Then, with an almost lazy confidence, Princess Ravenna’s voice echoed across the battlefield, amplified by the crushed jasmine flowers she held delicately between her fingers. Her words sliced through the salty sea breeze, sharp as any blade, reaching the ears of every trembling knight aboard the battered ships.
“Like Ser Jackson House over there,” she her voice a silken thread laced with venom. “Doesn’t he want to return to his sick mother?”
Jackson’s heart nearly stopped. His grip on the trembling slave weakened, his breath hitching painfully in his chest. His face turned pale, eyes wide with terror.
“She knows my name.” ringing in his head.
Worse than that—she knew about his mother. His frail, bedridden mother, tucked away in a modest cottage near Ronin Town, waiting for her son to return as a knight with tales of victory and a title to secure a better life for them both.
This was not what he had signed up for. This mission was supposed to be simple—a show of strength, a quick conquest. But now, the enemy wasn’t just outmaneuvering them on the battlefield. Princess Ravenna had already invaded the deepest corners of their hearts, turning their fears into weapons sharper than any sword.
She wasn’t done.
“Or perhaps Ser Nealson,” her voice cooed again, the casual cruelty dripping from every word. “Isn’t he expecting to become a father soon? Doesn’t he want to cradle his newborn in his arms, feel the warmth of life in this mortal realm? Or…” She paused for effect, her voice lowering into a whisper that still carried across the waves, “…would he prefer to meet them in the Celestia Castle, beyond the veil of death?”
Ser Nealson’s face drained of color. His hand trembled around the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white with tension. Jackson could see the fear in his comrade’s eyes—the same fear that gripped his own heart like a vine.
Captain Connor’s jaw clenched as he scanned the ship, his gaze shifting from one terrified knight to another. His men—his knights—were unraveling before his very eyes. Their resolve, once bolstered by pride and the promise of honor, was crumbling under the weight of Ravenna’s words.
“How does she know this much about us?” Connor’s mind raced, the realization chilling him more than the ocean spray.
This wasn’t the work of simple scouts or spies. This wasn’t a report hastily gathered before battle. No—Ravenna spoke as if she knew each of them personally, as if she’d been there when Nealson kissed his wife goodbye, as if she’d sat by Jackson’s mother’s bedside.
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
“She must already know that most of these knights are fresh recruits,” Connor thought grimly, tightening his grip on the slave he was using as leverage. “Some of them aren’t even officially knighted yet.”
And Ravenna wasn’t done breaking them.
“Do I even need to mention Dame Fedarika’s little sister?” Ravenna’s voice rang out again, soft and mocking. “Oh… how much I would hate to give the order for her beheading.”
A strangled gasp escaped from Dame Fedarika, her composure shattering in an instant. Her sword clattered to the deck, forgotten as her mind spiraled with images of her innocent sister in danger.
Jackson couldn’t take it anymore. His legs felt weak, his chest tight with dread.
“C-Captain… p-please… can we s-surrender?” he stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear.
Connor spun toward him, fury flashing in his eyes.
“Don’t you get it?!” he barked, his voice sharp and unforgiving. “If she already knew all this, she would’ve informed the Imperial Palace by now! But she hasn’t! Why? Because she needs something from the slaves! That’s why we still have leverage. HOLD THEM!”
But his words fell flat, drowned out by the growing whispers of doubt among the crew.
Then, as if to drive the final nail into their hearts, Ravenna’s voice returned—cool, amused, and devastating.
“Oh, just to be fair,” she began with a light chuckle, “the Syndicate sold you out, Captain Connor. Mr. Gorg over there was one of my informants.”
The words hit like a thunderclap.
Connor’s eyes snapped toward the Syndicate mercenaries scattered among his crew. His heart raced, disbelief mingling with rage. The knights followed his gaze, their fear twisting into suspicion.
Mr. Gorg, a grizzled mercenary who had fought alongside them, shared their rations, laughed at their jokes now stood eerily still, his expression unreadable.
“You…?” Connor growled, his voice low and dangerous.
The fragile alliance between the knights and the Syndicate mercenaries shattered in an instant. Swords were drawn—not against the enemy, but against each other. Accusations flew, voices rose, and chaos erupted on deck.
On the Port – Jola Island
Ravenna stood atop the stone walls of Jola Island’s fortified port, the breeze tugging at her dark cloak as she watched the distant ships descend into madness. A faint smile played on her lips, her dark black eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
This was her battlefield. She didn’t need to lift a sword when words could carve deeper wounds.
Breaking the morale of inexperienced knights was child’s play, especially when she had the perfect weapon—information. The Reputation System was a window into the hearts and minds of her enemies. Every point she gained from their terror fed her insight, granting her intimate details about their lives, their hopes, and most importantly their fears.
She crushed another jasmine flower between her fingers, the scent mingling with the salt air.
[Reputation System Log]
+9 Points: Knight Jackson is stunned and dreading the counterattack’s continuation.
She glanced at the log again, her grin widening. And thought “They’re falling apart faster than I thought.”
Beside her, Hughes watched the chaos below, his brows furrowed in disbelief. His mind raced with questions he dared not voice aloud.
How does she know all this? Was it truly Syndicate connections, as she claimed? Or… was it something more?
Marie’s words echoed in his mind—”Perhaps Master is blessed by the divine.”
Hughes wasn’t sure what to believe it or not anymore.
