she had quietly become one of the leaders among the spirit maids.
"If these men dare to lay a hand on any of you—I authorize you to defend yourselves with *extreme prejudice*. Against a bunch of low-rank mediocrities, you should have no trouble at all, yes?"
At Black's words, Charlotte broke into a bright, predatory smile. She replied without hesitation.
"Of course, Master. Rest assured—we will not leave a single trace of our involvement. After all… they are nothing but children, are they not?"
"Good."
Black's lips twitched upward in satisfaction at the maid's response.
"Let us see, then… what kind of 'fun' these boys have in store for us."