Damn, I recarneted As A Judge in Fantasy World

"Oh, it's annoying," Abel muttered with a languid expression as he got into the shaking carriage.

"No, what kind of tax collection are you talking about? That too, in the Marquisate of Yeats, which I had already tamed. When I arrive, I'm probably going to be met with resentful looks."

"I'm not used to living a life of being hated."

"That's difficult for me too," Shuguri, who was hanging on Abel's pocket, shook his head. The reason for his response wasn't because he understood Abel's predicament. Shuguri found it difficult because he had fewer opportunities to suck up spiritual energy.

"I just want to go on vacation like this."

"Then you'll have to go south. The east is far from a place for recreation," Cordell McNeil responded to Abel's monologue.

He had heard quite a bit about how the South was a great place to unwind, filled with numerous islands of diverse cultures, endless white sand beaches, and a warm tropical climate.

It was the perfect setting to experience something exotic. It had become a standard for imperial nobility to buy an island and build a fancy villa there.

'I have three, but they're all near the capital,' Abel thought. The Abel Carriers of the past wasn't interested in recreation.

"I guess I should build a villa in the south."

"Hehehe! I really hope so. I'll go with you and get some benefit," Cordell chuckled.

"Wow! I suddenly don't want to do that"

"Money is meant to be spent, Your Highness."

"I'll have to ask His Majesty the Emperor to change my guard. I don't like it when Sir McNeil eats all my money away."

"Why are you doing this? Between us?"

"What is our relationship like?"

"Close friends who share a shadow?"

"Ugh!"

Abel let out a short sigh, followed by a hollow laugh. Now, Cordell McNeil and he had become close enough to joke around like this without any hesitation, having spent so much time together.

While they were chatting, the carriage suddenly came to a halt.

They had already entered the Marquisate of Yeats, so it seemed they had arrived. Cordell McNeil naturally reached to open the passenger door.

However, Abel quickly blocked his arm, sensing something was wrong.

"Why are you doing that?" Cordell asked, confused.

"Wait a minute. Something's wrong…"

*Thud! Thud!*

Immediately afterward, a violent impact struck the carriage.

"No way! As soon as I get here, this happens!"

***

"Get out, you rotten things!"

"Why are you making it so difficult for us, who are already living well, to live?"

"What do those guys from the capital know that they came here to tell us what to do?"

"Go back!"

Several angry voices shouted outside, accompanied by the sound of rocks striking the carriage. The stones were about the size of a fist, thrown by the people of the Marquisate of Yeats, who were blocking the tax collection detachment. It was a ridiculous situation.

"They don't even notice the flag," Cordell commented.

"That's right. Just by looking at it, they should know it's untouchable," Abel agreed.

The party's escort was none other than the Knights Templar, with high-ranking members of the royal family among them.

Even if they weren't familiar with the capital's elite, the people should have recognized the danger of their actions. It was practically a death sentence.

Abel quickly patted Cordell on the back. "Just scare them enough to send them away."

"Aren't you going to arrest them?"

"If they don't disperse, arrest them. It seems like someone is inciting them."

"Ah!"

Cordell nodded, understanding.

Were commoners willing to go to such extremes for nobles? This kind of behavior would have been impossible without some unimaginable level of saintly persuasion.

Exploitation was a basic part of medieval dark fantasy society, after all.

Abel told Cordell to handle the situation, but Cordell remained in the carriage, staring blankly at him.

"Aren't you going?" Abel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why me?"

"Oh, really. This guy is at it again. Should I imprint him again?"

Abel said, exasperated, comparing the situation to a whack-a-mole game where he had to hit them on the head every time they acted up.

Cordell coughed awkwardly before finally getting out of the carriage. "

Ugh, ugh! That's really violent… Eww!"

*Bam!*

A flying rock hit Cordell square on the forehead, making him blush in embarrassment.

Cordell, his face reddening, drew his sword. "I will take care of everything!"

"You look like you really don't want to do it. Just step back. The other knights can handle it."

"No! This is the perfect job for me."

With a swish, Cordell McNeil disappeared in an instant, leaving no sound of footsteps.

The Black Agent's skills were at their peak, his movement incredibly fast. In the blink of an eye, he had reached his destination.

Soon, the sound of steel rang out.

*Chae Jae Jae Jaeng!*

In a matter of moments, Cordell had cleared away the rocks.

"Can't you stop right now!"

Cordell shouted. His words called for them to cease, but his actions seemed more like a challenge to rebel. Despite Cordell's apparent eagerness, the stone throwers scattered.

"Eek! Hey, it's a knight!"

"You can never win against a knight! Run away!"

"Ugh! Please save us! We don't know anything!"

Cordell let out a frustrated sigh as the situation diffused without any real resistance. With the chaos settled, Abel called for the knights to gather.

"We haven't even reached the castle, and this is already happening. I guess we'll need to get some information before proceeding," Abel said thoughtfully.

"Your Majesty, that sounds like a wise plan," Cordell agreed.

"Does anyone know anything about the Marquisate of Yeats?" Abel looked around, but no one raised a hand. Not surprising, as all of them were natives of the capital.

"If things start like this, future missions will be even more challenging," Abel continued.

"We agree, Your Majesty," Cordell said, nodding.

"I think we need to gather information first."

"Huh? We'd be too conspicuous like this," Cordell pointed out. Wearing shining armor would definitely attract attention.

"That's just a disguise. Pretend you're mercenaries. Everyone, take off your armor and put away your weapons."

"Like this?" one of the knights asked, bewildered.

"It's much better. Rough up your hair a bit and smear some soot on your faces."

After making the adjustments, the group surprisingly looked like mercenaries. The knights and mercenaries weren't too different at first glance, after all.

"Okay, just bring the cart in," Abel instructed.

"Do we really have to go this far?"

"You experienced it firsthand. This place isn't friendly to us, and we're here to do the dirty work of collecting taxes."

"Hm," the knights nodded in agreement. However, Abel was still skeptical.

Knights, who devote their lives to swordsmanship, doing espionage? It was bound to be clumsy, and the risk of their identities being revealed was high.

To prevent any mishaps, an expert was needed.

"Sir McNeill?"

"Huh? Why are you calling me all of a sudden?"

"There's something you need to do."

"Surely not what I'm thinking. I'm His Highness the Carrier's personal escort!"

"I'll go with you too."

Cordell's face turned pale as he realized he couldn't refuse.

"Then… surely not?"
Your next read awaits at empire

"You guessed right. You're now the captain of the mercenary army. Take your place."

"No! Do we really have to do this? There must be cleaner mercenaries out there!"

Cordell's cry was venomous, but no one sided with him. Accepting his fate, Cordell scratched the back of his head.

"Come to think of it, you've never seen mercenaries like that before, right? Especially not when they enter the city from outside."

"That's right," Abel replied with a smirk.

Cordell's mood soured as he resigned himself to the task. It seemed like he really hated the idea of shedding his clean-cut image. But despite the discomfort, Abel thoroughly applied the soot, camouflaging them well.

"This is the camouflage cream application skill of a reserve sergeant," Abel thought proudly as they passed through the gate, their faces darkened.

However, a guard who had been watching them stopped them in their tracks.

"No, what on earth happened to you?"

"It was such a difficult request that I couldn't help it," Cordell answered, trying to maintain his composure.

"These days, mercenaries walk around so cleanly. You should wash up. The river outside has fresh water."

"Oh, yes…"

"Pass!" the guard said, waving them through. Cordell's face darkened even more after hearing the soldier's scolding, clearly upset about getting covered in soot for no reason. Abel shrugged slightly and walked past the gate.

"Anyway, the result is good, right?"

"Oh my! What am I going to do with this Duke? Really?"

Cordell gritted his teeth and growled, but Abel wasn't scared at all. It's just soot on your face, so you can wash it off.

"Oh man, you're so ill-tempered."

***

The carriage continued its slow march, the rhythmic creaking of the wheels occasionally punctuated by the rough terrain. Abel leaned back against the seat, rubbing his temple. The brief skirmish outside left him feeling uneasy, but it was nothing compared to the uneasy tension lingering in the air.

"Do you think this incitement will escalate further?" Abel mused, looking toward Cordell, who was now seated across from him, wiping away the soot from his face with visible frustration.

Cordell grunted, clearly still annoyed about the earlier event. "If it's a peasant uprising, it'll be over quickly. But if there's a more influential figure pulling the strings…" He left the sentence unfinished, letting the possibility hang.

Abel narrowed his eyes as the carriage rattled forward. "That's what worries me. Someone is stirring them up, but for what purpose?"