Chapter 1: How a Mercenary Protects Their Escort Target (1)

Mercenaries.

Those who failed to become knights but possess skills on par with them.
Unlike knights, they do not concern themselves with honor—if paid, they will do anything.
Thus, they are often treated with disdain.

“Y’know, not all imperial knights are as glamorous as they seem. People are saying this prince being sent out of the palace is essentially being discarded. Maybe that’s why the atmosphere is like this?”

“Quiet. Most of those imperial knights are either nobles or, even if commoners, they’re not just any commoners.”

Regina’s sharp scolding silenced Rosie.
But she couldn’t stop her from sneaking glances at the carriage supposedly carrying the duke.

Unlike Regina, who had walked the mercenary path for years as the daughter of Gellon Roffman, the so-called King of Mercenaries, Rosie was still a greenhorn, amazed by everything.

She’d been acting like a cheerful puppy throughout the mission, and Regina made a mental note to properly train her once they returned to the guild Persona.

Letting your guard down—even in fascinating situations—was never acceptable.

“More importantly… how did someone suffering from madness end up as a lord? And they’re replacing his insufficient guard detail with mercenaries?”

Today, a prince afflicted with madness was leaving the palace for Balmen.

He had been saddled with the title of Duke Julius and now became the watchdog of Balmen, a barren land seemingly abandoned by the gods. Rumors said he was no different than a rabid dog.

“Is he really a discarded prince?”

Persona, the mercenary guild that accepted all missions.
With strength so overwhelming it bordered on mercilessness, they’d handled everything—from protection to the messiest of jobs—as long as the pay was right.

Even for Regina, the effective head of Persona, this was her first time guarding a member of the royal family—not a noble, not a merchant caravan, but royalty—alongside the imperial knights, cloaked in splendid mantles draped over their right shoulders.

Strangely, Regina thought the grand and extravagant carriage looked lonely.

“Everyone, focus! Eyes forward!”

One of the imperial knights shouted as the formation began to scatter. His voice, repeated again and again, pressed heavier onto the already grim atmosphere.

“Normally, I’d have thought twice before accepting a mission like this…”

But the worsening finances of the guild left Regina with no choice but to accept anything and everything.

The real culprit was that bastard who botched the last series of Persona’s missions. It had been one of their highest-paying contracts in recent times. And, admittedly, her childish father bore some blame too.

Regina, daughter of the famed mercenary king Gellon, had followed mercenaries from birth.

By age ten, she’d already taken up a sword and helped expand Persona’s reach. The guild was her life’s treasure chest. So she gave her all to every mission.

“Ambush!”

“Everyone, draw your swords! Assassins!”

“Persona mercenaries, arm yourselves! Protect the target!”

At Regina’s command, the guild members sprang into action.
Assassins emerged from behind trees, from pits dug in advance, like moles or bats.

“Guh!”

“Protect the target first!”

Slashing down an assassin creeping toward the carriage, Regina shouted again.
Some imperial knights rushed toward the carriage at her call.

“Why are these so-called imperial knights so slow?!”

She assumed they were coming to defend the royal in the carriage—until they suddenly drew their weapons and attacked it.

“Out of the way, woman! If you value your life!”

Blocking a spear with her blade, Regina gritted her teeth.
Had she let her guard down just because they were imperial knights, their sharp weapons would’ve pierced through the carriage and the soft flesh of the royal inside.

“Traitors?”

“Heh, does it matter now? You mercs are all going to die anyway.”

This is why you should never accept suspicious jobs.

Suppressing the flood of regret, Regina flashed a mocking smile at them.

“…Are you sure about that?”

She knocked away the incoming spear and darted forward, plunging a dagger into the man’s vital point.
With a thud, the large man collapsed.

The traitors’ blades immediately turned toward her.

“What do you take Persona for? We have pride, y’know.”

She jerked her chin toward the battlefield.

Persona’s fighters were like enraged bulls—slashing, throwing, demolishing the knights. Their technique might have been chaotic compared to the loyal knights still resisting, but their ruthlessness was unmatched.

“Damn it, throw it! Throw the stones!”

Led by one traitor, they hurled black stones toward the carriage.
Regina instinctively swung her sword, deflecting as many as she could, but a few managed to hit the carriage.

She couldn’t deflect everything—it was like trying to avoid raindrops in a downpour.

“Damn it!”

BOOM!

An explosion engulfed the carriage.

“Prince Valentin!!”

“Regina!!”

Knights and mercenaries alike screamed amid the thick smoke. But the rising smoke and heat quickly swallowed everything—leaving no trace behind.

* * *

When was it again?

Ah, right—after Regina successfully completed her first mission and received so much praise in Gellon and “Uncle” Maut’s arms that her hair was a mess.

That memory always came back to her when she was hurt.
It was probably around that time that she vowed to protect Persona with her life.

That’s why when war broke out, or when that damned intruder recently injured her comrades, she took it hard.

Especially the fact that the bastard ran off unscathed while her team lay wounded—she ground her teeth every time she remembered it.

Just like now.

“Time to wake up.”

Regina flinched at the hand shaking her—and again when cold droplets landed on her cheek.

She opened her eyes to find a man looking down at her.

Water dripped from his soaking platinum-blond hair onto her face.

“Ugh.”

“We fell down the mountain into the valley together. Looks like your shoulder’s fractured.”

Trying to sit up, Regina instinctively clutched her shoulder.
The man watched her without much concern.

She finally looked around. The sound of a stream flowing nearby confirmed that he had dragged her under a tree for cover.

“Did you pull me out of the water? Thank you.”

“You were clinging to me and wouldn’t let go. I barely crawled out with you stuck to me.”

Now that she thought about it… who was this man?

She glanced at him—broad shoulders, striking platinum hair, red lips, a sharp nose, intense eyes.
He looked like a masterpiece sculpted by the gods.

“…Are you Duke Julius?”

As she studied his face, the memories she’d buried resurfaced.

The assassins had thrown bombs.
Through the smoke of repeated explosions, Regina dove into the carriage and shielded the target.

She had some protective gear to absorb the impact, which let her endure the blast while holding him.

Then they were flung from the carriage, rolling down a cliff—her last memory.

“Yes. Mercenary woman.”

She didn’t like that nickname.
It often came laced with condescension—a woman doing mercenary work?

There was something familiar and slightly antagonistic in the way he said it. But he was still her escort target. She slowly got to her feet and scanned the area.

“If we follow the river, we should be able to regroup with the others. Let’s move.”

“With that shoulder?”

“Oh, it’s dislocated, not broken.”

“It’ll still hurt like hell when you walk.”

“I’ll set it.”

She bit down on a strip of torn clothing.
She knew roughly how to reset a joint, the mercenary way—brutally and painfully. But a scream might attract predators or, worse, assassins.

“Ugh—!”

Biting back the pain, she forced the joint back in.
It was a temporary fix, but it would do until she reunited with her team. She spat out the cloth and wiped the cold sweat from her brow.

“He has unusual eyes…”

Amethyst-like violet eyes stared at her.

Regina asked, “Did I upset you?”

The prince with madness. She didn’t want to provoke him, no matter how calm he looked now—appearances could be deceiving.

Valentin stared at her in silence for a long time, then shook his head.

His hair was drying now, strands slowly falling over his face.

“No, not particularly. But you look like you’re wondering when I’ll snap, or whether I’m already insane.”

“…I’m the only one left to guard you now, Your Grace. Consider it professional curiosity—no offense meant.”

Valentin stood and pulled a small empty vial from his coat, shaking it.

“I took my medicine. I’ll be fine for a while.”

So it was manageable with medication.

Relieved, Regina began walking.
Waiting for rescue was dangerous. It was better to follow the river downstream. There was no guarantee the attack was over.

“We need to regroup before anything else.”

It wasn’t long before she realized something was off—his footsteps behind her sounded uneven.

In her haste, she’d forgotten the note: the escort target limped on his left leg.

Valentin leaned against a tree trunk.
When she turned around, he said, “Let’s slow down a bit.”

Regina, slightly embarrassed, looked for a makeshift cane.
But nothing sturdy enough for a man his size and build seemed to be nearby.

“Come to think of it, he did feel solid when I held him. Even if he limps, he must train regularly. That can’t be easy.”

She unbuckled the sword at her waist and handed it to him—still sheathed.
She had a small dagger hidden on her body, so it wasn’t a problem for now.

“Take this.”

“You’re giving me a sword?”

“To use as a walking stick.”

“What if I go mad and start swinging it? The medicine’s not perfect.”

“Then I’ll subdue you. I trust you won’t call that treason, given I rolled down a cliff and plunged into a river to save you.”

She handed it over without emotion and resumed walking.
Before long, her steps naturally slowed to match his pace.