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Chapter 63: Aiko
"I’ve confirmed it. Those adventurers—no, mercenaries—arrived here a week ago," Antietta replied in her unhurried tone.
Brandon looked at her in astonishment.
The young woman found a flicker of satisfaction in his surprise. "Sir Brandon, are you amazed that a noblewoman who rarely steps outside can handle such matters?" she asked, turning her head slightly.
"I was merely curious about where you learned to deal with those people so smoothly. After all, this is precisely why Highland Knights undergo their training. Indeed, it’s quite impressive to see a sheltered lady speak so confidently in public." Brandon gave Roma's shoulder a light pat as he spoke, ensuring the girl didn’t wander too far while gazing at the bustling streets below.
To his surprise, Roma reassured him instead. "Don’t worry, Brandon. I won’t get lost." For a moment, Brandon was left speechless.
He could only stare at Roma with an awkward expression, wondering what kind of mind she possessed to think so differently from others.
Fortunately, Antietta stepped in to ease the tension. "Diplomacy is instinctual for ladies like us, Sir," she said humbly, though her words carried a trace of self-satisfaction.
Brandon chuckled and shook his head. "Not every noblewoman would lower herself to deal with country folk," he remarked. He wasn’t wrong; in Eruin, mountain folk were often dismissed as uncouth rustics by those who fancied themselves superior—even lords of mountain origins struggled to find common ground with the great nobles of the empire’s north.
Take, for instance, the two prominent ministers during Emperor Anson XI’s reign: Duke Ernans and the Duke of Longblade, whose constant bickering in court had given the emperor no small amount of grief.
"But I’m not like them. I'm just a penniless lady from a once-respectable family, Sir," Antietta replied.
Brandon laughed softly and shook his head again.
"These mercenaries have likely come to Chablis because of the bandits plaguing the forest. It’s common practice across Eruin for villages and towns to pool funds to hire mercenaries to deal with thieves disrupting daily life. This has become something of a tradition." As they walked along the cobblestone streets of Chablis, Brandon steered the conversation back on track. "In populated areas, local militias or guard units typically foot the bill. In remote regions, entire villages chip in to cover the cost."
Antietta blinked, surprised. "Such things happen?"
"It was the same in Buchi. Even I also contributed," Roma chimed in enthusiastically, peering out from the narrow roadside to gaze at the labyrinthine streets below without looking back.
"Only places with Guard Units tend to handle banditry themselves. So it makes sense that the royal family pins its hopes on their ‘New Army.’ The Guard Units do represent a new force within Eruin—but whether this power will grow remains to be seen."
"And even if they do rise, only one generation may prove truly capable," Brandon added thoughtfully, raising his head.
Antietta bowed her own, beginning to reconsider certain truths.
Just then, a shout rang out behind them: "Stop!" Startled, the trio turned around, only to realize the command wasn’t directed at them. They watched as a young man burst through the crowd, rushing past them before being stopped by two mercenaries.
The mercenaries drew their swords, blocking the youth’s path. "Aiko! Where do you think you’re running? You scoundrel, have you forgotten our mercenary code?" one demanded.
Aiko hesitated, glancing around anxiously. He noticed armored mercenaries closing in from all sides, their blades gleaming ominously. By chance, Brandon stood near the edge of the encirclement, unnoticed—and content to remain so—as he gently pulled Roma back to avoid being dragged into the conflict.
"Cabot, what do you want?" Aiko finally asked, catching his breath after realizing there was no escape. With one hand, he drew a short sword from its sheath, wiping sweat from his brow as he spoke nervously.
"You know exactly what you’ve done," a gray-cloaked mercenary stepped forward, glaring coldly. "Why else would you flee today unless your conscience was guilty? Do you remember the vows you took when joining the company? Our commander treated you like family, yet you betrayed us!"
Aiko flinched, struggling visibly. "Cabot, I didn’t betray you."
Cabot studied him closely, sighed, and shook his head. "Come back with us. If you’re innocent, we’ll believe you."
But Aiko shook his head firmly. "No, Cabot. Please don’t ask. I told you—we can’t go to that forest…" He paused, shaking his head again. "Please trust me once. I swear I won’t harm any of you. Think about the past. How could I possibly betray you? Betray everyone?"
"Enough, Aiko!" Cabot interrupted, his face etched with anguish. "Regardless, you must return to the commander. Explain yourself to him. He raised you, and leaving now means abandoning him and your comrades." He gestured to himself and the others. "Look around! These are your brothers-in-arms. Why are you doing this?"
Aiko hesitated but ultimately took a step back. "Don’t say another word, Cabot. I know I’m right this time. I won’t go back with you. And I’ll stop you from going there. I don’t know how to explain it…"
He glanced around, seeing the mercenaries drawing closer. Desperation crept into his voice. "Cabot, for the sake of our bond, let me go. Trust me. I promise you won’t regret it. I swear."
"Brandon?" Roma whispered, watching the scene unfold.
"Sir Brandon?" Antietta echoed, turning to him.
Both women sought guidance from the one person they trusted in this situation. Should they leave? But Brandon simply shook his head, his gaze fixed on the young man thoughtfully.
Meanwhile, Cabot realized further persuasion was futile. He retreated a step and signaled his men. The mercenaries surged forward, sealing off every possible escape route for Aiko.
As soon as the mercenaries moved, Brandon was taken aback. He quickly realized these weren’t ordinary fighters; several matched Retto’s skill level, placing them solidly in the mid-Iron Rank. While it wasn’t uncommon for traveling mercenaries to possess such strength, encountering so many skilled warriors in a small town like Chablis was unexpected.
Antietta noticed it too. She had been about to speak but fell silent, observing intently.
Though frail compared to someone like Roma or Freya, Antietta’s experience among nobility gave her sharper insight than most rural maidens.
What truly astonished Brandon, however, was the young man.
Surrounded by seven or eight mid-Iron Rank mercenaries, Aiko remained calm. Dropping his center of gravity, he lunged forward, snatching a sword from one mercenary’s grasp. His movements were so swift that even Brandon barely caught them—a blur of motion, and the mercenary was thrown over his shoulder onto the ground.
Aiko leaned left, sending another mercenary flying straight toward Brandon, Roma, and Antietta.
Brandon blinked. Such force would cripple an ordinary person. Clearly, this youth possessed Silver Rank strength—and appeared younger than Brandon himself. No wonder prodigies seemed to emerge one after another in these tumultuous times. From Phineas, whom he’d met upon arriving in this world, to Breyson, Ethan, Freya, and Viscount Teste, each was extraordinarily gifted.
In most histories, such talents might appear once in a generation. Yet between Buchi and Braggs alone, Brandon had encountered several. It seemed the chaos following Vonder’s era bore some fated mark.
Still, Brandon acted swiftly. A Strength Surge caught the airborne mercenary, steadying him. Even then, Brandon staggered slightly, marveling at the sheer force behind the collision. An Iron Rank mercenary might shrug it off, but any bystander struck would likely suffer grave injury—or worse.
He briefly wished he still wielded the Lustrous Stinger. Things might have ended differently.
That young man is reckless, Brandon thought.
The dazed mercenary recovered enough to glance back, eyeing Brandon with surprise. Likely unprepared to encounter someone of mid-Iron Rank strength idling on the street, he hesitated before remembering to thank him.
"...Thank you, sir."
Brandon waved him off, his attention still fixed on the unfolding confrontation.
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