The dawn broke red, not with the promise of a new day, but with the grim omen of battle. Kutsilyo awoke to the silence of anticipation, a heavier, more oppressive quiet than any before. Grimo's bandits, a motley but numerous force, were already positioned near the old mill, their crude weapons glinting in the first light. Across the village, near the lake, the mercenaries under Captain Valerius had fortified their stronghold, their disciplined ranks a stark contrast to the bandits' chaotic energy. The air was thick with the scent of fear, and beneath it, a metallic tang that spoke of inevitable bloodshed.
"This is it, Shouyo," Miles whispered, his voice tight with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. We were perched on a high ridge overlooking the main access path to the mercenary stronghold, a vantage point only Lindsy, with her unparalleled scouting, could have found. Asuna was beside me, his hand resting on the hilt of his axe, his gaze grimly fixed on the approaching bandit horde.
"Remember the plan," I said, my voice calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside me. My heart hammered, a frantic drum against my ribs. This was bigger than any business deal, more volatile than any market crash. This was life and death, and the weight of Yui's memory pressed down on me, sharpening every sense. "Let them engage. Let them exhaust each other. We intervene only when the moment is precise."
Before the first blow, however, there was a different, quieter battle to fight. "Father," I had said to Kirito the night before, finding him in his study, his face etched with worry. "The war is coming. Grimo and Valerius will tear this village apart. We need to ensure the villagers, the innocents, are safe."
Kirito looked at me, his eyes heavy. "What can we do, Shouyo? Where can they go?"
"The old mines," I suggested, my voice firm. "They're abandoned, but stable. Our team has scouted them. There are passages, hidden chambers. They can be provisioned. It's far from the main conflict zones." I needed him to take the lead. His position as chief, even in name, held weight. It would also keep the Kutsilyo Shadows truly in the dark. "You are the chief, Father. Only you can convince them. Tell them it's a temporary measure, a way to weather the storm."
Kirito stared at me, then slowly nodded. "Very well, my son. I will do what I can." And he had. Throughout the night, quiet whispers, passed by Miles and our trusted recruits, guided families towards the hidden safety of the old mines. It was a risky move, but one that cleared the battlefield for the brutal conflict to come.
As the sun climbed higher, casting the entire village in a harsh, unforgiving light, I turned my attention to another crucial task. "Asuna, Borin, Thorn, Roric," I commanded, my gaze sweeping over their faces, now grim and determined. "You know the target. The 'Shadow Scale' mercenaries. Their base is small, but they're spies for a wicked noble in Delgado. They'll be a threat once Grimo and Valerius are weakened. They need to be neutralized now. Utterly. Leave no one."
Asuna nodded, his eyes cold. Borin cracked his knuckles. I had chosen some of Feron's most talented, recently "converted" bandits for this specific mission, men who still thought I was working for a larger, mysterious organization with shadowy intentions. This operation, more than any other, would prove our ruthlessness, and hopefully, cement their fear-fueled loyalty. It would also send a clear message to Feron that our 'organization' meant business.
While the main battle for Kutsilyo ignited, a chillingly precise operation unfolded on the village's far western edge. Asuna's team, augmented by our new 'recruits' from Feron's group, moved like specters towards the unassuming house that served as the Shadow Scale mercenary base. These spies were professionals, yes, but they were unprepared for a ghost attack. The fight was swift, brutal, and utterly one-sided. Asuna, leading the charge, moved with a silent, deadly grace that even surprised Borin. Within minutes, the building was clear. No survivors.
The stench of fresh blood and fear hung in the air. Borin, grim-faced, looked at Asuna. "They never even saw us. It was like… we were never there." The sheer efficiency, the terrifying silence of the Kutsilyo Shadows, left a deep impression. Word of this specific, chilling obliteration would undoubtedly reach Feron, fueling his growing unease and solidifying his forced allegiance.
Meanwhile, the initial charge in the main battle was a wave of chaotic sound. Grimo, a hulking figure at the forefront of his men, let out a guttural roar, leading his bandits directly at the mercenary stronghold. They met a hail of crossbow bolts and arrows, Valerius's men holding their lines with disciplined precision. The first wave of bandits crashed against the mercenary barricades like a broken tide, screams rising into the morning air.
"Grimo's just throwing them at the wall," Asuna observed, his eyes narrowed. He had rejoined me after his mission, his hands still firm, his composure unwavering. "No real strategy."
"He's desperate," I replied, my gaze sweeping across the battlefield. "He needs a quick victory to regain face with his syndicate, and to show his remaining allies he's still strong. He thinks sheer numbers will win this."
They wouldn't. Valerius's mercenaries, despite their own arrogance, were better trained, better equipped, and held a superior defensive position. But Grimo had surprise, and a wild, unpredictable ferocity born of desperation. The battle quickly descended into a brutal, grinding melee. Steel clashed, bodies crumpled, and the ground grew slick with blood. The sounds of combat, once distant, now filled the entire village. Even from our vantage point, I could hear the desperate cries, the guttural roars, the sickening thud of bodies hitting the earth.
Amidst the roaring chaos, I gave Lindsy her final, crucial task. "Now, Lindsy," I ordered, my voice cutting through the din. "Grimo's personal quarters at the old mill. Get in, find anything. Documents, ledgers, anything that links him to the outside."
She nodded, her eyes bright with understanding. She was our phantom, our unseen hand. As the battle intensified, drawing all attention, Lindsy moved. She slipped through the outskirts of the old mill, an abandoned, half-burnt structure now serving as Grimo's temporary headquarters. The remaining bandits there were either watching the main battle or guarding the meager loot. Lindsy moved past them like a wisp of smoke, her footsteps silent on the creaking floorboards.
She found it in a hidden compartment beneath Grimo's crude bed: a small, heavy wooden chest filled with ledgers and sealed letters. Her nimble fingers worked quickly, prying open the lock. She leafed through the documents, her eyes widening as she recognized symbols and seals that shouldn't be in a bandit's possession. She selected a few key letters, resealed the chest as best she could, and vanished back into the chaos.
Lindsy returned to our vantage point, breathless, clutching a few rolled parchments. "Shouyo! You won't believe it," she gasped, thrusting them into my hand.
I unrolled the first letter, my eyes scanning the elegant, almost aristocratic script. A noble's seal. My blood ran cold, then boiled. House Blackwood. A minor noble family from the north, far from Delgado, known for their shadowy dealings. The letter detailed precise instructions to Grimo: "Maintain control of Kutsilyo. Secure the lake access. Disrupt any attempts by the crown to regain a foothold. We expect the usual tribute, and continued reports on the strange energy fluctuations reported in the southern forest."
My mind reeled. Energy fluctuations? This wasn't just about plunder. This was about something deeper, something I hadn't seen. Kutsilyo wasn't just a forgotten village; it was a strategic asset, being deliberately destabilized and held captive. Why? What did this insignificant, ruined village possess that a noble house would risk such a clandestine, brutal operation?
The questions hammered at my brain: Why this village? What does it truly have? Why are nobles interested in Kutsilyo, specifically? What strange energy? It all connected, yet none of it made sense. The chaotic market, the abandoned state, the strategic lake… it was all part of a larger scheme. I suddenly realized that all this time, I had only been fighting the symptoms, not the disease.
Below us, the battle between Grimo's remaining bandits and Valerius's mercenaries reached its desperate, bloody climax. Grimo, roaring, launched his final, suicidal charge, determined to take Valerius with him. I watched with a new, icy detachment. Grimo was a pawn. Valerius, another. The real enemy was unseen, pulling strings from the shadows, manipulating Kutsilyo for reasons I still couldn't grasp.
As Valerius's sword found its mark, and Grimo collapsed, his battle cry turning into a death rattle, the mercenary captain let out a triumphant roar. "Grimo is dead! Kutsilyo is ours!"
But his victory was hollow, fleeting. I looked at the letters in my hand, then at the burning village below. The battle for Kutsilyo had just ended, but a far more dangerous war, one fought in the shadows of power and deception, had only just begun. And I had a thousand questions that my father, Kirito, might hold the answers to. I needed to understand why Kutsilyo was so important, and why powerful nobles would rather see it burn than relinquish control.