Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 301 : Knights Order...? (1)
Previously on Became the Patron of Villains...
Greynifra, the ancestral domain of the elves.
Deep within those borders, nestled beneath the towering canopy of the World Tree, lay the settlement of Fildagreen.
"Sigh..."
The arrival of human mages, sent through the cooperation of Alon and Penia, had recently accelerated the pace of restoration. Despite this progress, Magrina felt a pang of sorrow as she surveyed the still-scarred landscape of Fildagreen.
"Are you there?"
A sudden voice broke her reverie, causing her to turn around.
"...Oh, it’s you."
"It has been a while, Your Majesty."
Eliban stood before her, wearing a smile that suggested he had been standing there for quite some time.
Maintaining her composure, Magrina addressed him directly.
"Why did you interfere back then?"
Eliban cocked his head to the side, looking genuinely perplexed.
"To which occasion are you referring?"
He offered a casual shrug, seemingly unaware of what she meant. Magrina, however, remained steadfast and pressed him for an answer.
"When Sin appeared, why did you prevent me from acting?"
The memory remained etched in her mind with perfect clarity. When the Sin of Greed moved to strike Alon, Magrina had been prepared to unleash the power of Baarma. She was willing to expose her secret to her kin and even her brother if it meant ensuring Alon's survival. His life was the only thing that mattered in that moment.
Yet, Eliban had been the obstacle. Just as she prepared to channel her strength, he had signaled her from the distance with a calm shake of his head, effectively suppressing her power.
Eliban hummed softly, meeting Magrina's gaze with an unreadable expression.
"Even without your help, the Marquis would have been perfectly fine," he remarked airily.
"...He would have been fine?"
"Yes, without a doubt."
He gave a firm nod. Magrina searched his blue eyes, finding them filled with an unsettling, unshakable certainty.
"Have you been peering into the future?" she asked, her brow furrowing in suspicion.
"The future, you say?"
Eliban whispered the words to himself before his characteristic smile returned.
"In truth, no matter what destiny holds, my conviction remains absolute."
"...I beg your pardon?"
"My hope is not something that breaks easily," he stated with chilling resolve.
Magrina started to reply but found herself silenced. In a heartbeat, the air around Eliban had shifted. Though his face remained pleasant, a terrifying aura and a flicker of religious fanaticism in his eyes made her blood run cold.
"Ah—"
As if suddenly realizing his slip, Eliban quickly smoothed over the tension.
"Regardless, the Marquis was never in any danger. If anything, you were the one at risk of being harmed, which is why I stepped in."
"......"
"Also, I should mention that I’ve neutralized all the unusual gates. I came to deliver that report, but it seems I’ve rambled on too long."
Without waiting for a response, he began to take his leave.
"I must be off now. There is much to do."
With that, Eliban vanished as if he had never been there.
Magrina stared at the empty space he occupied. Her expression was troubled. For a brief second, when Eliban’s demeanor had changed, she had sensed a familiar presence—a specific aura she had encountered quite recently.
Lost in thought, she remained frozen, staring at the spot where he had disappeared.
***
Alon felt a heavy weight in his chest as he looked out at the massive crowds swarming the inner and outer perimeters of his lands.
"I never anticipated this many applicants..."
He had to admit that his casual approach to posting the recruitment notice for his new Knights' Order was a blunder. Because the announcement was so informal and lacked detail, he never dreamed it would attract such a massive following.
To be fair, the notice Alon had written wasn't exactly prestigious or inviting.
"Evan."
"At your service, My Lord."
"That notice we put up for the Knights' Order... it was just a basic announcement, right?"
"Indeed it was."
“Were there any extra details added? Information about pay, benefits, or requirements?”
“Nothing at all, sir. It was kept exactly as you wrote it.”
“Are you telling me this entire crowd showed up because of that one short message?”
“That is correct.”
“It’s hard to believe.”
Alon sighed, shaking his head. Evan, however, looked at him with a confused expression.
“Is it? While there are many people, I thought this was well within the realm of possibility.”
“You expected this?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But why...?”
“My Lord, did you truly think people wouldn’t come?”
Seeing the slight disappointment in Evan's eyes, Alon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“...I suppose I was wrong.”
“To be blunt, My Lord, you seem to have a very poor grasp of your own standing.”
“...Is that so?”
“Yes. Are you truly unaware of your fame?”
Alon paused for a moment before replying.
“Well, I know my name carries some weight.”
“You must be joking.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“My Lord, you aren't just 'well-known.' You are so famous that anyone in the Allied Kingdoms who hasn't heard of you would be suspected of being a spy from the Empire.”
“Am I really that renowned?”
“There are practitioners who took up the path of a mage solely because they idolize you.”
Evan didn't stop there.
“You might not see it, but your reputation is staggering. This turnout is perfectly logical. Furthermore, many knights in Caliban have already seen their strength explode thanks to the power of Kalannon, the lightning receiver.”
“Oh.”
Alon thought of the warriors in Caliban and let out a soft breath.
“So, even without promising a single coin, people would abandon everything just for the chance to be called a ‘Knight of Marquis Palatio.’ It’s only natural.”
“I understand.”
“It’s not just understanding, sir—it’s common sense.”
“I see…”
“I’ll say it once more, My Lord—you must realize who you are. Did you know that knights from Caliban have been traveling here just to bow before that statue Deus gave you? They treat it like a holy pilgrimage.”
Alon was momentarily speechless. He quickly shook off the shock to focus on the task at hand.
“...Fine. Let’s start the interviews.”
“I will make the arrangements immediately.”
And so, the selection process for the Knights’ Order began.
***
Seamus, twenty-three years old, possessed immense confidence in his mastery of the sword.
His pride was well-earned. Having trained under a hermit master since he was a child, he had never stepped foot into the wider world. He had spent his life doing nothing but honing his craft, reaching the rank of Swordmaster at an incredibly young age.
Even his master, a man who rarely gave out compliments, had praised his genius when he achieved that rank. This only served to inflate Seamus' ego.
When he was finally permitted to leave the mountains, Seamus vowed to make a name for himself through sheer talent.
The first step in his plan for glory was simple: join the Knights of Marquis Palatio.
He knew that most ambitious warriors headed to Caliban, but Seamus wanted a path that felt more unique. He was, to put it mildly, quite full of himself.
Besides, Marquis Palatio’s legend was so great that even in their mountain isolation, he and his master had heard the tales.
Without a second thought, Seamus applied. As he traveled to the Palatio lands, he envisioned his future. He saw himself becoming the Marquis's favorite, eventually outshining even the legendary five Swordmasters of Caliban.
He was certain he would pass. His master told him that a Swordmaster was a rare treasure in the Allied Kingdoms.
Full of hope, Seamus arrived for the exam.
“...?”
Something felt wrong immediately.
Scanning the other applicants, he noticed several people whose auras matched his own.
“??”
And there were far more of them than he ever could have imagined...
Being a Swordmaster himself, Seamus could accurately judge the strength of others. The realization left him stunned.
“Wait... what?”
He looked to his left and saw powerful warriors exchanging sharp, competitive glares. They were clearly high-level combatants on high alert. He looked to his right and found dozens of others who seemed to be at his level of Cultivation.
And it didn't end there.
“Is that a member of the royalty?”
“Why is a royal taking a knight's exam?”
“Look, over there—is that a mage?”
“Wait, isn't that the daughter of the Red Tower Master?”
“Hold on... I recognize that face. Is that Baba Yaga from the Colony?”
“This is insane! Why is one of Caliban’s top five swordmasters here? We don't stand a chance!”
As the whispers swirled around him, Seamus felt his world crashing down.
...Is this the standard for the Allied Kingdoms?
His once-massive ego began to shrivel into nothingness.
***
Alon utilized a basic physical test to weed out the weak before moving straight into the personal interviews.
In truth, he had wanted to set stricter criteria to limit the pool of applicants earlier.
However, he felt guilty about turning away people who had traveled so far and sacrificed so much just because they didn't fit a specific mold. He decided he would just have to work harder during the interview phase.
He called the first candidate into the room.
As the door opened, Alon blinked in surprise.
“?”
“Rim?”
“Hello there! I mean—greetings, Marquis!”
The very first person to enter was Rim, a member of the Shadow Leaves from Fildagreen.
“...What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come for the interview, sir!”
Alon bit back his immediate response.
“Don’t you already have a position with the elves?”
“I can quit!”
He wondered if Magrina had any idea what her subordinate was doing. Instead of asking, Alon simply turned the page of his ledger.
“...Please leave.”
Looking dejected, Rim shuffled out of the room. After rejecting a few more elves who had the same idea, the next applicant walked in.
“Greetings, My Lord!”
“...Filian?”
“Yes! Filian Merkiliane, at your service!”
It was Filian Merkiliane, a high-ranking noble from the Ashtalon Kingdom. He stood there with a bright, confident grin.
“Please leave.”
“Eh?”
“You are a noble of Ashtalon, are you not?”
Alon felt a bit bad, as he actually respected Filian’s skills. However, Filian was a renowned young Swordmaster and a key figure in Ashtalon. Recruiting him would be a diplomatic nightmare.
Alon dismissed him without further discussion.
Suddenly, Filian’s face turned incredibly solemn.
“Allow me to reintroduce myself! I am Filian!”
“?”
Alon stared at him, completely lost.
“I have officially discarded the name Merkiliane! I am now a commoner with no ties, so you can call me whatever you like!”
“Cough—!”
Evan, who had been lazily yawning off to the side, suddenly choked and began coughing uncontrollably.
Alon closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He could already tell this was going to be an exhausting process.