Chapter 16

Chapter 16
## Chapter 16: Demon Baron (2)

Towering ramparts of stone loomed over the lush fields, bathed in a spring radiance that felt as gentle as a clean quilt. It was the kind of warmth that coaxed seedlings from the soil.

Yet, the garrison found no comfort in it. Atop the exposed battlements, the sun was a relentless glare that only served to intensify their dehydration. To keep their mouths from bone-dryness, every man kept a small stone tucked under his tongue.

A seasoned veteran, currently sucking on two pebbles at once, nudged his subordinate with a boot. He grumbled, his words muffled by the stones.

“Hah, listen up. We’re just rotting away out here. If those Adlen bastards finally make a move, just swallow your pride—and your rocks—and bolt. No point in dying for nothing.”

Four months of stalemate, and he’s talking about an assault…?

Scoffing internally, the recruit dragged himself upright to survey the landscape beyond the fortifications.

The view remained stagnant. The banners of the Adlen family snapped in the wind. Roughly four hundred infantrymen were positioned around the fortress in a loose cordon. They looked lethargic, almost dozing, but the recruit knew they would pounce like starving wolves the moment the gates showed a seam.

The siege by Viscount Adlen’s battalion had dragged into its fourth month. Within the walls of Molden, the outlook remained bleak.

There had been skirmishes in the beginning. However, Viscount Adlen soon pivoted to a strategy of attrition, choosing to starve them out. Given the disparity in numbers, a counter-offensive was suicide; the result was a crushing deadlock.

Molden was bleeding out. Their winter granaries had been empty for weeks. A run of dry weather had pushed their wells to the limit. With the season for sowing crops passing them by, the long-term prospects were even darker.

Had it not been for their master’s reputation, the men would have abandoned their posts and opened the gates long ago.

As the recruit scanned the horizon, he happened to glance down into the courtyard—and his heart skipped a beat. He spat his pebble onto the stone and gripped his superior’s shoulder with frantic strength.

“Ptoo! Sergeant Delton, Sergeant Delton! Get up, spit those out, hurry!”

“Wh-what… what’s the ruckus…?”

“The Baron! The Baron himself is coming up the stairs!”

“Ptoo, ptoo! What?!”

The lounging guards scrambled to their feet, snapping into a rigid line. Moments later, a middle-aged gentleman with a meticulously trimmed mustache appeared at the top of the walkway. Delton, acting as the ranking officer, offered a sharp salute.

“Loyalty! Nothing to report, my lord! The perimeter is quiet! We are maintaining a strict watch for any suspicious activity!”

“Ah, ease up, ease up, hahaha! You’ve turned into quite the soldier, Delton. Your family would be proud of the man you’ve become. I’m not here on official business—I just brought a little something to help you endure the heat…”

Baron Molden set down a heavy leather canteen he had carried up himself. The guards stared, wide-eyed.

“My lord, you didn’t have to… a servant could have brought that…”

“Nonsense, don’t they deserve their rest as well? Besides, a waterskin isn’t that heavy. Standing here in the sun, never knowing when the hammer will fall—that’s the true burden. Isn’t that right? Hahaha!”

Delton and his squad looked away, their cheeks burning with a mix of shame and pride. The Baron merely offered a warm, steady smile.

“I am truly sorry. All of you are enduring this hardship because of me. If I were a leader who hadn’t earned your loyalty, perhaps you wouldn’t have to suffer like this…”

“N-no, my lord! This is the fault of those treacherous Adlen dogs—you’ve done nothing wrong! We follow you by choice!”

“Haha… I appreciate the sentiment. But I cannot watch young men like you waste away forever. Since this burden started with me, it is only right that I provide the resolution.”

“Sir? What do you mean by that…?”

The Baron didn’t elaborate; he only gave them a final, lingering smile.

He moved down the line, offering words of encouragement to every sentry before descending back into the keep. Watching him go, Delton whispered in confusion.

“…What is he planning? Skelton, you have any idea?”

“Not a clue…”

“Sigh. I hope he doesn’t do anything reckless… where else would we find a lord like him?”

“Too true, Sergeant. How can those Adlen bastards have the nerve to call a man like that the ‘Demon Baron’?”

The recruit glared toward the enemy lines, wishing a plague upon them.

As his eyes swept the distance, he suddenly squinted.

A massive, hulking figure and a thin man carrying a pack.

They were walking straight toward Molden.

“Uh… Sergeant Delton? Are you seeing this?”

“What? Did the Adlens finally get off their asses?”

“No, further out. Beyond their lines. Someone is approaching…”

“Forget it. Likely just some lost wanderers or refugees. They’ll see the siege lines and turn tail. Unless they have a death wish…”

As expected, the pair seemed to notice the soldiers and veered off, making a wide arc around the perimeter. Delton assumed they were heading for the rear and out of sight.

But instead of disappearing, they circled back toward the front.

“…What the? What are they pulling?”

Delton rubbed his chin, completely perplexed.

—

The private quarters of Baroness Molden were shockingly modest for a woman of her status.

To a kind observer, they were “homely”; to a critic, they were furnished with nothing but threadbare relics. The decor was years out of date, and the bare stone walls lacked any finery. It felt less like a noble’s bedroom and more like a cell in a ruin.

*Knock, knock, knock.*

Rhythmic raps sounded against the door.

‘May I enter?’

Without waiting for a response, the visitor stepped inside.

Fresh from his rounds with the water, Baron Molden was soaked in perspiration. He discarded formal posture, fanning his face and collapsing into a groaning wooden chair.

“Phew, the heat is rising. I suppose that’s one blessing—we won’t need to worry about the woodpile anymore.”

His wife, looking gaunt from the months of deprivation, gave him a flat stare.

“…Why are you here? Surely not to give me a weather report.”

“Oh, just reminiscing. Do you recall those tulip bulbs you ordered and planted last spring?”

Tulips? Now, while the people were starving? She looked at him with disbelief, but he continued.

“You mentioned the inner courtyard looked too stark. You bought twenty of every shade from that trade guild merchant, didn’t you?”

“…I did.”

“They would have been spectacular. I always felt the grounds were a bit grim—I should have thought of it myself. You have a gift for beauty. Had you lived in the capital, you’d have been famous for your gardens. Hahaha!”

“…”

“Let’s see… there were crimson, violet, amber, and… what was the last? Azure? A sea of color. It’s a shame, really… hahaha…”

“…Did something happen to the garden?”

Her voice was heavy with a sudden dread. He paused, then the truth tumbled out.

“…On my way back, I saw the village children. They were pulling up the stems and digging out the bulbs… to eat them.”

“…”

“Small, thin hands… they didn’t even have tools. They were just clawing at the dirt until their fingers bled.”

“…”

“When they caught sight of me, they panicked, but they still shoved the dirt-covered bulbs into their mouths. They were more afraid of being hungry than of being caught by their lord.”

“Did you punish them?”

A pained smile touched his face.

“How could I? Their hunger is my failure. I sent for Meldin to make sure they wouldn’t get sick.”

“A wise precaution. But Meldin is…”

“I know. He’s barely a medic. But we are out of options. Borhen, our only true physician, passed away last month.”

“…”

The elderly Borhen had wasted away, secretly giving his own rations to his grandchildren until his heart simply stopped. He wasn’t the only one—the elderly across the domain were vanishing, choosing to feed the youth with their own lives.

And even worse, some parents were now stealing from their children in a haze of starvation.

Even when caught, there was no heart left to punish them. The Baron took a ragged breath, rubbed his face, and finally spoke his true mind.

“My dear. I have a confession.”

“…”

“I used to wonder where my final resting place should be. But today, I realized: there is a perfect spot right here, if it means saving thousands.”

“…”

“Mark my words. Today, I will settle this debt and meet my end.”

Her head snapped up. He met her gaze with a soft smile.

“When I am gone, Viscount Adlen will have no legal shadow to hide behind. The children will have bread instead of flower bulbs. The men will pick up hoes instead of spears. This tragedy concludes with the death of the ‘Demon Baron’.”

“But that isn’t why they are attacking. You aren’t what they claim…”

“…”

A muscle in his jaw clenched, then relaxed.

“The truth is irrelevant. Only gain and excuses matter in this world. If they cared for the truth, they would have summoned the holy knights long ago.”

“…”

“If Adlen refuses to leave after my passing, send a messenger to the King. If the crown ignores you, turn to the trade alliance for protection.”

“…”

“The fate of Molden is in your hands now. It will be a hard road, but you are far wiser than this old fool.”

Her lips trembled, but the words wouldn’t come. He shook his head, signaling that no farewell was needed, and walked out.

It was a final decree. The silhouette of a man walking toward his own execution. With his departure, the room was left with nothing but the chill of the stones and a hollow silence.

The Baroness sat motionless for a long time.

Then, with a heavy heart, she stood, opened her wardrobe, and pulled out a simple, white burial cloth.

—

“M-my lord? What’s the plan?”

“…”

Kadim bit down on his lip.

The enemy units were spread thin, encircling the fortress. He had scouted from a distance for a gap—nothing. It stood to reason; if there were a hole, the castle would have fallen weeks ago.

There was only one way forward.

“Merchant, find a place to hide nearby.”

“S-sir?”

“I’m going into Molden alone. Take the map treasure and stay out of sight.”

Duncan stared, his jaw dropping for what felt like the hundredth time. He was suggesting a frontal charge through an entire army.

“B-but, my lord… even for you, hundreds of soldiers…”

“I don’t need to kill them all. I’ll slip through under the cover of night, take out the sentries—that’ll do it. But I can’t carry you over the battlements. Wait for me…”

*…grrr rumble…*

A low vibration shook the ground. Kadim stopped mid-sentence, his head snapping toward the castle. Duncan followed his gaze. What they saw was unthinkable.

The heavy iron portcullis was sliding upward. The main gates of Molden were swinging wide.

“What? Why would they open the gates now…?”

“…”

“Could the Baron be attempting a desperate charge, my lord?”

Kadim didn’t bother speculating. Unlike the merchant who was paralyzed by the sight, the barbarian’s instincts took over instantly.

He wasn’t about to let this window close.

He drained the last of the blood from his flask. He stretched his limbs until they popped. Then, he scooped up Duncan.

“Hold on, merchant. This is going to be rough.”

“…Wait, what?”

With Duncan tucked under one arm and Mosquito gripped in the other.

*Boom!*

Kadim launched himself forward like a thunderbolt toward the opening.

*Whoooosh—*

No horse could have competed with that velocity. The wind roared past his ears. The world became a smear of green and brown. With every massive leap, he devoured the distance.

“Uwaaaaaah!”

Duncan’s terrified shriek alerted the camp. Heads turned from the opening gates. Every Adlen soldier stood frozen, watching the savage blur hurtling toward them.

*Splat—thunk!!*

The greatsword, propelled by his sheer speed, shattered a soldier’s helmet. The metal buckled like parchment; the man’s skull was obliterated. Kadim ripped the blade free, the weapon thirstily drinking the gore.

*Crunch—slash!!*

Another soldier tried to block—he was cleaved in two. The resistance was negligible; bone and mail gave way. Red mist sprayed the air as the man’s upper half spun away.

*Thud!*

The next man was simply shoulder-checked. It was like being hit by a battering ram; his ribcage collapsed, and he was sent flying yards into the air.

“…”

The merciless onslaught created a corridor of carnage. Kadim didn’t slow down. The ground behind him was littered with the mangled remains of anyone unlucky enough to be in his path.

Yet, something was off. The soldiers weren’t reacting normally.

There were no cries of alarm, no tactical maneuvers—just hollow, vacant eyes watching him pass.

Kadim felt a chill that had nothing to do with the wind.

*‘Their comrades are being slaughtered, and they’re just standing there?’*

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. The gate could drop at any second, and Duncan was flailing like a landed fish under his arm.

“Uwahhh, urk, gulp!”

Kadim shattered the final line of resistance and broke through the camp’s perimeter.

Suddenly, the maw of Molden’s gate was right in front of him.

“…”

“…”

There were no defending troops waiting for him. Only a single middle-aged man in mail, his mustache neatly groomed.

Faced with a blood-drenched barbarian, the man turned white as a sheet. Kadim scowled.

“Who are you.”

“Uh, um… I am the master of this domain, Baron Molden…”

“Ah, so you’re the one they call the ‘Demon Baron’?”

“Well, unfortunately… those rumors of demonic pacts are entirely baseless. There’s a long story…”

“I figured as much. Save it for inside. This is a bad place for a chat.”

“N-no, wait… I don’t know who you are, but I came out here to sacrifice myself for my people. I can’t just turn back…”

“Die some other time.”

The Baron wasn’t given a vote.

The barbarian grabbed the back of his armor, lifting him off the ground like a stray cat. Duncan, still clutched in the other arm, gave a weak, awkward wave.

“Uh… Good day, my lord…?”

“Hahaha, this is quite a situation… Ah, hello. And you are?”

“D-Duncan Wheeled, at your service…”

“A fine name. You don’t look local—from the alliance?”

Duncan could only think: He never imagined he’d be having a polite conversation with a suicidal noble while being carried like luggage by a madman.

Truly, if you live long enough, you’ll see everything.