ushernet Chapter 64.1
Chapter 64.1
The Mercenary Queen Carpe (1)
Nearly 20 years ago.
Back then and even now, the only Swordmaster of the North, the Frostblade Balzac, stood like an immovable tree.
Recalling her brief but intense encounter with him, Carpe naturally began to think about her homeland, the North.
“Suddenly calling me back to the North? For what? Damn it! Like I’d actually go!”
She could just ignore it.
But...
“The Northern creed... Repay kindness, no matter what.”
The feeling of obligation buried deep in her heart sparked like a kindling flame.
“I thought I’d scraped every trace of the North out of me... but I guess you can’t change your roots, huh?”
The North. That cursed homeland.
It was a land of love and hate.
Even now, when she closed her eyes, it appeared like a nightmare.
The bleak, snowy land was always cold and hungry.
Every winter, the sight of family and neighbors dying from the cold, hunger, or disease haunted her.
Even after living a life steeped in slaughter and corpses, those memories remained vivid.
“They say it’s changed a lot these days.”
Apparently, her homeland had changed recently — at least, that’s what she’d heard.
Her gaze shifted to her subordinates, the members of the Red Wolf Mercenary Corps.
The Red Wolves had sat themselves down and were cooking stew over a fire.
They must have assumed their commander would be busy yelling and swearing for a while.
“.......”
The sight of the bubbling stew caused a sudden swell of emotion in Carpe’s heart.
Was it because of her subordinates? Absolutely not.
It was because of the items they were using to make the stew.
The stew was heavily seasoned with Arad Salt, and the bowls they were using were none other than the famous Northern Porcelain that had been making waves lately.
“This stew tastes amazing, even surrounded by the stench of these orcs. Arad Salt really is the real deal.”
“It’s one of the reasons I keep on living!”
“Kehahahaha!”
“And honestly, it tastes even better served in this porcelain bowl!”
“Our boss is rough most of the time, but she’s always on point with stuff like this, huh!”
Perhaps they were trying to improve her mood.
The Red Wolves, who rarely praised anything, were now pouring out awkward compliments and flattery.
“You brats just gonna eat by yourselves?! Hand some over to me too!”
Carpe, finding their behavior funny, decided to set aside her troubled thoughts for the moment.
“Yessir, yessir!”
“We got hungry after fighting. You can’t fight on an empty stomach, can you?”
Carpe leaned back, arms crossed, and spoke with a smirk.
“You dare talk back, mercenary filth?”
“Filth, huh? Pretty harsh. Also, you’re wrong. We’re not just any mercenaries.”
“At the end of the day, a mercenary is still a mercenary.”
“......?”
A cold silence fell between them.
“Are you not afraid of being punished for disobeying orders?”
“Hah! Typical noble knight — stiff as a board, huh? Since when do mercenaries have to follow your ‘orders’ anyway?”
“Correction — it’s not ‘disobeying orders,’ it’s breach of contract.”
“......?”
“Keep that in mind. We hired you. We pay you.”
“Did you sign that contract with us? No, we signed it with the Grand Duke who oversees the wall!”
“The contract clearly states that you are to cooperate with the defense of the wall.”
“We did cooperate!”
Carpe pointed to the scattered bodies of 20 Mongar Orcs.
“Don’t play dumb. With all this blood spilled, monsters are bound to start sniffing around.”
If the mercenaries returned to the wall with the stench of orc corpses on them, monsters would surely follow them.
“You think we don’t know that? How many battlefields have we fought on, huh?”
The Red Wolves weren’t fools. They had their own methods to eliminate the stench.
“If you knew that, why are you still here? This is a breach of contract and could even be seen as treason.”
“Ha! Treason? By that logic, half the Imperial soldiers at the wall would be traitors!”
Carpe glared at the knight and his cavalry.
‘What’s with these guys? Why are they picking a fight today?’
Something felt off.
“Hey, deputy! Did we get a new senior knight recently?”
She asked a familiar low-ranking knight standing next to the senior knight.
“Yes, he’s Sir Allen, the third son of Count Felice. He just got assigned here.”
‘Ugh, filthy nobles...’
Carpe understood the situation immediately.
This was just another spoiled noble brat on a power trip.
“Ptooey.”
She spat on the ground and turned away.
“Alright, boys, pack it up! We’re leaving.”