Daemon, holding the warm body of the beautiful tavern owner, climbed the stairs in big strides. Guided by Cassie, they entered the innermost room on the upper floor. He rudely kicked the door open and tossed the stunning woman onto a large bed in the center of the room. In a flash, he stripped off his clothes and pounced on Cassie. For a while, the room was filled with passion and heat.
After the storm passed, the room finally quieted down. In the tranquil stillness, only the sound of their breathing remained. Soft moonlight streamed through the lattice window. Cassie clung to Daemon's left arm, her cheeks flushed, making her look even more radiant and alluring. She wished time would stop at this very moment.
Daemon, having released his pent-up desires, felt relaxed in both body and mind. He suddenly recalled the black cigar stub in Uncle Joshek's drawer, said to be a "cigar," a gift from the baron. Uncle Joshek would light it after meals, take a couple of puffs, then extinguish it and save it for next time. Daemon remembered the satisfied look on his face after smoking.
A cigar right now... that would be perfect, he thought.
The alluring tavern owner lazily snuggled into Daemon's chest, like a tame and gentle bird. Daemon held her back. He wasn't a saint, but he wasn't heartless either. Before, he had hesitated to help her because they were strangers, any goodwill had been used up during that earlier confrontation. But now that they had this kind of relationship, he had to start thinking about her future. He didn't want this woman to end up on the streets.
As Daemon pondered the future, Cassie rested in his arms, enjoying the warmth of this younger man. Noticing the frown on his face, her heart ached a little. Softly, she said, "There's still enough ale in the tavern to last a week. If no one comes to steal, I can make a decent profit. I'll take the money and go find work in the occupied zones. You don't need to worry about me."
Still lost in thought, Daemon blurted out without even thinking, "Impossible. At most, you'll earn two Silver Stags in a week. What good is that?" It was the truth. In the heartland of Storm or back in Daemon's home village, that could support one person for months. But in the occupied zones? Forget it. The savvy elite had already seen that Gizatown was finished. Merchants and aristocrats were pouring into Peters Territory, seeking Faustan citizenship. Even Gizatown's own nobles were rumored to be surrendering. Prices there were as high as any capital, even rivaling Florens itself. With that kind of money, she'd be lucky to last a week.
Hearing this, Cassie went quiet, instinctively tightening her embrace. Daemon realized he'd struck a nerve with this beautiful woman and quickly comforted her. "Don't worry. I'm not the kind of man who walks away after one night. I'll help you."
"Really?!" Cassie asked eagerly.
"Of course. I'm working on a plan," Daemon said.
It had been so long since anyone had truly cared about her. Those who pretended to care always had ulterior motives, either for her body or her money. Though it was possible Daemon had acted partly out of desire, she chose not to believe that. She wanted to be his woman. After all, who wouldn't want a man with strength and potential, even if his power was still small now?
"You've been the kindest person to me in years," Cassie murmured. "I don't want anyone else. Let me be your lover."
Daemon heard her clearly. So this wasn't just a fling, she truly wanted to be with him. What man wouldn't want such a beautiful woman? Daemon was just a low-ranking soldier, with no power or status. In the past, the only beautiful women he had access to were in the supply camps, and those were dreams, not reality.
He hugged the stunning woman tightly. "Are you sure? I might die in battle one of these days."
"Don't talk nonsense! Of course I'm sure. If you die, I'll bury you and mourn you for life!"
Even though they'd only spent one day together, Cassie had made up her mind. She was sticking with this younger man.
"Hey, no one's been born yet who can kill me. Don't worry. I've seen more battles than most. I won't die that easily," Daemon grinned.
"Mmm..." Cassie softly responded.
Excited by each other's affection, they lay in bed chatting about their pasts. Daemon learned that her name was Cassie, she was 23 years old, born in the town. Her parents had died of illness when she was young, leaving only her brother. She supported herself from a young age, selling the furniture her brother made, stools, tables, and such. Smart and streetwise, she also worked part-time at inns and learned some reading and basic arithmetic. At 17, she married a tavern owner through a matchmaker. But less than a year later, war broke out. Though she had the talent to run a business, four years of war, chaos, and poverty crushed her spirit. Her husband never truly cared for her and eventually abandoned her. She thought this was how her life would end.
Daemon was deeply moved. Compared to her, he had it easy. He still had his parents and a sister who loved him. And he was a man, it was easier for him to survive. How did this woman carry such a heavy burden?
He held her close and promised not to let her down. He told her about himself, 18 years old, from Mapleleaf Village in the Kenning Territory of Storm's Delt Province. He had loving parents and a sister. When Cassie heard he had already been a soldier for four years, she was shocked, but it made sense. No wonder he was already a squad leader despite his age.
Still, the age difference bothered her. Daemon didn't shave like most soldiers, and years of battle had made him look mature. She had noticed he was younger, but five years younger? My god, she thought, I'm like an older sister!
Daemon could sense her discomfort. But he didn't care. He even began calling her Cass.
"Don't call me that," she protested. "Only my brother or old relatives used to call me that when I was a kid. You're too young, it feels weird."
"Nope. I'm your lover now, aren't I? That's what I'm calling you," he laughed. Cassie had no choice but to give in.
After learning about Cassie's background, Daemon realized that beneath her softness was real talent, especially the fact that she was literate and could do math. Daemon was functionally illiterate. He could barely write his own name and could only do simple addition or subtraction. Anything more complex? Forget it.
He decided to confide in her about his promotion troubles. If he wanted to support Cassie properly, he needed to become a first-class soldier and a squad captain. Only squad captains and higher had enough power and prestige to keep a lover during wartime without being criticized.
So he told her about the upcoming squad leader election and the imminent assault on the city of Faircastle. Cassie was initially shocked but quickly realized what it meant, Daemon was truly treating her as his woman, not someone to be discarded. He told her outright: he could only protect her in this war-torn world if he was promoted.
Immediately, Cassie assumed the role of supportive partner. She questioned him carefully about the chain of command and his personal connections in the camp. Daemon told her everything, he trusted her, and besides, nothing he said was top secret. Anyone clever could figure it out.
Once she had the picture, Cassie gave him her blunt assessment: "You need to grab onto Young Lord Solon."
"Your camp has the strength of a battalion, and its top commander is Baron Kenning. Even the battalion commander is a knight under the Baron. So if you want to climb higher, you need to rely on the Baron. Isn't military merit just a matter of his word?" Cassie said.
"So I need to align myself with Young Lord Solon? He's the eldest son of the territory, very likely to inherit the barony. Getting close to him now, while his influence is still growing, might earn me his favor and mentorship," Daemon responded quickly, picking up on the real reason behind Cassie's suggestion.
"Exactly. From what you've told me, the most powerful figure in your camp is the Baron, followed by the battalion commander and then Young Lord Solon," Cassie explained. "Since the Baron and the commander aren't involved in the squad leader election, your best bet is to latch onto Solon. I even think this whole election is the Baron's way of building a team for Solon."
Cassie, having grown up in the streets, had a sharp sense for social dynamics. Daemon remembered hearing from Warner that the third and fourth squads might be merged, and a new squad might be created. He had laughed it off at the time, but now, with Cassie's analysis, it all started to make sense. If a new squad was indeed being formed, and both the squad leader and deputy were vacant, then wouldn't it be the perfect setup for Solon to build his own team?
This realization hit Daemon like a bolt of lightning. He kissed Cassie excitedly and shared the squad merger rumor with her, which further confirmed Cassie's theory.
"But why would the Baron start building a team for Solon so early? Isn't the Baron's second son managing the territory back home?" Daemon still had some doubts.
"There are plenty of things we'll never understand. Why bother worrying about that?" Cassie gave him a sideways glance. "What you need to focus on now is climbing the ranks, so our future can be better." Though sharp and smart, Cassie was still a commoner, raised in a humble environment. She didn't fully understand noble affairs, nor did she dare to. In this era, most commoners feared the nobility more than anything.
Daemon wasn't overly ambitious. Being able to eat and keep his family safe was enough. But when Cassie said "our future," it hit him in the heart. He hugged her tightly and said, "Our days ahead will definitely be better."
The next day, Daemon woke up late. The reason? Naturally, the passionate battles he and Cassie fought through the night.
"Guess I'd been holding it in too long," he smiled, slapping his face to wake up before heading back to camp.
The plan was set. He'd approach Young Lord Solon. As for what gift to bring, Cassie had advised against anything too expensive or luxurious. "You're just a squad leader. You don't have anything flashy. Bring something that reflects sincerity and fits your identity. Don't overdo it. Let him see that you're useful."
Judging by Solon's record as deputy commander of the cavalry squad and his behavior in camp, Daemon agreed, Solon didn't seem the type to care about material gifts. So he accepted Cassie's advice and chose to bring two bottles of the malt beer he had drunk with Uncle Joshek. Cassie said she had only five bottles left and would need fresh wheat and other ingredients to brew more. So Daemon brought two to gift to Solon.
When he returned to their squad's tent, it was a mess inside. He could hear the noise from far away. On duty at the entrance was Peter, a young squire with bright eyes, Karlon's tagalong and a dedicated archer.
"Lord Daemon! You're back!" Peter called out loudly, startling Daemon as he reached the entrance.
Daemon shot him a glance. He didn't need to ask what kind of nonsense Peter had been stirring up. Without a word, Daemon lifted the curtain and stepped inside.
"I bet Daemon is still plowing the tavern owner's field!" Karlon's voice rang out excitedly from across the tent. Clearly, he hadn't heard Peter's warning. With his back to the entrance, he was enthusiastically miming his latest fantasy to the other squad members.
Daemon silently walked up behind him. The rest of the squad fell quiet, smiles fading. Karlon, being a seasoned scout, sensed the mood shift and reacted instantly, diving forward to dodge Daemon's sweeping leg strike, then rolling left like a slippery eel to evade Daemon's stomp.
Daemon, being a second-class soldier on the verge of promotion, was no slouch. Even the stomp he made in haste raised a cloud of dust and let out a heavy thud.
"Whoa! Cool it, boss! I was just joking," Karlon laughed nervously. He knew when Daemon was serious, and he also knew he stood no chance in a brawl. What archer ever won a fistfight? He wasn't stupid enough to get pummeled.
"Heh, at least you haven't gotten rusty," Daemon said, letting it go since Karlon had dodged both moves. This guy's like an eel, Daemon muttered to himself.
"Alright, enough joking. Yard, after training, take Philip and the others to the Green Palm Tavern and keep things in order," Daemon instructed.
That one sentence said a lot.
First, assigning his men to keep order in town was already beyond a squad leader's typical authority. It hinted that Daemon was serious about becoming a first-class soldier or even a squad commander.
Second, he said "for the next few days," which implied that the unit would soon be on the move. In a military camp, most people had a decent idea when something was coming.
Finally, it was Green Palm Tavern. And since Daemon had been gone all night, the men easily put two and two together. Their boss had probably hooked up with the alluring tavern owner. Now that he was sending them to protect her? That meant she was family now, their sister-in-law. It also strengthened their loyalty and cohesion as a squad.
Daemon didn't just assign Yard and the others because they were strong enough to deal with local thugs. Sure, he wanted to protect his woman, but he also needed to keep a low profile. He wasn't a squad commander yet. Plus, sending newer soldiers helped them gain experience. Most of those squires had been peasants just a year or two ago and hadn't seen enough combat. Fighting local punks would toughen them up. The beatdowns from yesterday only looked fierce because Daemon and Karlon had been leading the charge.
Those who had been with Daemon long enough understood the meaning between the lines. And for those who didn't? They'd get filled in during the evening gossip.
That was Daemon's strength, sharing just enough insider info to prepare his men, boost their morale, and signal that his promotion was close at hand.
Around 3 p.m., Daemon arrived at the camp's central area, where the Baron, the battalion commander, and Young Lord Solon resided. As the Baron's eldest son, Solon had no fewer than two squads guarding his tent. And that was just the visible security, there were surely experts hiding nearby too.
Daemon asked the guards to announce his visit to Young Lord Solon, then waited outside. He'd come alone, carrying only two bottles of beer in glass bottles. This had been carefully planned with Cassie. Solon wouldn't care for flashy gifts, and Daemon had no way of acquiring any anyway. But two good bottles of ale? That would show sincerity and provide a natural way to talk and offer loyalty, without being seen as improper.
After the routine body check, the guard returned and invited Daemon in. Daemon nodded, straightened his clothes, and stepped into the tent.
It was his first time in Solon's quarters. He had rarely interacted with Solon, only offering respectful greetings during battles or camp routines. His impression was of a strong, easygoing noble who didn't look down on commoners. Solon fought alongside them and had formidable strength. He was a genuine warrior, one of those who had trained in battleforce, like Uncle Joshek.
By Daemon's estimation, he might barely be able to fight Solon to a draw.
That in itself was remarkable. To battle someone trained in force while not having learned it himself was the equivalent of punching far above his weight. Of course, Solon was a noble and the Baron's heir, he had access to martial training from childhood. But Daemon had carved his strength out of blood and battlefields, earning the right to be seen as an equal, even without noble blood or resources.