Millennium Witch-Book 3: Chapter 201: The Count
Watching Yvette’s calm expression and listening to her modest reply, Eamon’s mouth twitched. Either you know it or you don’t—what does “know a little” even mean? Why does it sound so maddening?
But since strength is someone else’s private matter, he said nothing more. He glanced at Lucia and said, 「Alright———let’s go home for dinner.」
Lucia lowered her head with a dejected “oh,” looking on the verge of tears, as if she might cry the next second. You couldn’t blame her for feeling wronged—two years of preparation for this outcome would sour anyone’s mood.
「Miss Yvette, we’ll be going—」 Eamon’s mood wasn’t great either. On a normal day he would have invited Yvette to dinner, but right now the blow of his proud swordsmanship losing to his daughter had him replaying the bout in his head, so distracted he was almost walking on autopilot.
Yvette answered with a hum, watching the dazed father and daughter leave and vanish at the dark edge of the trees, then she shook her head slightly.
The plan she’d prepared for Lucia was already the highest-percentage one. But just as their scheme used an information gap to catch Eamon off guard, Eamon had hidden his hand too—he had a trump card.
And there was no fixing that. Judging by the look of it, the technique was quite powerful. Coupled with Eamon’s mana pressure, even going all out, Lucia couldn’t break through in a single strike; she’d need four or five in succession—plenty of time for Eamon to wrest control back.
Put plainly, it was an unwinnable duel from the start.
But—
If you can’t win, does that necessarily mean you’ve lost?
Thinking of the conflicted look on Eamon’s face when he left—and how he hadn’t explicitly declared a win or loss—Yvette’s lips curved with a faint smile. This matter wasn’t over yet.
After all, in the plan she gave Lucia, the body was the decoy; the mind was the target.
In the month after Lucia’s failed challenge, Yvette’s life suddenly grew much quieter—none of the previous heat and bustle.
Lucia still came by to practice swordsmanship, but compared to before, practice had become more of a pretext—to stay with Yvette and savor their last stretch together before Yvette set out for the Academy of Truth.
Yvette didn’t feel a need to console her. She’d set October as her departure—reach the Academy before winter, then join spring admissions in February.
There were about three months left. From Lucia’s perspective, these were without question their final three months.
Meanwhile, Sanglen Village was thriving. Because of the Silverthread River dam project, the able-bodied had all been recruited, paid two to three times the usual wage, working overtime.
Word was that once the dam was finished, magic would control its gates, letting them store and release water to create floods—a head-on blow to the Eagle Roost Kingdom downstream.
Yvette doubted it would go so smoothly. She wasn’t sure the peace would hold until her October departure.
September came. Summer’s blaze cooled. Reeds by the river put out gray-white plumes that swayed in the chill autumn wind.
One night, heavy darkness draped the lower fields of the Silverthread. As Eagle Roost forces massed not far from the border, a killing air spread, pierced now and then by migratory birds crying through the sky.
In the camp’s center, inside the tallest tent, several men stood gathered. At their head was a middle-aged man in a deep-blue velvet cloak and fine chainmail. His face was severe; hawk-like eyes swept the ranks. At his waist hung a blue-green longsword inlaid with gems—clearly an alchemical weapon.
His name was Tate Vladmir, one of the Eagle Roost Kingdom’s four counts.
Unlike the Kingdom of Jisul’s parliamentary system, Eagle Roost was feudal. So their clashes with Jisul weren’t exactly the whole Eagle Roost Kingdom—it was Count Vladmir’s domain within it.
And since spies had recently learned Jisul was building a dam, Count Vladmir could no longer endure it. He immediately borrowed troops from the other three counties and His Majesty the King, intending to launch an offensive against Jisul.
The Silverthread was the lifeline and agricultural artery of his county and the entire kingdom. Even if Jisul promised never to cut the water, he could not tolerate such a thing. From the moment the dam decision was enacted, war was fated.
Before hostilities broke out, he would feign acceptance of Jisul’s pretext for the dam to lower their guard.
Entering the tent, he looked at a crude campaign map. Several strategic points near the dam on the Silverthread were marked—besides the border outposts, there was Autumnwind City and three villages providing major support to the dam works.
「What does this red circle mean?」 the Count asked. Of the three support villages, only one—“Sanglen”—was singled out, eye-catchingly marked.
「Lord Vladmir, judging from our past wars with Jisul, Sanglen is the toughest nut. Besides a Druid of the Evergreen Revelation Society, there’s a top magic swordsman named Eamon Sterling—he must be neutralized as a priority,」 the adjutant explained.
The Count frowned slightly. A Druid was manageable—Eagle Roost’s mainstream faith was the Three Saints Church from the Herman Empire. When conflict arose, both sides had church backing; even if they fought, it remained the resident priest’s personal action, not a religious war.
But that magic swordsman Eamon—he’d heard of him. Rumor had it his level might exceed Silver-tier adventurer. The knightly nobles under the Count—junior and even intermediate magic swordsman level—often lost to him in war. Quite a headache.
「Seems I’ll have to deal with him myself.」 The Count touched the blue-green sword at his hip. As one of the realm’s four counts, he was an intermediate magic swordsman on the verge of the senior threshold, with nearly 4,000 mana—formidable in the extreme.
Especially in the Southern Alliance, which had many small countries like Eagle Roost, most without archmages to sit in town. A magic swordsman with 4,000 mana could be called a first-rate master.
「One more piece of information, Lord Vladmir.」
「Speak.」
「It’s said a mysterious witch arrived in this Sanglen Village five years ago———」
「A witch?」 The Count’s gaze sharpened. 「What can she do?」
「Unclear, my lord. The only is that several years ago she used some mysterious means to alter the souls of three villagers, turning them from layabout thugs into Sanglen’s do-gooder youths—beyond that, nothing.」
「Turn three thugs good? There’s even a power like that?」 The Count raised a brow, thought a moment, then asked, 「No powers to cause plague or bring calamity?」
「None, my lord.」
「Has she displayed any great combat power?」
「Al—so———none, my lord.」
「If there’s nothing like that, don’t bring it to me,」 the Count said coolly, thinking it sounded fake—and even if it were true, under his army and his sword, what witch wouldn’t flee in panic?
「Yes, my lord!」 the adjutant replied at once.
Book 3: Chapter 201: The Count
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