Chapter 92: Hostile Reception

“Get lost! You rotten bastards!”

“Why are you harassing us when we’re just trying to live our lives!”

“What do you capital folks know? Coming here and stirring up trouble?”

“Go back!”

The shouts of several people raising hell echoed around.

The things that had shaken the carriage were fist-sized stones.

The residents of the Yates Marquisate were blocking the tax collection delegation’s approach.

It was an absurd situation.

“They must not even see the banners.”

“Yeah. We look like people you definitely shouldn’t mess with.”

As Cordell McNeil said, the escort consisted of none other than the Imperial Knights.

And a high-ranking imperial family member was with them, no less.

Even if they didn’t know much about the capital’s upper class, this reaction was highly suspicious.

It was practically suicidal behavior.

I immediately patted Cordell on the back.

“Just scare them off enough to send them running.”

“No arrests?”

“If they don’t disperse, then take them in. It seems like someone’s inciting them.”

“Aha!”

Would commoners really go that far for a noble?

It was impossible unless the lord was some transcendent level of benevolent ruler.

In this medieval dark fantasy world, exploitation was the bare minimum.

So I’d told him to handle it lightly.

But Cordell McNeil didn’t get out; he just stared blankly at me.

“Aren’t you going?”

“Why me?”

“Ah, seriously. This guy again. Need me to remind you one more time?”

His slipperiness wasn’t like some whack-a-mole game, but it felt like I had to bonk him on the head with a hammer every time.

Cordell McNeil cleared his throat awkwardly and opened the door.

“Ahem! You’re being awfully violent — Argh!”

Smack!

Just then, a flying stone smacked him right in the forehead.

Cordell’s face turned beet red as he drew his sword.

“I’ll crush them all!”

“You looked like you really didn’t want to. Just step back. The other Imperial Knights can handle it.”

“No! This is perfect for me!”

Whoosh!

Cordell McNeil vanished in an instant.

He must have deployed the Black Agent’s skills to the max, because not even his footsteps made a sound.

Yet his movement speed was insanely fast.

He reached his target in the blink of an eye.

Then came a series of sharp noises.

Clang! Clang!

In that short time, he’d deflected all the stones.

“Stop this at once!”

His mouth said to stop, but his actions said otherwise.

It felt like he was begging them to resist a little more.

But contrary to Cordell’s wishes, the stone-throwers scattered like birds.

“Eek! It’s a knight!”

“We can’t win! Run!”

“Ugh! Spare us! We don’t know anything.”

Since they offered no resistance, Cordell could only smack his lips in disappointment.

Once the situation was cleared up, I gathered the Imperial Knights.

“We haven’t even approached the castle yet, and this is happening. We’ll need to gather some intel before moving.”

“A wise decision, Your Grace.”

“Does anyone know anything about the Yates Marquisate? Tax officials, feel free to chime in.”

I glanced around, but no one raised a hand.

How many people had even been to this eastern frontier?

The whole group was made up of capital natives.

“If it starts like this, the mission ahead will be extremely difficult.”

“We agree, Your Grace.”

“We’ll have to collect information first.”

“But we’d stand out too much.”

Wandering around in gleaming armor would draw every eye.

And they were all burly figures, to boot.

But that could be fixed with disguises.

“Pretend to be an ordinary mercenary band. Take off the armor and stow the weapons.”

“Like this?”

“Much better. Now mess up your hair a bit and smear on some soot?”

Once we erased the polished look, they surprisingly looked just like mercenaries.

They say detectives and gangsters are distinguished by the computer on the desk.

Knights and mercenaries seemed similar in that way.

“Good. Just pull the wagons in like that.”

“Do we really have to go this far?”

“You just experienced it. This place isn’t friendly to us. And we have the vile task of tax collection on top of that.”

“Hmm.”

As I explained nonchalantly, the Imperial Knights nodded gravely.

But I couldn’t send them off like this.

Knights spent their lives devoted to swordsmanship.

Could they really pull off espionage?

They’d obviously be clumsy, and one slip could blow their cover.

To prevent that, we needed a professional.

“Sir McNeil?”

“Yes? Why are you calling me all of a sudden?”

“There’s something you need to do.”

“It’s not what I think it is, right? Come on, I’m Your Grace’s dedicated bodyguard.”

“But I’m going too?”

“Ah…!”

Realizing he was trapped, Cordell’s face turned ashen.

He must have foreseen a grim future.

“Then surely not?”

“You got it right. You’ll play the mercenary captain. Here, take this.”

“No, do I really have to smear this on? There could be clean mercenaries!”

Cordell McNeil’s venomous cry.

But no one sided with him.

Soon, he seemed to realize something was off and scratched the back of his head.

“Come to think of it, I’ve never seen a mercenary like that. Especially when entering a city from outside.”

“Yeah.”

Cordell quickly deflated.

He really hated ditching his neat style.

Whether he liked it or not, I meticulously applied the soot.

This is the reserve sergeant’s camouflage cream application skill.

We all tried to pass through the gate with blackened faces.

But a guard watching us blocked the way.

“What the hell did you do to end up like that?”

“The job was rough; couldn’t help it.”

“These days, mercenaries walk around all neat. Go wash up, damn it. The river’s right outside.”

“Ah, yes…”

“Hey, pass. Go!”

Cordell McNeil, at the front, took the soldier’s scolding.

His face soured instantly.

His eyes seemed to blame me for the unnecessary soot.

I shrugged lightly and passed through the gate.

“Anyway, the result was good, right?”

“Sigh! What am I going to do with this duke? Seriously?”

He gritted his teeth and growled, but it wasn’t scary at all.

He could just wash off the stuff on his face.

Jeez, what a temper.

Thanks to my quick thinking (?), the group passed the gate without any inspection.

Now, all that was left was to gauge the public sentiment in the Yates Marquisate.

Rumors always gathered in taverns or mercenary guilds anyway.

But since we weren’t real mercenaries, we settled into a shabby bar.

The plan was to sip drinks and leisurely collect info.

Sure enough, people’s recent hot topic was the tax collection delegation.

“They weren’t satisfied with imprisoning His Lordship; now they’re coming to empty the territory’s coffers.”

“They say the capital’s where you get robbed blind. This is too much.”

“Yeah. How much has our Yates Marquisate helped the empire?”

“His Majesty is so heartless. Tsk tsk!”

The people seemed disappointed with the empire’s actions.

Rumors painted Marquis Yates as completely innocent.

I turned to the group with a puzzled expression.

“That can’t be right, can it?”

“His usual behavior was a bit…”

Arrogant and extremely violent when drunk—a classic tyrant.

That was the common evaluation of Marquis Yates.

Yet here in his home territory, even the lower classes revered their lord.

It was incomprehensible.

He was someone who committed all sorts of atrocities, claiming to be a top contributor.

“Let’s listen a bit more.”

“Yes.”

We focused on the chatter around us.

But before long, the bar fell into a strange silence.

How could a place full of drinking and talking be this quiet?

As that question arose, a shout followed.

“It’s them! The tax collectors here to bleed our country’s finances dry!”

At the sudden accusation, people jumped from their seats.

All with menacing expressions.

It made even less sense than the commoners defending Marquis Yates.

We washed off the soot, but the disguises are still on, right?

We’d just wandered into a crowded spot.

It was a place with a rundown bar setup in the corner, packed with rowdy drunks.

A tavern you could find anywhere.

So how the hell did they know we were the tax delegation?

“This situation feels really off, Your Grace.”

“I think it’s because of you, Sir McNeil.”

“What? Why me? I blackened my face and did everything as told.”

“You just did it again. ‘Your Grace.'”

“Ah?”

“How many people in the world get addressed like that?”

It was certain there were none in the Yates Marquisate.

Cordell McNeil made a dumb face.

He seemed to finally realize his mistake.

He’d been addressing me that way the whole time.

But I had no intention of blaming him.

“Just kidding. You barely used it anyway. And who pays attention to what others are saying? Everyone’s busy with their own talk.”

“Aha!”

“This seems like a planned incident from the start.”

Things had been weird since entering the Yates Marquisate.

Getting pelted with stones out of nowhere.

It felt like everyone already knew we were the tax delegation.

Come to think of it, the soldiers’ eyes were strange too.

Like they were looking for someone specific?

The info about our entry into the city probably leaked from there.

That much I could infer.

So what now?

It was right on the verge of a fight breaking out.

What good would come from fighting people who were clearly just wage workers?

Not only would our original goal of gathering info fail, but the tax mission could get harder too.

We might even get arrested as riot-starting thugs.

“Wh-what do we do?”

I frowned at Cordell McNeil’s question.

No matter how I thought about it, there was only one answer.

“Sir McNeil?”

“Yes.”

“Can you subdue them without hurting anyone?”

“That’d be tough. The space is tight, and their numbers… Roughly eight times ours.”

“What about wiping them out?”

“I could do that alone.”

“Then why hesitate? The answer’s clear.”

“Huh? You want to cause a scene here?”

When Cordell turned with a shocked expression, I smiled faintly.

Then I shrugged and said.

“We run, obviously.”

“Ah? Right?”

“Except for you, Sir McNeil.”

“Whaaat?”

“Buy us some time. While we escape.”

With that, I swiftly leaped away.

It’d be a bit rough for him, but he probably wouldn’t die.

Cordell McNeil was a Black Agent of the Imperial Knights.

He could hide in the shadows and slip away.

I roughly yanked open the bar’s back door.

Bang!

But I couldn’t just charge out.

“Why aren’t you going, Your Grace?”

The Imperial Knight following behind asked in a puzzled voice.

Instead of answering, I shifted slightly to show the situation.

Before us was a literal wall of people.

“It seems we’re surrounded.”

“Oh no! What now?”

It looked like the Yates Marquisate had come out in full force.

Determined to crush the tax delegation.

I stopped the Imperial Knights from drawing their daggers.

Then I stepped forward with a grave expression.

To resolve this crisis.

“Everyone? Can’t we just talk this out?”