Chapter 143: Sweeping the Board
Once the paladins finally limped out of the grand hall, quiet returned to the table.
Kane rolled his shoulders, watching the solid doors click shut behind the humiliated knights.
"Good riddance," Thora snorted, leaning back in her chair.
"Agreed," Kane replied, pulling up his floating interface with a quick mental command.
’Time to spend the old guard’s retirement fund,’ Kane figured, navigating straight to the [BloodFang Market] tab.
He checked the current treasury balance hovering in the corner of his vision.
Sarah and Firlia had thoroughly purged the southern ministries throughout the morning, seizing hidden vaults of gold from corrupt officials who ignored the lake monster.
The number sitting in his interface looked highly promising.
"How much did we actually confiscate today?" Kane asked, scrolling past the consumable potions and weapon upgrades.
Sarah smirked, pouring herself a glass of spiced wine.
"Enough to buy a small country. Those southern magistrates squeezed the commoners dry for decades. We seized around forty thousand gold coins just from the local estates, not counting the smuggled silk."
"Perfect," Kane nodded, tapping a few glowing screens.
[Purchase Confirmed: Automated Ballistae Blueprints]
[Purchase Confirmed: Reinforced Ironwood Gate Schematics]
"I just bought the specs for automated ballistae and reinforced gates," Kane told Firlia, dismissing the interface.
"Send a runner to the blacksmiths and the carpenters. Tell them to start building these immediately."
Firlia jotted the order down instantly, her quill scratching sharply against the parchment.
"They will need extra hands to mount those ballistae on the walls before winter hits."
Before Kane could assign a specific work crew, a loud commotion echoed from the outer courtyard.
Shouting voices breached the palace walls, followed by the distinct clanking of drawn steel.
Lyssel peered out the nearby window, her elven eyes narrowing.
"Looks like someone didn’t get the memo about the regime change."
Walking over to the glass, Kane looked down at the stone courtyard.
A plump, red-faced man wrapped in expensive velvet robes stood right in the center of the training grounds.
Surrounding him were about twenty mercenaries, all holding swords and looking remarkably smug.
Nadia and her newly formed rebel militia had formed a perimeter, but they were hesitant to engage fully armed mercenaries without official orders from the warlord.
"Who is the screaming plum down there?" Kane asked.
Sarah stepped up beside him, sighing deeply.
"Magistrate Voren. He used to control the southern tax routes. I froze his personal accounts this morning and fired his entire staff."
"BARBARIAN!" Voren screeched, his voice cracking as he pointed a chubby finger up at the balcony.
"COME DOWN HERE AND FACE A TRUE NOBLE!"
’Twenty guys with standard swords,’ Kane noted, genuinely baffled by the sheer delusion on display.
’This guy really skipped his tactical classes. Greed makes people completely blind to reality.’
"I will go handle it," Kane said, turning away from the window.
"Want me to bring my spear?" Thora offered.
"No," Kane declined, leaving Mjoldr leaning against the table.
"Stay here. Drink your tea."
Walking casually down the grand staircase, Kane pushed open the main courtyard doors.
The sun hit his scarred face as he stepped out onto the cobblestones, his posture completely relaxed.
Seeing the warlord emerge unarmed, Voren puffed out his chest proudly.
"You thieving savage!" Voren spat, stepping safely behind his wall of hired guards.
"You sent your harlots to raid my estate! That gold belongs to my family line! Order your wenches to return every single coin, or my men will slaughter your little rebel friends!"
Kane didn’t shout back. He just walked down the stone steps at a leisurely pace, keeping his hands empty.
His relaxed posture confused the mercenaries. Tightening their grips on their hilts, they shifted nervously, glancing at each other.
"You must be Voren," Kane said, stopping a few feet away from the mercenary frontline.
"Lord Voren to you, savage," the magistrate corrected, practically vibrating with rage.
"Are you deaf? Give me back my treasury!"
"Your treasury?" Kane tilted his head.
"You mean the taxes you stole from the farmers we met yesterday? The ones starving while you eat roasted pheasant in a mansion?"
"That is the natural order of things!" Voren yelled, his face turning an even brighter shade of red.
"Now, surrender the gold!"
Shifting his gaze, Kane looked directly at the lead mercenary.
The hired sword was a scarred brute holding a broadsword, looking far too confident for his own good.
"You getting paid well for this?"
"Better than you can afford," the brute sneered, raising his blade to point it right at Kane’s chest.
"On your knees, barbarian."
’Too slow,’ Kane thought, reading the man’s sloppy stance instantly.
Kane moved.
Without tapping into his berserker skill, he simply closed the distance in a fraction of a second.
The mercenary barely registered the blur before Kane grabbed his wrist. A sharp twist forced the broadsword right out of the man’s grip.
Catching the falling blade with his free hand, Kane slammed his knee directly into the mercenary’s ribs.
Bones cracked loudly in the quiet courtyard. The brute collapsed onto the stones, gasping for air and clutching his ruined chest.
Flipping the stolen broadsword casually in his palm, Kane stepped over the wheezing man and stared directly at Voren.
The remaining mercenaries froze completely. Nobody wanted to be the next one to test the warlord’s speed.
"Kill him!" Voren shrieked, backing away fast, his velvet robes dragging on the dirt.
"I pay you to fight!"
None of the hired swords moved an inch.
"Looks like your budget just ran out," Kane observed.
Closing the gap in three long strides, Kane grabbed Voren by the collar.
The plump noble squeaked, his arrogant bravado vanishing instantly as he dangled from Kane’s grip.
"You cannot do this!" Voren stammered, his face turning pale with sudden terror.
"I am a nobleman! You need me to run the trade routes! You need my connections!"
"I really don’t," Kane replied.
Swinging the broadsword in one clean, effortless arc, Kane severed Voren’s head.
Slash.
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