Chapter 86: Putting Lessons to Use

They were served both a meal and tea at Baron Bolten’s estate, but it didn’t particularly feel like they were being treated as guests. Instead, it felt as though all these gestures were simply urging them to get on with the main topic.

Clink.

Isaac set down his teacup. Although the real reason he had come here was to track down the mercenary group suspected of the attempted assassination of the princess, he naturally concealed that from Baron Bolten.

“Milli Marceau was my friend.”

The reason Isaac had come was simple. Before the attack, he had already made an appointment with Baron Bolten, so traveling to Bolten now felt perfectly natural.

“She worked in the kitchen at Helmut. By now, I believe it’s been... about six years.”

“Hmm, you ‘believe’ it’s been that long?”

“…….”

He didn’t bother to respond. That silence alone was enough of an answer.

“I want to find Milli Marceau’s family. At the very least, I’d like them to be able to visit her grave in Evergarde.”

Seeing the genuine concern on Isaac’s troubled face, Baron Bolten stroked his thick beard with a massive finger and nodded.

“All right. I’ll have my people look into it.”

“Thank you, Baron Bolten.”

They rose from their seats and shook hands. The firm handshake gave off a subtle sense of establishing some sort of hierarchy.

‘He probably thinks he’s found a weakness to exploit.’

Of course, if they really managed to locate Milli Marceau’s family, that would be wonderful. But he had to separate personal matters from official duty. Finding Milli’s family was a private concern of his, whereas the attempted assassination of a princess was a national crisis.

“Do you have a place to stay? If you need, you may stay here at my estate.”

“No need for that. We have already booked an inn elsewhere. Isn’t that right?”

From where she’d been standing quietly behind Isaac the whole time, the Grandmaster gave a forced nod, her expression stiff as if she was struggling to keep it in check.

“Y-Yes… we did make a reservation.”

“I see. That’s too bad. I was hoping to chat a bit more with you as well, Baron Logan.”

“I appreciate the offer. However, since I’ll be staying here for a while to look for Milli Marceau’s family, I felt it wouldn’t be right to impose on you.”

A polite and reserved tone. It was something Isaac had perfected in Helmut, yet ironically Baron Bolten wasn’t the type to care too much about such courtesies.

“Haha, what imposition? In truth, the entire kingdom owes you a debt after what happened.”

A hint of admiration shone in Baron Bolten’s eyes.

After the recent attempted assassination of the princess, Isaac Logan’s reputation had risen even further—though unintentionally on his part.

“From the North onward, you’ve had the Sword Festival in Helmut, faced Blackthorn, and attended this banquet. Baron Logan, you’ve been practically marching the path of a hero straight out of a legend.”

“You’re too kind. Things just happened to turn out that way.”

“Which is precisely why it’s called heroism.”

After they stepped out of the estate, Baron Bolten saw Isaac off one last time, assuring him that he would contact him immediately if he learned anything new.

Once outside, the Grandmaster promptly asked:

“You deliberately spoke to me back there, didn’t you?”

“Is that important right now?”

“Hah, fine. You’re right. We’ll discuss that later.”

“…….”

Back in the carriage, Grandmaster, unable to hold back, pulled out a cigarette. However, she only held it between her lips without lighting it.

“So? Did you find out anything?”

“At least one thing is certain—”

Seated across, Isaac nodded with a grim expression.

“He already knows something’s up.”

It was clear Baron Bolten was aware he was under suspicion.

Yet he remained strangely composed. Why? That confidence didn’t seem like empty bravado.

They took the carriage to the inn they’d deliberately chosen at some distance from the baron’s estate, aiming to have more freedom of movement.

***

Inside the room, Isaac thought:

‘Let’s prepare to head out right away.’

They hadn’t been here long and were already tired, but they weren’t here for a vacation. He intended to start gathering information at once.

Creak.

Grandmaster stepped inside.

“...You’re not really here just to pick a fight about what happened back there, are you?”

“What do you take me for?”

Grandmaster shrugged and said nonchalantly:

“We’ve got followers on our tail. Likely ever since we left the baron’s estate. What do you want to do?”

“A tail, huh? They’re being so blatant about it, which actually works in our favor.”

If there had been no reaction at all, it would have been harder to gauge the baron’s intentions.

“Let’s use them. We’ll make them think we’re holed up at the inn.”

“Feeding them false information? I rather like the idea. How do you plan on doing it?”

“I have my methods. But I need your cooperation.”

“As long as it’s not you forcing me to talk in polite speech, do as you like.”

“You won’t even need to say a word. Just follow my lead.”

* * *

The innkeeper was in the middle of preparing dinner.

They provided an evening meal for their guests, but it was really just a soup made by throwing together whatever ingredients they had on hand.

“Hey, innkeeper.”

While the soup was bubbling away, the innkeeper turned at the sound of a call from an out-of-town guest who had come by for the first time in a while.

Next to him stood a woman, her head lowered in embarrassment as she bit her lip.

‘Oh?’

“The bed mattress is filthy. Do you have any spare sheets or blankets we could lay on top of it?”

Ordinarily, that wasn’t a service the inn provided.

‘He’s obviously a noble. It’s natural that he’d be picky.’

One look at that refined appearance was enough to tell the young man was born into a noble family. Without much hesitation, the innkeeper fetched a freshly laundered blanket from earlier in the day.

“Please use it carefully.”

“I can’t promise that.”

‘Tsk, so blatant.’

Well, a man with that face, and a noble at that—he probably slept with a different woman every day.

Clicking his tongue, the innkeeper approached a man sitting at one of the tables on the first floor and whispered,

“Looks like he’s staying in tonight. He said the bed was dirty and asked for a blanket.”

“A blanket?”

“You saw he had a woman with him, right? You know what that means.”

“Haa.”

The man let out a sigh and then nodded. The innkeeper wondered if he’d get a little something for his trouble, but all the man said, quite calmly, was:

“Baron Bolten will be pleased.”

That single statement was enough to make the innkeeper grin broadly as he rubbed his hands together.

“Haha! Anything for Baron Bolten!”

With that, the innkeeper bowed several times and went back to work.

The man looked up at the stairs Isaac had just climbed.

‘Tsk, in the end, he’s no different.’

He’d heard Baron Logan was of commoner stock. But a noble was still a noble in the end.

‘Baron Bolten is different.’

Baron Bolten was, in every sense, a revolutionary—a commander who led everyone and enforced strict discipline to protect the city.

He had been ordered by Baron Bolten to keep an eye on things, but from the look of it, Isaac and his companion would probably just stay in their room tonight, worn out from travel, and pass out on their own.

* * *

“Any last words you’d like me to pass on? I can deliver your dying message to your ex-wife out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Aren’t we supposed to get going soon?!”

Just as the people downstairs imagined, things had become hot and heavy on the bed upstairs—loud and intense.

But the moment Isaac stepped inside the room, the Grandmaster pounced on him, eyes burning a fierce blue.

“This is the first time in my entire life anyone’s treated me like… that!”

“W-Well, if a man and a woman hole up in an inn room together, people are going to assume we’re… you know. Thanks to that, we won’t have to leave the room at all tonight, and no one will suspect a thing!”

Pressed up against the wall at the head of the bed, Isaac flattened his back against it. Although The Grandmaster was visibly furious, she seemed to be restraining herself—likely because she understood the logic behind it.

“Huuu, fine. But if you plan on pulling something like this next time, at least give me a warning.”

“I figured you’d refuse if I told you in advance… Are you really okay with it?”

He asked just in case, though he wasn’t expecting an affirmative answer.

“In my life, I’ve solved most problems by the sword.”

“…….”

“I suppose that’s how I’ll keep doing things.”

In other words, she’d sooner just grab her blade and cut down everyone involved rather than go along with this kind of charade.

“…Let’s get moving already.”

* * *

Isaac and Grandmaster took about three days to reach Bolten, mostly because they traveled by carriage.

Sharen, on the other hand, was riding alone on horseback. She could have made the journey faster—or so she thought.

“Don’t be sick, pleeeease!”

Looking down at her panting horse, Sharen was on the verge of tears. The horse had collapsed mid-ride; she had no idea what was wrong with it. Thanks to the robust constitution typical of Helmut natives, she hadn’t been injured when she was thrown off, but now she had no way to get to Bolten.

“I don’t wanna run all the way there!”

She tried shaking the horse this way and that to get it back on its feet, but it wouldn’t move an inch.

“What the heck! This is all because of Isaac! Isaac you idiot! You moron! Red Flame Strikes, five in a row!”

Sharen wailed as she shouted in frustration. She was already on a mountain path where nothing else could be seen—dark and foreboding. She didn’t want to camp out, and the pitch-black mountains at night were more than a little scary.

“Get uuup!”

She couldn’t help regretting that she hadn’t waited an extra day before setting off. As Sharen stood there, lamenting her predicament, she heard another sound apart from her horse’s ragged breathing.

Clop, clop.

“Hoofbeats?!”

Sharen shot to her feet. She saw a group of people coming along the same mountain path she had traveled.

“Hey! Over here! Over here!”

She waved her arms wildly, blocking their way. She was ready to draw her greatsword if she had to.

‘It’s fine. I’m cute, after all!’

She believed with full confidence that her adorable face would turn the situation in her favor.

The six or so travelers all carried weapons, and they seemed to be in quite a hurry. But they stopped in front of Sharen, who was blocking the path.

She skipped any sort of greeting and shouted right away:

“Excuse me! Could you take me with you? Just to the nearest city, please!”

A man at the front of the group dismounted. There was a certain sun-baked scent about him—typical of someone from the south. He had a longsword at his waist and a rather roguish face.

“Please, my horse suddenly collapsed!”

To Sharen, they looked like nothing more than a lifeline sent to rescue her.

“Ahem, miss, I’m Bellington, leader of a mercenary group called Bellingwaltz. Might I ask your name?”

There was only one reason he was being so polite:

‘Holy—She’s from Helmut?!’

They’d figured out who she was even before asking—red hair, a massive greatsword strapped to her back. It would’ve been odd not to notice.

‘What’s a Helmut doing all the way out here?!’

‘At night, no less—this is the last thing we need!’

“I’m Sharen Helmut! Please just get me to the nearest city. I promise I’ll compensate you!”

She declared it cheerfully, beaming at them. The members of Bellingwaltz exchanged looks.

‘We’re headed back to Bolten anyway.’

‘Maybe it’d be less suspicious just to take her along and be done with it.’

‘If she finds out what we were paid to carry, we’re finished.’

After a silent exchange of glances, Bellington offered a friendly grin and nodded.

“Well, we’re mercenaries, miss. If you’re willing to pay, then you’re a client just like any other.”

‘Payment, too? Seriously?’

‘Boss! Don’t push it!’

‘Shut up, you idiots—this is the safest move!’

Unlike the rest of the mercenaries who looked anxious, Bellington remained confident. If they suddenly refused payment for the job, that would be even more suspicious.

“Ooooh...”

Sharen nodded at his words and then smiled.

“I already paid you!”

“...Beg your pardon?”

The mercenaries blinked in confusion.

They weren’t quite sure what she meant.

But Sharen just smiled brightly and clarified:

“Because you’re still alive!”

“That crazy woman—!”

“Fuck, it’s Helmut!”

“Is she really a knight?! She’s just a thug!”

“They’re all total maniacs!”

Such was the notorious reputation of Helmut. They were known as knights among knights, but just as light casts a shadow, there was always another side to them.

Faced with Sharen’s brazen words, Bellington bit down hard, struggling to keep a polite smile.

“Ah, yes! Exactly! Thank you so much for your generosity!”

“Right? You there, hop on behind him. I’ll ride your horse!”

“Understood!”

“And one of you needs to bring my horse along, got it?”

“Of course! Whatever you say!”

In a flash, Bellington handed Sharen the reins of the horse he’d been riding.

“It’s too tall.”

Since the saddle was too high for her to mount easily, he offered his hand to help her up.

“Nice! Let’s go!”

Hoofbeats once again echoed in the night air.

Savoring the cool breeze, Sharen broke into a bright smile, recalling a certain memory:

-Sharen, don’t get reckless out there, okay? And try not to burden Isaac too much.

—“C’mon, unnie! I’ve got it, okay?!”

This had been right before she left, at the mansion’s main gate. Standing there was Rihanna, who had defeated Lohengrin—the eldest son—twenty times in a row in sparring, thereby taking her place as head of the family.

She spoke to Sharen with a worried expression that showed no sign of easing:

-Haa, I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more pocket money. We’re not exactly rolling in wealth right now.

The reconstruction of the mansion alone had cost a fortune. Had that been the only issue, it might have been manageable—but the truth was Helmut had been hemorrhaging funds for a while. The Sword Festival had been hugely expensive, and on top of that, they’d had funerals and condolence payments to cover.

For the first time in its history, Helmut was forced to tighten its belt.

—“It’s fine, Unnie! I can take care of myself!”

-You even know what ‘self-sufficient’ means? I’m impressed.

—“….”

-Hey! Don’t spout such nonsense!

Thanks to their keen hearing, another voice chimed in: Lohengrin, who’d been training with his greatsword outside, approached them, breathing heavily.

-Ah, shit.

—“Ugh.”

Both younger sisters plugged their noses, but Lohengrin ignored it, clenching his fist and declaring:

-If someone ever demands money from you, just tell them this: ‘Isn’t it enough I let you live?!’ That’s how I usually handle it.

—“Ooooh.”

-Sharen, don’t you dare use that.

Though Rihanna warned her in earnest, unfortunately Sharen didn’t remember that part too well—or perhaps she’d chosen to forget.

“Hehe, guess that big dummy’s advice does come in handy sometimes!”

Grinning from ear to ear, Sharen urged her borrowed horse onward.

– – The End of The Chapter – –

 

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