Chapter 70

Chapter 70

Chapter 70

“To our leader!”

“Cheers to the Black Armor Company!”

“And to that officer the boss beat to a pulp like he was a stray dog!”

“Shut your mouths, you parasites!”

The triumph over the coalition of raiders and soldiers of fortune was simply monumental.

Afterward, they proceeded to dismantle the checkpoints and cut the iron chains that obstructed the shipping lanes. The future that awaited the Black Armor Company was nothing less than a celebration overflowing with jubilation.

In Hamburg, the free city of the Empire and the heart of the continent’s merchant transit, the entire population was celebrating and glorifying the feat of the Black Armor Company, exclaiming their identity with pride.

The courage shown by the Black Armor Company and the astonishing achievements of its leader, Dale, were the talk of the town.

The dark and ruthless fame of the “Black Prince” would soon spread to the corners of the Empire, carried by cargo ships along the river currents.

In the midst of the general rejoicing of the festivities, Dale remained deep in his thoughts. He distanced himself from his subordinates, who were indulging completely in the banquet of liquor and food, each accompanied by one or two ladies.

He coldly evaluated the events of that day’s combat.

“The combination of formulas wasn’t bad.”

The concepts he incorporated in the heat of the fray… “Black Cannon,” “Gatling Style,” “20 mm.”

They constituted armaments that anticipated traditional cavalry charges by centuries, and even high-ranking sorcerers found themselves unable to match such destructive capacity.

To this was added the confusion sown by the shadow parasites that sprouted from those projections.

Despite not being at the level of the true titans who defied logic, the advancement in Dale’s power was undeniably rapid.

At that moment, a phrase interrupted his musings.

“Thinking about it, boss, I’ve never seen you consume alcohol.”

Sir Yones, completely muddled by the vapors of the wine, turned his attention toward Dale with an intrigued expression.

“How old do you guess I am?”

Sir Yones tilted his head, confused by the question.

“I made a vow not to taste liquor until reaching twenty springs.”

“Wow, is there a compelling reason for such a decision?”

“Only because I decided it so.”

It lacked logic to relate the codes of a reality foreign to an inhabitant of this environment.

“Ha, ha, that’s certainly peculiar.”

Sir Yones shrugged his shoulders, half-assimilating the answer, and finished another sip from his glass.

“Ahhh! This is glory! What a delight!”

Upon contemplating the scene, Dale muttered between his teeth as if observing a foreign phenomenon.

“The liquor is consuming him.”

That event represented an inconceivable debacle.

The paid combatants, who had previously guaranteed victory with arrogance, fled in terror without leaving a trace. During their retreat, they devastated and burned everything in their path, transforming the lands into a wasteland.

For Count Robert, the ringleader of the criminal coalition, it was the worst of the imaginable scenarios. The fragmentation and the end of the coalition appeared inescapable.

It was unusual to accept that they had fallen to barely a hundred combatants. No, the reality was different. They did not suffer defeat at the hands of just any armed group.

The cause was that monstrous being. The myths surrounding the “Black Prince” contained no exaggeration.

While Count Robert guided his battered troops back to their possessions, he bit his lips, consumed by impotence.

“Well, well, what scene are my eyes witnessing?”

A silhouette unexpectedly obstructed the advance of Robert and his subordinates.

“Keeping a lady waiting does not correspond to the customs of the high nobility.”

An enigmatic woman with long scarlet hair stood erect before them. She wore a provocative outfit in the tone of blood and a pointed headpiece. A silhouette completely dyed in crimson.

“I assumed this journey would result in vain, but I notice I appeared at the precise instant.”

Count Robert’s features turned rigid upon contemplating her.

“The boredom of waiting almost finished me!”

The scarlet-haired woman sketched a sweet smile.

“Could it be…?”

Count Robert inspected his surroundings. Despite the disorder of his troop, he still retained horsemen capable of an armed attack. The marksmen kept projectiles in their quivers.

“She represents… the Witch of the Red Tower.”

Without hesitating, he exclaimed at the top of his voice:

“Finish that sorceress immediately!”

Deducing her origin did not require major effort. Undoubtedly, she was part of the punishment retinue of the “Central Government.” An executioner at the service of the crown, a specialist in mystical arts from the Red Tower.

“Attack now! End her life before she structures a spell!”

Howled Count Robert. The distance that separated them was of a few meters. The men-at-arms initiated the charge while projectiles were released by the archers.

“A sorceress? That is quite a derogatory consideration toward a lady.”

The woman with fiery features deployed her limb, without flinching in the slightest. In that very instant, emanations of crimson energy sprouted under her feet.

The environment was covered in a purple tone.

However, reality did not take long to manifest that it was not the environment that was drowning in vital fluid. Count Robert’s corneas collapsed and torrents of reddish fluid emanated from his ocular globes.

“Aaaah, aaah!”

Count Robert bellowed, consumed by the torment.

“My vision has abandoned me! I am unable to distinguish anything!”

“I feel the fire in my flesh! Mercy, please!”

Reddish fluids sprouted everywhere. The ocular structures exploded or were consumed by the heat, leaving the men writhing on the ground.

“Heavens, the demands of my relative are excessive.”

The red-haired lady raised her shoulders, subtracting importance to the matter.

“Designating me to exterminate this class of vermin is truly an excess.”

The enthusiasm of the festivities continued for multiple days.

At the end of the day, the population had narrowly avoided a greater catastrophe. The gratitude of Hamburg, the free city of the Empire, toward the combatants of the Black Armor Company exceeded any expectation.

The warriors, oblivious to such attentions and opulence, contemplated themselves overwhelmed by the situation.

For the main descendant of a duchy, this landscape was habitual, but not for the militia. For this reason, when Dale distanced himself from the festive bustle to transit in solitude through the shadows of the urban avenues, he started upon perceiving a known echo.

“Wow, what a pleasant encounter!”

The tone evoked a known and disturbing sensation.

“Is this not the noble Dale?”

Dale diverted his gaze.

At the top of the structure that crossed the flow that divided the city, a silhouette stood out wearing a pointed headpiece of a scarlet hue. A lady wrapped in suggestive crimson clothing and fiery hair. A figure imbued in tones of blood.

“Lady Scarlet…”

Scarlet Eurys. The regent of the Red Tower and blood relative of the famous “Marquis Eurys.” He kept full awareness of her fearsome reputation and rank.

“Am I permitted to interrogate about the identity of the lady?”

“Wow, how gallant of you.”

Feigning ignorance, Dale inquired with courtesy, provoking a delighted laugh in Lady Scarlet.

“Versions reached my ears that the Snow Elf sighs for a male to the point of losing lucidity…”

She continued in a mocking tone.

“Who would say that her preferences would incline toward males of such a young age.”

“…”

“This borders on the criminal.”

Before such assertions, Dale’s countenance turned icy.

“Does any specific purpose exist that motivates your presence before me?”

“Without a shadow of a doubt.”

Lady Scarlet nodded with a laughing gesture.

“Who was going to predict that I would find in these parts the offspring of the Saxon lineage.”

She made no move to contain her magnetism and relaxed the folds of her garment.

“I am embarked by the intrigue to verify the virtues that fascinated that inflexible snow elf.”

“…”

“Are the qualities of a male unable to be estimated in a first glance?”

She fixed her eyes on Dale’s midsection with a provocative smile.

“Perhaps you possess a dexterity improper for your few years…”

“I do not manage to decipher your pretensions.”

Dale replied maintaining composure.

“Wow, does another ‘blue dais’ exist paying homage to the Saxon dynasty?”

“Is there something else you wish to add…?”

Finally, spurred by Lady Scarlet’s irony, Dale expressed himself with severity.

“I will not consent to any offense directed toward Lady Sepia.”

“Lady Sepia, so that is…?”

Lady Scarlet let out a mocking guffaw.

“No bond exists more prone to ardor than the one shared between the one who instructs and the one who learns.”

“Measure your expressions.”

“I have paid attention to the comments circulating among the inhabitants.”

Ignoring Dale’s admonition, Lady Scarlet continued with complete impudence.

“Do they assure that you commanded the Black Armor Company and put the main contingent of the criminal coalition into retreat on your own?”

Lady Scarlet gestured with marked exaggeration.

“It represents a chronicle so heroic and dazzling that it would cause the fainting of any lady.”

Like brother, like sister.

“…”

“Therefore, it results logical that she finds herself so smitten with you.”

Lady Scarlet shortened the existing separation and raised her limb with the intention of brushing Dale’s features. The tips of her fingers moved imitating the swaying of a reptile, in a suggestive way.

“I am unaware of what class of woman you intend to qualify in that way.”

Dale showed disdain before her insinuations with an icy gesture.

“Ha, ha, any female would adopt that condition before the Saxon heiress.”

Lady Scarlet laughed again, simulating candor.

“She would have dismissed her honor and her lineage… surrendering without offering resistance before the young lord.”

She murmured, brushing subtly against Dale’s ear area.

“What do you think? An evening of delight superior to what a ‘blue dais’ would offer…”

However, the verbal exchange was interrupted abruptly.

A wintry gust originated under Dale’s feet. In the blink of an eye, Dale was holding a piercing structure of frost directed straight toward Lady Scarlet’s face.

“Wow, what a frigid environment.”

Despite the threat, Lady Scarlet showed no perturbation.

“I do not dislike men of cold temperament,” she commented with malice in her gaze.

Without hesitating a single instant, she brought her features toward the sharp frozen surface that threatened her.

“…!”

The crimson fluid sprouted from the incision and Dale distanced himself immediately, disconcerted. Lady Scarlet emitted a moan of complacency, as if she enjoyed the experience fully.

“… The hour is late. I must withdraw.”

It lacked utility to prolong the exchange with a being of such characteristics. After this, Dale turned on his heels.

He kept his attention fixed on the emanation of mystical energy he perceived at his back as he increased the distance. Upon finally turning his gaze back, Lady Scarlet had vanished. Only in that instant did he exhale the held air, reflecting in his inner self.

“What reasons could have brought this unbalanced woman to this site?”

He expressed the raw reality verbally.

After a period had passed, while the members of the Black Armor Company concluded the celebrations of the great feat in Hamburg and marched back without news to the Duchy of Saxony, an unexpected visit presented itself.

It was nothing less than an emissary of the crown who arrived with the purpose of requiring the services of the Black Armor Company.

“Have the news proceeding from the lands of Britannia reached your ears?”

The delegate inquired, showing an affable treatment.

“Are you alluding to the tale about the Castle Maiden?”

Asked the Duke of Saxony, receiving a nod of assent from the emissary.

“Ha, the castle maiden. In what way could we grant validity to such a story without concrete evidence?”

The female wore a crimson headpiece and showed a provocative smile.

“By addition, His Imperial Majesty requires settling pending accounts with that infamous woman.”

Lady Scarlet, a dignitary of great rank within the Red Tower and practitioner of mystical arts attached to the seventh circle.

Upon witnessing her appearance, a single thought lodged in Dale’s mind.

“What reasons could have brought this unbalanced woman to this site?”

Once again, it was nothing more than the pure truth.