Chapter 897: Hangover and Honor ( 897 )

The knight leader’s eyes went wide with dread.

Fight? No... The reports were clear, Armand’s army wasn’t just strong. They were overwhelming.

Their weapons and armor gleamed with top-tier enchantments, far superior to anything mercenaries or rogue knights could muster, even superior than Royal Army.

And those Pekko units... monsters, not just birds. No cavalry could outrun or outmaneuver them. Even the horses panicked, snorting and backing away at the distant screech and thunder of approaching Pekko.

The leader’s voice cracked. "Everyone! R-retreat! Fall back!!"

Men scrambled for their horses, tripping over themselves in their rush to flee. Armor clattered, gear spilled across the ground as panic swept the camp.

But as the leader turned, ready to flee with the rest, his blood ran cold.

Armand army appeared from every direction, encircling the glade. Overhead, battle drones cast shifting shadows, their mana rifles glinting in the fading light. The way back was sealed; every route was blocked, every escape cut off.

They were surrounded.

Nowhere left to run.

Then the leader saw it.

At the front of the advancing army, astride a massive Pekko, clad in black and crimson armor, a colossal greatsword resting across his back.

Hesbeirn.

The name alone sent a chill through every mercenary present. The strongest berserker in the Human Kingdom. The undefeated general of Armand. Stories of his feats passed in terrified whispers from one battlefield to another. He was said to never lose, never break, never show mercy to enemies of Armand.

And now he led the main force. The loyal blade of Garius De Armand, bearing the standard of Armand with absolute authority.

The knight leader’s throat went dry. Fear seized his heart, crushing all thoughts of resistance.

His sword slipped from numb fingers, clattering to the ground. In a single, desperate motion, he dropped to his knees and raised his hands high in surrender.

All around him, the rest of the mercenaries and rogue knights froze, staring in terror at the legend before them, knowing there was nothing left to do but yield.

Hesbeirn grumbled, rubbing his temples. "Ugh... my head hurts..."

At his side, Gilmon smirked and gave Hesbeirn a sharp nudge with his elbow.

"Heh, serves you right. Who told you to drink so much last night, knowing we’d be assisting Young Master Javier in taking Arjam?"

Hesbeirn shot him a glare, his brows furrowed. "Ugh! You’re the one who tricked me into another round! Damn it, Gilmon!"

Gilmon just laughed, rolling his shoulders as the army advanced.

Hesbeirn arrived at the scene with Gilmon beside him, both mounted on their Pekkos. The rumble of the army behind them slowed as they saw the group of mercenaries all kneeling in surrender, weapons tossed aside, heads lowered.

Hesbeirn let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Looks like Young Master Javier’s information was spot on..." he muttered, reaching up to tap his mana talkie, channeling mana through the device nestled in his ear.

"Oi, brat. Hesbeirn here."

He paused, glancing over the rows of surrendered men. "Mm... yeah, just like you said, brat. Good thing you gave us and the rest of the units the live feed."

He winced, rubbing his temple as another pulse of pain shot through his skull. "Hah!? Yeah, I know you can see it already, stop yelling in my ear. My head’s pounding, damn it..."

"Eh? Adjust the mana talkie? Oh....right. Must’ve shoved it in too deep..." He awkwardly fiddled with the device in his ear, chuckling as he rubbed the back of his head. "Aha... my bad."

Another pause. His gaze drifted down to the trembling mercenary group.

"Capture? Seriously? You sure about that?"

He let out a long sigh.

"Fine. If you say so, brat. You better have a good reason for this..."

He grumbled under his breath as he signaled his men to move in, Armand’s forces quickly surrounding and securing the defeated mercenaries and rogue knights.

Gilmon glanced sideways at Hesbeirn, who was still rubbing his temple and grumbling.

"...Why do you look so disappointed, my friend?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"Huh? Me? No, dammit, my head hurts," Hesbeirn muttered, scowling. "Ugh... stupid mana talkie, stupid brat’s voice echoing in my skull..."

Gilmon chuckled. "Heh. That’s what you get for drinking half a barrel before deployment."

Hesbeirn shot him a glare. "You’re the one who tricked me into drinking, remember? ’Just one toast,’ you said..."

"Ah, come on. It was a good night," Gilmon replied, still smirking. "Besides, look at us now, serving the Armand household. Never thought I’d see the day."

Hesbeirn’s lips curled into a faint smirk. "So? How is it, working under Armand?"

Gilmon leaned back slightly in his saddle, eyes scanning the field where mercenaries were being bound and tagged. "Honestly? It’s good. Pay’s solid, logistics are tight. You get the feeling like... everyone actually knows what they’re doing."

"Of course they do. It’s Armand," Hesbeirn said with a grunt.

Gilmon nodded slowly. "Yeah... and after this mission wraps, I’ll be staying with Princess Kliatana. Helping her govern Arjam under the Armand banner."

"Makes sense. That’s how Lord Garius operates," Hesbeirn muttered with quiet respect. "Never conquers to crush. He conquers to rebuild."

They both fell silent for a moment, watching the Armand soldiers move.

"...I’m starting to get it now," Gilmon added softly. "Why so many follow that man without hesitation."

Hesbeirn just nodded, eyes narrowing toward the horizon. "Yeah. That’s why we call him our Lord."

The mana talkie in Hesbeirn’s ear crackled again.

"Ugh! Don’t suddenly shout, brat!" he winced, clutching the side of his head. "My hangover’s still dancing, damn you..."

He paused, listening.

"Hmm? You said there’s a village nearby?"

Another beat.

"Oh... already sent your drone, huh? Hah... of course you did..."

He rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes...okay, okay. Jeez... you’re starting to sound like your father, brat. Ugh..."

Then suddenly, Hesbeirn froze. A cold sweat ran down his neck.

His eyes widened slightly. "Eh...?"

He forced a smile, glancing around to make sure no one was listening too closely.

"Ehe... hehehehehe... don’t tell Erinnette, alright? I-I’ll send troops to assist. Yes yes. Already moving, alright alright."

He tapped the mana talkie again, quickly muting it before Javier could say anything more.

"...Damn brat inherited his father’s pressure," he muttered under his breath, still rubbing his temple.

Gilmon gave Hesbeirn a smug little grin. "Still scared of your sister, huh, Hesbeirn?"

Hesbeirn shot him a sideways look, his lips curling into a sly smirk.

"Oh? And you’re saying you’re not scared of my sister? Erinnette?"

Gilmon’s face stiffened.

"Err... I... I didn’t... say that."

Hesbeirn let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "That’s what I thought."

( End Of Chapter )