So it would seem that there was indeed a force capable of overturning Tyberius's firm resolution on the matter.
With his lips pressed into a tight scowl, Ty sat quietly in the creaking carriage, arms folded, his mood foul and dark. Across from him, Greta sat still and attentive, ever so ready to fulfil the needs of her young master. She didn't speak, didn't need to. Her years of quiet observation had taught her when silence was the only service required.
'Damn being a lord.'
Authority had its perks, yes, but this? This felt more like a death sentence than a privilege. Being granted the right of command as a child might sound like a tale of heroism in songs and stories, but in reality, it was a bitter pill, choked down in silence. Especially when it ties with going to the far ends of the territory to carry out the order.
One of goblin extermination no less!
He had always known that being the bastard son of a noble family meant expectations and safety would never lean in his favour. He didn't expect it to. Yet even so, this, this was pushing past the limits of common cruel absurdity.
'Sending a four-year-old to lead twelve knights against a goblin infestation, with the goblin numbers unknown? What kind of deranged logic is that?'
It wasn't bravery. It wasn't a test of leadership. It was abstract misfortune wrapped in the guise of duty.
Still, brooding on what was already done would solve nothing. He clenched his small fists and released a long, controlled breath.
'No... No use sulking over decisions already made. If I play this well, it might just be the break I need.'
Yes, there lay a thin sliver of hope in this madness. Should he return triumphant, even marginally so, he might earn a measure of recognition. Not as a noble's bastard. Not as a child. But as someone worth noticing. Maybe, just maybe, he could change the narrative of his existence through the expenditure, grab its advantage to become more than the disposable mistake that whispered rumours always claimed him to be.
'Right. Think strategy. Focus. Survive. Then succeed.'
The overall plan had been to earn enough merit to ascend to the Lord's position. He could think of this as a stepping stone to executing said plan.
To succeed, however, he needed information. And not just about the enemy, but the men who would fight alongside him.
'Goblins...' Ty's brows furrowed in thought. 'In games, they were low-tier mobs. Weaklings. But here, they appear to be more than just unruly mobs of walking experience points.'
In this world, goblins weren't just digital cannon fodder. They were part of the Demi-kin, creatures said to be born from unholy unions between spirits and mortals. How such a thing came to be, Ty didn't care to imagine. What mattered was that goblins, as the weakest of their race, still posed a considerable threat due to their tendency to attack in overwhelming swarms.
Their raids on villages, stealing livestock and even people, were no myth. Ty had read enough and heard enough whispers to know the rumours were likely true. Goblins had a taste for human flesh. That alone made them infinitely more dangerous than their game counterparts.
'Still, the true issue isn't the goblins. It's the knights themselves.'
He needed to evaluate their strengths, understand how much he could rely on them in a real battle. Twelve knights. But how capable were they? Titles alone wouldn't be enough. He needed a demonstration.
By nightfall, the party halted to rest. Edward, the knight captain, had suggested the stop, partly for security reasons and partly out of concern for Ty's health. A tent was erected on the open plains. Ty and Greta occupied it while the knights kept watch outside, forming a protective perimeter.
"Greta," Ty said, gaze unwavering, "please bring Sir Edward. I need a word."
"Of course, young master." She bowed and exited.
Moments later, Edward ducked into the tent, removing his helmet in a show of respect. "You summoned me, young master?"
"I did." Ty's tone was calm, almost curious. "Do you think you could organise a mock battle between two of your knights? I'd like to see the strongest among them duel the weakest."
Edward blinked. That was... unexpected. "I believe I can arrange that, my lord. May I ask why such a pairing?"
"Why?" Ty smirked. "Let's just say... I have my reasons. I'll step outside shortly. Make sure it's prepared by then."
The knight captain hesitated, but finally gave a nod. "Understood, young master."
"Oh, and Sir Edward, don't hold back. I want a real display. No choreography."
"As you wish." With a bow, he departed, though questions lingered on his lips.
---
"What did you say?" Sir Harrison growled, barely containing his anger. His voice crackled like dry twigs beneath a heavy boot.
"At ease, Sir Harrison," Edward said sharply, lifting a hand to halt further outbursts.
"I'm trying, Captain, but this request, it's absurd! A duel? On the whim of a spoiled child? We're knights, not entertainers!"
"You forget yourself," Edward warned, tone edged with steel.
Harrison bit back another retort, exhaling heavily. "Apologies, Captain. I let emotion cloud my judgment."
The truth was, Harrison's resentment wasn't unfounded. None of the knights were pleased. Being ordered around by a four-year-old, even one of noble blood felt degrading. That he was a bastard child made it even worse in their eyes.
"He's our commander, appointed by Lord Verridan himself," Edward reminded, voice low but firm. "Like it or not, we obey. Our personal pride is second to our duty."
Duty. The word clung to the air like fog. Heavy, inescapable.
Harrison gave a stiff nod. "Yes, Captain. I understand."
Edward remained silent for a beat, eyes narrowing in thought. He didn't like it either. But he would not question his lord's orders. And if Tyberius wanted a show of strength, then by all that was sacred, he would get one.
Whether the boy knew what he was doing or whether he would burn beneath the weight of command remained to be seen.