Barbarian Quest-Chapter 96

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Harmatti was on his knees on the ground. He kept his head low, with only his eyes fierce and fixed on Pahell.

"Take my head, nephew. Drink my blood and seize the throne."

Duke Harmatti closed his eyes and lifted his head. He seemed ready for his death at any moment as he awaited his fate.

"Wow."

"He is so composed." freeweb(n)ovel.com

"The way he is accepting his death... he is truly a royal indeed."

The nobles murmured in admiration. His fearless acceptance of death was bound to become an inspiration for many nobles to come.

"Why did you start the rebellion?"

Pahell asked with his legs crossed. His eyes shimmered with a deep blue, the shiny blue resembling the sea.

"It was all for the bigger picture. I only wanted to create a strong Porcana. To break free from the empire's grasp and create a real Porcana kingdom... though now, it's just a vain dream."

Harmatti's words flowed smoothly out of his mouth. There were many nobles present who would go on to tell the tales of the death of Duke Harmatti and it would become a legend. Perhaps, he would be immortalized as a leader.

‘Man, a man’s got to be handsome. Look at Harmatti, even those bullshit words of his sound beautiful thanks to his looks.'

Urich was observing Duke Harmatti from afar with his arms crossed.

Harmatti was a strikingly handsome man. Even with his beard and hair disheveled, his charm was clearly evident. His words resonated with many, even among the nobles who did not side with him in the war. Independence from the empire was an age-old desire of all kingdoms.

'This is not good.'

Urich stroked his chin. The nobles' restlessness was audible. Doubts were sprouting among them.

'A king who claimed his throne relying on the power of the empire, and a young, inexperienced one at that.'

'Can we put our faith in such a young king?'

‘What if we become constantly exploited by the empire?'

Duke Harmatti had sown seeds of discord.

‘You can’t let that guy keep blabbering, Pahell.'

If Urich were in Pahell's place, he would have beheaded Harmatti immediately without hesitation. Violence was like second nature to him, and he used it to his advantage to lead his group. His way was the way of a true warrior.

'But Pahell is not like me. He's not a warrior.'

Urich waited for Pahell's decision.

Pahell calmly interlocked his fingers. Pahell was young, but he would certainly grow into a handsome king. The grace was evident in his every move despite his young age. Like his uncle, his every action was beautiful.

"...too much blood was shed today," Pahell spoke, to which the nobles responded with wide-open eyes.

‘There is no way.'

Even Harmatti was taken aback. He gazed at Pahell with his eyes wide open.

'I am ready to die! I’ve prepared for my death, Varca!'

Duke Harmatti wanted to scream but only managed to do so with his eyes. He wanted to stop Pahell from speaking any further. A faint smile crossed Pahell's lips.

"I do not want to spill any more blood here today, especially not of a kin."

Duke Harmatti's expression twisted slightly.

'I can live.'

Harmatti had abandoned all hope of life. The thought of survival had not even crossed his mind. It was easy to accept death when there was clearly no other way. But when a path to life appears, the heart inevitably inclines towards it.

'I can see a way to live.'

Light pierced through the darkness. It was a warm, sun-like light. The light illuminated the gateway to life.

"I... can't..."

His words stuck. The very words he had repeated in his mind.

‘Kill me.'

He couldn't beg for his life. He mustn’t, at least, that’s what he thought.

'I must die here to complete the existence of Duke Harmatti.'

His fingers trembled. He had to reject the gateway to life and willingly crawl toward death himself, against the natural instinct to survive. Everyone yearned to live. It was an instinct ingrained since birth.

"...Do not mock me! Take my head!" Duke Harmatti shouted with his eyes wide and teeth clenched.

'I must die here for my cause.'

The surrounding nobles admired his spirit.

"This is kind of funny."

Urich was the only one who chuckled, covering his mouth. Having toyed with countless lives, he was able to see the true nature of this moment.

'His entire body is clearly screaming for life. Keke.'

While a person's mouth could lie, their body could only speak the truth. Fear of death was bound to seep through even the smallest bodily movements.

"I have said it already, uncle. I do not wish to shed any more blood today."

Pahell spoke firmly, though he too was sweating.

Harmatti's eyes trembled more than when he had been defeated.

"I suppose you'll lock me away in a dungeon for the rest of my life, my nephew?"

Duke Harmatti said in a quivering voice. His desire to live was spilling out.

"No. I will treat you as royalty, uncle. You'll be stripped of your dukedom and sent into exile, perhaps an island would be nice. You'll be provided enough to live comfortably, as long as you never leave the island. If you step one foot off it, you'll be arrested for treason."

It was a tempting offer. Was this what a sip of water after wandering the desert felt like? Harmatti couldn't respond immediately.

'I have to answer right away. I have to tell him to stop this nonsense and demand my death. Hesitating will ruin everything.'

But it was too late. The nobles were already murmuring. Harmatti had shown his desire to live.

“Ughhh.”

Harmatti groaned, bending forward. He bit his lip, unable to die as he had intended.

"All you have to do is kiss my hand and say, 'Thank you for sparing me,' uncle. Then you can live the rest of your life in envy of no one," Pahell offered as he extended his hand.

Harmatti's facade shattered. With a tearful face, he looked around himself.

'They despise me.'

Duke Harmatti, the man who was once supported by many nobles, was now begging his enemy for his life. The nobles looked on in scorn, their laughter echoing in his ears.

Crawl.

As he crawled on his knees, tears trickled down Harmatti's cheeks. He wished he could hide in a mouse hole from his guilt.

'How many men lost their lives for me?'

Yet, he wanted to live. It was obvious that the human instinct was to desire life, no matter how pitiful or dirty it was...

'I want to live.'

Harmatti sobbed like a child, as he grabbed Pahell’s hand and kissed it.

"Thank you for sparing me, ne-nephew."

Pahell stretched out his hand to his side, washing it with water. It was the ultimate insult.

"I hereby confiscate the duke's lands for the crown but grant a county for the Harmatti territory."

Pahell ordered his scribe. The scribe hastily wrote down Pahell's words. Pahell paused to ponder for a moment, then looked at Urich.

"From now on, this land shall be known as Uscall. A blend of Urich and 'Rascal,' symbolizing Urich's Brotherhood. Uscall shall be the private property of the mercenary squad Urich’s Brotherhood, under the condition that they fight solely for the kingdom."

Pahell spilled his words in a declaration, which left even the scribe in awe. The nobles were staring at Pahell, utterly shocked.

"Do you accept this fealty contract, Urich’s Brotherhood?"

The man who was saying these words was Pahell, who was practically king already. It was almost blasphemous to interrupt him, who wielded king-like authority. With the king in a coma, Pahell held full proxy power even before his coronation.

'Impossible! Giving land to mercenaries!'

The nobles frowned, but the situation wasn't right for objection. The contributions of Urich’s Brotherhood were undeniable. Opposing them now lacked justification. If the honor was given to Urich alone, they could have opposed citing his barbarian status.

'This is effectively hiring a warrior group with land.'

It was a radical deal, but it was not unprecedented. Hiring warrior groups with land for national defense had happened before. Over time, these groups settle and become nobility when their complex rights are transferred to one person.

"My goodness."

"What did we just hear?"

"He said that our mercenary squad is getting a fief. That young lord... just..."

The mercenaries' jaws dropped. They were ecstatic. They, a group of mercenaries, were becoming landowners. As landowners, everything to come out of it would be theirs. They no longer had the need to wander, they could settle down.

The number of mercenaries who had survived until the end was about twenty. They would be the core of the mercenary squad, living as good of a life as minor nobles. The Harmatti territory, soon to be called Uscall, was wealthy enough to be a central domain of the duchy. They were going to become local lords there, living like no others.

'If Bachman heard this, he'd be overjoyed. Might have even kissed my cheek.'

Urich smirked bitterly, though he was showing no joy.

'This is a shackle.'

What Urich wanted wasn't titles, land, or gold. In terms of wealth, he was satisfied with having just enough to eat, sleep, and embrace women.

'So, this is your way, Pahell. You've grown.'

It was impossible for Urich to decline this offer. How could he, when his mercenaries were so happy? Urich had sworn when he started as a mercenary.

'I will consider these men my brothers.'

Urich couldn't betray his brothers. It was the very act he loathed most.

Urich stepped forward as the nobles parted to make a way.

"What are you doing, you idiots! This isn’t just for me! Clean yourselves up a bit and get your asses up here!"

Urich beckoned his men. The mercenaries rushed forward, kneeling on one knee like knights.

"...be noble and loyal guardians of the kingdom."

Pahell concluded concisely, lightly tapping Urich's shoulder with his sword.

"Since when was this your plan?" Urich asked, still kneeling. Pahell winked at him.

"Not long."

"But you knew I couldn't refuse."

Urich shrugged. It was a surprise move. If he had refused, Pahell's face would have been lost.

"Of course, you're Urich."

Pahell sheathed his sword and turned around, sitting back down.

"Take care of my uncle. Treat him well with food and wine. Distribute the military rations to the people. Give medical attention to the surrendered and treat them well, and let no one harbor grudges over this civil war."

Pahell was showing mercy, and his mercy was praised by the priests.

"Your mercy will be an example for the entire kingdom, my prince."

The biggest virtue of Solarism was benevolence. Pahell practiced it in action.

"Long live Varca Aneu Porcana!"

"The ruler of the kingdom!"

Hungry civilians rushed for the rations, shouting Varca’s name as they each grabbed a handful of grains. Pahell responded with a wave, heading inside the inner castle. Since looting was forbidden to begin with, many rooms were left still intact.

Bang!

After getting inside his temporary residence, Pahell hurled a chair against the wall.

"Huff, huff."

He vented his anger.

"You are one lucky man, uncle."

He wanted to shout several times, ‘Off with his head!' He had to suppress his murderous intent and maintain his composure. He had to put on a mask, just like his uncle did.

"Gah, ugh."

Pahell collapsed, covering his face. Rage rose from not being able to kill someone who he so desperately wanted to kill. He saw himself hating his blood relative infinitely. Emotions boiled over, confusing him. He didn't even know why he was crying.

Was it the joy of victory or the frustration of not killing his enemy? Was he regretting changing himself, or was he mourning the dead?