Chapter 69: I am the reinforcements
The hall fell silent after Malrik’s words.
Kael stared at him, his face caught somewhere between disbelief and confusion. The weight of Malrik’s revelation still hadn’t fully settled.
"What do you mean you came alone, my lord?" Kael finally managed. "The Duke promised us reinforcements. We were told—"
"I am the reinforcements." Malrik’s voice cut through the air like a blade. "Do you have a problem with that?"
Kael’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
After a short silence, he lowered his head. He still didn’t look like he fully understood what was happening, but something in Malrik’s tone had made the decision for him.
"No, my lord. The Seventh Banner Bearer... we will follow your orders."
"Good." Malrik turned to face the room fully. "I want a full report on the state of supplies in Blackthorn. Food, weapons, medicine—everything. I want to know exactly how many people are inside these walls and what condition they’re in."
Kael nodded. "I’ll have it ready by morning."
"Not by morning. Now."
Kael blinked, then snapped a quick order to one of his advisors, who hurried away.
Malrik continued. "I also want every knight and soldier assembled in the main courtyard immediately. I need to assess their condition myself."
Kael hesitated. "My lord, many of them have been on watch all night—"
"Then they’ll stand in the courtyard tired." Malrik’s voice was flat. "I don’t have time to wait for them to rest. Move."
Kael swallowed and nodded, gesturing to another advisor. Within moments, orders were being shouted through the hall.
Malrik turned back to Kael. "One more thing. I want a recruitment notice posted throughout the town immediately. Every able-bodied person who can hold a sword or draw a bow is to be enlisted."
Kael’s face paled. "My lord, that’s—there must be hundreds of civilians. The treasury won’t be able to—"
"Who said anything about your treasury?"
Kael paused. "I don’t understand."
"I will personally cover the cost of every new recruit. Pay them fairly. And two meals a day—make sure that’s included."
Kael stared at him, stunned. The logistics of it didn’t make sense. Blackthorn’s treasury was already stretched thin. Their food stores were nearly empty. He had assumed that any reinforcements the Duke sent would bring their own supplies.
Instead, he was staring at a young man—barely older than himself—who claimed to have come alone, brought nothing visible, and was now promising to feed and pay an army.
It didn’t add up.
Kael opened his mouth to ask, to push back, to demand an explanation—
"I won’t repeat myself, Lord Kael."
Malrik’s voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that silenced every question in Kael’s throat.
"There’s no time for me to explain myself twice. You will move. Now. Before I lose my patience."
Kael saw the look in Malrik’s eyes and decided, very quickly, that he didn’t want to test how far that patience went.
"Yes, my lord." He turned and began shouting orders to the remaining advisors.
Malrik watched him go, then turned to Ronan.
"You’re coming with me to assess the troops."
Ronan, who had been standing frozen in place since Malrik’s revelation, blinked rapidly. "I—yes. Of course."
He followed Malrik out of the hall, still struggling to process everything.
Malrik had decided that to survive this place, he needed to assert control over every authority beneath him from the very start. He couldn’t afford for his decisions to be questioned. If he didn’t act decisively from the beginning, the situation would spiral out of control.
He had anticipated that a barony on the northern border would be in dire straits. They were the first line of defense against Morveth attacks. That was precisely why he had prepared multiple contingency plans before leaving the Duchy.
The morning air hit them as they stepped outside. The courtyard was already filling with soldiers—tired, haggard men who had been roused from their posts and their beds.
Malrik walked briskly, Ronan keeping pace beside him.
"So you really are the Duke’s son," Ronan said finally.
"I am."
"That explains a lot, actually." Ronan shook his head. "I should have known. No mercenary walks into a temple and ignores an Archbishop like he’s nothing."
"It was a secret mission," Malrik said. "I wasn’t allowed to reveal my identity until I reached Blackthorn."
"No need to apologize." Ronan’s voice carried a note of genuine respect. "Seventh Banner Bearer. I should have known that only someone of your blood could have that kind of nerve."
"Don’t call me that." Malrik glanced at him. "Ronan. Just Malrik. We’re past formalities."
Ronan paused, then a grin slowly spread across his face.
"Alright then... Malrik."
They reached the main courtyard.
Kael had done his job. Nearly three thousand soldiers stood in formation, their armor worn and their faces drawn with exhaustion. The weight of weeks of tension was visible in every slumped shoulder and hollow eye.
Malrik stepped forward.
His gaze swept across the assembled soldiers. He could see the exhaustion carved into their features. The hopelessness. The quiet resignation of men who had been waiting for death to arrive and had simply grown tired of waiting.
He raised his voice.
"Knights of Blackthorn. Brave warriors."
The soldiers stirred, some lifting their heads to look at him.
"You believe your barony is doomed. I understand why. Your lord has been called away. Your walls are cracked. Your enemy is gathering."
He paused.
"You are wrong."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"Know that the Duke has not abandoned you." Malrik’s voice grew harder, carrying over the open space. "I am Malrik Vesperion. Son of Duke Vaelzareth Vesperion. Seventh Banner Bearer of House Vesperion."
Gasps. Murmurs. Eyes widening.
"From this moment forward, you are under my command."
His voice carried across the courtyard, calm yet resolute.
"I did not come here to watch Blackthorn fall."
"I came here to ensure it survives."
"We will defend this fortress."
"We will protect our people."
"And together...We will drive every Morveth back beyond these walls."
For the first time in weeks...hope flickered across the exhausted soldiers’ faces.
Then, a voice shattered the silence.
"You’re barely older than my own son."
A grizzled veteran stepped out from the ranks, his weathered face marked by countless battles.
"Do you really expect me to entrust my life to a child?"
The courtyard stirred.
Whispers spread through the ranks as hundreds of eyes turned toward Malrik.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he slowly raised a hand.
A faint emerald flame ignited above his palm.
Soul Rend.
He deliberately restrained the skill, releasing only a fraction of its power.
The veteran frowned.
"What are yo—"
His words died in his throat.
His eyes widened.
An indescribable pain exploded within his soul.
His face turned deathly pale. His knees slammed against the stone as his entire body convulsed uncontrollably. Every fiber of his being screamed in agony.
"Agh...!"
The cry barely escaped his lips before he collapsed to the ground, desperately gasping for breath.
A moment later...the emerald flame faded.
The veteran’s labored breathing was the only sound that remained in the courtyard.
Malrik lowered his hand.
"This was merely a warning."
His voice remained calm.
"The next time...I will not show such mercy."
He let the words linger for a moment before continuing.
"House Vesperion does not tolerate insubordination."
Malrik looked past the kneeling veteran.
Three thousand soldiers stood motionless.
Not a single pair of eyes dared meet his.
"Does anyone else wish to question my authority?"
No one answered.
Malrik gave a single nod.
"Good."
"Starting today, you will train in new combat formations under Lord Ronan Ashmoor."
Ronan, standing behind him, nearly choked.
Malrik didn’t look at him. He kept his gaze fixed on the soldiers.
"From now on, every soldier will receive two meals a day and proper rest rotations. You need to be at full strength before the Morveth tide arrives. And I don’t know how long it will last."
He paused again.
"I have faith that you won’t let me down. And for those who perform exceptionally well during this siege, I will provide a personal reward."
The effect was immediate.
Eyes that had been hollow moments ago now glimmered with something close to hope. A reward from a Vesperion? From the Duke’s own son? That wasn’t just coin. That was favor. Status. A future.
Malrik stepped back.
"The training begins immediately. Lord Ronan will direct you."
He turned and walked away, leaving Ronan standing in the middle of the courtyard with a look of absolute horror on his face.
"Malrik—" Ronan started.
But Malrik was already gone.
Ronan stared after him, then at the three thousand soldiers now looking at him with expectation.
"I..." He swallowed. "Right. Formations. Let’s... let’s do formations."
Malrik found Kael waiting near the gates.
"Take me to the stores."
Kael led him through the town, past the desperate faces and the hasty barricades, until they reached the main storage building. The doors swung open to reveal a space that was barely a quarter full. Sacks of grain sat in piles that wouldn’t last a week. Dried meat hung from hooks in quantities that would be gone in days.
Malrik had expected this.
Without a word, he raised his hand. Mana pulsed through the air, and a stream of supplies began pouring out of his storage ring.
Sacks of grain. Dried meat. Barrels of salted fish. Bags of flour. Vegetables preserved in salt. The storage room filled rapidly, the empty shelves groaning under the weight of food that hadn’t been there moments before.
Kael’s jaw dropped.
"Where—how—"
"I brought my own supplies." Malrik’s voice was matter-of-fact. "I wasn’t planning to let your soldiers fight on empty stomachs."
He gestured to the food. "This is for the soldiers and the civilians who will fight on the walls. They’re risking their lives. The least I can do is make sure they have full stomachs."
Kael could only stare.
Then, in another flash of mana, weapons began appearing. Swords. Spears. Bows. Arrows. Shields. Piles of them, stacked neatly in rows.
Kael’s voice cracked. "My lord, I don’t know what to say. This is—this is more than I could have—"
"Don’t thank me." Malrik cut him off. "Just distribute them properly. I trust you’ll handle that."
Kael straightened. Despite the exhaustion in his eyes, there was a new energy in his posture.
"I won’t let you down, my lord."
"I know you won’t." Malrik held his gaze for a moment. "Ronan speaks highly of you. That matters."
Kael blinked, clearly moved.
Malrik turned back to him. "I trust you’ll handle the distribution well. Now take me to the walls. I need to assess the situation myself."
Kael nodded and led the way.
They walked the length of the north wall, Kael pointing out the weaknesses—the crumbling mortar, the cracked stones, the sections that had been patched but never properly repaired.
Lilith followed silently behind Malrik, her expression bored, utterly uninterested in the state of the walls or the danger they faced. Eliza walked beside her, quiet and watchful as always.
Malrik studied every inch of the defenses with focused intensity. The walls were weak. The stones were cracked. They wouldn’t hold for a week against a full Morveth surge.
But despite the grim situation, a smile slowly spread across Malrik’s face. It seemed he had a plan forming in his mind.