Chapter 135: A Strange Proposal

The dense sphere of darkness vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving Malrik standing in the wide marble courtyard of the Duchy of Vesperion.

As soon as they arrived, Malrik stepped a few paces away from the group and gestured for Cedric to follow him.

"Cedric," Malrik lowered his voice. "I want you to contact the Dwarven blacksmiths in the Duchy. Please arrange a meeting with them for me as soon as possible."

Cedric remained as calm as ever, then replied after a moment:

"Unfortunately, Banner Bearer, the Dwarven blacksmiths aren’t people who can be summoned so easily."

" Their total number in the entire Duchy does not exceed a hundred, and all of them are already busy with orders for the Duchy’s army and the high elders. Therefore, securing an immediate appointment will be very difficult, if not impossible."

Malrik was not convinced by this answer. Since persistence alone wouldn’t work, he decided to try flattery.

He smiled and raised his eyes toward Cedric.

"You are the Duke’s head butler, Cedric, and the Duke’s right arm. I don’t think the word ’difficult’ should exist in your dictionary when it comes to clearing obstacles for me. Am I right?"

Cedric stared at Malrik for a second, as if weighing the audacity or intelligence of his young master, then let out a faint sigh that was barely audible.

"Very well. I will try to manage it."

"I am counting on you."

The next moment, Cedric’s body faded from his spot as if he had never been there at all.

Malrik turned around and walked calmly back toward Eliza, Kael, and Ronan’s squad. The moment he approached them, the young mage Corin jumped up with excitement, his eyes gleaming with clear curiosity.

"When are we going to meet the Dwarves?" he asked eagerly. "I’m so excited! I’ve never seen a single Dwarf in my life, and I heard their furnaces burn with Law flames!"

Malrik chuckled with a dry smile. "Well... they are a bit busy right now, but we will definitely meet them. Don’t worry."

Malrik quickly changed the subject.

"Since you are here in the Duchy, how about a tour? I was on my way to the Duchy’s private training grounds to check on a few things. Would any of you like to come?"

Garrick—the massive, muscular young man carrying a warhammer—smiled and slapped his palm with his fist excitedly. "Definitely! That would be fantastic. I’ve always wanted to see how Vesperion’s elite train."

Seren looked at him with interest. "Will you be training there, Banner Bearer? Can we join?"

"Actually," Malrik put his hands in his pockets, looking at them calmly, "I am now the official Baron of ’Dreadmoor’. I intend to form my own independent legion, so I am heading to the training grounds to recruit some talents."

The whole team exchanged quick glances, and their expressions shifted. Seren stepped a little closer to Malrik and spoke quietly. "Then Kael was right! He told us you’re building an elite team!"

Malrik nodded seriously. "Dreadmoor is a fierce border barony, and the Morvyth waves never stop there. That’s why I need to recruit capable people, but unfortunately... I don’t have anyone specific in mind yet."

Malrik slowly shifted his gaze toward Ronan.

Ever since they left Blackthorn, Ronan hadn’t uttered a single word. His face remained serious, showing no expression at all.

Kael must have ruined things out of stupidity.

Ronan is the proud heir to a marquessate. He must have felt insulted that I sent Kael to recruit him instead of speaking to him myself.

Malrik decided to try fixing the situation before it got any worse.

"What do you think, Ronan?" he asked in a calm tone. "As an experienced fighter, can you help me?"

Ronan remained silent. He stared at Malrik for several seconds without saying a thing, then began walking toward him with slow, steady steps.

Suddenly, the atmosphere grew tense. Kael took a step back, while Malrik watched Ronan’s approach with caution.

Damn it, this idiot Kael... what exactly did he say to him?!

Malrik braced himself to hear a sharp reprimand about noble pride, dignity, and all that nonsense.

Malrik raised a hand, trying to defuse the situation.

"Look, man, I don’t know what kind of nonsense Kael told you, but I’m not trying to..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Malrik froze in place.

Ronan lunged toward him suddenly, dropped to his knees, and grabbed both of Malrik’s legs with all his strength.

The heavily built young man, heir to the Marquessate and son of one of the Duke’s Saints, was now embracing his legs as if he had finally found a lifeline.

"Please! Let us join your legion!"

Ronan cried out, his eyes filled with genuine desperation as he looked on the verge of tears.

And in one synchronized movement, the other six members of the team—except for Kael—rushed toward Malrik and threw themselves to the ground, clinging to his cloak and trousers as if their lives depended on it.

Malrik’s eyes widened in shock.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he yelled, trying to pull away, but their grips were locked too tightly for him to move. "Let go of my feet! What is wrong with all of you?!"

Ronan tightened his grip further, raising his face to him with eyes full of pleading.

"Please, brother! I know you have many of Vesperion’s genius knights to choose from, and we might just look like ordinary Awakened compared to the Duke’s talents... but I swear to you, you won’t regret accepting us!"

A short distance away, a number of the Duchy’s servants had stopped working, watching the scene in astonishment.

None of them heard what Ronan and his companions were saying, and all they saw was six grown adults hanging onto Malrik from his legs and clothes, while he tried to shake them off with all his might.

One of the servants whispered, almost dropping a tray: "Isn’t that... the Seventh Young Master?"

An older servant beside him replied with wide, terrified eyes, "You fool, don’t call him Young Master! He is the ’Seventh Banner Bearer’ now! Haven’t you heard the news?"

A young maid swallowed hard, clutching her feather duster to her chest like a shield, and muttered, "Damn... what happened to him in that trial? He used to be such a quiet, polite young man, barely noticeable. Look at him now... he’s humiliating these poor knights without batting an eye!"

A chilling silence fell among them for a moment before they all realized the same thing.

If he treated knights this cruelly... what would he do to them? They had ignored him, served him cold tea, and looked down on him in the corridors before his awakening.

"He’s going to hang our heads on the palace walls..." whispered the elderly servant, all the color draining from his face.

At that exact moment, Malrik suddenly turned toward them, exhaling in annoyance.

The moment his irritated eyes met theirs, the servants let out a muffled, unified shriek. In less than a second, they all scattered like terrified mice in every direction.

Malrik stared at their fleeing backs in astonishment, then shifted his gaze back to the men clinging to his legs.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

As he tried to figure out why the servants had fled, his eyes landed on Kael, who stood a few steps away, crossing his arms and smiling with intense pride, as if he were a general who had just emerged victorious from a decisive battle.

Hmm... it seems Kael isn’t completely useless after all.

"Alright! Alright! Just let go of my feet!" he said, trying to pry them off with difficulty. "People will think I’m enslaving you or practicing some weird rituals here!"

Ronan finally stood up and quickly dusted off his knees, though the look of pleading never left his eyes.

"So? Will you let us join?"

Seeing a massive, muscular fighter like Ronan looking at him this way was enough to make Malrik’s stomach twist slightly.

Yet, he quickly realized something else.

I don’t know what the idiot Kael did, but if they are this desperate... why not take advantage of this situation a little?

Malrik cleared his throat, adjusted his collar, and tried to look more serious as he played the role of a noble facing some financial difficulties.

"Well... this is quite unexpected, honestly. As you know, hiring knights from outside the Duchy’s ranks can be a bit costly. And I... am still a poor Baron at the beginning of my path."

Garrick’s eyes widened, and he waved his massive hand dismissively.

"What are you talking about, man? Our pay isn’t high to begin with! In fact, we can even settle for hunting Morvyth on the border! Right, guys?"

"Yes! Exactly!" chimed in Mara, the skilled archer. "Hunting Morvyth is enough for us! No need to even pay any wages!"

Malrik narrowed his eyes, feeling a sense of suspicion.

He had actually started thinking about a way to recruit them at the lowest possible cost to make up for the cost of their armor and Law Seeds, but offering to work for free? That was strange.

These people weren’t weak. How did it come to this, offering to work without pay despite the dangers awaiting them on the Duchy’s borders?

What on earth did Kael tell them to make them this desperate?