The Lord of Servants 8

The sun was rapidly sinking while the wagon carried Vixon to the West Axyvur. He wasn’t alone inside the wagon, as there were three other men inside it of the same age as Vixon. The men looked very determined and eager.

Next to Vixon was a slightly muscular man at eighteen. He was 5.74 feet tall, having short black curtained hair with no facial hair, a pointed nose, warm-ivory skin, and light-green eyes. He wore a dashing fancy red tunic with a sheathed rapier on his belt. From his appearance alone, everyone could know that he’s a noble.

But unlike the majority, he seemed comfortable being surrounded by the commons like Vixon that he even allowed Vixon to sit next to him.

“Hey,” the noble said as he offered for a handshake. “I’m Lyle von Vrithel. May I know your name?”

Lyle was a friendly, well-mannered person, but Vixon wasn’t paying the slightest attention to him because he had sunk too deep inside his thoughts.

“You’re Lyle?” a man in front of him asked. “I’m Markus Huntsman. Call me Markus.” Markus shook hands with Lyle.

Markus Huntsman was a 5.67 feet tall slim man at seventeen. He had short light-brown messy hair with no facial hair, a pointed nose, pale-ivory skin, and dark-brown eyes. He wore a partially open dark-brown and green tunic, showing a sharp tooth necklace on his neck. Markus was a talkative and laid back person who loved to joke.

“Ah! I… I’m…” the man next to Markus said, trying his best to fit with them. “I’m Deish. Deish Walfrid.”

Deish Walfrid was a slim man at seventeen. He was 5.5 feet tall, the shortest to all of them. He had medium black forward-brush down hair with a single blinding bang that covered his left eye with no facial hair, a snub nose with light freckles, pale skin, and blue eyes. Deish wore a brown old tunic. Unlike both of them, Deish was introverted and unconfident.

"Nice to meet you, Deish," Lyle greeted with a smirk as he shook Deish’ right hand.

"I'm Markus," Markus shook hands with Deish.

Lyle then looked at the concerned Vixon.

“Should I ask him?” he thought for a moment. “He looks too serious…”

Lyle patted Vixon’s shoulder, surprising Vixon.

“Ah?” Vixon said. “Ahem. I’m Vixon Wildrow.”

Lyle offered Vixon a handshake, and Vixon accepted it.

“Sorry, did I interrupt something?” Lyle asked.

“N-Nothing. It’s fine.”

There was silence again until Lyle opened a conversation.

“So, where are you all from?” Lyle asked. “I’m from Central Axyvur.”

“I’m from the South,” Markus replied.

“E-East,” Deish replied.

“South,” Vixon answered.

Markus looked at Lyle's clothing for a while.

"Lyle, you're a noble, right?"

"Ah, yes, my father is Viscount Vrithel. How do you know I’m a noble?"

“Well, your appearance alone is enough to convince me.”

“Really? I thought I’m wearing inconspicuous clothing now.”

“W-Well…” Deish said. “If your clothing isn’t flashy enough, then what would flashy clothes look like?”

“That’s a question we, commons, could never answer,” Markus said.

“Anyway, what’s your expertise?” Lyle asked. “I’m proficient in using a rapier.”

“We can see that,” Markus smiled as he looked at the sheathed rapier.

“Oh,” Lyle said as he held the rapier. “This rapier is so precious to me that I always bring it anywhere I go.”

“Even in the bath?” Markus asked jokingly.

“Y-Yes…” he replied blatantly.

“He doesn’t even try to hide that fact,” Markus thought.

"Why is it so precious, if I may know," Deish asked.

“I always wanted to be a fencer when I grew up,” Lyle said. “I studied and practiced fencing a lot with a wooden rapier when I was younger. On my 15th birthday, my father bought me this custom-crafted rapier.”

Lyle unsheathed the rapier and held it with both of his hands. The men, except for Vixon, admired the beautifully designed gold-colored rapier. There's a carving of Lyle's full name on the handguard and a round cut sapphire on the pommel.

"Wow," Markus said, amazed as he shook his head.

"This must be expensive," Deish said.

“I bet this sword alone cost more than my house,” Markus said.

“You have a house, Markus?” Deish asked.

“I hope…”

“The perks of being noble…” Vixon thought as he shook his head.

“Ah… Okay, I’ve told mine. Your turn,” Lyle said to Markus.

"Okay, to answer the question earlier: I'm proficient in using lances, spears, and javelins," Markus said.

"Oh? That's impressive. I'm terrible at using them," Lyle commented.

"I used to hunt deers with them. I can use them for close combat or use them as throwing weapons," Markus said.

"I see. How about you, Deish?" Lyle asked.

“Ah! I'm good at using crossbows and slingshots,” Deish replied. “I'm still learning to use bows.”

"That's impressive!" Lyle said.

"What's your effective range with them?" Markus asked.

“30 meters.”

“30?” Lyle responded, surprised. “The effective range of bows and crossbows should be around 36 to 60 meters.”

“S-Sorry,” Deish said as he lowered his head. “I'm not sure if I can reach that range.”

“Put more confidence in your skills,” Lyle encouraged as he smiled and patted Deish’ shoulder. “I believe your skills will be the most useful and crucial in combat.”

"I-I… I will try," Deish said.

“That's the spirit,” Lyle smiled before he looked at Vixon. “How about you, Vixon? What's your skill—?”

“None, sorry,” he replied blatantly.

“Don’t be shy,” Lyle said. “Come on—”

“None.”

“You want to be a soldier without any skill?” Markus asked. “You’re going for suicide!”

“This choice is not mine.”

“What do you mean?” Lyle asked, concerned.

“Oh? You’re doing this for your family too, I guess,” Markus said. “I know it’s hard for you, but at least we could keep our beloved safe by defending the kingdom.”

“About your skill, I’m positive you will find your proficiency in the training ground later,” Lyle said as he patted Vixon’s back.

“Thanks.” Vixon gave them a subtle smile.

The sun sunk; everyone in the wagon, excluding Vixon, fell asleep.

“These men are sincere,” Adar said to Vixon. “They meant no harm.”

“Oh? Glad to hear that. I hate sitting next to trashy nobles, but I guess Lyle is different, no?”

“Anyway, why didn’t you refuse that archduke’s suggestion to enlist you?”

“I’m avoiding the imminent death.”

“Avoiding you say?”

“You know, this is his scheme to eliminate me. I bet he wants me to die on the battlefield. If I declined the offer, I bet he would try another way to kill me.”

“So, what is your idea, master?”

“We will return from the battlefield, alive. We will play by his way and make a grand comeback. We will use this opportunity to rise in military rank. If I am knighted, I would become a noble. And from that, we will eliminate the bane of this kingdom from the lowest and finally, the archduke himself.”

“Heh, what an ambition. I like that! Julius once planned things similar to that too. A nobody who becomes the greatest of men.”

“Oh, by the way. Did you sense the stone bearer in the court?”

“If I had felt that, I would have told you.”

“I thought it was the archduke.”

“You hate him to the core, no?”

“That must be a rhetoric question. Any useful information?”

“Just as the archduke said, the 3/4 of the nobles are corrupt. The moment the king became furious, the 3/4 cowered in fear.”

“How about the three the archduke reported?”

“They are innocent. The archduke framed them, but they had no regret.”

“What the—?! Damn it…” Vixon clenched his fists. “He got 3/4 of the nobles with him while the rest on his palms… Truly a manipulative son of a bastard he is…!”

“And he did it all without any stone’s help. What would happen if he possessed one? I bet he would surpass you, even Julius.”

“You want to change sides?”

“Keh, only if you betray me.”

The next morning, West Axyvur. Everyone, including Vixon, was still asleep inside the carriage. West Axyvur was the busiest place in the kingdom, flooded by knights and squires in the place of civilians, even in the morning.

Sounds of pulled catapults, horse-carriages, clank noises from armored knights, and horses of cavalry units echoed throughout the road. The buildings were all constructed from rough, thick, and heavy rocks and fortified by spiked barricades. Large forts, sentry outposts, and high stone walls surrounded the open grounds while smokes from blacksmiths almost matched the number of clouds in the sky.

Markus was the one to be awake because of the noises outside. He opened his weary eyes and got amazed by seeing the Western Axyvur. The tired eyes turned into fresh, excited eyes.

“Guys!” he said aloud, waking the rest. “We’re at West Axyvur!”

“Yawn!” Lyle stretched his arms and legs with his eyes half-opened, accidentally hitting Vixon right on his face. “Ah!” Lyle said, surprised as he retracted his hand and bowed. “Forgive me, Vixon, I—!”

“It’s okay,” Vixon replied as he rubbed his punched face. “P-Please, raise your head.”

Lyle raised his head and stretched his neck and body while Deish and Markus stood and admired the place with their eyes and mouth opened wide.

“Whoah…” Markus thought as he looked at the expensive equipment on the display racks. “I wonder if I can ever use those…” Markus sat down and sighed. “Probably not…” He looked at Deish; he was staring at the female knights without even blinking; he was too focused with his face blushing red.

“Hey!” Markus stood and patted his back. “What are you looking at?”

“Ah!” Deish looked away, embarrassed. “N-Nothing—!”

Markus grinned.

“You’re looking at those female soldiers, aren’t you?” he teased.

“N-No—!”

Markus and Deish sat down.

“I guess you know a thing or two here, Lyle,” Markus said. “Tell us everything you know.”

“Very well. This place is rather special. Usually, nobles are in charge of every part of Axyvur. But West Axyvur is different. High-ranking soldiers are in charge of this place.”

"Do you know those high-ranking soldiers?"

"I know some of them such as Marshal Forte, General Leonheart, Colonel Byronis, and Lieutenant Colonel Allister.”

“Aren’t knight nobles?” Deish asked.

“Technically, yes. Knights are the lowest rank in nobility.”

“Then, it’s possible for us, the common to be nobles?” Markus asked.

“If you're knighted,” Lyle replied. “You know Archduke Ferdinand von Ludwig, right? He was a common-born.”

“He, what?!” Vixon blurted, surprised as he looked at Lyle. “Ah, sorry. Please, continue.”

“Okay…? Ahem, anyway. He was soon knighted after winning a war and stepped higher with the final rank of Lieutenant Colonel. He retired from the military and married the daughter of the previous archduke and became the archduke himself.”

“No way…” Vixon thought as he clenched his fists. “To think that a bastard of a man was a common…! Why did he become like this?”

“Hey!” Markus said as he patted Deish’ back. “Why don’t we be a noble too?”

“I-I don’t think I’m good enough to be one—”

“Aww, trust me, Deish. Once you become a noble, you could have those women soldiers as much as you want.”

“R-Really?”

“Ha! You admitted that you were looking at them, haha!”

“Markus!” Deish huffed as he looked away with his face red.

Markus patted Deish’ back.

“It’s fine!” Markus said as he used hand gestures. “We, men, have different tastes in women, right? You like tomboyish, heroic women while I like cute, damsels-in-distress waiting for a man to help.” He looked at Lyle and Vixon. “What about you two?”

“I like a woman who has full faith and commitment to God. It doesn’t matter whether she’s high born or not,” Lyle replied.

“Ah, a religious saint like the maid of Orleans, eh? How about you, Vixon?”

“I don’t know,” he replied blatantly.

“Don’t be shy. We’ve said our preferences—” Markus noticed the ring on Vixon’s left ring finger. “Oh my…” His eyes opened wide. “You’re engaged already?!”

“What?”

“Hey, look at that,” Markus said as he looked at Vixon’s left ring finger. Now the three looked in the same direction. “That’s the sign of an engaged man, right, Lyle?”

“Yes,” Lyle confirmed.

“Agh…” Markus ruffled his hair, frustrated. “Women sure love big and strong guys like you, Vixon. Sigh… So tell me, who’s the one?”

“I don’t get what you are talking about. This half-ring was a gift from the archduchess. She wore hers on the left, so I followed it.”

“EH?!!!” Markus and Lyle were shocked.

“The archduchess? You don’t mean—” Lyle muttered.

“Judecah,” Vixon replied without thinking. “Ah, I mean, Lady Ludwig—”

“You even know her first name?!” Lyle said, his eyes were opened wide.

“Damn it, Vixon!” Markus said, denying the truth. “You are a godlike womanizer! Even the archduchess, the Madonna of the noblewomen, falls for you!”

“What a lucky guy…” Deish thought, envious.

“H-Hey, don’t get it wrong,” Vixon clarified. “I was going to work in her mansion for my family, but the archduke sent me here instead. This is the memorial she wants me to have and to remind me I’m still a worker there.”

“I’ve seen her once when I was selling venisons in Central Axyvur,” Markus said as he tried to remember. “She’s magnificent and dazzling! The way she walks; the way she talks; the way she smiles… She’s a perfect woman!”

“She’s a kind woman,” Lyle said. “It’s usual for her to employ a common as a worker. But still… Giving a splittable ring like that on the left ring finger has an impactful meaning in it.”

The carriage arrived outside the walls. Outside the walls was an open, vast grassland surrounded by hills and trees. There were soldiers' camps and tents everywhere, circling the walls. The place was full of training soldiers. Some of them are doing physical training while some were practicing their combat skills using arrays of weaponry.

The carriage dropped them in front of a camp, and a full-body armored guard welcomed them.

"You all must be the fresh recruits," the armored guard said.

“We are,” Lyle replied.

"I will bring you to the lieutenant. Follow me."

The four followed the guard into a big and spacious white tent. Inside the tent, there was a weapon rack, a single bed, and a wooden receptionist desk full of scattered papers.

A man was sleeping on the chair with his head on the desk. He was a 5,8 feet tall man in his early 20s with an average and semi-muscular body. He had chocolate-brown medium ruffled wavy hair with a light goatee, a Roman nose, dark blue eyes, and a sand skin color. He wore a light cast steel breastplate and a blue tunic with a lieutenant’s badge. He also had a broadsword sheathed on his belt.

"Sir Byronis?" the armored guard said to wake him up.

The sleeping man woke up, panicking as he was still half-conscious. The man spoke and acted like an irresponsible, lazy, and carefree person.

“Ah! Melissa!” he shouted and struggled. “Please don't kill me—!”

"S-Sir! It's I, Abdel!"

“A-Ah?! Oh—!” the man opened his eyes wide and shook his head, calming down. “Sorry.”

"These are the new recruits, Sir."

"Hm? Oh! Thank you for bringing them here, Sergeant Abdel. You may leave."

“Understood.” Sergeant Abdel bowed and left the tent.

The man stood and looked at them.

“Welcome to the army!” he greeted aloud as he raised his hands with welcoming gestures.

The four just stood idle without a word or reaction, making the situation awkward for him.

“Ah… That’s all,” the man said as he lowered his hand and scratched the back of his head. “Any question?”

“Sir.” Lyle raised his right arm.

“Yes?”

"Are you... Colonel Byronis?"

"Huh? Of course not. Oh! Where's my manner?! I forgot to introduce myself first. Ahem! I'm Abel Ashton, one of the lieutenants. Please address me as Abel.”

"But Sir Abdel called you Sir Byronis. Are you, perhaps, his relative?"

“No. It's just everyone's habit of calling me with that name.”

“Eh? Why?”

“Hmm… I don’t want to talk about that.” Sir Abel sat down and collected the scattered papers. "Please introduce yourselves along with your talents or preferred weapons.”

"I'm Lyle Cyper von Vrithel from the Vrithel family. I'm talented in using rapiers."

"Vrithel? You're the viscount's son?"

"I am. Do you know him?"

“No,” Abel replied blatantly. “Next.”

"I'm Markus Huntsman, a common. I'm talented in using spears, javelins, and polearms. I have a vast knowledge of hunting and survival."

“Your skills would be the most useful in this dire time. All right, next.”

“I'm Deish Walfrid. I-I think I'm good at using crossbows and slingshots.”

“A sharpshooter? That’s rare.”

“Um… I’m not really talented in that but—”

“That’s why you’re here. You will learn and train your skills here.” Sir Abel looked at Vixon. “All right, you’re the last one.”

"Vixon Wildrow, a miner. I have no talent in combat," he said blatantly, surprising Abel.

“Eh? Why are you here again?”

“Archduke Ludwig’s order.”

“Hmm… He is sent to die on the battlefield?” Sir Abel thought.

“You have a sturdy body,” Sir Abel said. “You could be a shield-bearer or a heavy-armored unit. Ahem, all right. You all will join the physical training with the others. Just go to the training ground. Any question?”

Four of them looked at one another without a word; none of them had any question left.

“I take the silence as no. You are all dismissed.”

The four went to the training ground, leaving Sir Abel alone.

“Another poor soul to die on the battlefield… sigh,” he thought as he checked the papers and began writing in silence. He suddenly stopped writing and looked at the tent entrance.

“Hey,” he said with a smirk. “You can stop hiding now.”

Someone was hiding near the tent entrance. After Sir Abel noticed the person, the person stood and entered the tent as nothing happened.

It was a 5.6 feet woman in her early 20s with an average and slightly muscular body. She had a blonde short bob cut with a side bang and sideburns. She had a pointed nose, light blue eyes, and pale-ivory skin.

She wore diamond-shaped dangle earrings and a cast iron plate mail, complete with forearm armors. In her armor, there’s a captain medal on the right chest. Underneath the armor, she wore a fancy brown sleeveless tunic and fingerless black leather gloves. On each side of her waist, she had two sabers sheathed.

Her eyes were sharp and dominating while her face was stoic and intimidating like a lioness.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant Byronis," the captain greeted. Her voice was serious and charismatic.

“It’s Ashton—” The captain looked at Abel with a displeased look, pressuring Abel. Abel looked away with a worried smile as his palms became sweaty. “A-Ah, Good afternoon, Captain Leonheart. Why did you eavesdrop?”

“None of your business.”

“Were you perhaps… admiring my handsomeness?!” Abel smiled with an annoying smug smirk. “But you were afraid that I'll notice—?”

"Don't be foolish."

Captain Leonheart was not in the mood for a joke.

“Ah, come on!” Abel tried to lighten the atmosphere. “You can be honest with me—!”

Captain Leonheart immediately unsheathed her left saber, aiming Abel's neck; Abel irritated her enough to make her furious.

“Silence,” she said as the blade touched his neck.

Abel raised his hands, surrendering with chills all over his spine.

“S-Sorry…” he muttered in a visible fear.

Captain Leonheart sheathed her saber and turned, leaving the tent. After she was far enough, Abel lowered his hands with his face annoyed as he rubbed his neck.

“Damn it, Melissa,” he muttered, irritated as he clenched his teeth. “Why can't you take a joke?! No wonder you're unwed until this day—”

Captain Leonheart glanced at Abel from afar, and Abel immediately played fool as he looked at the ceiling with his a cold sweat. She stopped glancing and walked away, relieving Abel.

“Gulp! That face was full of killing intent,” he thought as his legs trembled.