"Leylo, think carefully about what you are doing!" Baron Monde roared. "You are causing trouble now and delaying the First Prince's vital affairs. Do you intend to set yourself against the First Prince?"
Leylo burst into a loud laugh. "Monde, who do you think you are to represent the First Prince? You spend your days committing evils under his name. Today, I shall give you a thorough lesson on the First Prince's behalf!"
With that, Leylo stopped speaking to him and steered the Storm Griffin back to his own lines. He circled low, the downdraft from the beast's wings causing the Blackstone banners to snap and flutter violently.
"Monde," Leylo's voice reached every ear with piercing clarity. "I am giving you a final chance. Hand over the Blood Wolf remnants and pay for the damages. Otherwise, after today, Ironthorn Territory shall cease to exist."
Baron Monde trembled with rage, his face turning from red to purple, then from purple to a sickly green. "Leylo! You go too far! Do you truly think my Ironthorn Castle is made of clay?!" He drew his sword and pointed it forward. "Warriors of Ironthorn! This madman has come to our doorstep to take our homes and dishonor our families! Take up your weapons! For the glory of Ironthorn, fight to the death!"
However, the only response he received was a scattered, weak shout. Facing an enemy several times their size, most of the soldiers showed visible fear, their hands trembling on their weapons. They saw the Blackstone army—fierce as wolves and tigers—and felt a murderous aura far beyond anything their poorly trained garrison could match.
Above all, there was the Storm Griffin circling overhead and the thirty-plus Pegasus Knights in silver armor. With these aerial riders present, they couldn't win, and they certainly couldn't run.
Standing beside Monde, Hogg—the Captain of the Iron Skull Mercenaries, whom Leylo had just slandered as "Scarface Jon"—looked like he had swallowed a bucket of soot. As a man of some repute in the Duchy, when had he ever suffered such an insult? Had it not been for the Storm Griffin and the intimidating discipline of the opposing army, he would have charged Leylo long ago.
Now, he was being forcibly branded as a bandit leader. He could jump into the Blackwater River and still not wash himself clean. He glanced at the frantic Baron Monde and the trembling guards. His desire to fight vanished. To die for this fool Monde, sacrifice his entire company, and end up with a reputation as a bandit collaborator?
Hogg wasn't that stupid.
"Leylo, you little brat, you go too far!" Monde continued to roar with blustering weakness, trying to save face. He turned to Hogg. "Captain Hogg! This brat insults Ironthorn and throws filth at your name! If we combine our strength, we might not..."
Hogg nearly coughed up blood. He turned and stared at Monde as if the man were a complete idiot. Your own army won't move, and you're trying to trick my mercenary company into charging the front lines for you? You take me for a fool.
"Baron Monde, at this point, what do you expect me to say? To bleed my last drop for your crumbling castle? Or perhaps I should thank you for getting me the nickname 'Scarface Jon' for free, so I have to wear a mask every time I go out from now on?"
His voice wasn't loud, but in the sudden silence of the field, it was exceptionally clear. The Ironthorn soldiers turned pale; many began to quietly shuffle backward, distancing themselves from their Baron.
Seeing that the time was ripe, Leylo's lips curled into a cold arc. He didn't order a general assault. He simply raised a hand.
"Roar!"
Simultaneously, Thor, riding his armored rhino, stepped forward. He pointed his greatsword at the Ironthorn ranks. "Baron Monde! My Lord's patience is limited! To resist is certain death! Dismount and surrender, and you might save your lives!"
The Blackstone formation began to press forward slowly. The heavy, rhythmic thud of their footsteps hit the Ironthorn guards like a drumbeat of doom. This silent pressure was more impactful than any war cry.
Monde had come out in a hurry, bringing only dozens of personal guards and soldiers. Combined with the mercenaries, they totaled barely a hundred. Facing nearly five hundred elite Blackstone troops and thirty aerial hunters...
Clang!
A sharp metallic sound rang out. An Ironthorn soldier, unable to bear the psychological pressure, dropped his spear. His face was ash-gray as his legs gave way, and he slumped to his knees.
This act was the signal. Panic spread like a plague.
Clang! Clang!
The sound of weapons hitting the ground echoed across the field. "Don't kill me! I surrender! I surrender!" "We were forced into this! It has nothing to do with us!"
The cries for mercy and weeping blended together. "Fighting to the death" became a joke in the face of absolute power.
Baron Monde watched the scene with eyes wide, his body swaying. He pointed a trembling finger at the soldiers who had cast aside their gear. "You... you cowards! Traitors!"
No one listened to his roars anymore. Captain Hogg sighed heavily, his anger at being framed replaced by a helpless, wry frustration. Goddammit, what a mess! He cleared his throat and shouted with all his might.
"Baron Leylo! My Iron Skull Mercenaries have no grudge against Blackstone! We mercenaries only work for coin; we don't involve ourselves in noble feuds! More importantly, I am Hogg, Captain of the Iron Skull! I am not some 'Scarface Jon'! You've got the wrong man, dammit! I can swear that to the heavens!"
As he shouted, he signaled his men to drop their weapons. The Iron Skull members, feeling as if they had been granted a reprieve from execution, threw their blades down, terrified that being a second too slow would mark them as die-hards.
Leylo watched Hogg's exasperated and slightly aggrieved defense and almost laughed out loud. This was exactly what he wanted. While the Iron Skulls weren't a top-tier force, they were well-known. Disarming them without spilling a drop of blood was the best outcome.
"Oh?" Leylo arched an eyebrow in feigned surprise. "Not 'Scarface Jon'? Then where did that majestic scar on your face come from? Did you accidentally scratch yourself?"
Hogg nearly choked. He pointed at his old wound in tragic indignation. "This is a badge of honor from when I cut down three Land Drakes in the Misty Forest! Does it have a single copper's worth of connection to the Blood Wolves?"
"Fine," Leylo waved his hand, stopping the rant. "Whether you are 'Scarface Jon' or not will be determined later. For now, lead your men to the hill on the side and gather there after surrendering your gear. Once your identities are verified, if you have no link to the bandits, you will be released."
Hogg bit his lip. He had to bow his head while under someone else's roof. He knew further argument was useless; survival came first. He waved his hand, signaling his mercenaries to comply.