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Chapter – 28
For the soldiers, the Sigmund name was something sacred — noble, trustworthy, and worthy of reverence.
It wasn’t a name that a mere low-ranking soldier like Russell should be tossing around as if it were his pet’s.
No wonder Wilson had smacked him in the back of the head.
“Damn brat. You spoil him a bit and he starts getting full of himself.”
“Ugh.”
“And what, you think some knight of such noble blood would bother coming to a hole like this?”
Wilson glared at him with bulging eyes.
Nod, nod!
The soldiers all nodded in unison, agreeing with Wilson.
Fort Bowden was a small outpost made up of about forty miners who excavated magic stones, and ten or so recon troops.
Among the countless forts scattered across Kuberin, Bowden was one of the tiniest — so having a knight of Sigmund blood assigned there was absurd, to say the least.
“I’m telling you! A real knight from the Sigmund line is coming!”
“You little—!”
“I swear it’s true! I saw it myself!”
“Huh?”
“I ran into a convoy while I was out scouting!”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, sir!”
Russell spoke with desperate conviction.
“There was someone wearing the Sigmund family uniform in the convoy!”
“You sure you didn’t mistake it for something else? What would a country bumpkin like you know about Sigmund uniforms?”
“Just because I’m from some backwater doesn’t mean I’ve never seen one! I saw a Sigmund knight when I was a kid!”
“Hm.”
Wilson narrowed his eyes and stroked his beard.
If Russell had seen correctly, then maybe — just maybe — a knight of Sigmund blood really could be coming to Bowden.
“A Sigmund knight, here?”
“No way.”
“He must’ve seen wrong.”
The other soldiers couldn’t bring themselves to believe Russell either.
“It’s not entirely impossible.”
That was the voice of Kudo, the squinty-eyed veteran lying lazily to the side.
He was one of the most senior members of the recon team — educated, experienced, and respected.
“It’s safe to say no direct descendant of the Sigmund line would come to a place like this. They’re far too valuable for that. Even Dame Selena, the direct heir, is out on the front lines earning tremendous merit. But if it’s a distant branch of the family — that’s another story.”
“……!”
“Of course, they’d be nothing compared to the main line. Still, Sigmund is Sigmund. Even the most distant branch can inherit the ducal title if they prove themselves. So a branch knight would still be leagues above any ordinary soldier.”
“Oooh!”
The recon troops’ faces lit up.
If a Sigmund was really coming to Bowden, it’d be as if they’d gained a thousand reinforcements overnight — even if it was a distant relative.
“You see! I told you so! He should be here in five minutes, tops! Haha!”
Russell struck a boastful pose.
“To think we’ll fight alongside a knight of Sigmund! That’ll be a drinking story for life!”
“Sigmund! Sigmund!”
Before long, the recon soldiers were practically celebrating the Sigmund’s arrival as if it were already fact.
“You idiots, keep it down. Dame Helen might hear you.”
That warning came from the gruff voice of Begman, the middle-aged veteran known as “the Axe Killer.”
Helen was Bowden’s only knight — one who had risen from the ranks of a mere soldier.
She wasn’t a formally appointed knight, but a battlefield commission — rewarded for her exceptional service.
For the past two years, she’d led the recon team through countless near-death battles and survived them all, proving her skill and earning the deep respect of her men.
So it was only natural that Begman, who had served with her since her soldiering days, would be protective of her reputation.
“Come on, you know Dame Helen’s not the type to get offended.”
“Yeah, we’re not saying she’s not enough for us.”
“Having a Sigmund knight here would only make things easier for her, right?”
The soldiers chuckled and made excuses, trying to hide their excitement.
“Quiet! Stop flapping your mouths and show some damn respect! You brats don’t even know how lucky you are to have her as your commander!”
At Begman’s outburst, the soldiers fell silent.
He couldn’t help but worry Helen might take it personally.
‘How much farther? They said we were almost there.’
After ten grueling days of travel, Carlisle checked his map, trying to figure out where exactly he was being sent.
He hadn’t been told his destination — at all. The map was his only clue.
‘Guess they really mean it when they say “don’t even think about deserting.”’
According to the map, he was deep inside the Blood-Soaked Land of Kuberin.
Not quite the front lines, but not far from territory held by barbarians either.
Trying to desert here would be suicide. Carlisle couldn’t even fault the reasoning.
‘Hmm. But at least it’s close to the Antiros Test Site.’
[The Antiros Test Site] — one of the many hidden dungeons scattered across Kuberin. If you were lucky, you could find some amazing loot there.
‘Of course, it’s all RNG…’
There was no guarantee of anything, but since it was nearby, there was no reason not to go — if he could sneak away unnoticed, that is.
“We’re almost there, Sir Carlisle.”
“Ugh.”
He still wasn’t used to that title — Sir.
He’d been called that dozens of times over the ten-day journey, but it still made his skin crawl.
“Look ahead, my lord.”
“That’s supposed to be a fortress? Looks more like a bandit camp.”
Carlisle muttered under his breath as he gazed at Fort Bowden.
Surrounded by crude wooden palisades, it looked exactly like a mountain hideout.
Then again, with only sixty people stationed there, it wasn’t worth spending much on fortifications.
Besides, given Kuberin’s rugged terrain, there was little risk of enemy siege engines anyway.
The escort knight didn’t respond to his mockery.
In truth, the entire escort detail was tense — far more than Carlisle realized.
‘Stay sharp. You never know when he’ll snap.’
‘Almost there. Just a little longer.’
‘Please, just don’t start anything crazy!’
To them, escorting the North’s most infamous madman — who’d been eerily quiet all this time — was a waking nightmare.
Every word that came out of his mouth felt like walking on glass.
“Escort detail, halt. Bring me the commanding officer.”
As Carlisle’s group arrived, Dame Helen came out with her soldiers to meet them.
“You must be Dame Helen — standing in for the late Sir Jeffrey?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is an order from Duke Guntram.”
“Dame Helen, I receive his Grace’s command.”
Helen knelt on one knee.
“To my beloved knight, Dame Helen…”
The escort knight read the duke’s letter aloud.
It ordered her to take in a new recruit at Bowden and continue leading her men as she had before — and to read a separate, sealed letter in private later.
“…That is all.”
Once the reading was over, Helen rose to her feet.
“And the recruit is…?”
Her eyes swept over the escort unit and stopped — right on Carlisle.
“You… you’re—”
Helen flinched, instinctively stepping back half a step.
“…?”
Carlisle tilted his head, confused — then realization dawned on him.
‘Ah. Right. Because I’m that Carlisle.’
If the new “recruit” turned out to be the notorious scion of a noble house — the North’s most infamous delinquent — who wouldn’t recoil?
‘Still… from noble heir to bottom-rung grunt? That’s rough, even for me.’
Upon first deployment, every Sigmund had to serve as a low-ranking soldier until they completed their “Proof of Nobility.”
In other words, Carlisle was the equivalent of a private — the lowest of the low.
So when the knight introduced him as a “recruit,” not an officer, that was exactly what he meant.
‘But why does she look familiar…? Was she important in the story?’
Carlisle stared at Helen, racking his memory.
But there was no mention of any “Helen” in his knowledge of the game Overlord.
‘Still… I’ve seen her somewhere…’
And then — a memory not his own flickered through his mind.
The memory of the real Carlisle, the one whose body he now inhabited.
About a year ago—
“Oh? You’re pretty easy on the eyes. Hey, come here a sec.”
The real Carlisle had spotted a pretty lady and started flirting.
“What’s your name?”
“……”
“I said, what’s your name?”
“……”
“Playing hard to get? Judging by the uniform, you’re a knightling or something. Don’t you know who I am?”
Helen, who’d been visiting the capital on leave, had the terrible misfortune of catching the eye of the North’s most despicable rake.
And what followed…
‘Goddamn idiot, stop it already.’
The current Carlisle winced, watching the memory unfold.
But of course, the past couldn’t be changed.
Smack!
The real Carlisle had kept on harassing her until, infuriated by her silence, he actually slapped her across the face.
If not for a few knights who happened to intervene, it could’ve been far worse.
And now, that old grudge had come back — not for the original Carlisle, but for him.
Serving as a lowly soldier under the woman he’d once assaulted…
“…Well, I’m fucked.”
Carlisle summed up his situation succinctly.
The arrival of the convoy sent a wave of excitement through Fort Bowden.
Especially among the recon soldiers, who could hardly contain themselves.
The miners might only see combat occasionally — their job was mostly digging up magic stones.
But the recon troops? They were the ones always on the move, scouting, raiding, striking first. Danger was their daily companion.
Naturally, the idea of being led by a powerful knight thrilled them.
“Let’s go see!”
“A Sigmund knight’s coming — how could we miss that?”
“Sigmund! Sigmund!”
The recon troops rushed toward the gate, eager to greet their noble new commander.
A distinguished guest was arriving, after all — it wouldn’t do to seem lazy.
But when they finally saw who it was — the so-called Sigmund — their joy died in an instant.
“The North’s Mad Dog…”
“…We’re screwed.”
They all cursed in unison.
“Fucked. We’re so fucking screwed.”
