The Regression Of A Grand Mercenary - 81 - Pig in a Person's Clothes - Part 1

The kingdom’s spring festival was drawing near—one of the busiest, liveliest times of the year. Tomorrow was supposed to be our day of travel, the moment my sister and I had planned since I shared this news with her.

We planned everything down to the smallest detail: supplies packed, routes checked, even the little things most people forget until the last minute. It was supposed to go smoothly.

But, unsurprisingly, trouble has a way of finding me at the worst possible time. Just when everything was finally set, a problem appeared out of nowhere—threatening to ruin everything.

“What? A guest? What do you mean a guest has come to visit? I’ve never heard of this.” I snapped, looking up from the budget papers sprawled across my desk. I was already knee-deep in planning for the spring festival trip, and the last thing I needed was some uninvited nuisance.

“I’m sorry, Miss Evelyn,” Desmond said, his voice taut with worry. “I wasn’t informed either. He simply arrived with his carriage and is now waiting at the front gates.”

“He? Who exactly?”

“Sir Rhoads Cyptol…miss.”

“RHOADS?!” I shot up from my chair, fury boiling up my spine. “That piece of shit is here?!”

“Y-yes…”

“Why now? What possible reason does he have for visiting me again? Don’t tell me he’s already forgotten the last time we met—when I buried my fist into that pervert’s skull!” My hand curled into a fist just at the memory, blood pounding in my ears.

Desmond gave a hesitant shrug. “Knowing the Cyptol family line and their… let’s say stubborn merchant blood, I doubt he’s given up. Not on you, miss.”

“Damn it! I thought I’d cut ties clean after that incident. How is that idiot not getting the hint?!” I slammed the table, teeth gritted. “Tell him to leave. Now. I don’t want to see his donkey-face ever again—especially not now… not when I’ve already set my heart on someone else.”

But before Desmond could carry out my order, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall.

The door burst open without so much as a knock.

And in he came.

Rhoads Cyptol.

Three years older than me, yet somehow looking less dignified than a street cur. His hair was the same dull, muddy brown as the dirt under his boots. His grin—wide, donkey-like—made my stomach turn. His stench, like a rotting skunk carcass left out in the sun, rolled into the room before him.

And his personality? The unrelenting, greasy persistence of a goblin.

Simply put, Rhoads Cyptol was the worst kind of man.

“I’ve come to grab you by the hand my love!” he said proudly as he smiled my way.

But that smile of his only made my stomach churn with disgust.

“…I didn’t invite into my home!”

“Please do not be so mad, I simply invited myself in out of respect for myself…me, a soon to be hero of this kingdom!”

“…What?”

“Now now, surely you’ve heard of my family’s achievement during winter.” he said.

“No…I don’t care less for anything that happens in your family’s domain.” I said truthfully.

“hahaha, how funny of you to say. Truly, your humor is unmatched and never changing! But since you act as if you haven’t heard…allow me to give you the honor of hearing the wonderful news!” he said snobbishly.

“…Ugh.” I was disgusted yet again by his incapability to not understand my feelings for him. That I loathe him.

Ever since I was ten years old…I thought my life was going to be filled with happiness and joy…but then came the Cyptol family who came to my sister’s birthday. They brought with them great gifts that made a strong impression on my father…

But just like me, my father too hates the Cyptols. Not because of some grand reason, but simply out of the fact that the Ambers and the Cyptols have always been rivaling families since the start of my family’s rising reputation towards the peak of merchant-hood.

Us being the richest merchant family in the kingdom, we had a lot of rivals to compete with, but the Cyptols were the most difficult one to handle. Through the years it has been hard to maintain our position…each week, there wasn’t a time when the Cyptols would come about and cause troubles for our business.

In trades and partnerships with business, like the farmers and smith-shops, we always have to look behind our backs to try and not let the Cyptols take anything away from us. And at times, they would succeed…

One day, when I was ten years old…I came to meet Rhoads and found him to be somewhat an Okay fellow…my impressions of him were not so impressive. he somehow reminded me of a pig when we first met because of how fat he was…even now, he is somewhat fat.

At that time, when we first meet, he asked me to play with him, and being rivaling families, my father was hesitant….but his father on the other hand made it a point that it was a good idea to start forming a proper bond with one another. To try and bury the rivalry…

My father, being hesitant…simply accepted and saw no harm to be done. Maybe it was a right choice then…but sadly it wasn’t.

So off we went and played.

When we went to garden, it was there that Rhoads saw a pair of wooden swords meant to be used as training weapons. Seeing that opportunity, he went and picked two of them…he passed me the other and said that we should play knights…

Looking at his expression back then, he wanted to brag as a child that he was taking lessons in using the sword…

Being a younger child, I had no experience with a sword. But I couldn’t let my father down, so I accepted.

Although I was hesitant, we fought…

And as we fought, the longer it dragged on, the rougher he got with his sword. All to a point that at his final attack, he swung his sword too hard and it struck me on my head.

I fell unconscious then and there…

I couldn’t feel anything then but the numbness of my head as well as the cold drop of my blood.

In my weak and injured self, I tried calling out to Rhoads to try and ask for help, but seeing me bleeding out, he panicked and ran away. He showed his colours then and there…truly he was a cowardly pig.

I was by myself in that garden…slowly bleeding away.

I could have died.

But luckily, my sister found me on the ground and she quickly carried me to be healed by the family’s doctor.

When my father heard of my injury, he became furious and tried asking what happened.

But the Cyptols did not explain themselves. Instead, they simply said that to be noble and high in the ranks of the world, it is simply normal to face danger.

He defended his son, saying that his son proved himself a worthy man for being able to wield a sword.

But that unacceptable reason not only fueled my father’s hate for the Cyptol…but then and there, he forcibly pushed them out of the house using his barehands. At one point, fist started flying around and punches were made between my father and the Cyptols…it didn’t take long before they were thrown out of the party. And never again were they welcome.

Yet despite the clear show of aggression towards our two families…a certain idiot could not see the truth.

Because a few years later, Rhoads came by again and made his efforts to impress me, saying that I was a gem unlike any other….but his face was still filled with arrogance. It never changed. I was still reminded of his cowardice back then.

In secret, when I was far from my father’s eyes, he would secretly come out of nowhere and try to woo me, but…all his attempts only fueled my hate.

Every visit he made simply pushed me to a brink of anger…but I didn’t want to tell my father that Rhoads was secretly visiting me. I thought back then that maybe we had a chance to form a friendship seeing as how there was value in his family…

But I was too arrogant to see that some people never change despite every chance given.

In the end, I was pushed too far by his incessant actions and I did what my father did to his father.

I punched him in the face when he tried expressing his feeling through a kiss.

I was so disgusted…I couldn’t think of anything else but to move my fist forward and crush him then and there.

When I punched him, I felt relief for once. For once, I was filled with a sort of happiness for punching such an ugly person. Inside and out.

I thought that by this action, he would understand that I hated him…that the entire Amber family hated the Cyptols…but truly, he simply doesn’t see it.

Now he stood in my room, hair like mud, grin like a wet donkey, stench that drifted in before him—the man had the courtesy of a sewer. Every time he opened his mouth I felt the old, raw anger coiling like a spring.

“Tell him to leave,” I told Desmond, voice low.

Desmond hesitated, then bowed. Before he could move, Rhoads preened and took another step closer, already oblivious. “You look angry, my dear! Let me—”

I couldn’t pretend indifference any longer. Anger was too easy; it was honest. I rose from my chair like a slow thing unfolding its claws.

“Don’t.” I warned him.

He laughed as if I were joking. That laugh, the same stupid bray from the day he tried to force a kiss on me, made my blood snap.

For a second, I considered… a polite removal, a warning. Then I remembered the garden, the blood on my face, the way he’d fled. I remembered my father’s fists. I remembered my sister’s hands as she carried me away.

This was the last time I would let him assume anything. If he wanted to come here, to make a spectacle, to remind me he thought himself a suitor—he would leave with his dignity in shreds, one way or another.

I stepped forward. My knuckles curled. The room seemed to shrink until his donkey-face filled my vision.

But all of a sudden, two men walked up behind him carrying weapons as menacing as their own presence.

From the looks of it, they were hired mercenaries…

“Please,” Rhoads said, plastering on a grin too wide for his ugly face, “let us be civil about this. Allow me to tell you the wonderful news that has graced my family.”

It didn’t seem like anything…but I can see it behind his fake smile. He was scheming something.

So I had to act.

“Desmond…please bring ‘him’ over.” I said plainly.

“…I…I understand.” he said as he understood my words.

So, I sat back down to my chair and stared at him…

He chuckled, tilting his head smugly. “You must have been quite busy not to hear.”

“What is it? Just say it already and leave.”

“You know,” he leaned closer, “I never forgot our last encounter. How many months has it been since that day?”

“I don’t care to count,” I replied coldly.

“Nearly a year, perhaps. But I remember perfectly.” He tapped the bridge of his nose with mock indignation. “It still hurts, you know. Every time I blow too hard. A lady’s punch—such a cruel thing.”

I gave no response. My silence only emboldened him.

“…”

“But much has happened since then, hasn’t it? You were kidnapped, weren’t you? By bandits. Oh, how devastated I was! I wanted to act myself, but alas, duty called elsewhere.” He sighed, placing a hand over his chest. “Forgive me.”

“…”

“Still,” he went on, “thankfully you were saved. Brought back to your family’s loving arms. Then you—” his hand gestured mockingly toward the window, “decided to waste yourself on this little agricultural project in a village. Admirable, if not…pathetic. The land here is fertile, yes, but the storms? Every two months, I hear. What a waste of your talent.”

“…”

”Well, anyway…a lot has happened in this village. I heard a lot of things. Rumors of how a villager here was able to slay a dragon…and how your family crafted an armor of that dragon’s heart. Its sad, but I wasn’t able to see the armor. It must be inside the treasury of your family’s vault isn’t it?” he said.

“…”

“Oh and I also heard about a few bandits that came here and took the village’s food supply. Thankfully, a hero came and defeated them right? After that…he made a company of sorts to help defend the village from any sort of trouble. This villager was the same person who killed the dragon wasn’t it?” he kept asking. Watching my reaction as words went by.

But I simply kept a cold face.

“…I know who he is…I know what he did…what he did to you…”

“…”

“Thill Cicial…such an arrogant runt who doesn’t know his place in the world.” he said coldly as anger starts to swell in his eyes.

“…” him saying saying his name made me clinch my fist even harder. He has no right saying his name with such malice. This bastard has no right at all.

Rhoads leaned back, satisfied he’d struck a nerve. “Anyway, allow me to share my triumph. During winter, while traveling to the capital with my father, we were ambushed. Not by a few stragglers, oh no—but a thousand bandits!” He spread his arms as though he commanded the world itself. “A thousand against us three hundred. Yet, under my father’s leadership, we crushed them. Forced them to scatter like insects. Tell me, does that not sound like the deeds of men destined for glory?”

His mercenaries shifted behind him, smirking at the tale.

“…Is that all? If that’s the case…then your worth as this so called hero barely gives about any truth.”

”Oh? And why is that?” he asked.

“Simply put….facing off against bandits does not entitle anyone to the rank of a hero. At best, you were simply guards…and those who tell you otherwise must be lying.” I said.

“Your words hurt my love…truly it does.”

“…” I was fed up with it….his words were simply not something I enjoy hearing.

And in my thoughts…suddenly he spoke up.

“Why can’t you just be happy for me, my lov-”

But I cut his words then and there.

“Listen…I am not your love? If anything, I loathe your very existence. I don’t know why or how you got the impression that I like you…but I don’t. you are very disgusting to me…it sickens me to think that I am breathing the same air as you are right now.” I said.

“…” and this time, he was the quiet one. His eyes though were unaffected.

“Rhoads…to me, whenever I look at you, you are nothing but a pig in a person’s clothes.” I said plainly.

And there….that was the final straw.

In but a fleeting moment, I could see him grabbing down to his sword in a blink of an eye and he thrusted it down to my face.

I couldn’t react…

I could only maintain my composure…

But his face…it spoke of heartbreak and hate…

Maybe he didn’t come here to convince me that he still loved me…

Maybe he came here to kill me.

From the very beginning since he came here, I was always unsettled by his intentions…and now, I was right.

I was convinced…He came here to kill me.

….but sadly, his wishes won’t turn to be true.

Before his intentions, a storm answered first.

The windows behind me shattered as a rush of violent wind burst into the room, whirling papers, overturning candles, shaking the very walls. The cold air roared like a beast freed from chains.

And in that chaos—he appeared.

Thill.

His hand caught the tip of Rhoads’s sword effortlessly, stopping it inches before my face. His expression was calm, unbothered, almost bored, as if intercepting a killing blow was no more than swatting a fly.

Rhoads’s eyes widened, his voice cracking. “Y-you!?”

“…Yeah,” Thill said, his voice steady, almost mocking in its simplicity. “Me.”