Warning: May contain unnerving content.
Fredrinn did not wait for them to utter even a single word as he silently unsheathed his sword and swung it lightly and clumsily, but the absolute confidence of the intent to kill and the overwhelming strength were enough to overcome this shortcoming.
A wistful swing with a planned maneuver may succeed, but a swing full of intent would always succeed!
The sheer force of such a move was towering. However, he did hold back, since he must leave the leading role vacant for a while; he was planning to make Viscountess Nemhil take over, after all.
A commotion must not happen. No one should know anything about their death before the viscountess takes over! His eyes glimmered as he eyed the corridor beyond the extravagant entrance he threaded before, where the maidservants and butlers had passed out.
Guess he must wipe them out.
As for the three viscounts? Fredrinn blankly looked at their mashed-up forms. The fat noble was thoroughly mutilated, exposing his digestion system to the open air. His intestines were especially filled with disgusting excrement, turning the room unpleasant to smell, proving just how much he had eaten before this meeting. The withered elder proved that he had no flesh, showcasing his gray, dull bones as his severed form slowly fell into the ground with a dull thud.
Fredrinn's eyes turned to the last victim. The pedophile survived, though he did lose an arm and his sole foot. He shrugged. Mistakes were bound to happen.
Might as well use this opportunity to understand everything about the Litel Trading Site. On second thought, leaving this thing alive wasn't bad at all! Fredrinn inwardly smiled.
"Aaarghhh!!!!!"
Reinns was utterly terrified and was in unspeakable pain. His severed arm and leg shook as his wise eyes turned bloodshot. His monocle fell into the pond formed by his churning blood as he desperately tried to create a distance between himself and the tall, bloody figure at the entrance.
"W-Who are you?! How dare you?!"
He tried to muster anything he could, but he was only able to threaten the man with his nonsense; just a businessman who had never stepped onto the battlefield, even with his experience as a wandering merchant who had adapted to the dangerous routes he ventured, wouldn't be able to resist such a threat.
It wasn't a matter of wits and courage; the difference was just too colossal, which is what truly made him tremble in horror.
"Tell me about this trading site. I want to take over it. You're smart, so let's make it short and easy."
Fredrinn leisurely crouched and even sat beside Reinns as he supported his head with a hand, staring at the businessman with a condescending look. Reinns shivered. He never imagined that the look he used to force those girls would be used on him...
Unfortunately, his distracted farce must cease as Fredrinn roughly pulled the nobleman's stumped arm and leg, tying them with the nearest threads so tightly they turned red. It looks like how he saw those roasted pigs getting tied as the chefs cooked them to perfection.
Can't let him bleed to death!
"Please!! Stop!!"
Hearing the pig-like screech, Fredrinn turned annoyed, and he directly stuffed the man's mouth with the fatty's intestines. Although he was used to excrement and piss, this fatty was clearly extraordinary, and even his excrement was special in terms of smell.
He had to pick the part where it was clear from the goey, yellow stuff. Can't let him touch those wretched stuff. Fredrinn had to block off his nostrils to resist it. The smell was just too 'alluring'!
Fredrinn watched as the man choked on the fatty's 'inheritance'.
He patted his own chest.
Damn, you're quite cruel, my persona.
His face contorted slightly as he watched the man suffer a fate worse than death.
For a man who ruined many girls, this barely befits a worthy punishment. Let's add some more! But that's for later. If he did it immediately, wouldn't he die?
"Well, can't let him die yet."
After a few seconds, Fredrinn removed the yellow-infested intestines from the nobleman's mouth with a hint of disgust. Reinns immediately lunged forward as he vomited everything out. Torturous! Disgusting! Humiliating!
The feelings he felt were indescribably soul-wrenching and heinous, but Fredrinn didn't care about him.
The scenery was not something feint-hearted people could withstand.
Watching this, Fredrinn had an urge and stood up, pressing his foot against the man's head. This forced him to taste his own vomit mixed with the yellow substance.
He roughly pulled the man's head afterward, revealing his broken teeth and the mess that was his face. It was like how he plunged his hand through the presumptuous squire back in the Kennel Branch Family. Truly, a spectacle straight out of a horror movie.
Fredrinn's dimmed eyes met Reinns's resigned, despaired look. His only regret was the undeserved fate of this pedophile. Should've been worse than choking on excrement-infested intestines...
Maybe he should force more amazing things into this guy's throat. He looked at the corpses of other viscounts. As for the other entrance, he refused to touch it. Although cruel, he wasn't at that level yet.
This will be a long night.
"Tell me everything now."
After a few hours, inside the manor, Fredrinn leisurely picked up many important documents that would serve as a medium to transfer the right of property. This will be used as a bargaining chip to convince Viscountess Nemhil.
As for the mess? Fredrinn, who was a sacrificial soldier, was used to cleaning procedures, especially if it included corpses. He relaxedly left the grandiose room, which looked clean and resplendent, as if everything had never happened. As for the other inhabitants of this manor, he already cleared them out earlier.
With this, he's confident he could buy a few more days before Nemhil took over.
After leaving through the secret evacuation route told kindly by the late Reinns, Fredrinn swiftly left the Litel Trading Site.
After a long time of consideration, it's finally time to meet with the fabled protector of the border, Viscountess Nemhil!
Unlike other territories, the territory bestowed upon Nemhil by the king was surrounded by a mountain range, which served as a challenge for Nemhil and her allies to create a trading route with each other. It was also for this reason that she had limited maneuver to develop her territory.
Of course, the advantage was evident; with this kind of terrain, those who wished to breach the border would have to think twice. From a militant perspective, it was undoubtedly a golden spot. But for a noble like Nemhil, it was disastrous!
Since the mountain range blocked off the northern winds from the Northern Bretta, a vast, snowy meadow used by the Outcasts as their main hideout, the territory of Nemhil was the one who had to bear the brunt. All year long, her people had to suffer from failed harvests from June to December. That's half a year without crop reserve!
Viscounts were in charge of towns, which contained about 5,000 to 10,000 citizens. The sheer pressure of maintaining these people was crushing. If not for her special identity and connections, she would have long been crushed by the numerous blockages.
In a neat, simple, yet refined main hall, Nemhil, along with her trusted people and many advisors, silently strut forward in their seats. Their eyes were solemn as they tried to retain their crumbling composure.
"June is a few days away. When the winter hits, our soldiers would lose their edge, while those outcasts would be able to fight on their main turf."
An auburn-haired knight with a bulk figure said seriously as he clenched the report in his hands. His eyes set on his Lady. Her hair, which was originally rose red, a proof of her lineage, was ornamented with white streaks. He had no idea if she was too stressed or because of the cold weather here...
Nemhil's violet eyes narrowed as she calmly tapped her armrest. Her skin was too bright for her people to know if her face had turned pale or not.
This could be solved if she could get reinforcements from her hard-earned allies. Unfortunately, it seems like her influence has gotten weaker since that dastardly crown prince succeeded in his scheme.
After months of relentless persistence, Nemhil finally felt a bit of despair. It has been hard this past month, and to realize that all of her efforts were in vain...
"Waiting for reinforcements was out of option since the Lady had requested one, yet no significant reply has been received. It seems like... We could only struggle on our own."
"Fucking damn it!"
A knight couldn't remain calm anymore, and his bloodshot eyes bulged as he smashed his armrest with his fists.
"We've been fighting for them with our lives... But this is the payback that we've got?! Abandoned like a bunch of disposable runts?!"
The frustration was contagious, and whether it was Nemhil or her most trusted knights, they were no different. Some emotional men even cried as they bawled in grief.
However, Nemhil, despite her own troubles, refused to go down! Her violet eyes are blazing with newfound rage and fury as her heroism revealed itself at this dire strait.
"My people, heed my words. In a few days, we will bear the brunt of hundreds of knights, but tell me, do you want to spend your last moment letting that fire be extinguished?! Or will you stand by me as we bathe in their blood?!"
Contrary to her delicate, beautiful appearance, Nemhil was a true fighter! Her heart was like that of a heroine, fearless and unstoppable! Not to mention a woman like her, even men found it hard to build up such amazing courage!
The knights looked at their Lady, whose delicate face contorted in rage and madness. Their hearts clenched, watching how their noble and gracious Lady was forced to be dictated to such a fate.
This sadness fueled their fire of vengeance!
Those who bawled lifted their spears and swords, concreting their allegiance to the Lady as they proved their unyielding loyalty!
The advisors became even more mad and furious as they swiftly tried to implement the best possible tactic to go against the hundreds of knights with their meager strength. Some even came up with extreme measures to calculate just how many outcasts they could kill before their combatants ran out.
Amid this all, Nemhil revealed a look of exhaustion. Still, she quickly concealed it with a firm resolve.
She was clear of her duty as their Lady, and she would not back down even if it meant death.
After all, she promised her mother that she would never be afraid again...
Truthfully, like any other girl, Nemhil wished she could run away from this insolvable situation with her people. She wished she could live happily like how she used to.
But the world is not a nice place, and even when she already conceded from the competition, she was still ruthlessly schemed against and got her status reduced to that of a viscountess...
Still. She, Nemhil, would never despair!
Never!
Her eyes were brimming with tears of sadness, but they were incomparably brave and valiant!