Chapter 36
During lessons, light refreshments were always served. While Aymon wasn’t looking, Cecil slipped a sleeping potion into his teacup.
After drinking the tea, Aymon collapsed onto the desk and fell asleep.
Cecil stared down at the back of the sleeping Aymon’s head, then reached out and placed her hand on his arm.
She was about to use psychometry magic.
“I won’t let those Irregulars off the hook!”
A middle-aged man slammed his desk. From the state of his disheveled hair and clothes, it seemed he’d been raging for quite some time. The office was a complete mess.
“Those damn bastards looted a merchant guild owned by our family again! The damages amount to forty thousand gold coins! Forty thousand!”
“P-please calm down, sir. You’ll collapse at this rate.”
“Even beggars on the street know the Irregulars are acting on Bartholomew’s orders—so why haven’t we caught them yet?! Lock them all up! The Irregulars and the Duke!”
He yelled and threw a vase.
It barely grazed Aymon’s hair and shattered against the wall.
“That bastard Bartholomew! Always slithering out of hearings. I’ll crush that smug face of his one day!”
Enraged beyond control, the man pounded his chest and pointed a trembling finger at Aymon.
“You! Go to the House of Duke Bartholomew.”
“M-me, sir?”
“Yes! Bring back anything that could be used as evidence! If you bring me something solid enough to throw Duke Bartholomew into prison, I’ll grant you the castle of Wyland.”
The man swept back his hair and sneered.
“Let’s see how long you can act high and mighty, Bartholomew. I’ll break that arrogant nose of yours and make you crawl like a worm in the dirt.”
Cecil opened her eyes.
“Marquis Oakley. No doubt about it.”
He was a powerful noble in the imperial faction, closely aligned with the emperor and crown prince, and a frequent visitor to the palace.
Using the emperor’s authority as a shield, he committed numerous corrupt acts and oppressed the people of his domain.
The high taxes and tyranny of the Marquisate of Oakley had long been infamous.
He was also sycophantic to the powerful and cruel to the weak. He wagged like a tongue for the emperor and his children but was ruthless toward the lesser princes and princesses.
“In my previous life, when I was fifteen, I once protested after seeing the Marquis harass a court lady and ended up getting slapped.”
Cecil absentmindedly touched her left cheek, the spot where she had been struck.
“At last, I can have my revenge.”
Smiling with her hand still on her cheek, she stared again at the back of Aymon’s head, still fast asleep.
“It was a strong sleeping potion. He won’t wake for at least two or three hours.”
Cecil sighed softly and brought her hands together, placing them once more on the back of Aymon’s head.
“Brainwashing magic causes serious mental side effects and requires incredibly precise control… I’d rather not use it unless absolutely necessary. But this time, I have no choice.”
She focused her mind into her hands and drew mana from her dantian.
A dark red glow formed in her palms, then turned into thin threads of light that began burrowing into Aymon’s mind.
An hour later, Cecil let out a long breath.
“It’s done.”
[Cecil, you’re drenched in sweat. Are you alright?]
Nibelung asked with concern.
Just as he said, beads of sweat dotted her forehead and temples, and several drops rolled down her chin and dripped to the floor.
“You’re still alive? You’ve been so quiet lately I hoped you’d just stay asleep forever.”
[I was merely enjoying a sweet dream. But you look like you might collapse at this rate.]
“Collapse? Please. Brainwashing doesn’t use that much mana. It’s just annoying to control.”
Cecil smiled, resting her cheek on the desk.
“I hope Aymon delivers the false information to Marquis Oakley soon. I can’t wait to see the results.”
A few days later, in the dead of night.
Marquis Oakley and his private soldiers were camped midway up the Helberin Mountains.
Under the full moon, the Marquis addressed his troops.
“Tonight, the Irregulars are sure to pass through here. They’ll be exhausted after a recent battle, while we have the high ground. If we strike swiftly, we will win.”
Normally, Marquis Oakley didn’t lead battles himself, but his hatred for the Irregulars ran so deep that he wanted to witness their defeat with his own eyes.
“Um… I beg your pardon, but… is that intel trustworthy?”
“Of course! It came from a spy I personally planted inside the House of Duke Bartholomew! That informant has never once been wrong!”
When the Marquis shouted, the captain flinched and lowered his head.
With no further objections, the Marquis clenched his fist and declared with steely resolve:
“Men! It’s time to repay the humiliation we’ve suffered at the hands of the Irregulars! Etch into their bones what happens to those who defy me, Oakley!”
But his triumph was short-lived.
An arrow came flying from nowhere and struck him in the shoulder.
“Gyaaah!”
Marquis Oakley let out a beast-like scream and collapsed, while his soldiers panicked and scattered.
From the upper slopes, countless figures emerged. A woman with pink hair, a man who looked like a skeleton, and…
“Well, well, look who it is. Our regular customer, Marquis Oakley, and his little minions.”
Ace, with red hair and an eyepatch over one eye, had a curved sword slung across his back.
His sinister-looking blade gleamed silver under the moonlight.
Ace twisted his lips into a smirk. In the moonlight, his narrowing pupils resembled those of a predator eyeing its prey.
“To think our favorite customer would come all this way just to see us. I suppose we should repay the favor—by crushing you thoroughly.”
The Irregulars cackled and raised their weapons.
They were frightening even in broad daylight, but facing them in the middle of the night in a mountain forest was downright terrifying.
The surprise attack had backfired. The enemy appeared too early, their condition was far better than expected, they had taken the high ground, and their commander was down.
Marquis Oakley’s soldiers were utterly overwhelmed before they could even fight back.
“Run for your lives!”
“I don’t wanna die!”
“You cowards! Don’t run! Fight to the death! Anyone who flees will be executed for desertion!”
Their captain shouted, but no one listened. The soldiers threw down their weapons and fled.
From that moment on, it was the Irregulars’ stage.
They danced through the enemy ranks, while Oakley’s men collapsed like straw in a hurricane.
The Irregulars achieved a sweeping victory over a force six times their number.
And they did so without suffering a single casualty. A flawless triumph.
The Battle of Helberin was splashed across newspaper headlines and became the talk of the empire.
The powerful Marquis Oakley had personally led his troops, only to be routed by an unknown group called the Irregulars.
The news sent corrupt nobles trembling and the common people cheering.
It was the moment when the Irregulars’ infamy—and fame—became undeniable.
“Exactly the result I wanted. But…”
Cecil watched someone from behind a corner.
“Astonishingly, Aymon hasn’t changed a bit.”
At the end of her gaze was Aymon.
He was still her live-in tutor, calmly conducting lessons as if nothing had happened.
“After giving false intel and incurring Oakley’s wrath, there’s no way he can return to the Marquisate. Looks like he’s planning to switch sides completely.”
It seemed Aymon intended to settle down at the House of Duke Bartholomew.
Though his ties with Oakley were severed, a live-in tutor position at Bartholomew was still a lucrative and prestigious job.
Plus, it provided a decent shield from the Marquis’s wrath.
[But can you really leave such a faithless man be? There’s no guarantee a former spy won’t do it again!]
“Well said, Nibelung. No matter how clean his break with Oakley seems, I can’t just let Aymon off the hook.”
[Oh! You must have another brilliant plan, right, Cecil?]
Nibelung asked excitedly. Still hidden behind the wall, Cecil smirked as she watched Aymon.
“Bored with all these ordinary lessons, aren’t you? Don’t worry. I’ll give you the most thrilling lesson in the world.”
