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Chapter 43: Not a Highland Knight?
The weaselly guard captain had escorted them to the cells, coldly issuing a few threats before leaving, leaving Freya seething with anger. Brandon, however, remained calm. Alone in the darkness, he surveyed the cramped space they were in by the dim light of distant torches. This was the second level of the dungeon beneath the barracks, a floor that housed thirty-two cells and was guarded by four guards—all light infantry from the 104th Swordsmen’s Regiment of the White Mane Legion.
Back in his gaming days, who hadn’t ended up with a red name from player-versus-player combat? Ridenburg’s dungeons weren’t unfamiliar territory to Brandon; he’d been here before. But those times, they’d always been thrown into the third level—the one reserved for players, whom the NPCs viewed as lawless troublemakers. Thinking back on it now, Brandon couldn’t help but chuckle.
He pulled out the black ebony Gargoyle statue from his pocket and ran his fingers over it. The crack that had once marred its surface was now almost imperceptible. Turning his head toward the pitch-black cell across from him, he called out softly, “Freya, Roma, how are you two holding up?”
“Brandon, how long are they going to keep us locked up?” came Roma’s voice, tinged with a hint of unease.
Brandon thought to himself, So even you have moments of fear, huh? The two girls were locked together in the opposite cell. Though it was dark, at least they were safe. Just as he was about to say something reassuring, a dull thud echoed from the darkness across the way.
“I’m so furious! Those despicable bastards! How could we work so hard only for people like them!” Freya slammed her fist against the wooden bars, her teeth grinding in frustration.
“What’s all this racket? Want a taste of the whip, do you?” came the harsh voice of a guard from outside.
Though Freya wanted nothing more than to storm out and beat each of those lackeys senseless, she knew better than to act rashly in her current predicament. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself.
“Brandon, what do we do?” she whispered.
Another voice quickly interjected, “Is this the Black Dungeon? Auntie said some people spend their entire lives down here, never seeing the light of day. Brandon, will we end up like that too?”
“Shut it, Roma! Don’t jinx it!” Freya snapped on Brandon’s behalf.
He chuckled. “Do you really expect anything from those people?”
“I hope they all drop dead!” Freya hissed through clenched teeth.
“But without their help, Ridenburg is in danger,” Brandon replied quietly, moving closer to the cell door.
Freya fell silent.
“At least I did my best,” she finally said. “My strength isn’t infinite. I can only do so much for Buchi’s people.”
Brandon felt a wave of relief. It seemed the long night hadn’t been wasted. In fact, he’d noticed that ever since the dream under the Golden Tree, Freya had matured rapidly.
This was precisely why his "Valkyrie Training Plan" was proceeding smoothly. He was determined to make Freya his right-hand person. An S-rank general from the game—this deal was far too good to pass up.
“It’s good that you think this way,” he said.
“Brandon, do you have any plans?” Freya asked.
“Yes. Step back a bit.” If Brandon had dared to come in, he certainly had a way out. His confidence stemmed from knowing that the real chaos would unfold later at night. Ironically, Ridenburg’s nobles remained blissfully unaware.
Freya had brought them one last chance, only to be imprisoned on trumped-up charges. Wasn’t this the very definition of self-destruction?
“Wait, Brandon, what are you planning? Don’t do anything reckless! This is a dungeon, after all!” Though Freya had cursed the nobles earlier, she still considered herself a citizen of Eruin. Escaping openly would amount to rebellion.
“I know what I’m doing.”
“What do you mean, ‘you know’?! Roma, talk some sense into him!” Freya hissed, torn between hoping the guards would intervene to stop Brandon’s madness and fearing they might hear the commotion. Her mind was a whirlpool of contradictions.
“Brandon, I want to get out too,” Roma chimed in.
“Quiet! That’s not how you’re supposed to talk him out of it!” Freya nearly cried in exasperation. Didn’t these two understand the gravity of the situation? Escaping prison meant facing the gallows! The thought of her closest companions becoming wanted criminals made her panic.
On the other side, Brandon took out the 'Highland Squire' card and tossed it onto the ground. The single water element produced by Sacred Grove this week was immediately paid from the land card, and in a puff of smoke, a young man dressed in a long robe with a large bundle of scrolls on his back emerged, brushing off his sleeves.
Brandon knew the mechanics well. He knew that before the existence of the Elemental Pool, the elements generated by land cards had to be used within the same week, or they’d vanish, meaning they couldn’t be stored. However, they could still be used within that week.
“My name is Chael, my lord. It is an honor to serve you,” the young man emerging from the smoke said, bowing deeply.
“A Highland mage?” Brandon asked.
“An apprentice,” Chael corrected solemnly.
Brandon realized he could inspect the other’s stats. Bringing up the interface, he saw that Chael was a Level 16 Highland Mage Apprentice with 8 mana points and two spells: Basic Construction (2 mana) and Magic Arrow (1 mana). His knowledge included basic magic, construct magic, fundamentals, geography, and Level 1 Heraldry.
“You practice Rule Magic?”
“Indeed.”
Rule Wizards were a branch of wizards who studied the forces governing reality. Their magic manipulated the threads connecting the material world to the realm of laws, using gemstone energy to manifest their power.
In Amber Sword, there were nine schools of magic: Rule Magic, Elemental Magic, Arcane Magic, Witchcraft, Rune Magic, Holy Words, Astrology, Necromancy, and Array Magic. Each represented a distinct system, though most ordinary people lumped them all together under the term “wizard.” Still, they shared one common trait: mystery.
“Brandon, who are you talking to?” Freya suddenly interrupted.
“My squire,” Brandon replied casually.
“Squire?” Freya blinked in confusion.
Brandon pulled out a Soul Gem imbued with a ten-foot Silence spell and tossed it to Chael. “Activate it.”
While warriors couldn’t use stored spells, mage apprentices could. Chael infused the crystal bead with 1 mana point, and the gem glowed faintly. Instantly, the area fell deathly silent, as if an invisible monster had swallowed all sound. Freya, startled, found herself unable to speak. She didn’t realize Brandon was behind this and her heart raced—such was the reaction of any ordinary person confronted with the mystery.
Chael nodded to his lord.
Brandon turned and delivered a powerful punch to the thick wooden bars of the cell. After the battle at the Golden Magic Tree, Brandon’s resources had grown significantly. With 965 total experience points, he’d raised his mercenary level to 8 and his militia level to 6. At Level 15 overall, his Strength had reached 5.4 units, and with Strength Surge, it surpassed 10 units.
His punch should have snapped the sturdy post in half, sending it flying into the bars on Freya’s side with a thunderous crash. But within the Silence spell’s range, the wood shattered soundlessly, splinters flying as the broken pieces collided with the opposite bars and fell to the ground with muted thuds.
Brandon stepped through the wide gap, followed by Chael. Grabbing the chains on the opposite cell’s bars, he tore them apart like rotten rope, then opened the door just as the Silence spell’s duration ended.
“Still want to stay a while longer?” Brandon stood at the cell entrance, grinning at the two astonished girls.
“You… you just broke out like that?” Freya couldn’t believe her eyes. It was utterly brazen! Judging by Brandon’s practiced movements, it was clear he’d done this before.
Brandon smiled. Those noble lords treating him like some insignificant militiaman—it was laughable. He’d escaped prisons countless times in the game, not just in small places like Ridenburg but even from the Iron Thorn Fortress in Ampersal Harbor. Players had always ignored NPC rules; there was even a legendary escape from Grulz’s capital prison that had caused a stir on the forums.
Staying here until morning? That would be an insult to his former identity as a player.
“Who is he?” Freya finally noticed the newcomer beside Brandon.
“My lady, I am Lord Brandon’s squire,” Chael bowed deeply to the two girls.
“Squire?”
“Lord Brandon?” Roma and Freya barely contained their shock. What nonsense was this? Had the dungeon somehow transformed Brandon into a lord overnight, complete with a follower?
Freya pinched her cheek to ensure she wasn’t dreaming. If the young man who lived alone in that old house for months was a lord, then didn’t that make her a Valkyrie?
“And how did you get here?” she blurted out.
“As you see, I am a mage,” Chael replied calmly, earning Brandon’s admiration for his quick improvisation.
“A mage apprentice,” Freya gasped.
“You—you’re a Highland Knight, Brandon! So you’re from Danier!” she exclaimed, staring at him in disbelief. There was only one type of mage who served as a knight’s squire— Highland Mage. The Highland Knights of Karasu Province, allied with wizards for three centuries, forming Eruin’s strongest military force—the Order of the White Knights. The bond between Highland Knights and their mage squires was legendary.
In that moment, Freya concluded that Brandon was a young noble from a Highland Knight family. No wonder he was so skilled, so composed. He was a knight! Suddenly, she lowered her head, wondering why such a nobleman would approach mere commoners like her and Roma. Of course—he must have ulterior motives!
She immediately recalled all the tales of noble vices Aunt Syl had told her and subtly edged backward.
Brandon hadn’t anticipated Freya’s wild leaps of logic. He assumed she was simply too stunned to process the truth. Honestly, he didn’t mind. If believing he was a noble made things easier, it saved him the trouble of explaining.
He exchanged a glance with Chael, shaking his head slightly. Reality was indeed frustrating.
“Well, ladies, time’s up. Come on out,” Brandon said, watching Roma peek at him curiously from the shadows. “You’re not seriously planning to stay until morning, are you?”
“Brandon, are you really a knight?” Roma asked suddenly.
“No, I’m Brandon,” he replied with a smirk.
“Then I’m coming out.”
“Please—”
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