Chương 107: 107：The Debt Collector Comes Knocking

"My Lord!" Valeriu finally couldn't hold back the fury burning in his chest. He gritted his teeth, lowering his voice into a vicious hiss:"This backwater, low-ranking officer doesn't even have a certified noble title, yet his very bones reek with arrogant stench!"

"He knows a Commander with the blood of a Holy Imperial Duke is visiting! Even if he didn't lead the entire village to grovel in the mud to welcome you, he shouldn't dare to use such blatant stalling tactics to leave you rotting in a shed fit only for livestock!" Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. From the gravel path outside, the unhurried, rhythmic tread of heavy military boots echoed through the walls.

"The concept of being 'slighted' is usually only felt by those with profoundly fragile egos." An unwavering, completely unapologetic voice pierced right through the wooden door. Creak— The wooden door was pushed open, and the sudden glare of the outside light violently stabbed into the dim cabin! Soren stood squarely in the doorway. His profound, bottomless eyes locked instantly onto Alaric. BOOM. Two completely distinct, overwhelmingly dominant auras violently collided in the cramped space. Alaric slowly stood up.

Unlike the fat, decadent nobles of the Silvermoon Kingdom, this Commander of the Royal Griffon Knights kept his back as straight as a spear. His deep blue eyes radiated the sharp, unquestionable authority of a man accustomed to absolute power. Archmage Valeriu was just about to open his mouth to berate Soren for his "arrogant disrespect," but Alaric simply raised a hand, instantly suffocating the Mage's words in his throat.

"Captain Soren. Your reputation precedes you." A flawless, impeccably tailored noble smile suddenly bloomed on Alaric's face. He took the initiative to step forward, placed his right hand over the Griffon crest on his left breast, and delivered a military salute perfectly suited for an absolute equal.

"Originally, I assumed the man capable of raising an army in this absolute death zone would be some grizzled, weathered veteran."

"I never imagined Your Excellency would be so exceptionally young, with such an extraordinary bearing." This kind of deliberate, condescending humility—a Duke's son lowering his own status to praise a border officer—would have normally sent any regular captain straight to his knees, trembling with overwhelmed gratitude. However, Soren had dealt with slick politicians in his past life. He knew with absolute certainty that this kind of 'warmth' from someone in power was nothing more than the cheapest form of probing.

"The Lord Commander flatters me." Soren returned an equally flawless, watertight military salute. His expression completely relaxed, he strolled into the cabin and casually pointed at the two chipped, coarse clay bowls resting on the log table.

"Our conditions are crude. I ask the Empire's honored guest to forgive the meager reception."

"But since the Lord Commander has personally come to my door, let us sit and talk." The two men exchanged polite pleasantries and sat directly across from each other at the rough timber table. Fina, knowing exactly how to play her role, stepped into position just behind Soren's shoulder, slightly bowing her head in perfect, subservient silence. Alaric's tone was filled with dramatic awe:"Captain Soren, your combat record has genuinely shaken me!"

"Just two days ago, utilizing a force of less than a hundred men, you utterly annihilated the infamous bandit Gul on Bone Ridge."

"Such a glorious victory, combined with the miraculous speed at which you've expanded your forces... it makes a commander like myself feel genuinely ashamed of my own efforts." Internally, Soren let out a cold sneer. But externally? His expression instantly crumbled. In the blink of an eye, he transformed into the very picture of a deeply aggrieved, utterly destitute soldier. Soren let out a long, agonizing sigh:"Ah... I'm not afraid of you laughing at me, My Lord. What you've heard are just exaggerated rumors.

But the truth?"

"Our Crimson Moon Knights were tossed into this death zone by the upper brass of the Silvermoon Kingdom like garbage."

"We haven't received a single grain of rations! Not a single copper coin of military pay!"

"My Lord, in this Misty Swamp, we survive by gnawing on toxic roots and drinking muddy water day in and day out."

"The only reason we've managed to scrape together this pitifully small band of men is because my brothers have bitten down on their own bloody teeth! With nothing but a rusty sword and a splintered spear, we trade our lives in the mud against Swamp Crocs and Orcs just for a single bite of food!" Matching Soren's Oscar-worthy performance perfectly, Fina's eyes right on cue flushed red.

She gently raised her sleeve to dab at the corners of her eyes, flawlessly selling the tragic atmosphere of a desperately starving, abandoned unit. Logically speaking, if a normal person was hit with such a tear-jerking, miserable sob story, they would be too embarrassed to follow up with demands. But Alaric just shook his head. After all, he commanded thousands of heavy knights and Griffon squadrons. In pure, gritty swamp combat, he might lose to Soren, but when it came to military appraisal?

The man possessed the eyes of a Grandmaster.

"A rusty sword and a splintered spear? Scraping a team together?" If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"Captain Soren, your humility borders on the absurd."

"Do you know what I saw as I rode into Greywater Village? Your watchtower guards have flushed skin and bulging, robust muscles. That is a physique that can only be forged by a massive daily intake of fresh meat and refined carbohydrates!"

"But what truly opened my eyes..." Alaric planted both hands flat on the wooden table and violently leaned his upper body forward.

"... was the entire phalanx of heavy infantry standing guard just inside your gates!"

"Unless I've suddenly gone blind, every single one of those men was clad in full-plate [Blackiron Heavy Armor] and armed with [Armor-Piercing Halberds]!" In this era, forging even a single, perfectly fitted suit of full-plate Blackiron armor required mountains of high-grade iron ore, blast furnaces capable of sustaining monstrous temperatures, and master blacksmiths hammering day and night. Yes, the Holy Halycon Empire was the wealthiest nation in the world.

The Griffon Knights had thousands of soldiers in full plate. But those were the absolute, hand-picked elite of an entire empire! Yet Soren's unit—trapped in the Misty Swamp where iron ore was practically a myth—had somehow forcefully assembled a fully armored heavy infantry squad. In the eyes of any royal court on the continent, this was a logistical impossibility. Alaric leaned back, a knowing, almost predatory smirk playing on his lips:"Captain Soren, you are swimming in wealth.

That level of luxurious armament rivals my own heavy Imperial swordsmen." Alaric's observation was razor-sharp and drew blood on the first strike. Standing to the side, Archmage Valeriu proudly tilted his chin up, relishing the moment the lie was exposed. But since he was seen through, Soren didn't plan on feeling an ounce of guilt.

"Oh, Lord Alaric, you really overestimate me."

"You are a supreme commander sitting high in the clouds; you simply cannot understand the bitter struggles of us bottom-feeders."

"That Blackiron Heavy Armor you saw? That is literally everything Greywater Village owns."

"When we heard the world-renowned cavalry of the Holy Empire was arriving, how could we dare look shabby in front of you? I ordered my men to melt down every single cooking pot and iron plow inside and outside the village. We barely managed to cobble together enough gear to dress up a few dozen guards in the front row just to save face."

"The hundreds of brothers behind them are practically bare-assed as we speak."

"It's pure window dressing, My Lord. Pumping ourselves up to look tough. Please, forgive the pathetic display." Soren's response was pure, unadulterated shamelessness. Alaric knew perfectly well he was spouting total bullshit, but because he couldn't exactly march out and inspect every single soldier, there was no way to call the bluff. Hitting this soft, bouncy wall, Alaric finally realized that the thickness of this black-haired man's skin vastly exceeded his wildest imaginations.

Circling the issue was pointless. Alaric's expression cooled into stone. He stripped away the polite facade, cutting straight to the true core of his visit.

"Captain Soren, honorable men do not speak in shadows."

"You raided Bone Ridge, slew the bandit king Gul, and eliminated a massive threat to human merchants in the Misty Swamp. For this, as a Commander, I must thank you on behalf of all who suffered under them." Then, his speaking speed drastically accelerated, carrying the crushing weight of an ultimatum:"However. Just days ago, Gul's outlaws ambushed a logistical transport convoy under the jurisdiction of my Royal Griffon Knights."

"Among those supplies was a massive shipment of [Military-Grade Longbows] and [Standardized Armor-Piercing Heavy Arrows]!"

"Those are the sovereign armaments of the Holy Halycon Empire, and I absolutely will not permit them to fall into outside hands."

"Since your forces annihilated Bone Ridge and seized the entire camp, the purpose of my visit today is to retrieve the supplies that originally belonged to me."

"I ask Captain Soren to make this easy. The Empire will reward you handsomely." The debt collector had shown his hand. Sitting on his crude log stool, Soren didn't display a single flinch of anxiety. Instead, he casually raised his chin.

"You are correct, My Lord. When I washed that camp in blood, I did indeed see a massive stockpile of military longbows in their cellar." Alaric and the Mage simultaneously relaxed. Since he admitted it, the stolen goods were confirmed, and returning them was the natural order of things. Alaric even began to raise his hand, preparing to say, "Then arrange for the transfer." But Soren's next words crashed down like a bucket of liquid ice.

"But I will not hand over a single one of those bows." Alaric's eyes violently narrowed, a deeply dangerous, freezing light bleeding into his gaze.

"What did you just say?" Facing the boiling wrath of an Imperial Commander, Soren leaned his upper body forward, absolutely unyielding.

"Lord Alaric, let us trace the fundamental logic here."

"You claim those supplies belong to the Holy Empire. Yes. When they were resting comfortably on your transport carts, they absolutely belonged to you."

"But then, a battle occurred. In that battle, Gul shattered your forces and hauled those supplies back to Bone Ridge."