The Demon King is unfathomable

Chapter 469 Please enter the urn
The night was deep, and the moonlight, like water, bathed the bustling hall of the Governor's Mansion in Twilight City in a lifelike silver glow.

At the victory celebration banquet, every prominent figure in Twilight City showered Erin Campbell with lavish praise for saving the Twilight Province.

Eileen felt her ears were about to fall off from the flattering words. She maintained a polite smile, taking only a small sip of the toasts, but her thoughts drifted to places outside the city.

If only Prince Colin were here...

At this moment, her greatest regret was that she could not share the glory of victory with the prince who had "gone through life and death" with her.

According to His Highness Colin, he is now the Grand Duke of the Duchy of Colin, and it is not appropriate for him to appear in the Twilight Province at this sensitive time.

He rushed to the front lines day and night simply because he was worried about her. Now that the chaos has subsided, he will await her triumphant return in Thunder City.

Eileen fully understood what Prince Colin meant.

Rather, she was already incredibly surprised and even moved that he had appeared by her side when she needed him most.

Prioritizing the interests of one's family is a fundamental principle for any imperial nobleman.

However, for her sake, he repeatedly made decisions that went against his ancestors, even uttering those domineering words in front of the lord of the High Mountain Kingdom...

As she pondered, Eileen's thoughts drifted even further away.

"...Your Highness?"

Seeing Eileen's cheeks flushed red, Teresa, standing beside her, couldn't help but worry that she might have drunk too much, so she gently called out to her.

"What happened?" Eileen, who was in a daze, suddenly came to her senses and instinctively put her right hand on the sword at her waist.

A flamboyantly dressed baron cleared his throat, intending to strike up a conversation, but was startled by her sudden action and immediately turned away to awkwardly chat with the pillar.

“No, Your Highness, nothing happened,” Theresa said, startled by Eileen’s near-draw of her sword. She quickly reassured her and then asked softly, “Are you… alright?”

"...I'm fine, Theresa, don't worry about me."

Realizing she had been abrupt, Eileen blushed and coughed.

To show that she was really fine, she calmly downed the champagne in her hand, but because she drank it too fast, she choked on the bubbles and coughed several times before she could stop.

“Yes…” Teresa was even more worried, having never seen such a rash prince before.

……

In order not to disappoint her brother, who was far away in the Duchy of Campbell, and Prince Colin, Eileen quickly rallied her spirits and threw herself into the banquet that was still going on.

Just as Princess Eileen was regaining her spirits, someone else was as dejected as a wilted eggplant, sitting in the courtyard drinking alone.

That gentleman was none other than [someone else].

It was Theron Gad, who had made a complete fool of himself in front of everyone earlier that day.

The count was slumped on the cold stone bench, with two nearly empty wine bottles scattered haphazardly on the table.

"Damn it! Where are all the maids in the governor's mansion? Are they all dead on the city wall? Why isn't anyone here to pour me a drink!"

"Someone fill it up!"

His swollen cheeks emitted a gruff roar, and his swollen face was as red as a persimmon, making it impossible to tell whether he was drunk or angry.

No waiter dared to provoke him; nobody wanted to have red wine splashed in their face on such a joyous day.

Besides, those servants are also good at reading people's expressions.

Everyone saw the gloomy expression on Governor Eralic's face during the day. Unless Eralic came to see him, not a single servant would come to attend to him.

After shouting for a while and seeing that no one paid attention to him, Theron felt that he had made a fool of himself, so he cursed a couple of times and stopped talking.

The clamor that had drifted through the stained-glass windows of the main hall gradually faded into the distance, and the elegant piano music, like a candle tilted by the wind, seemed to indicate that the banquet was drawing to a close.

Everyone was crowding around Erin Campbell, making the courtyard seem even more lonely and desolate.

Theron felt as if the whole world was against him, his teeth clenched tightly, but he relaxed them after only a moment.

It's no longer important.

Eileen refused his invitation to send troops, even after he promised her "the Earl's tax revenue for the next ten years" in exchange.

If the Duchy of Campbell does not send troops, no one in the entire Dusk Province can help him reclaim his territory, and he is destined to be sent to the dock as a defendant.

Tribunal...

The mere thought of that name made Theron's body tremble involuntarily, as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over him from head to toe.

If those guys find out that he handed over the territory granted to him by Saint Sith to that so-called "Salvation Army," he will lose not only the territory, but also all the honor and wealth that the Gard family has accumulated over a thousand years!

The king and the papacy would roast him over a fire like they were sharing mutton, then peel off every piece of flesh from his body, piece by piece.

The king would not eat people like those peasants.

But it just means not eating it directly.

“By Saint Sith… I, Theron Gard, have lived a life of kindness and have never harmed anyone. Why are you punishing me like this?”

Just as Theron was grieving over his tragic fate, a soft laugh suddenly came from behind him.

Theron was startled, thinking it was a servant. He never expected that a mere servant would dare to mock him. He immediately turned his fat body and roared.

"Who's there!"

He turned around, but saw no one. Before he could figure out what had happened, a gentle breeze blew beside him.

Then, a loud "thud" startled Theron, causing him to break out in a cold sweat, which washed away all the drunkenness he had been feeling.

He turned his head back cautiously and saw a wine bottle on his table. A middle-aged man in leather armor leaned on the table and sat down opposite him.

“Theron Gard, Earl of Sparrowwood, it seems you had a rather unpleasant evening.” The voice was hoarse and steady, devoid of any emotion. “Since no one is drinking with you, why don’t I have a drink with you?”

"Who...who are you?!" Theron stared at the stranger in front of him in horror, forcibly suppressing the fear in his heart and the urge to run away, and asked in a fierce but weak voice.

At the same time, those small eyes moved rapidly, like moths flitting about under a lamplight, quickly memorizing the person's appearance.

The man was of medium height, wearing an inconspicuous old leather armor, and had a faint scar on his face that stretched from the corner of his eyebrow to his cheek, like a venomous snake lurking in the bushes.

This kind of person could never be a nobleman of high status!
However, what reassured Theron was that he didn't seem to be a member of the tribunal!

“Gregor, Raging Vengeance…that’s the name of my mercenary group.” The man didn’t hide anything, answering his question in a gentle, even polite tone.

That's quite a name.

However, it sounds like something a group of uncultured people would come up with.

Theron narrowed her small eyes and stared intently at him.

"Mercenaries? This is a banquet for distinguished guests, what are mercenaries doing here!"

"Let me correct you, this is a victory celebration banquet, and any victor is entitled to sit here, at least that's what the Baron says."

Seeing the wary Theron, the man who called himself "Gregor" grinned and clasped his hands together at the tip of his nose as if in prayer.

"As for why I am here... it is because while the Earl was praying in the church, my brothers and I stood on the city wall resisting the tide of chaos."

That's a plausible reason.

Theron lowered her guard a little, but the hostility in her eyes did not disappear.

How dare an ordinary citizen sit at the same table as me!
These guys are getting more and more outrageous!

If he could lift the stone table, he swears he would have done so by now!
"What do you need?" Theron asked, raising his chin slightly and speaking condescendingly as he watched Greg pour himself a drink.

"Of course, I'm here to talk business with you."

“Ha, then you’ve come to the wrong person,” Theron sneered. “I don’t do business with commoners. You should go find my butler.”

“On the contrary, Your Excellency, this deal can only be discussed with you,” Gregar placed his hands on the table and calmly looked at Theron. “Let’s be frank, I can help you reclaim the territories you’ve lost… and your dignity.”

Theron was taken aback at first, then burst into exaggerated laughter as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world, trying to salvage the face he had long since lost.

"You? A mercenary? Do you know how many lunatics are entrenched there? One hundred thousand! And there were already this many months ago! Not to mention that even the Sword Saint has gone mad with them now. Do you think a mercenary like you can defeat the Sword Saint?"

"The Sword Saint won't stay there forever, much less point his sword at enemies outside the Chaos for them. As for the 100,000 men, they're nothing but a rabble, not to mention that they've all come out now, with the main force outside the city, leaving the interior vulnerable."

Gregor responded calmly, his voice clear and articulate, as if he hadn't taken the count's sarcasm to heart at all.

After a pause, he continued.

"...Moreover, we never fight unprepared battles. Now that we have found you, it means we are confident of winning decisively."

"are you serious?"

Theron stared intently at Grega, trying to find any trace of boasting on his face, but all he saw was a deep, unfathomable silence.

To be honest, he was actually a little tempted.

Just as the mercenary leader said, the Salvation Army and their saintess are waiting outside Twilight City to receive their reward, still quite a distance from Sparrowwood Territory!
If these mercenaries are really as amazing as they claim, they might actually be able to help him take back Sparrowwood Castle!

However, Theron was still undecided.

Who can guarantee that these people aren't trying to scam him out of his money?
The fattest sheep in the entire Twilight City right now are these nobles who have left their territories. They don't have a single knight who can fight, but they have plenty of money.

Gregar caught the fleeting hesitation and greed in Theron's eyes, and a barely perceptible smile crept onto his lips.

He could guess with his own eyes that the count was simply worried that he was a conman who would take the money and not do the job.

He had to say that such worries were unnecessary.

At most, scammers swindle money.

They accept people indiscriminately.

“I understand your concerns. I know you are penniless right now, and... there is no reason for you to trust people of unknown origin like us.”

Gregar's tone softened, filled with understanding and empathy. "So, we can cooperate in a different way. We can help you reclaim Sparrowwood Castle first, and then pay us our dues once you've ascended the throne. As for the payment... we don't need much. You're willing to pay the Campbellians the taxes of the Earl's territory for the next ten years, and we only need nine."

These words struck Theron like a thunderbolt!
Pay later?!
Is this for real?!
Theron's heart pounded, his breathing became rapid, and he looked at Grega with suspicion, trying to find a flaw in his calm face.

His intuition told him that there was definitely something fishy going on, but he couldn't figure out what these people could possibly trick him out of.

Do I need to pay a deposit?

Not a single copper coin is needed.

"Why should I believe you!"

“Hmm…now that you mention it, I realize my suggestion was a bit abrupt,” Gregar thought for a moment, sighed, and was about to get up. “Just pretend I didn’t say anything, I’ll ask someone else.”

His face was full of regret, like a kind old man who had been rejected.

"Wait a moment!"

Seeing the mercenary leader getting up to leave, Theron quickly called him back and even picked up a glass of wine to pour him a drink.

“G...that…”

“Gregor”.

“Yes! Cough… Mr. Gregar! I was negligent just now. I shouldn’t have doubted such a devout and generous gentleman!” Theron forced a stiff smile and looked at him. “But just to be on the safe side, may I ask how many of you there are?”

Gregar held up two fingers.

"Two thousand people."

Theron's smile froze, and a hint of disappointment flashed in her eyes.

"Only two thousand..."

Gregor smiled.

“That’s enough. Do you think we’re going to besiege the city? We have horses. We can get to Sparrowwood Castle before the Salvation Army, and then we’ll disguise ourselves as their own people and sneak in. Once we take the city gate, we can wipe them out in no time.”

"Is... this possible?"

My answer was, "Is it that difficult?"

Seeing hope rekindle on that face that had been filled with disappointment, Gregar knew he had succeeded. So, in a relaxed tone, he added the final chip to the count's plate.

“Count, please trust me and my brothers. We are professionals in this matter. And we have more than one way to do it. My brothers are not good at anything else, but they are best at picking locks and breaking into houses. We can’t beat the regular army, but when it comes to dealing with a bunch of peasants… no one is better than us.”

The mercenary's voice seemed to possess a bewitching magic. After much deliberation, Theron's last bit of caution was ultimately crushed by greed.

Actually, it's not really about greed.

He was the legal lord of Quemu Territory. He was merely taking back his castle and continuing to shoulder the sacred duty that Saint Sith had entrusted to him. How could this be considered greed?

Even the tribunal couldn't find fault with him; he never compromised with the Salvation Army from beginning to end, and in the end, the castle did indeed return to his hands.

As for these mercenaries...

Do they really think they're Campbellians, backed by a powerful duchy, and that they can get their money back nine years from now?
Looking at the mercenary leader with his honest expression, Theron tried hard to suppress his joy and keep it from showing on his face.

He will certainly pay in the first year.

In any case, the tax revenue in the first year probably won't be much.

Once he has dealt with the rebels in the count's territory and the court has returned to report to the Pope, he can bring in real reinforcements in no time to drive away these greedy wolves!

In just a few seconds, countless thoughts raced through his mind; he even considered what to do after the Salvation Army was driven away.

Theron cleared his throat, trying to appear thoughtful, and reluctantly opened his mouth.

“Very well! If you can really do that, I’m willing to exchange the future tax revenue of the Earl’s estate for it! Not nine years, ten years will do. The conditions I offered to the Campbellians are equally valid for you! Of course, if you try to deceive me… you know what the consequences of deceiving an Earl are.”

A pleased smile curved Gregor's lips, a genuine smile tinged with a barely perceptible hint of mockery.

He downed the wine the count had poured for him in one gulp, then wiped his mouth and slammed the glass down on the table with a hearty flourish.

"make a deal!"

"When do we make our move?" Theron looked at him anxiously, her impatient expression suggesting she wanted to fly over immediately. "Should I wait here for your news? Or should I go with you?"

“We can act at any time,” Gregar grinned, even considerately putting himself in the earl’s shoes. “As for you… you can come with us, or you can wait here for our news.”

As soon as Gregar finished speaking, Theron braced his hands on the table and sprang up from the stone bench like a slingshot.

"If you doubt someone, don't use them; if you use someone, don't doubt them! I trust you!"

He exuded an unprecedented aura, his eyes fixed intently on the mercenary leader before him.

"There's no time to lose... let's set off tonight!"

He certainly wouldn't be foolish enough to go alone.

There were about a hundred servants who fled to Twilight City with him, including some guards with steel-level strength.

It's unrealistic to expect these people to retake Sparrowwood Castle, but protecting him from over two thousand mercenaries shouldn't be a problem.

The court is on its way, and he doesn't have time to leisurely wait here for an uncertain outcome.

He only has two choices!

They could either immediately pack up the valuables they'd brought from Sparrowwood Castle, flee with their families to the port of the Duchy of Campbell, board a ship, and escape to the New World in hiding, or join these mercenaries to fight their way back, wash away the disgrace of the Gard family, and clean up their mess before the court arrived.

Looking at the fat pig that exuded a fierce aura, Gregar glanced at it a couple more times in surprise, and then said with delight.

"That would be best, of course—"

"Very good! I'll go and get my men. You go and inform yours! We'll meet at the south gate of Twilight City in one hour!"

Before Gregar could finish speaking, Theron interrupted him and strode confidently out of the courtyard, leaving the banquet behind.

Since Ellarick didn't give him face, he naturally didn't intend to give the baron any face either.

Seeing Theron in such a hurry to leave, this time it was Grega who called him back, both amused and exasperated.

"Wait a moment, Count—"

Theron stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him.

"what happened again?!"

Gregar coughed.

"I understand how you feel, but... shouldn't we sign the agreement first?"

contract?

Is that even a big deal?

Theron waved his hand impatiently.

"You can just sign for it on the way!"

Watching the fat pig hurriedly scramble into its cage, Gregar helplessly shrugged and watched its retreating figure disappear into the distance.

Only after Theron Gard's figure had completely disappeared into the courtyard did he rise from the stone table and bow slightly towards the wall not far away with a devout expression.

A pair of amber vertical pupils gazed at the courtyard before disappearing, blending into the night along with the black cloak.

The elegant piano music and the boisterous atmosphere of clinking glasses continued in the hall, while the moonlit courtyard had unknowingly returned to tranquility.

At Ellaric's command, a servant reluctantly carried a tray to the courtyard, but Count Theron Gard was not there.

The servant paused for a moment, but didn't think much of it.

Perhaps that shameful thing realized that staying at the banquet would only be pointless, so it turned around and went home early.

The servant returned to the hall and informed Governor Ellaric, who was entertaining guests, that Earl Theron had left without saying goodbye.

Ellarik frowned, but didn't take it too seriously.

Compared to an earl who is about to be stripped of his title, there are far more distinguished guests at hand, and he should be on his guard.

He was an old man as solemn as a stone sculpture. Although his temples were already streaked with white, his back remained as straight as a pine tree.

“Mr. Skeller, please forgive me for not knowing that you were also in Twilight City. It was not my intention to neglect you.”

Looking at the unexpected guest standing at the entrance of the Governor's Mansion, Ellarik's face was full of respectful smiles, but his back was soaked with cold sweat.

This man is His Majesty's chief steward!

He never expected that this distinguished gentleman would actually be in Twilight City, and that he would be accompanied by a magic apprentice from the Academy.

It seems they've been in this city for a while now.

Eralik had expected His Majesty's men to come, but he never imagined they would just stay here and wait until everything was over before showing up again.

Even he himself didn't realize that deep within his panicked emotions, a trace of pain was silently spreading.

Skelle stared blankly at Ellaric, his gaze passing over the terrified face and landing on the Campbell knights who were drinking and making merry with the Ryan nobles.

Especially that girl whose hair was even whiter than his.

He recognized the sword at her waist immediately; it was a legendary weapon that the people of Ryan were proud of, but also the root cause of the kingdom's division.

“Baron Valerius, I think… His Majesty did not invite these guests to his residence.”

"Perhaps you can give me an explanation?"

(End of this chapter)