The Grand Duke's Soulmate
Chapter 431: A Bloody Retribution (I)

Chapter 431: A Bloody Retribution (I)

"Cheers!"

Ivar raised his drink high, and the sound of clinking glasses echoed through the dining area of the tavern. He and his men were enjoying a blissful night out, revelling in the fortune that had come with overseeing the business of the Count of Abinair in Gantz.

Business had been booming, and escorting goods and traded items between Cassian and Dracor had become less challenging compared to their previous tasks in the county.

With the collaboration between the Count of Abinair and the Grand Duke of Gerhard, interest from the Cassians surged, and their lord enjoyed special prices for most goods by leveraging Kyren’s name.

The Grand Duke was highly respected, and merchants in the plaza, as well as those visiting Gantz, began establishing business connections with the count for mutual benefit.

Kyren was trusted and reliable, not only because of his royal lineage but also due to his tremendous contributions to the kingdom, fostering reciprocity and popularity.

All in all, the Count of Abinair had significantly benefitted from these engagements, allowing his business to grow rapidly.

As Ivar poured another round into his glass, a companion stopped him just as he was about to bring it to his lips.

"You need to stop now. You’ve had enough. We have to travel back to the mansion tomorrow morning to deliver some goods our lord has purchased. If you keep drinking, you might not wake up early, and the trip could be delayed. He will be furious," the man reminded him.

Ivar growled in dissatisfaction, but his companion was right. The Count of Abinair was particular about his business affairs.

He had once been cautious with spending and reluctant to offer generous remuneration, but now that business in Gantz was thriving, the knights were receiving good pay and luxurious treatment.

Getting on the bad side of the count wouldn’t serve them well. More mercenaries were eyeing the opportunity to serve him, though none were as competent as Ivar and his team.

Losing their position could strip them of the luxuries they had grown accustomed to, and he could not allow that.

"Fine! Let’s go back and get some sleep," Ivar said with a grunt.

He disliked being ordered around, but serving under the count offered more benefits than drawbacks, so he had to endure the less favourable aspects of the job.

Standing up, he raised his hand to signal to his men that it was time to leave. They finished their last drinks and exited the tavern after paying for their meal and beverages.

The night was dark, but the streets were illuminated by lampposts, guiding them back to their lodging next to the count’s shops.

The air was crisp, shrouding the quiet atmosphere of the night as the city’s occupants slumbered in their dreams. Only a few remained awake, primarily those working night shifts. Occasionally, the barking of dogs broke the stillness, echoing through the surroundings.

The group of knights walked through the chilly streets, their shoulders hunched as they pulled their robes tighter against the biting wind.

As they ventured further and turned to a more secluded and quiet road, Ivar heard a rustling sound as if someone was tailing them. He turned his head swiftly, his dark eyes scanning the shadows for any lurking figures.

"What’s the matter?" asked one of his companions.

"Someone is following us," Ivar replied.

His men turned around, gazing carefully, but all they could see was the calm night around them.

"You’re probably hallucinating. You had too much to drink!" his companion said after confirming that no one was behind them.

It would be odd for someone to follow them in this relatively safe plaza, where guards patrolled regularly.

Ivar took a deep breath, still doubtful. Although he had enjoyed his share of alcohol, he felt sober and alert. A sense of foreboding washed over him, his mercenary instincts kicking in, but he couldn’t pinpoint the source of his unease.

"I don’t think so," he insisted. "What do you—"

’Heukk!’

A gasping sound cut through the air, and Ivar turned around before he could finish his sentence. To his shock, one of his companions, Josh, who had been walking behind him and the others, had vanished into the dark night.

"Where the hell is Josh? Wasn’t he with us just now?" Ivar asked, bewildered.

The group exchanged confused glances, realising they hadn’t noticed when their companion had disappeared.

"I don’t know. Was he puking somewhere in the back alley?" another companion suggested. "Let me go check."

The knight moved back toward a small path between two buildings.

"Josh! Are you there?" he called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

There was no response, so he went into the dark passage while the others waited at a distance.

"Josh! Jo-aaaaa!"

A sharp scream pierced the night, reverberating off the alley walls and sending panic through Ivar and his men. They immediately rushed to the scene, but when they arrived, no one was there. Another companion of his had suddenly vanished into thin air.

"Somebody’s attacking us! Arm yourselves!" Ivar shouted as he assessed the situation.

He withdrew his sword, vigilant and ready to fight back. Despite the darkness, his keen eyes scanned for any movement.

Suddenly, a group of masked figures emerged from the shadows, their presence startling him and the others. Armed and skilled, they began to attack Ivar and his companions in the ambush.

Honed with proficient handling of their weapons, these men forced relentless attacks on them. Their blades swung in the air, striking the Knights of Abinair with a terrifying level of expertise.

Their skill with weapons was not arbitrary as they bludgeoned towards their enemy with determination. Screams echoed through the alley, mixing with the harsh clanging of swords as the two groups clashed in close combat.

Screams echoed through the alley, intertwining with the harsh clanging of swords as the two groups clashed in brutal close combat. The attackers moved with a ferocity that left Ivar and his men little opportunity to retaliate.

One by one, his companions fell to the relentless assault, and Ivar found himself at a loss, unsure of who these formidable foes were.

Fearing for his life, he sprinted toward the main street, desperate to escape the chaos. However, just as he reached the alley’s exit, a powerful kick struck his face, slamming his head against the wall with a resounding thud.

The impact sent sharp pain radiating through his head, followed by a wave of dizziness that engulfed his senses. His body staggered despite his efforts to remain upright.

The world spun around him, his balance getting off, and the strength within himself started to dissipate. Before he knew it, his body went limp, his vision darkened, and he slumped to the ground, motionless.

***

’Thud!’

A hard kick landed on Ivar and his men’s abdomens, jolting them from unconsciousness.

Pain radiated from the impact, mingling with the soreness from the earlier beating they had endured in the alley. Waking up, Ivar and his men exchanged bewildered glances and turned their heads, taking in their surroundings.

They were tightly bound and gathered under a tree in the middle of an unfamiliar forest. The dim light made it difficult to discern their exact location, though the first orange rays of dawn had already filled up the sky.

Based on the time since their capture, they had indeed lost consciousness for several hours and been taken far from the plaza.

Ivar struggled to free himself from the knots securing him. His men attempted the same, but their efforts proved futile.

Another kick struck Ivar’s face, sending him tumbling to the ground. He groaned in pain, tasting metal in his mouth as warm blood trickled down his lips.

Huffing from the torment, he paused before lifting his head and sitting upright, only to find the masked attackers surrounding them.

"Who... who are you?" Ivar shouted, his voice wavering.

The tallest of the attackers stepped forward while the man who had kicked him earlier moved aside, giving way to the apparent leader.

Though the dim light obscured his features, Ivar sensed a majestic aura emanating from him, a strong presence that demanded attention.

"Name," the tall man stated.

Ivar was initially confused by the command. Ignoring the man’s words, he struggled again and shouted again, "Let me go! I swear, I’ll kill you if you—"

’Pap!’

A slap landed on his face, stinging his skin and buzzing in his ear.

"He asked you for your name, idi*t!" the man beside Ivar yelled.

Searching for the speaker’s face, the knight received another slap for his trouble.

"I-Ivar Royd! I’m a Knight of Abinair from Dracor! Please spare me!" he pleaded.

The tall man chuckled, turning to his comrades.

"I thought you said he was a skilled mercenary. Yet here he is, begging for freedom after just two slaps and a kick."

He turned back to Ivar, smirking beneath his mask. "He sounds so pathetic to me. What a scumb*g!"

"Let us go, please! We can give you what you want! We have money, and you can take it all!" one of Ivar’s men begged desperately.

He was in a beaten state, his body aching from the attacks he had endured in the alley.

Bound and at the mercy of his attackers, Ivar’s mind raced. The tall man’s companion somehow knew he was a mercenary—a piece of information that only a few, including his own men and the count, were privy to.

Could this group be his rivals from the past, or perhaps mercenaries hired by the families or acquaintances of those he had assassinated during previous missions?

Ivar was confident that each task he executed had been ’clean,’ with no trace or witnesses to lead back to him. So how had these men found him?

"Look! The mercenary job I took was a long time ago! If you’re here for vengeance or have been hired for that purpose, let’s discuss this first! As mercenaries, we should support each other!" Ivar pleaded.

Kiev let out a hearty laugh.

"He thinks this is about his previous occupation! How st*pid and clueless can he be?"

"Dumb*ss!" Noah muttered under his breath, trying to suppress his urge to shout, as he was vigilant that Ivar might recognise him.

But then, Kiev turned to him and said, "Go ahead. You can hit and curse him all you want. I’m giving you the privilege to go first since I’m still savage. Don’t worry about anything else. Just leave him alive for me."

"Shouldn’t we be more cautious on this?" Damon interjected.

"Don’t worry. Even if they know who we are, there’s nothing they can do about it," Kiev replied confidently. "You can remove your masks. These b*stards need to know who will beat them to a pulp."

One of the masked men stepped forward, kneeling before Ivar with one knee on the ground and the other propped up, his arm draped over it. He pulled down the mask covering half of his face, revealing himself.

As the morning light broke through the trees, illuminating the forest floor, Ivar saw the man’s face. His racing heart almost stopped immediately as he could see a dangerous smile spreading across the man’s lips.

His eyes widened in shock as he recognised the figure.

"Noah!"

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.