Chapter 133: The Distribution of Rewards

Malrik stood quietly beside Cedric, Eliza, and Baron Reinhardt in the main square of the castle, waiting for the gathering to be completed.

Assembling thousands of people was not a quick task. Guards fanned out across the castle, and after about ten minutes, the square was filled with soldiers, mercenaries, and civilians.

The soldiers stood at the front, while the mercenaries gathered behind them in small groups, and the civilians clustered at the edges, trying to see what was happening.

As the numbers grew, whispers rose among the crowd.

Thanks to his enhanced senses as an Awakened, Malrik picked up scattered conversations with absolute clarity.

"I heard from the guards that the Duke’s Seventh Banner Bearer has returned," one mercenary said to his friend, trying to peer through the ranks.

His friend raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Returned? I heard from one of the guards that he left two days ago. How did he get back so fast?"

"They say he came back to reward those who participated in the fighting."

A third mercenary chimed in. His face was covered in old scars, and a mocking smile appeared on his lips.

"Don’t get your hopes up. The man is incredibly stingy. Didn’t he take all the Morvyth corpses after the first wave? He didn’t leave us a single thing."

The man’s tone suddenly changed, the mockery vanishing from his voice to be replaced by clear enthusiasm.

"Honestly, I’m glad the Black Reaper showed up. Not just because he killed the Morvyth, but because he burned all their corpses. At least that stingy noble didn’t get any of them."

The first mercenary frowned, looking unconvinced.

"And what’s the point of burning them? He could have left them for us. Morvyth parts sell for a good price, especially after a battle of this size."

The scarred man leaned in closer to them, lowering his voice as he looked around as if preparing to reveal a dangerous secret.

"I heard the Black Reaper doesn’t just kill them. He burns them alive, exactly like the monsters did to his family in the past."

The two mercenaries exchanged a tense look.

The man continued, looking a bit too pleased with the rumors. "Don’t dream of finding a single intact corpse anywhere he passes. And thank the Gods that we’re human. If we were Morvyth, we would have been turned to ash before we even knew why he was angry."

On the platform, Malrik lowered his head slightly as he tried to stifle a laugh.

A stingy noble? A monster burning his enemies alive in revenge for a non-existent family?

The rumors were absurd, but what amused him the most was that they were talking about two completely different people without realizing they were the exact same person.

When Malrik noticed that the flow of people had steadied, he stepped forward with calm strides to ascend a high wooden platform prepared specifically for him, with Cedric walking silently by his side.

The moment Malrik ascended, the whispers flared up again. Everyone was trying to guess the reason for this gathering, and some did not hide their curiosity or their tension.

Malrik cast a quick sidelong glance toward Cedric, then gave a slight nod.

The head butler understood at once. He neither moved nor raised his voice. Yet when he spoke, his tone remained calm and even, while his words carried across the square with an authority.

"Be silent."

His voice reached the ears of every person in the square with absolute clarity, even though it wasn’t loud. And at the exact same moment, a hidden pressure spread across the area.

The whispers ceased, and everyone who had been speaking felt that continuing to talk was a very, very bad idea. They didn’t know why, but they understood the message.

In an instant, silence blanketed the entire square, and nothing could be heard but the sound of the wind blowing through the castle’s banners.

Malrik smiled inwardly as he observed the effect of Cedric’s words on the crowd.

I understand now why the Duke chose him as his personal butler.

I hope Eliza reaches this level one day.

Malrik stepped to the edge of the platform, looking out over the crowd for several moments before speaking. "I will not keep you long."

He paused briefly, then continued.

"You know what happened here. Some of you took up arms, some carried the wounded, and some stayed where they were, providing whatever help they could when fleeing was the easiest choice."

His eyes swept over the soldiers, the mercenaries, and the civilians. "Blackthorn did not fall because you did not allow it to fall."

Silence reigned in the square.

"I will not offer you empty words of thanks. Whoever fought will be rewarded; that was my promise to you when I first arrived here, and House Vesperion always keeps its promises."

He then added, "We will begin with those who had the greatest impact during the first wave."

Malrik raised his voice as he called out the names, making sure to enunciate each one clearly.

"Ronan Ashmore. Kael Reinhardt. Seren. Lian. Garrick. Corin. Mara. Torvin... step forward."

Malrik didn’t call out the members of Ronan’s squad one by one simply to summon them. He knew the extent of their contribution to the fighting, and he realized that the casualties among Blackthorn’s soldiers would have been much higher if they hadn’t been there.

He wanted to give them the recognition they deserved, and to prove to them that he hadn’t ignored what they had done. And perhaps, this would also be a first step toward earning their trust.

The crowd parted quietly to make way for them.

Ronan’s squad advanced toward the platform with steady steps, joined by Kael. He had fought alongside Ronan during the first wave, and his contribution was enough to place him among those who deserved to be rewarded first.

Happiness was evident on the faces of most of the squad members. Curiosity and anticipation were visible in their eyes as they approached Malrik, the son of one of the Empire’s most powerful Dukes, eager to see how he would reward them.

But Ronan was the exception.

He walked at the front with a calm face that revealed nothing. He didn’t look as excited as the rest, nor did he show any objection or displeasure. He simply walked forward, as if he were expecting something that only he knew.

They all stopped in a single line before the platform.

Malrik gestured with his hand, and Eliza stepped forward carrying small leather pouches. Each pouch looked ordinary, but its weight was obvious the moment she placed it into its owner’s hand.

"Twenty platinum coins for each of you," Malrik’s calm and confident voice echoed across the square.

The moment he spoke the number, a wave of muffled gasps swept through the square, and whispers erupted all at once.

The eyes of the soldiers and mercenaries widened, and many exchanged glances as if they hadn’t heard the number correctly. Even some members of Ronan’s squad looked down at the pouches in their hands for a moment, unable to process what was inside.

Twenty platinum coins equaled two thousand gold coins.

This was no ordinary reward. It was an amount sufficient to keep a minor noble house running for years, and it likely exceeded what a border barony like Blackthorn collected in an entire year.

The crowd’s reaction was enough to assure Malrik that the reward had made its mark.

But when he shifted his gaze back to Ronan’s squad, he noticed that something wasn’t quite right.

None of them looked unhappy with the coins. No sane person would reject twenty platinum coins. But they didn’t look grateful, either.

They looked at the pouches in their hands, then exchanged brief glances. Confusion was evident on their faces, coupled with a disappointment that some of them tried to hide.

Malrik sensed there was something he wasn’t understanding.

Seren took a half-step forward and raised her gaze to him. "Is this it?"

She said it calmly, as if she were asking about a few missing copper coins, rather than a reward large enough to change the lives of most people in the square.

Malrik blinked once, and his smile froze in place.

Is this it?

He had given them twenty platinum coins each, yet Seren looked as if she were expecting an additional reward. For a moment, he wondered if the members of Ronan’s squad were greedier than he had anticipated.

Then he remembered the conversation that had taken place the day before.

Ah... she must be referring to the Law Seed.

He quickly regained his composure and offered her a reassuring smile.

"Are you referring to the Law Seed, Seren? Do not worry. I will obtain it and send it to you soon, as promised."

Seren crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him as if he had said something completely irrelevant.

"I am not talking about the high-grade Decay Law Seed you promised to obtain and send to me, Seventh Banner Bearer."

Malrik felt his smile slowly begin to vanish.

Seren continued in a calm tone, "I am talking about the full set of Fallen-rank armor, custom-designed for us, that you promised us. Have you forgotten it?"

Malrik went still.

His thoughts ground to a halt for a moment, as if someone had struck the back of his head with a heavy hammer.

A high-grade... Decay Law Seed?

A full set of armor... from the Fallen rank?!

What the hell is this girl talking about? And who promised all this nonsense?!

He struggled to maintain the calmness of his features, even as tension began to rise within him. He leaned forward slightly and said in a low, sharp voice:

"Explain what you mean, Miss Seren. Because I do not understand what you are talking about."

Seren sighed, as if reminding a child of a forgotten promise.

"Did you not promise me that you would obtain a high-grade Decay Law Seed instead of a normal Poison Law one?"

She paused for a moment, then added:

"And did you not also promise us full sets of Fallen-rank armor, custom-designed to the preferences of each one of us, crafted by the most skilled Dwarven blacksmiths in the Duchy of Vesperion?"

She raised an eyebrow, looking directly at him.

"You said that right before you left, Seventh Banner Bearer. Do not tell me you forgot."

Malrik’s eyes widened slightly, despite himself.

A high-grade Law Seed?

And sets of Fallen-rank armor, forged by the Dwarven blacksmiths in the Duchy of Vesperion?

That wasn’t a generous promise; that was an insane promise.

Malrik had no memory of ever promising Ronan’s squad anything remotely close to this. He hadn’t just forgotten; the thought of offering rewards of this magnitude had never even crossed his mind.

Wait... did she just say... "before you left"?

Before I left?

But i hadn’t left!

I had been unconscious for the past two days. I had only woken up that morning.

Wait...So that was what this was.

Malrik closed his eyes for a second. The complete picture had become clear to him.

Lilith... you little bitch.

***

Author’s Note:

This Chapter ended up being quite long, so there will only be one Chapter today. I’m pretty exhausted—thank you for understanding. I hope you enjoy it!