The Royal Capital.
The Mansion of Marquis Raeven.
Marquis Raeven sat in the center of his office.
Reports were piled like a mountain on his desk.
The report on the demon disturbance in the capital.
A copy of the Thousand Kingdom treaty.
A list of the Reformist nobles.
The movements of Terriuss Assis.
The report on the E-Rantel incident.
Rumors regarding the rising Adamantite adventurer known as Iel.
The movements of the remnants of criminal organizations following the dismantling of Eight Fingers.
All these documents weighed heavily on the mind of a single man.
Marquis Raeven pressed his hand to his forehead.
"Truly... a bunch of fools."
He thought of the idiots in the Royal Faction and the Noble Faction.
The Royal Faction spoke of the King's authority.
But in reality, they were incompetent.
The Noble Faction spoke of tradition.
But in reality, they cared only for their own fiefs, private armies, taxes, and saving face.
Neither side looked at the Kingdom as a whole.
The people were being devoured by demi-humans.
Villages were being destroyed by magic beasts.
Local lords were collecting taxes that reached as high as eighty percent.
A large-scale rebellion had not yet occurred.
However, small-scale civil unrest was already erupting in various places.
Vagrants were being pushed out onto the roads.
Some of them became bandits.
Bandits, in turn, attacked merchant caravans.
When the caravans collapsed, tax revenue decreased.
When tax revenue decreased, the lords squeezed even more from the people.
And the people were pushed out onto the roads once again.
The Kingdom was gnawing away at itself.
"Truly, a bunch of morons and trash..."
Marquis Raeven ran a hand through his dusty blonde hair.
Dust had even gathered on his fingertips from flipping through documents for so long.
He tried to organize his thoughts as he brushed the dust from his hair.
But his thoughts would not settle.
In the first place, the situation had reached this point entirely because of the nobles.
The Re-Estize Kingdom was a nation built in a safe location.
It was rare for a large-scale external demi-human invasion to push all the way to the capital.
The quality of adventurers was not bad either.
There were guilds in every city, and whenever a threat appeared, knights and adventurers would be deployed.
That very safety had bred the negligence of the nobles.
The nobles did not know crisis.
More accurately, they did not feel the crisis as their own problem.
They were safe within their walls.
If a threat arose, knights and adventurers bled in their stead.
They saw reports of commoners being mauled to death by magic beasts as mere numbers.
They saw reports of villages being pillaged by bandits as nothing more than a loss in tax revenue.
Thus, the power of the lords grew bloated.
Bloated power led to extortion.
Extortion led to crime.
Crime, in turn, dismantled order.
There were even nobles who collaborated with Eight Fingers to sell drugs.
"Eight Fingers..."
Raeven muttered under his breath.
A force that had vanished without a trace after the capital's disturbance.
No.
They were not a simple criminal organization.
They were a cancerous growth eating the Kingdom from the inside.
And they had suddenly disappeared.
Too suddenly.
Too cleanly.
The nobles connected to them were in a panic.
The commoners were cheering.
And some rumors were even spreading that the Thousand Kingdom had eliminated them.
Those rumors were dangerous.
An external force that eliminated criminal organizations.
God-like beings who defeated demons.
A formidable military power that had signed a treaty with the Kingdom.
The hearts of the people were gradually leaning toward the Thousand Kingdom.
"How does this even make sense..."
Raeven spoke as if lamenting.
An organization with no roots, calling itself the Thousand Kingdom, was acting like a nation.
They were not on any map.
They were not in any history book.
They were not in any diplomatic record.
And yet, that force was shaking the very foundations of the Re-Estize Kingdom.
The commoners cheered.
The King tried to use them.
The nobles were at a loss.
The Reformists were siding with them.
Ramposa III was a wise king.
Raeven did not deny that much.
The King was not an evil man.
He was not a tyrant who intentionally trampled on his people.
However, being a wise king and having the political prowess to break through this crisis were two different matters.
Ramposa trusted people.
He tried to maintain balance.
He tried to preserve the Kingdom's traditions.
But what was needed now was not the preservation of tradition.
It was calculation on the edge of a blade.
Raeven closed his eyes.
In this situation, he had to prepare himself.
He could not trust the Royal Faction.
He could not trust the Noble Faction.
He certainly could not trust the Reformists.
And the Thousand Kingdom went without saying.
Yes.
For the sake of his son.
For Li-tan.
At that thought, Raeven's expression changed.
The face of the exhausted politician from a moment ago was gone, replaced by the face of a Marquis.
The face of a father.
And the face of a power player moving to survive.
Raeven stood up from his seat.
"Butler."
The butler, who had been waiting outside the door, entered immediately.
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"Summon the direct unit commanders. And contact the retired adventurers as well. Those I have sponsored in the past, those currently in the capital, and those in need of coin—all of them."
"Understood."
"Be discreet. The official reason is reinforcing the mansion's security."
The butler bowed his head.
"Yes, sir."
Raeven took a small signet from his drawer.
The secret mobilization seal of the Marquis's house.
He pressed the seal onto the red wax.
Thump.
The crest of Marquis Raeven's house was engraved upon the document.
The crest was not flashy.
But it was heavy.
From this moment on, the Marquis's house was no longer in a state of peace.
The mansion's inner courtyard.
Though the night was deep, the Marquis's mansion began to move quietly.
Horses were prepared in the stables.
Servants moved while shielding their lanterns.
The armory doors were opened.
Spears.
Swords.
Shields.
Crossbows.
Armor.
Each piece was brought out.
Old war wagons began to be oiled.
The Marquis's private soldiers gathered one by one in the courtyard, clad in armor.
They were different from the private soldiers of ordinary lords.
They were well-trained.
They were accustomed to orders.
They knew how to keep silent.
Raeven stood upon a platform.
"Starting tonight, the security level of this mansion and my family is elevated to a wartime footing."
The soldiers raised their heads.
"No matter what happens in the capital, do not move without my command."
Raeven's voice was cold.
"Do not trust the Noble Faction, the Royal Faction, or the Reformists."
At those words, a very slight stir ripple through the soldiers.
Raeven did not stop.
"Even if an order comes from the Royal Castle, do not follow it unless it bears my signature."
This time, the stir was a bit larger.
However, no one questioned him.
Marquis Raeven looked down at them.
"You have but one mission."
His gaze sank low.
"The survival of the Marquis's house. And the protection of the person I designate."
At those words, the soldiers bowed their heads in unison.
"We await your command!"
Soon after, carriages arrived at the mansion's back gate.
The sound of the wheels was low.
The horses' hooves were wrapped in cloth.
Those who stepped out of the carriages were no ordinary soldiers.
Retired adventurers.
But they were not retirees in name only.
Most were individuals with skills equivalent to the Orichalcum-rank.
A swordsman draped in a worn cloak.
An archer with a scar over one eye.
A warrior carrying a massive mace.
A former magic caster with fingers full of magic rings.
A seasoned scout holding two short spears.
A shield-bearer in heavy armor.
An assassin with hidden poison needles and daggers.
A hunter, aged but with eyes that had not lost their edge.
A former priest capable of using healing magic.
And a mercenary captain whose body was etched with scars.
Ten in total.
They were people who had been sponsored by Raeven in the past, had performed commissions for him, or owed a debt to the Marquis's house.
Raeven stood before them.
"It has been a long time."
The mercenary captain laughed gruffly.
"If Your Excellency is calling us in the middle of the night, it can't be for anything good."
"It is not good."
Raeven answered immediately.
"I smell blood in the capital."
At those words, the expressions of the retired adventurers changed.
They were people of the battlefield.
They might not know noble etiquette, but they knew the scent of a crisis.
The scent of blood.
A scent that only those who know blood will flow, even before it has begun to spill, can perceive.
Raeven looked at each of them in turn.
"I cannot give a detailed explanation. However, there is a possibility that something major will occur in the capital in the near future."
He took a step forward.
"There is only one reason I have called you."
Raeven's voice dropped low.
"Do not leave my side, no matter what."
The retired adventurers watched him in silence.
Raeven added,
"Whether I go to the Royal Castle, attend a meeting, go out to a festival, or am invited to a noble's mansion, you will move with me."
He pointed to each of them with his finger.
"On the surface, you will be disguised as attendants, guards, servants, coachmen, or porers. But the moment the order is given, you will act as combatants."
The former magic caster with the magic rings asked,
"Who is the enemy?"
Raeven was silent for a moment.
"I do not know yet."
He spoke honestly.
"That is the problem."
The old hunter chuckled lowly.
"Guarding against an unknown enemy. That's a headache."
"That is why I called you."
Raeven said coldly.
"There are many soldiers who can face a known enemy. There are few who can stay vigilant against an unknown one."
The mercenary captain nodded.
"The pay?"
"Triple the usual."
Click.
Someone tapped their scabbard with a finger.
Raeven continued,
"And once the job is done, each of you may name your desired reward. For those who need land within my fief, retirement funds, protection for your families, or the expungement of criminal records—I will consider those as well."
The shield-bearer asked,
"Is this illegal work?"
Raeven looked at him.
"Not yet."
"And later?"
"I will judge that when the time comes."
The shield-bearer looked at Raeven for a moment before bowing his head.
"That is enough."
One by one, they bowed their heads.
The swordsman.
The archer.
The warrior.
The magic caster.
The scout.
The shield-bearer.
The assassin.
The hunter.
The priest.
The mercenary captain.
Ten retired adventurers equivalent to the Orichalcum-rank prostrated themselves before Marquis Raeven.
"We await your command."
Raeven looked at them.
He felt slightly more at ease.
But it was not enough.
Not nearly enough.
The Thousand Kingdom.
Caesar.
The Reformists.
Terriuss Assis.
Iel.
Princess Lana.
Blue Rose.
There were too many pieces on the board.
And some of them were not pieces, but monsters.
Raeven looked up at the night sky.
The moon hung over the capital.
The moonlight was still.
But stillness was not the same as peace.
He muttered to himself.
Li-tan.
Father will make a way, somehow.
His hand tightened into a fist.
In the mansion's courtyard, a wartime footing was being quietly established.
Soldiers checked their weapons.
The retired adventurers decided on their respective disguised identities.
Escape horses were prepared in the stables.
Food and healing potions were moved to the underground warehouse.
Guards were stationed at the mansion's secret passages.
Servants double-checked the family's evacuation routes.
Certain ledgers from the archives were moved covertly.
Red markings were placed on boxes that must be carried out first in the event of a fire.
Marquis Raeven watched it all.
The capital was still asleep.
But he knew.
A sleeping city is easy to burn.
And when the fire starts, the only ones who survive are those who did not sleep.
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