The whispers of the public, once quiet and fleeting, began to grow louder, swelling into open slander against the Duke.
"A servant, of all people, had somehow managed to woo the Duchess. If that simpleton can win the Duchess's favor, perhaps I should try my hand at it.
Maybe I should work as a servant in that Mansion—who knows? Perhaps the daughter will find me just as irresistible."
"Looks like the pirate king will be having a rather enjoyable night..."
"HAHA, the rich Duke must be sad for having a small dick."
The harbor had become a breeding ground for rumors, each one more outlandish than the last.
The air was thick with gossip, as traders, sailors, and dock workers whispered in hushed tones.
What had once been a place of lively commerce and hearty conversation now buzzed with mocking laughter and cynical jabs at the Southern Duke.
The people fueling these whispers were spies—agents planted by rival noble houses, sent to the harbor with one singular goal: to ruin the reputation of the Southern Duke.
Swoosh!
A red spear, long and gleaming, descended from above, slicing through the air with terrifying precision. The first to feel its weight were two of the loudest voices in the crowd, whose jeers had been the most venomous.
Their mocking laughter was abruptly silenced, replaced by a sickening gasp as the spear pierced their bodies and stayed there, losing its force.
The sharp point drove through them both, skewering their hearts in an instant. Their bodies trembled, blood staining the cobblestones below, but their lives were already snuffed out.
The next second, a man suddenly appeared and grasped the end of the spear's shaft. A massive surge of aura radiated from his hand, flowing along the spear that was lodged in the two dead bodies.
SPLAT!
SPLASH!
The bodies exploded instantly, the sudden surge of aura causing a violent eruption. Blood and organs were sent flying through the air, splattering the onlookers who stood nearby.
The man, standing amidst the blood-soaked scene, casually poked his pinky into his ear. His face, smeared with gore, held a twisted grin that only made the horror of the moment more grotesque. His clothes were drenched in the blood of the two fallen men.
"My ears started hurting listening to their loud voices," he said the words slipping from his lips like a joke. His grin widened, his teeth flashing white against the dark stains of blood.
He scanned the crowd, his gaze sharp and predatory as he took in the horrified expressions of the onlookers, frozen in shock.
"Ah! If anybody tries to run now, it's their turn next," he warned, "If I hear even the smallest sound, it's their turn next."
"…"
"…"
"What are you doing? Didn't I tell you to get on the ship?" The woman's voice carried authority, but there was an edge of familiarity to it, as though she wasn't entirely surprised by what she was witnessing. She stepped out from behind the man, her movements fluid and deliberate.
"Queen, I was eliminating spies for our generous contractor, giving freebies. These two were the ones spouting the most bullshit," he said, a playful salute following the words. "Since we still had time, I thought why not warm up a little before the main party starts?"
HAAH!
The woman let out a deep sigh, Without missing a beat, she reached forward and, with surprising ease and strength, scooped the man up by the collar of his blood-soaked cloak, lifting him off the ground as if he weighed no more than a mere cat.
"KYAAA!" the man let out a high-pitched, almost comical scream, resembling a startled woman. She crouched, coiling her muscles, and in a single, effortless leap, she shot into the sky, carrying him with her.
The man's startled cries grew quieter as they soared higher. In an instant, they reached the deck of the waiting ship.
"Mercenary Queen..."
"Why was she here?" one voice asked, hushed with disbelief.
"Only the Duke has the money to hire someone who is known for only eliminating the most difficult dungeons all over the world,"
The Mercenary Queen landed on the ship with the grace of a predator. She dropped the man onto the deck effortlessly, his body slumping onto the wooden boards with a dull thud. He quickly scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting around to take in the scene before him.
The Duke stood near the wheel, his regal bearing unshaken despite the chaos that surrounded them.
Beside him stood the Head Butler, his composed demeanor a stark contrast to the tumultuous situation.
A knight, clad in armor bearing the emblem of the Southern Duchy, likely the Knight Commander, stood resolute and ready for whatever lay ahead.
At the far end of the ship, a single man stood alone, his gaze fixed on the sky. It was Cassius, his face etched with a blend of resolve and sorrow.
"Just another one except you?" the Duke inquired, looking towards the Mercenary Queen.
"We are more than enough."
The Duke didn't offer any further comment. He turned away from the Mercenary Queen and moved toward the ship's steering wheel.
The warship, a towering colossus of wood and metal, appeared far too massive for the small group aboard. The number of people present was nowhere near sufficient to manually operate such a grand vessel.
However, once the Duke extended his hand and gripped the wheel, a soft hum of power filled the air. Then, with a barely noticeable motion, the anchors—massive and heavy—dropped into the water, the chains clanking down with a resounding splash. The ship, as if it had come alive at his touch, began to move.
"Mana-powered engine!" muttered the man, astonished. Together with the engine, the amount of mana stones required to power such a ship would be enormous.
The meaning was simple: the Duke was running the ship on money, even after he promised to give a sum of one billion gold coins to the queen.
The warship began to slice through the waters, leaving the harbor behind. The ship glided forward silently, its immense size belying the smoothness of its motion.