Chapter 136: A Knights Pain
Two days passed inside Silver Ash House.
The city outside was still quiet because of the emperor’s decree, but the quiet did not mean peace. It only meant that every noble family had placed cloth over their knives. People still whispered in taverns. Servants still carried rumors between kitchens. Merchants still watched the road to see which carriage went where. The name Mudblood Heir had already started spreading through Gravehold, but no one dared shout it near Silver Ash House.
Inside the walls, Lucard had no time to care about rumors.
Ash Wolf needed to be cleaned.
Brant Ashwolf brought every remaining member of the mercenary company before House Vardros. Some came with heads lowered. Some came with fear. Some came because Brant ordered them. Some came only because they wanted to know whether House Vardros would feed them or throw them away. Lucard watched all of them from the training yard with Jenny, Peter, and Jake beside him.
There had been forty men and women left after Merrick’s betrayal was crushed.
After two days, only thirty remained.
Lucard did not kill the ten who failed.
That surprised many people.
He simply let them leave.
They were not loyal. They were not willing to serve a fallen house. Some feared noble trouble too much. Some still felt that serving House Vardros meant walking into the fire between Marovain, Velkhur, and the royal palace. A few carried resentment because Merrick had died. They were smart enough not to say it openly, but blood in their heart moved differently when Lucard asked certain questions.
Lucard noticed.
So he released them.
Brant looked troubled when the ten were sent away, but he did not argue. He understood why it had to happen. A weak soldier was better than a rotten one. A frightened man could be trained. A disloyal man would poison others while smiling around the fire.
The thirty who remained were not great, but they were useful.
Most were Rank One knights or low-level fighters. A few were Rank Two. Two were weak mages who knew simple field spells, such as fire spark, water cleaning, wound binding, and light signal magic. None of them were strong enough to shake Gravehold, but for a house that had almost nothing days ago, thirty trained people were a beginning.
Brant stood before Jenny on the second evening and placed the list of names on the table.
"These are the ones who remain, my lady."
Jenny took the list and read every name carefully.
She did not rush.
Lucard watched from the side. That was one thing Jenny did well. She made people feel that their names mattered. To Lucard, a name was mostly a handle. Something to command, punish, remember, or remove. To Jenny, a name still belonged to a person. That kind of thinking was inefficient in some ways, but useful in others. Men followed cold power out of fear. They followed remembered names out of belonging.
Jenny looked up. "Are you certain these thirty will obey?"
Brant answered, "No man is certain forever. But I believe these thirty can be shaped."
Lucard said, "Belief is soft."
Brant turned to him. "Then the test will harden it."
That answer was better.
Lucard looked at him for a moment, then said, "Good."
Brant’s shoulders eased slightly.
Jenny placed the list down. "Brant Ashwolf, from today onward, you will serve House Vardros as an elder retainer. You will not command the house, but you will manage Ash Wolf members under our banner. You will report to me, Lucard, and Jake when needed."
Brant lowered himself to one knee. "I accept."
Jenny continued, "Your rank and experience are useful. Now that your body is nearly recovered, you are the strongest warrior directly serving us."
Brant’s eyes became heavy with emotion.
He had been a dying man only days ago. Now he was not only alive, but given a place inside a house that his ancestors once protected. His voice became rough when he answered.
"I will not betray this trust."
Lucard looked at him calmly.
The sleeping egg inside Brant’s body remained quiet.
If Brant kept that promise, nothing would happen.
If he broke it, the promise would become his last comfortable memory.
Jake smiled from beside Jenny. "Then Elder Brant, please teach me how to hold a sword properly when Peter allows it."
Peter immediately said, "Young Lord, I have allowed wooden sword practice."
"A wooden sword is not the same as a sword," Jake said.
"It is better than losing fingers."
Brant coughed once, trying to hide a smile.
Jenny gave Jake a look.
Jake became quiet, but only outside. His eyes still complained.
The small moment made the hall lighter. Even the Ash Wolf men standing outside the door seemed to breathe easier. A house needed such things too. Not only fear. Not only orders. Small jokes told people they had not joined a grave.
But Peter did not smile for long.
Lucard noticed it.
Peter stood near the wall with his sword at his side. His body was healed now. The Marovain potion, rest, and proper food had repaired most of what the road and battle had done to him. His face had color again. His shoulders were no longer slumped from blood loss. If someone looked at him from outside, they would see a loyal knight in better condition than before.
Lucard saw deeper.
Peter’s hand tightened whenever Brant moved.
Not from hostility.
From comparison.
Brant was a Rank Four knight. Now that the sickness had left his body, his strength was returning quickly. Rank Four meant aura. Rank Four meant a warrior could coat his body and weapon with power. Rank Four meant he could stand before attacks that would kill lower knights. In noble eyes, the difference between Rank Three and Rank Four was not only one step. It was a wall.
Peter was Rank Three.
A good Rank Three. Loyal. Experienced. Brave. Useful.
But he could not use aura.