Chapter 16: How a Mercenary Handles Conflict (Part 4)
“Choosing to be a mercenary must be more appealing than being a knight, huh?”
Valentin tapped his cane on the ground, signaling the end of the duel was near.
“Get up. It’s not over yet.”
But Regina had no intention of stopping. She pressed Thomas, exposing the gap in their skills. He finally collapsed, clutching his face after her fierce punches.
“She never even used her sword—just struck me with her fists, hitting my weaknesses.”
It turned out Regina did this deliberately—to teach rather than shame him with her blade.
At last, she pressed her sword gently against his throat.
“You lost.”
…“I admit it.”
Thomas had no choice but to accept defeat.
Regina wore a proud smile as she looked to Valentin.
“Duke, now that I’ve won, I’d like to borrow Sir Thomas for a bit.”
Valentin barely moved, clearly enjoying the moment.
“Borrow him…?”
“He can’t refuse me now.”
With that, Thomas looked crushed.
“Roten Healer, please check on Sir Thomas.”
“All right—ugh!”
Allan gasped at the bruising. Both Regina and Valentin turned to look.
“Already a huge bruise. He won’t be able to hold his head up for a while…”
Regina realized she might have gone too far.
“Should’ve avoided his face…”
She thought of soup—a kitchen egg remedy would help his swelling.
After the brief duel, Regina and Valentin walked down the corridor, while Allan rushed Thomas for healing. Though there were quick-healing medicines, his bruises were severe.
“Did you enjoy that?” Regina asked.
He didn’t stop me—he knew I’d win, she thought.
Valentin tapped his cane quietly.
“I don’t judge people fast, but you don’t trust easily.”
Only two people stand by him in this palace.
“Why do you say that?”
“You kept testing me—since we first met.”
She remembered the time he urged her to flee from hidden assassins—it stung her deeply.
“Did that upset you?”
“Yes,” she answered simply.
“Thought so,” he said, letting out a quiet laugh.
They stopped in the hall, caressed by sunset light shining on her golden hair.
“If my client needs proof, I’ll provide it.”
Valentin couldn’t look away. As they walked, he silently fell in step behind her.
Reaching her door, Regina opened it.
“I’m heading to the kitchen—for eggs.”
For eggs?
Valentin tilted his head.
“For Sir Thomas’s bruise. He’s a proud knight; he’ll hate needing them.”
Valentin smiled, amused.
“People do better when challenged by someone who annoys them.”
She closed the door, and he chuckled.
Do mercenaries learn court etiquette now? She commands better than high nobles do.
Valentin wondered: maybe she’d make a fine empress—if not, then she lacked the qualities of one.
But his expression darkened suddenly. He clenched his jaw with a brief scowl.
“I got carried away.”
He stared out the window, remembering—13 years ago, licking dew from a burning warehouse wall.
The stench of burning wood and flesh haunted him still.
Oddly, he didn’t feel the pain now—just remembered scars across his body.
That night, another room in the castle echoed with outrage.
Slamming his fist on a table, Count Schubel roared:
“What madness is this?”
The messenger trembled.
“The Prince wants to marry a common mercenary woman?”
“Yes—I heard.”
“What kind of woman?”
“She’s from the Persona Mercenary Guild—Regina. She’s been at the Ducal Castle twice.”
“That damned Persona!”
Schubel poured wine fiercely. The Persona Guild had upset his region and now saved Valentin. He seethed.
He’d heard the Empress sent forces west and failed. She then taxed Persona’s district even harder.
“How sure are these reports?” he demanded, pounding the table again. The messenger trembled as Schubel’s anger filled the grand hall.
Late at night, a man’s shout echoed powerfully beneath the tall ceilings.
“What kind of nonsense is this?!”
Count Schubel of the Rengier house, having heard the news through someone sent by Pinette, slammed his fist on the table so hard it seemed like it might break. The messenger, who had only come to deliver the report, trembled before him.
“That crazy prince—Duke Julius—is getting married? To a commoner mercenary woman?!”
“Th-th-the messenger said that’s what he’d heard.”
“What kind of woman is she to make a madman want to marry her?!”
“They say she’s Regina, from the Persona Mercenary Guild. She’s been at the Ducal Castle twice, likely as part of the Duke’s escort.”
“That damned Persona again!”
Schubel poured a deep red wine into his glass, as turbulent inside as his feelings.
This same guild had failed a supplies escort for the Kor caravan—and yet, in the crucial moment, they protected Valentin to the end. That fact was beginning to grate on him.
‘After news came that a song mocking the Empress’s regency was trending in the West, my sister sent troops under the pretext of hunting monsters. They probably got wiped out. And then—if that wasn’t enough—she hit Persona’s District C with an extra tax burden.’
How would he even report this to his sister? It would definitely make her mood worse! Still brimming with frustration, Schubel reached for the whisky beside him.
“You’re certain this report is accurate?”
