The petite figures of Charlotte and the others vanished from sight after just a few leaps. The rest of the group made no move to follow. The orc cavalry spread out slightly, forming a circular formation to shield the carriages in the center. Judy and the other wraith warriors remained as calm and composed as ever, seemingly oblivious to the oddities around them. For a moment, the entire convoy came to a halt, clearly waiting for something.
"Milord, something seems amiss."
Black sat astride his horse, scrutinizing the wreckage of the city wall before him. One of the young nobles summoned up his courage, approached him, and spoke in a low voice. In truth, he knew his words were nothing but obvious observations—but at a time like this, someone had to say something.
Black shot him a glance. This was the very noble who had approached him with a request a few days prior. After observing the group over the past weeks, Black had a rough grasp of their capabilities. By ordinary standards, they were indeed skilled; their combat techniques and training had a certain uniqueness to them. Even that noble lady who had vomited until she nearly fainted was an exceptional archer. Rumor had it she was half-elf, able to pierce a flying flower or falling leaf hundreds of paces away with effortless precision—and Black's own observations during their training had confirmed her skill and talent. It was no wonder these nobles had formed a clique with such unshakeable confidence, intent on journeying to the Crimson Fortress.
But skill alone was not enough to survive on the battlefield. What mattered most in combat was not technique, but the sheer will to live or die. In that regard, these nobles were no different from raw recruits. They might have brawled with a few thugs in their time, but that bore no resemblance to the harsh reality of a real battlefield.
What piqued Black's interest, however, was their backgrounds. As this young noble had implied, none of them were particularly highborn. In fact, their lineages were all rather… unorthodox. Some were the sons and daughters of concubines; others were the illegitimate offspring of powerful nobles' fleeting trysts. The young noble lady, for example, was the product of her father's dalliance with an elven dancer in a tavern several nights running. With such origins, it was only natural that they were overlooked in noble households where bloodline and status were everything. Many of their own parents probably even wished these nuisances would drop dead sooner rather than later.
Perhaps it was precisely because of this that they were so desperate to prove their worth—to show the world that they deserved to exist—even if it meant sacrificing their lives in the process.
"What do you make of it?"
Black turned his gaze back to the ruins beneath the wreckage and asked. The young noble froze for a moment at the question, then frowned, racking his brains for an answer.
"Well… I'm not sure. But I don't think this was the work of the Sith Empire's army. If it were, they would have occupied this place long ago and set up tight defenses. Yet there's no sign of a garrison here. But if it wasn't occupied, then why—with clear signs of battle—are there no trace of our Westerland defenders?"
"It couldn't be simpler."
"No need to overthink it."
Just then, the twin sisters following behind spoke up in unison.
"Because this is no longer the Sith Empire's front line."
"Because this place no longer poses any threat to them."
"The Sith Empire has already overrun this defensive line completely."
"They might even have marched on the imperial capital by now."
"Naturally, this place is of no further concern to them."
"Because as of this moment, it is Sith territory."
"Huh?!"
At the sisters' words, the faces of the young nobles drained of all color. But before they could react, Black turned around and flicked each of the girls lightly on the forehead.
"If you're trying to shirk your duties and go home to sleep, just say so. No need to spin such ridiculous lies."
"Ow!"
"Yikes!"
The two girls rubbed their foreheads indignantly, glaring at Black with wide eyes and pouted lips.
"Brother, I was just joking."
"Daddy, I never said I wouldn't work."
The young noble stared at the girls in bewilderment, then glanced back at Black, utterly confused by their bizarre choice of titles. In truth, the nobles had discussed the matter privately more than once, but had never reached a conclusion. Of course, none of them were foolish enough to ask Black directly. Courtesy aside, the more pressing question was whether they would survive the retaliation if they did.
But Black's next words left the young noble utterly astounded.
"The force that attacked the fortress was not the Sith Empire's army."
"It wasn't? Milord, you…?"
"No."
Black shook his head.
"We all know the Sith Empire is currently besieging the capital of Orlut. They have no spare troops to launch an attack on Westerland—so why would they stir up trouble at a time like this? The truce expires in just half a month. It makes no sense for the Sith to break it now."
"Well…"
The young noble's expression turned somewhat grim. Deep down, he understood this logic perfectly well—but the Sith Empire was so powerful that he had instinctively entertained other possibilities. If the Sith were capable of such feats of strength, then what the twins had suggested, absurd as it sounded, might not be entirely impossible.
"Then who was it?"
"I think we're about to find out."
Black said no more. He tore his gaze away from the wreckage and frowned. At that very moment, the sound of scattered, hurried footsteps echoed through the air.
Moments later, dozens of fully armed Westerland soldiers emerged before them. Upon spotting Black and his companions, their expressions hardened, and they came to an abrupt halt. At the signal of their commanding officer, the soldiers reorganized their formation into a defensive stance in the blink of an eye, leveling their spears and drawing their longswords.
"This is the Third Patrol of the Fifteenth Garrison of the Crimson Fortress! Who are you, and why have you trespassed on Crimson Fortress grounds?!"
Once he was certain his men were ready, the lead officer stepped forward and barked the question at the top of his lungs.
"We are the First Combat Unit from the Twilight Forest. I am their commander—Black Felix, Lord of the Twilight Forest."
Black replied calmly, his gaze locking onto the officer before him.
"We have answered the royal summons. We've come to reinforce the fortress garrison."
"A royal summons?"
The officer paused, then burst into loud laughter.
"Royal summons? Never heard of it! Kid, you're a noble—do you even know how to fight? Save your breath and go home to suckle your mother's teat! It's far more fitting for you!"
At the officer's mocking words, the young noble could no longer contain his anger. He took a step forward, his mouth opening to retort—but before a single word could escape, Black raised his right hand, silencing him with a gesture.
"How strange. General Celt himself delivered the summons to me. It can't be a forgery. Unless… your memory is failing you?"
"General Celt himself?"
The officer's laughter died abruptly. He stared at Black with a strange look in his eyes, sizing him up carefully before finally waving a hand coldly. At his signal, the soldiers' defensive formation dispersed, reconfiguring back into a patrol formation.
"Very well, follow us. I don't care where you nobles hail from—but you'd better mind your manners and stay out of trouble!"
"Naturally."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Black's lips. He snapped his fingers.
"Shall we, then? Time is short, and this place is hardly safe—Charlotte, lower your weapons. They are not our enemies."
"Yes, Master."
Only when the crisp voice of the maid reached their ears did the soldiers look up in surprise. Their eyes darted upward—and there, perched atop the broken city wall, stood Charlotte and the other maids, crouching with exquisite, compact crossbows aimed directly at them below. The dark green glint on the arrowheads spoke volumes about their lethality. It was not hard to imagine that if the maids had launched a surprise attack, the soldiers would have been thrown into chaos in the blink of an eye.
"Hmph!"
Upon seeing them, the officer's expression finally turned solemn. He snorted coldly, then spun on his heel and began marching back the way he had come.
"Hurry up, you so-called 'gentlemen'! This is no pleasure excursion!"
The situation outside the Crimson Fortress was clearly abnormal. As Black and his group followed the officer toward the fortress, they were astonished to see that the outer walls were covered in battle scars—though the damage was far less severe than what Black had witnessed earlier. Even so, they could sense the palpable hostility emanating from the fortress garrison. The local soldiers were clearly not welcoming of these outsiders. Whether it was the leading officer or the patrols they passed along the way, their gazes were filled with profound disdain, and even a hint of disgust. Instead of taking them to meet General Celt immediately, the officer led the group to a small courtyard inside the fortress, then promptly departed. When would they get to see the general?
"My sincerest apologies, sir. General Celt is occupied with urgent matters and cannot be disturbed at this time. He will send for you once he is available."
With those cold, indifferent words, the officer turned and left the courtyard, slamming the gate shut behind him with a loud *bang*.
"Damn it all! What in the blazes is going on here?!"
Staring at the closed gate, the young noble clenched his fists and slammed one against his palm in frustration.
"Milord came here to help defend the fortress! How dare those soldiers treat us like this? What do they think they're doing? Don't they want to defeat the Sith Empire?!"
"It is precisely because they want to win that they're treating us with such indifference."
In contrast to the young noble's righteous fury, Black remained remarkably calm. He understood exactly what was going through the soldiers' minds. The officer's attitude had made it plain: these men were soldiers who fought with their hearts, determined to repel the Sith Empire's invasion and defend their homeland. The Sith were terrifyingly powerful, and the soldiers were on edge, desperate to face the enemy in peak condition and claim victory.
Yet at this most critical juncture, the royal family had issued such a foolish order! By the grace of the Saints, what was that idiot king thinking? Did he truly believe war was nothing more than a street brawl—where the more people you had, the better? Damn it all! And to summon *nobles*, of all people! Those pampered lords knew nothing of warfare! When the battle against the Sith began, they would be the first to crack under pressure! With them in the ranks, even a winnable war would be lost!
It was for this reason that the soldiers saw these noble reinforcements not as allies, but as a liability. Undisciplined, arrogant, clueless about war, and obsessed with saving face—those noble lords could stay safely behind the lines for all they cared! What were they doing rushing to the front lines? Why not stay out of the way and let the professionals handle it?
After Black explained this to the young nobles, their indignant expressions deflated instantly, like roosters that had lost a fight. His words were harsh, but they rang true. Before embarking on this journey, they had been convinced that their skills and experience would make them invaluable assets to the Crimson Fortress. They had assumed the soldiers, facing the threat of the Sith Empire, would greet their reinforcements with open arms and gratitude. But the reality could not have been more different. Their precious skills were practically useless here; far from being helpful, they had become nothing but dead weight. The stark contrast left them feeling deeply dejected.
"Then… milord, are we to do nothing but sit here and twiddle our thumbs?"
"Not at all."
Black shook his head at the young noble's question. He held up a single finger, a relaxed smile spreading across his face.
"You must understand: the military cares little for the lives of nobles. In fact, they would be more than happy to see us suffer a little hardship. I suspect such an opportunity will come our way soon enough—but it will also be our chance to prove our worth. I think… they will be here any moment now."
With that, Black fell silent. He turned to Charlotte.
"Any discoveries?"
"We have found some traces, milord."
Charlotte replied promptly, her expression turning serious. She stepped forward and held out her hand, upon which rested a shard of a weapon.
It was no ordinary military armament—it was not even forged from steel. In every respect, the fragment in Charlotte's hand looked as if it were carved from stone. It appeared to be part of a much larger weapon, shattered by some violent external force.
"So it *is* them."
Black raised an eyebrow at the shard, a look of confirmation crossing his face.
"I suspected the Sith Empire would not sit idly by. I wonder what kind of agreement they struck with these creatures."
"We do not know the exact terms, milord—but it is undoubtedly an agreement that bodes ill for us."
Charlotte slipped the shard away as she spoke.
"Master, shall we continue our investigation in greater detail?"
"No need."
Black shook his head, dismissing his head maid's suggestion.
"Now that we know who our adversaries are, it stands to reason the fortress garrison knows as well. We need not waste time on further investigations—they will come to us with the information soon enough. Until then, we need only wait patiently… Hmm?"
Black's voice trailed off abruptly. He tilted his head, listening intently, before breaking into a faint smile.
"It seems we won't have to wait much longer. It appears our hosts are even more eager than we are."
Sure enough, just as the group was unpacking their belongings and preparing to settle in, the same officer who had led them to the fortress reappeared. This time, however, he was carrying a military order.
"Due to recent activity by dangerous elements in the vicinity of the Crimson Fortress, we will be deploying a patrol to conduct a large-scale sweep of the surrounding area. By order of the garrison command, your group is to join this patrol. Assemble at dawn tomorrow—six bells sharp. Be ready."
"That early?!"
Upon hearing the officer's announcement, another young noble could not contain his exclamation of protest.
"By the Saints! We've only just arrived here after a long and arduous journey! Can't we even be granted a proper rest?!"
"If you wish to rest, you are free to return to the rear. You will have plenty of time to laze about there."
The officer looked at the young noble with a sardonic smirk, the corners of his mouth curling upward. His gaze swept over the twin sisters, Charlotte, Judy, and finally lingered on Ophelia, a flicker of suspicion evident in his eyes. In the end, however, he said nothing more and continued with his announcement.
"Furthermore, this is a foot patrol of the surrounding perimeter. Mounted travel is strictly prohibited. Carriages are forbidden as well. Is that understood?"
"Perfectly."
Black met the officer's gaze with a smile. He bowed slightly, his expression gracious and refined.
"We will not disappoint you."