Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 174

The news that Leon had finally woken from his recovery sleep spread widely and quickly.

Al Razzaz, worn thin from returning displaced tribes to their lands and mediating the frictions that arose in the process, immediately dumped the work on his subordinates and returned to the city, Nuas.

For the infamous “Tyrant,” known for his arrogance, to go out of his way just to meet someone alone said everything. Even those who knew little of the raid campaign’s details now knew Leon’s name. Unwittingly, Al Razzaz had only raised Leon’s renown further.

Al Razzaz burst into the room, greeting him loudly.

“Hahaha! My brother, you’re finally up!”

“Chief Al Razzaz...?” Leon said with a confused look.

“Bah! I told you to call me brother!”

Leon asked with an embarrassed look, “I heard you’d gone far away?”

Al Razzaz chuckled and replied, “When the savior and hero of the Great Desert wakes up, someone of my stature should at least show his face, no? I feel quite sorry I wasn’t by your side while you were resting.”

“That’s nonsense. I was the one lying knocked out for four days in the middle of your busy affairs. I should be the one apologizing.”

“Hoh, ever the modest one.”

Leon’s courtesy made even Al Razzaz feel secretly pleased. As the chief of the Bedouin, lingering by a sickbed for days would have been absurd. So, when Leon himself said out loud that it was his fault, it became a defense instead of an excuse.

Relaxing at the softened mood, Al Razzaz glanced around and remarked, “I don’t see that wolf bastard. Hasn’t he come yet?”

“Ah, about that...”

Leon recalled what he had heard just the other day. For some reason, Varg had hurried back to the Great Savannah with the elites of the beastkin. Since he had dragged even the Twelve Tribes’ leaders along for this battle, he said he had to return as soon as possible.

Leon also remembered Hati’s words—that she was not worthy to face him again yet—but he still didn’t know what she meant. El-Cid only chuckled again, but just like before, he offered no useful advice.

Al Razzaz spoke as though he understood.

“I see. Different from us, then. The Twelve Tribes can rally around the Fenrir clan, but they aren’t bound by subordination. No wonder some want to look after their own first.”

And he was right. Despite the title of Beast King, the Great Savannah’s system was far removed from any absolute monarchy. The strong never respected the weak.

Varg and his clan commanded respect only because their ancestors had been strong, and they themselves remained strong to this day. If they ever lost that strength, their position at the top would surely falter.

Leon, however, wasn’t worried.

Aside from Urakan, I haven’t seen anyone who could threaten the Beast King, anyway.

Since reaching the level of Aura Master, Leon could sense strength more clearly. Varg was stronger than Leon had expected. Even Al Razzaz, sitting before him now, impressive as he was, couldn’t match the sheer weight and depth of Varg’s presence that Leon felt through his skin.

Leon’s role as a key player against Nephren-Ka had ultimately been a matter of Aura attribute affinity. With his newly awakened Aura-Blade, he still couldn’t hope to surpass men like them anytime soon.

Just then, a voice called from outside, making Al Razzaz scowl as he shouted back.

“Chief! Are you here?”

“What is it! I told you not to disturb me with trifles!”

“The High Elder says it’s an urgent matter!”

“Does that old fool never take a nap, or anything? I thought that was what they’re supposed to do!”

Even the “Tyrant” couldn’t simply ignore the High Elder. After grumbling, he turned back to Leon.

“Tch, apologies, my brother. I’ll need to step out. If it turns out to be nothing, I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time, Chief. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“Thanks for saying so. Ah, right.”

With a look of recollection, Al Razzaz rummaged in his robes and produced two scrolls, handing them to Leon. They weren’t paper, but parchment. They were more durable, and their only weakness, moisture, was rare in the dry desert.

Leon blinked at them, unsure, asking, “What are these?”

“My token of sincerity. Your ladies can explain.”

Patting Leon on the shoulder a few times, Al Razzaz left with the messenger. Moments later, Elahan and Karen entered, carrying a tray of light food. They quickly spotted the scrolls on the bed.

“Hero Leon, those scrolls...?” Elahan asked.

“The chief said they were his token of sincerity. Do you know what they are?”

“Ah, so that’s it. I thought it would take longer, given the matter.”

Karen nodded in agreement and said, “I didn’t think they’d reach a conclusion in just a few days, but I suppose they hurried for your sake, Leon.”

“So, what do they say?” Elahan asked.

“A non-aggression pact and mutual cooperation treaty,” Leon read the title of the parchment. “What is this...?”

His eyes went wide at the absurd words. Karen chuckled and unfurled the first scroll.

Tiny letters covered the parchment. Leon skimmed the text up and down, his jaw dropping.

Karen smiled at his reaction and explained, “Remember, the reason we came here in the first place was the Guild’s quest: to mediate disputes between the beastkin and the nomads.”

“Ah, right.”

“So, I thought—what’s the perfect way to fulfill that request? A formal treaty. After fighting side by side, they’ve grown closer. Before that goodwill fades, I asked them to seal it with an agreement in writing.”

Thus, the beastkin and Bedouins—who once clashed every few months or years at most—signed a non-aggression pact.

The Guild’s quest of simply mediating a few skirmishes had been fulfilled on a scale far beyond expectations. Leon had proven his power in battle and achieved reconciliation between two great powers, and these scrolls were undeniable proof of that. Not to mention, enough for the Guild to promote him to S-rank.

“I never thought things would work out this well,” Leon admitted, and then pointed to the second scroll. “If one is a copy of the treaty, what’s the other? It’s not just a spare, is it?”

“Who knows? Let’s read it and find out.”

“I’m curious too,” Elahan added.

The three of them gathered around the bed and began to read the second scroll. The contents were shorter than the first scroll, but the weight of it was staggering.

By the time Leon finished reading the final line, a hollow laugh escaped him.

“This... is way too big to just call a token of sincerity,” he muttered in disbelief.

“No kidding. The beastkin and the Bedouins may be sensitive about favors and grudges, but I didn’t think they’d go this far.”

“From my perspective, it’s perfectly reasonable,” Elahan said, casually.

The second scroll was simple: a debt certificate, signed in blood by both Varg and Al Razzaz, acknowledging what they owed Leon.

It was a promise, on behalf of the beastkin and the Bedouins, to repay their debt to him. Not just with words—they pledged to lend their strength, even to fight in great battles like this one.

For Leon, who until now had only the support of the Holy Church, the significance was immense. The Holy Iron Inquisitors were powerful, but too few to wield influence on the scale of nations. With the Bedouins and beastkin at his back, the picture changed entirely.

“The Beast King already knew, and I think the chief realized who you are as well,” Elahan explained. “He may be brash, but he isn’t shallow. Supporting you means gaining both legitimacy and advantage for him as well.”

“I guess that’s true.”

It made perfect sense. With the Evil Order scheming to swallow the desert and the plains whole, siding with their natural enemy—the Hero—wasn’t just logical, it was inevitable. Leon and Karen both nodded in agreement.

“We’ll have plenty of enemies to face from here on. This is a good thing. Who knows how far Evil’s roots run? Expanding our support base can only help.”

Elite strength was valuable, but to move on a larger scale, they needed forces to stand behind them. Even in the last battle, if not for the allied army, Leon might never have even reached Nephren-Ka. No matter his new mastery, he would have been buried beneath sheer numbers.

Unless he could sweep through armies alone like Rodrick once had, Leon needed allies—those who would fight beside him and push him forward.

That was the reason behind Leon’s choice for the Hero party’s next destination.

“Let’s head back to Jugend.”

The Kingdom of Jugend. They had passed through once before, but if he was to be promoted to S-rank, he had to return. In the desert, where the Guild only had a minor branch, the procedures were blocked. He needed a high branch in a major city.

El-Cid’s earlier words also weighed on his mind. He cut in suddenly.

—Good. That’s the right call. Last time, I told you to leave it alone because it didn’t seem urgent. But Evil’s moving faster than I expected. We’ll need every tool we have to ruin their game.

And what tool is that?

—Debt.

Debt?

—A debt I left behind with that guy in life. I told him to repay me with interest, so it should have grown to something enormous by now.

Leon was about to press for details, but Elahan spoke first.

“By the way, the Empire’s been moving strangely. I heard even the Grand Church is discussing sending a cardinal...”

“The Clyde Empire?” Leon asked.

“Yes. The danger level’s been raised all the way to Level 2.”

In the Holy Church’s system, Level 3 meant a city-level catastrophe. Level 2 meant disaster on the scale of a nation.

It was a level where more than half the Iron Inquisitors had to be mobilized, and even the cardinals—each at the level of a Master—had to be dispatched. The continent stood on the edge of a storm, a powder keg ready to blow.

Elahan’s expression darkened as she continued, “Rebellions keep breaking out in the Empire’s outer provinces. Rebel and suppression forces are raiding and slaughtering each other. Civilians are forced to pick a side, and any lord who tries to remain neutral gets marked by both.”

“That’s...”

“Not normal. It’s like someone’s feeding them malice and madness. Even in situations that should have chilled their blood, no one takes a single step back.”

It was understandable for trained soldiers or knights who had dedicated their lives to fighting. They accepted death as inevitable.

However. Farmers? Lumberjacks? People who should have been too busy surviving their daily lives were throwing themselves into death without fear? It made no sense.

“And it’s not just the rebels. The Imperial court itself is acting strangely. Word is, most of the nobles who answered the Emperor’s summons to the capital have vanished.”

Leon drew the shocking conclusion himself and stammered, “N-no way.”

“Yes. The Church believes they’re all dead.”

“But why?! Even an Emperor with absolute power couldn’t execute that many lords without provoking massive backlash!”

“I can’t make sense of it either.”

Was this why he was called the Mad Emperor? Despite the eyes of the Church and factions all across the continent, no one could understand the Emperor’s actions. No one could even guess what he was thinking.

“Once we take care of business in Jugend, I’ll have to see the Empire for myself.”

Clenching his fists, Leon gazed out the window. The sky was bright and clear—so painfully different from the death and blood surely staining the Empire.

When he thought of the Clyde royal family, one name came to mind. And Leon couldn’t help but feel restless, wondering what that man was doing now.

What are you doing, Lyon?

The muttered thought, unheard by anyone, flashed in his golden eyes, lit by the sun.