Chapter 6:

4 days before the raid:

“What?!”

Vincent’s jaw dropped, letting out an incredulous gasp as Knight Blake reported to him.

Standing within his office, Vincent was aghast at the news the Knight had bore.

The merchants of Greendale were packing up and preparing to leave. Their storefronts had closed and carriages had been seen being loaded with goods.

Apparently, somebody had leaked the information of the raid.

Standing up, Vincent spoke to Blake as they strode out of the office.

“Gather the troops and prepare to march. How long will it take us to reach Greendale?”

“Milord, with our carriages and horses, we should be able to reach before nightfall. Shall I order a messenger to ride ahead and brief the garrison?”

“Yes. Tell the stablemaster to prepare my horse.”

While Blake still had doubts on letting Vincent onto the battlefield, he knew this was not the time to voice these doubts. As the duo descended the stairs, he hurriedly ran off to inform the rest of the Knights.

Striding in the Armoury, Vincent greeted the armourer, a stout, burly man with grey speckled hair.

Within a room situated in the centre of the armoury, a suit of armour stood, accompanied by a sheathed sword.

Staring at the intricate carved runes running along the edges of the armour, Vincent let out an audible gulp. This had been his fathers armour, a trophy of war that he had gained from a defeated enemy commander.

A magically engraved set of armour, the only nation that could produce it was the Corning Empire, a superpower situated in the centre of the Northern Continent. The commander that his father had looted it from had been an enemy from an unknown land, in command of a small but powerful band of troops that had managed to conquer two cities in 3 weeks. It had taken the prestigious 10,000 man strong Vanguard Legion almost a month to eradicate the threat and wipe out the invaders.

The surprising thing was, that when the Gryphon Kingdom sent an envoy to the Corning Empire to protest, the Emperor had insisted that the Empire had nothing to do with it, even going as far as swearing an oath upon his throne that the enemy had not been one of his men when seeing the corpse. Given the actions of the empire, the Gryphon Kingdom had no choice but to retract their claims, granting the set of armour to the man to slew its owner, Harry Sutton.

As Vincent donned the armour, feeling each piece slide smoothly onto his body, as if it had been made for him, he couldn’t help but wonder at its abilities.

From what his father had discovered, the armour indeed had the ability to reshape itself to its owner, as long as said owner had bound the armour to himself through letting a drop of blood fall on it.

After being bound, the armour would be unable to be worn by anyone except its owner, regardless of their spiritforce ranking. In addition, the owner of the armour gained access to a single powerful ability: Assimilation.

Abilities, granted by the runes engraved upon innate magical materials, came in many shapes and forms. The ability possessed by Vincent's armour, Assimilation, enabled the wearer to absorb certain metals into itself, increasing its toughness. At its current state, the armour had become impervious to any attacks of the Gold-rank and below, due to the materials that Vincent's father and its previous owner had invested in it.

With this, nobody can hurt me.

------

“Shit! Shit! Shit!”

Terry Fisher had never felt so anxious. Priding himself as the most successful merchant in Greendale, he had built his wealth through years of effort and under-the-table dealings.

Through it all, he had managed to keep his cool, ruthlessly maneuvering and manipulating his opponents to amass wealth for himself.

Despite all this, he almost freaked out upon receiving a letter, penned by an anonymous sender, telling him that the new Viscount had sniffed out his hidden wealth and had sent the Phoenix Legion to retrieve it.

With a plan in mind, he had spread the word to his fellow merchants, organising an emergency meeting.

Those foolish idiots

In spite of his warnings, two of the merchants had panicked, closing down their businesses and preparing to flee the town. Now, the Viscount had decided to send his men early, disrupting his plans to slip away unnoticed before the Viscount could realise.

It looks like the troops will be here before nightfall.

I’m running out of time.

The carriages and horses of those cowards have already left, leaving their wealth behind.

What if I… Yes! If I can pull this off, I may be able to salvage the situation, and maybe even benefit from it.

And, if things go south, I can always revert to my original plan.

Motivated by greed, Terry Steeled his resolve, pulling the rope mounted on the wall.

Within seconds, his secretary knocked on the door. After giving permission to enter, Terry instructed his secretary.

“Spread the word that I wish to address the town this evening. The location will be the Town square. I want maximum turnout. Every townsperson has to hear his message.”

“Yes Sir”

With his usual efficiency, the secretary exited the room, already shouting instructions to the assistants, setting off a hurricane of activity within the merchants headquarters, as runners were sent out onto the streets, hollering at the top of their voices.

Inside the room, the merchant stood by the window, watching the afternoon sun shine upon the town.

Heh. Let's see how Lord Viscount deals with this.

-------

“Milord! Knight Helix has reported that the troops on Greendale Wall have intercepted two fleeing merchants. They carried only their personal belongings and only travelled with their families”

“Then it appears that their wealth is still within the Town.”

“It would seem so, Milord. Shall we speed up the march?”

Riding atop his horse, Vincent gestured to the House Forces.

“There's no need, Blake. With 170 troops and 5 Knights, I doubt anything the merchants do can faze us.”

“Yes, Milord.”

Gazing at the men, Vincent felt a sense of power rise up within him. He felt invincible.

As the march continued, Vincent began to daydream, fantasising about how he was going to spend his newfound riches.