Sorcery Monarch

Chapter 17: Working for Me

 

John hurried over, glaring at the confused Leon who was pinned to the ground by Yaya.

 

His eyes widened in fury, and he raised his heavy cleaver, ready to bring it down with deadly force.

 

Leon, startled and scared, tried to raise his sword in defense, but found that Yaya had already bitten it in half.

 

All the soldiers around, even those from Leon’s own village, remained cold and silent, watching indifferently.

 

Attacking a noble was already a grave crime!

 

Moreover, Leon had attacked Matthew—a "generous," "powerful," and "well-connected" lord.

 

No one would help him; he was as good as dead!

 

Just as John's cleaver whistled downward and Yaya prepared to finish the job, Matthew called out loudly:

 

"Stop! He was under the influence of enemy magic and not acting of his own free will."

 

"But as my mother used to say, 'Death may be avoided, but punishment is unavoidable.'"

 

"As punishment for attacking me, Leon will work for me for five years, after which he will regain his freedom."

 

"Of course, during his time of service, he will receive appropriate compensation. Leon, do you accept?"

 

A glimmer of hope flickered in Leon’s eyes. John kicked his shoulder and pressed him to the ground, whispering sternly into his ear.

 

"Are you mad? You attacked the lord! Thank the gods his bonded wyrmling stopped you!"

 

"Nod your head and agree quickly! You’re lucky to be alive!"

 

"The lord sees potential in you; don't mess this up!"

 

Snapping back to reality, Leon realized what had just transpired. His face went deathly pale in horror.

 

Learning of the punishment from John, Leon nodded fervently in agreement.

 

At that moment, Leon had no idea that his original fate had been drastically altered.

 

Meanwhile, Matthew picked up the mud-caked Yaya, gently patting her head, and cast a simple cleaning spell.

 

Yaya curiously looked at her now-clean paws, her big, bright eyes full of wonder:

 

"Yaya? (Papa, is that magic? Can I use it too?)"

 

Stroking Yaya's increasingly smooth and refined scales, Matthew compared her to the wyrmlings in his memory, noting that while her physical traits were slightly inferior, her intelligence was far higher.

 

"Could it be that the life bond between us has strengthened her soul and intelligence while she enhances my body?"

 

The thought of experimenting with this connection turned over several times in Matthew's mind before he set it aside for now.

 

First, they needed to deal with the current dangers and safely return to the estate. He could investigate this further once they were secure.

 

Raising his staff, Matthew pointed it toward the battlefield in the distance.

 

Magic Missiles x4!

 

A series of arcane missiles shot forth, unleashing 40 mana points.

 

After the barrage of impacts, the ten most aggressive mutated fish-men were sent sprawling, their shattered bodies littering the ground.

 

The defensive line stabilized once more as Matthew leisurely settled back into the wagon. He knew he had to save his remaining 220 mana for critical moments.

 

Angela stood guard at his side, continuing to command the battle while ensuring no one came within five meters of Matthew.

 

The still-shaken soldiers, calmed under Angela's firm leadership, used their newly acquired weapons and reinforcements to fend off the increasingly powerful mutated fish-men.

 

Every time a shield was damaged, John and Captain Sean would charge out as the emergency team, forcing the dangerous mutants back.

 

Fresh soldiers quickly took over from their weary comrades.

 

After several rotations, the soldiers' coordination improved, and their combat effectiveness grew stronger, starting to resemble hardened veterans.

 

As the number of mutated fish-men dwindled, the pressure began to ease, but Angela grew more vigilant instead of relaxing.

 

Though Matthew’s earlier attack wasn’t her fault, she felt responsible.

 

Angela never made excuses for herself!

 

She continued issuing precise orders, ensuring no gaps in defense until the last mutated fish-man fell to a spear thrust.

 

Angela led the soldiers in meticulously clearing the battlefield, eliminating any remaining threats.

 

The battle was over!

 

The soldiers cheered in victory, relieved to have survived.

 

Ralph emerged with a disappointed expression, whispering quietly to Matthew.

 

"Lord, we recovered four magical items from the assassin, two berserker potions, six healing potions, and a teleportation scroll."

 

"We also found a spatial belt with a three-cubic-meter capacity, containing 300 gold coins, several poisons, and some supplies—no identifying marks..."

 

Stroking Yaya's slightly longer horns, Matthew nodded as though this outcome had been expected:

 

"Yes, if they were so easy to trace, then that event wouldn’t have happened..."

 

"Tally up the loot, have John and the others repair the wagons and handle the contaminated supplies. Then prepare to distribute the spoils, and let’s get moving as soon as possible."

 

Ralph, though a bit frustrated, observed the others’ excitement and kept his usual low tone, reining in their exuberance.

 

"Don’t celebrate just yet! Check your clothes and your comrades' for tears, and report immediately if you find any."

 

"Bring the bodies of the fallen, record their names and deeds. Compensation will be posted on the estate’s notice board."

 

Matthew hummed a tune, feeding Yaya strips of jerky, while watching the soldiers clear the battlefield from the corner of his eye.

 

Under John and Sean's guidance, the soldiers used their spears to poke at the corpse piles, finishing off any fish-men that hadn’t been killed outright, and cracking their skulls to check for loot.

 

One by one, the bright red flesh cores were counted and carefully tallied for everyone to see.

 

Ralph, noting the fifty flesh cores recovered, quickly did some mental math:

 

"These cores, when fully refined, should generate at least 1500 gold in profit."

 

"Combined with previous loot, the net gain should be around 2000 gold."

 

"While it’s not enough to fully recover the 3000 gold spent on supplies, the lord shouldn't face financial difficulties anytime soon..."

 

Poor half-elf Ralph, unaware of how quickly Matthew, as an Arcanist, could burn through funds, reveled in the success.

 

Along with the spoils came the inevitable report on casualties. Ralph, somewhat relieved, delivered the news to Matthew:

 

"Four soldiers wounded, none seriously, but they will require purification and cleaning."

 

"Three porters dead; their bodies have been treated to prevent mutation. Once we reach Bay Village, they will be cremated and buried. Each family will receive five gold coins."

 

"Seven porters injured. One purification potion can treat ten people. We’ll need two potions, which cost 20 gold."

 

"Overall, we’ve collected 50 flesh cores, which will cost us 500 gold to distribute. We now have 300 gold remaining..."

 

"However, due to the sheer number of enemies, it’s difficult to divide the coins evenly..."

 

"This was a tremendous victory, thanks to your leadership, my lord..."

 

Though Ralph seemed pleased, his gaze questioned Matthew.

 

"My lord, are you sure you want to distribute that much gold?"

 

"Or should I ‘take care’ of them?"