“Stop! Stop, you fools! Beg for forgiveness now!”

“Otherwise, you’re all dead!”

Terrified townsfolk tried to stop Viretta and her group, glancing anxiously between them and the armed bandits, clearly fearing the worst.

Meanwhile, Viretta and Lanken exchanged looks, quietly mocking the bandits, as if thinking, What on earth are they talking about? and I don’t know. Must be weird people.

“It’s the ‘trash worse than dogs’ part you should have left out! You think just adding ‘sir’ makes it better?!”

“But that part speaks to your essence. I erred in using an inferior suffix, but you are indeed trash worse than dogs.”

Iola, who seemed the most bewildered of all, explained with the patience of a nurturing teacher.

“Wha—wha… are you actually calling us trash?!”

“No, no. I said you were trash worse than dogs.”

Viretta gently corrected the omission, demonstrating her usual politeness in speaking to her “inferiors” despite the inherent rudeness of her thought process. Her audacity and pride didn’t waver even in the face of three swords and an axe.

Iola, the “kind but brutal” type who could humiliate people without malice, was her perfect counterpart. Lanken thought that if these two ever married, they’d leave a trail of mayhem and earn a spot in history as the most infamous couple of their time.

He found himself clapping in amusement, which earned a sharp glare from the bandits. Although momentarily taken aback, he didn’t back down.

Lanken, though not as unyielding as Viretta, had a strong sense of pride. He refused to lower himself to those trying to rob him.

As a result, there was no one left to diffuse the situation, and the bandits’ stomachs began to twist in frustration.

“These wretches… Got no fear, huh? Never seen blood before? No more words. You’ll learn soon enough.”

Their commotion attracted five more bandits, one of whom was supposedly a former mercenary captain.

Four of the eight bandits gripped their weapons, and screams erupted around the market. “No! You can’t kill them here!” But Iola remained baffled.

“Why are you so angry? We neither insulted nor disrespected you.”

“You think you’ll get away with calling us trash worse than dogs?”

“If that’s an insult, then you have every right to be angry. But for something to be an insult, it needs to carry a derogatory intent, doesn’t it? I simply stated facts.”

“And how is calling us trash not an insult?!”

“Please, place your hand on your chest and take a deep breath. Inhale… and exhale.”

Unconsciously, the bandits followed Iola’s instructions, breathing deeply.

Seeing them somewhat calmed, Iola began to explain carefully, using words the bandits might understand.

“Society has generally agreed to call those who leech off others trash. So, by that definition, you are trash. And since you seem to enjoy violence, you’re also worse than dogs.”

The surrounding merchants and townsfolk shuddered, experiencing the same spine-chilling fear one feels when watching someone walk into certain doom with a smile.

Bandits might not usually kill outright, but after being so thoroughly insulted, they’d need to have no pride to let this slide.

“I understand that being called trash might not sit well with you. However, it’s a result of your choice to live as such. Why direct your anger at me?”

It was incomprehensible, even absurd, and it poured out of Iola’s mouth with a kind, gentle voice that ripped the bandits’ dignity to shreds.

“Why hold me responsible for the poor state of your life? Ah, this habit of twisting reality to protect yourself certainly suits the label of trash worse than dogs.”

A hint of sympathy flickered across Iola’s face, but that only served to worsen the situation. He nodded kindly, as if finally understanding something profound.

Even Lanken, who was generally unshakable, began to break into a cold sweat. This wasn’t a situation Viretta’s charm could easily smooth over.

A quick glance revealed Viretta subtly reaching into her pocket, apparently preparing a last-resort measure.

“Indeed. Refusing personal responsibility—how characteristic of trash. Please, continue. My apologies for the interruption.”

“Aaaargh!!”

In an instant, the bandits snapped, weapons swinging wildly as they spread out to avoid hitting each other.

“We’ve heard enough of your nonsense! If you want a lesson, we’ll give it to you, right here!”

They even graciously offered a chance for last words.

“When facing conflict, it’s better to solve problems through dialogue rather than brute force. I recommend counting to ten and approaching with an open heart.”

“Your way of talking is the problem here, you little…!”

Iola, with a look of regret, burned his last bridge of peace.

The armed bandits charged toward him.

Meanwhile, at the Medleridge estate.

The engagement ceremony had finally concluded, despite the absence of the couple. Cadellen Medleridge was busy keeping Monain from rushing out to capture Iola.

Initially, Cadellen had hoped Monain’s mercenaries would locate Viretta, but after seeing their military preparations, he reconsidered.

Monain seemed dead set on leaving Iola just barely alive, and Cadellen, fearing a permanently injured son-in-law, launched into a desperate performance.

It was only after Monain put on a near-superhuman display of skill by chopping down part of the estate’s wall with his axe that he calmed down.

“Hmph… Forgive me, Cadellen. I’ve let my anger disturb your home.”

“No apologies needed. Viretta often does the same, so we’re quite used to it.”

“Indeed. Quite fitting for a daughter who sets off to hunt dragons.”

Though meant to lighten the mood, Monain’s comment only made things worse. Sensing a dark turn in Monain’s tone, Cadellen quickly offered him a glass of whiskey and changed the topic.

“Surely they’re not really planning to slay a dragon. At most, they’ll go see its nest and come back. Once they’re there, they’ll realize it’s too much and give up.”

“You don’t worry about how she’s freely spending your money?”

“I tallied up the items they… ‘borrowed,’ and it’s nowhere near enough. Viretta may be a lot of things, but she’s not foolish. Besides, the money they’ve used so far… they won in a wager, so it’s all balanced out.”

Monain’s eyebrow twitched at the mention of a “wager” over their children’s engagement.

“You have faith in them. Your confidence does put me at ease, somewhat.”

“Even so, it is a worrying time. Security in the area is in shambles. Though she has a mercenary with her, local mercenaries can hardly be compared to those of Najin.”

“Has your daughter not trained in martial arts or magic?”

“Oh, she’s always been diligent in both, but there’s such a thing as natural aptitude. How about your son?”

In other words, she tried hard but lacked talent.

Monain restrained himself from asking why she was hunting a dragon, remembering that his own son was part of this journey.

Without dwelling on Viretta’s lack of ability, he answered with a resigned expression.

“As you know, despite being born in the mercenary city, despite being my son, my boy had the nerve to enroll in an academy of natural sciences.”

“He must excel in his studies. With your warrior’s blood, he’s bound to have strength as well.”

“As you may also know, in Najin, it’s disgraceful for any able-bodied man not to join the mercenary ranks. I’m the head of a grand mercenary band, and Iola is my only son. All I wanted was for him to become a great warrior.”

“I understand completely.”

Children rarely live up to their parents’ expectations. Cadellen, with a sorrowful look, thought of his four children, with only his third son, Dylan, meeting his hopes.

“We pride ourselves on bringing even those lacking to their full potential. There’s a reason we’re known as the mercenary city. But in the end, my son let us down and declared he wanted to be a scholar.”

“Does that mean…”

A sense of dread caused Cadellen’s throat to tighten.

“Thank you for disarming so quickly. I’m relieved you’ve managed to protect your lives.”

An 8-to-1 battle.

The bandits failed to leave even a scratch on Iola.

“My Iola is strong enough to defy even me,” Monain said with a hint of bitterness.

Iola Jin.

He was a paragon of both martial and academic prowess.