“His Excellency Duke Batla headed toward Sir Leadwell’s territory. I saw him heading there with dozens of knights.”

“Oh, is that so?” Lord Fransil and the nobles accompanying him rejoiced at the words of the wandering mercenaries. They had been ignorant of exactly where Eugene had headed toward, though they knew he was headed to the west coast. They were fortunate enough to acquire his exact location from these mercenaries.

But there was one person with a grim expression—Sir Leadwell.

‘Damned vampire! What more are you planning to take from my territory?!’

“Excuse me, Lord Fransil, but would you mind if we hurried up a little? I am worried about what that immoral duke might do in my territory,” Sir Leadwell said.

“Yes, of course. There’s nothing for you to worry about, sir,” Lord Fransil responded.

“Ooh!” The expressions of Sir Leadwell and the nobles brightened. They were glad to see their lord stepping up to his role as an important lord of the kingdom. If it were Lord Fransil, he would strongly preach the will of the west to the evil vampire duke and teach him the meaning of true honor.

The nobles were filled with expectations as they hurried their horses.

Half a day later, they encountered an unexpected group.

“Who are they? Bandits?”

“More like mounted bandits. All of them are on horseback.”

“They could be nobles from the South.”

The nobles buzzed after discovering a group of about ten mounted figures in the distance. Their appearance was much too neat for them to be simple...