Chapter 91: Letting Off Steam

Clip-clop! Clip-clop!

A late night, with the moon already risen.

Having hastily grabbed a bite for dinner, the Bellingwaltz Mercenary Corps was urgently spurring their horses toward Bolten.

At the very front of the group rode a young woman from Helmut: Sharen.

Driven by a strong desire to arrive as soon as possible, she pressed on at a relentless pace without regard for the others’ stamina.

“Are we almost there?”

As she glanced back, the captain of the Bellingwalts Mercenary Corps, Bellington, promptly urged his horse forward to ride alongside her.

“Yes, at this speed, we’ll reach it by morning.”

“Yeah? Good.”

From her coat, Sharen took out a snack and popped it into her mouth. As she munched on the crunchy cookie, she cast a sidelong look at Bellington.

“I’m not giving you any.”

‘I don’t want any, you crazy brat!’

Although Bellington felt an urge to teach manners to this insolent kid, he forced a smile instead.

He hated having to tread so carefully just because she was from Helmut, but there was no helping it.

After all, she was literally from Helmut.

That tiny brat gleefully snacking on a cookie could, if she felt like it, wipe them all out in an instant.

‘Helmut and the Wind—best just let them blow on by.’

So thought Bellington as he continued to ride.

“Someone’s coming? Looks like there are quite a few of them.”

“Pardon?”

The crimson eyes of Sharen detected a crowd approaching in the darkness.

‘She can see something?’

Bellington was taken aback. He assumed it was nonsense at first, but then he saw faint silhouettes in the gloom and opened his eyes wide.

“They…really are out there?”

“What, you thought I was lying?”

Sharen raised her chin triumphantly, savoring her sense of superiority.

‘If they’re coming from the opposite direction, then they must be leaving Bolten. But who’d be traveling at this hour?’

While Bellington wondered about that—

“Huh?”

He let out another gasp. The group approaching them turned out to be none other than his own mercenaries who had been stationed in Bolten.

More than thirty men were moving in a cluster. Recognizing Bellington, they waved in greeting.

“Sharen-nim, these are my subordinates. May I speak with them briefly?”

“…We’re in a hurry.”

“Please.”

He had no idea why he even needed Sharen’s permission, but Bellington asked her anyway.

“Fine, but do it quick!”

Leaping off his horse at once, Bellington ran over to them. He made sure to keep some distance, worried that Sharen might overhear their conversation.

“What are you guys doing here? I told you we’d handle things. We were supposed to cooperate with Baron Bolten—”

“Captain, Baron Bolten is dead.”

“What?!”

He raised his voice before he knew it.

A quick glance behind revealed Sharen gazing blankly up at the moon, still nibbling on her cookie.

Relieved, Bellington asked again in a quieter tone:

“What happened?”

“Baron Logan came to Bolten.”

“Logan… that guy from the banquet hall.”

As someone who had once sparred against Isaac during that gathering, Bellington instantly recalled the man—one who had been lucky enough to dodge his unorthodox swordsmanship.

“Right before we left, he killed Baron Bolten. Now Bolten is in full revolt.”

“He sure pissed off those junkies.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Damn it, that Logan keeps getting in our way. I’d love to tear him to pieces.”

If not for that man at the banquet, they could have assassinated Princess Adeline.

Thanks to multiple incidents, Baron Logan had firmly landed on Bellington’s radar.

He sighed, thinking it over.

‘They were being paid a fortune by their Patreons, but it was still a risky line of work.’

‘Maybe it’s time to cut and run.’

He suspected they hadn’t been exposed yet. If they fled now, it might be hard for anyone to catch them.

‘Rather than going back to Bolten, it might be better to regroup with our Patreons somewhere else.’

Having made his decision, Bellington paused to consider one last thing:

What about that feisty brat bringing up the rear?

‘We’ll just give her a horse and send her on her way.’

It was a bit of a waste, but better than heading into the mess at Bolten.

“Um, about the young lady—”

“Red Flames!”

Clanng!

A crimson aura whirled forth from Sharen’s greatsword and swept over Bellington and the other mercenaries approaching.

The attack came so abruptly that they couldn’t even attempt to defend themselves as they were swallowed by the Red Flames.

The horses reared back on their hind legs with terrified whinnies, adding to the chaos.

Especially unfortunate was Bellington, who had taken a direct hit; his body burned with pain as he lay on the ground, shouting:

“Wh-what are you doing?!”

Even if she was from Helmut, she wasn’t some raving lunatic. Why attack all of a sudden?

“Baron Logan is Isaac, right? I didn’t realize it at first because the title sounded off.”

“…Pardon?”

They’d whispered from a distance—had she really heard that?

Gawking in shock, Bellington turned to Sharen. She rested her greatsword on her shoulder, looking mighty pleased with herself.

“People from Helmut have good ears.”

Once more, the Red Flames flared from Sharen’s blade.

****

Back in the baron’s bedroom once again.

With a bright grin, Sharen finished explaining how she had managed to capture the Bellingwaltz Mercenary Corps.

“And that’s how it all went down.”

“…..”

“…..”

“You can praise me if you want!”

Humming, Sharen shook her head left and right in delight.

Her two-parted hair sways as if urging him to praise her quickly.

“...Good job.”

Isaac wanted to pat Sharen on the head, but his injured arm made it difficult. So he just said it aloud, and Sharen stuck out her lower lip, looking a bit disappointed.

“You really did catch a mouse by backing up like a cow.”

“I’m not a cow! I’m Helmut!”

“It was just a figure of speech.”

Letting out a dry chuckle, Grandmaster reached over and ruffled Sharen’s hair in Isaac’s stead.

“Hey!”

But Sharen brushed away Grandmaster’s hand and turned back to Isaac to shout:

“This is just a deposit on the praise! Make sure you compliment me again next time!”

“…..”

He couldn’t help wondering if she was really Rihanna’s sister.

Or even earlier in her lineage: Sharen was born between Arandel and Galenia. Did one of them have a personality like this?

Though a bit confused, Isaac merely nodded.

“Well, it worked out in the end. Thanks to you, we managed to capture the Bellingwaltz Mercenary Corps. Once we interrogate them, we should be able to learn more about their sponsors in no time.”

“Let’s go do it now.”

Isaac sprang to his feet. Though the other two worried over his injuries, he was the one who wanted to get moving.

“I feel better doing something…anything at all.”

“In that case, I won’t try to stop you.”

“Isaac! What should I do?”

“You—”

He said ‘interrogation,’ but it could easily escalate to torture.

Not wanting Sharen to see that, Isaac pointed to the bed.

“Get some rest. You must be tired.”

“Okay!”

Without hesitation, Sharen hopped onto the bed.

She must have been exhausted—by the time Isaac stepped out of the room, he could hear the soft sound of her even breathing.

“She’s quite adorable for someone from Helmut.”

“Seems her cuteness is on a Helmut-level scale, too.”

Sharing a small laugh, Isaac and Grandmaster headed toward the dining hall where they had the Bellingwaltz Mercenary Corps bound.

“Now that I think of it…”

Right outside the dining hall, just before pushing open the door, Grandmaster looked at Isaac and asked:

“In the previous timeline—before the regression—what did you call me?”

“…I called you Grandmaster.”

“Hmm? Grandmaster? I don’t see why the ‘Grand’ part would be there. Were my future tastes growing grandiose?”

“You had many disciples. Since you couldn’t teach them all personally, there were times I would teach them in your place—”

No need to admit she’d been jealous about it.

“So I suggested you change your title to Grandmaster.”

“Hmm, so I had a lot of disciples?”

Grandmaster seemed surprised, wearing a slightly perplexed expression.

“We’ll have to share a drink sometime and talk it through. Is there anything I absolutely need to know?”

“…..”

“Go on, I won’t be angry.”

“You should consider finding a partner.”

“A partner? My sword is my only lover, so I have no need—”

“When you got really drunk, you cried about not having someone special by your side.”

“….”

“….”

There was a moment of silence.

Standing by the door, the two exchanged a look that spoke volumes in an instant.

“…You’re not very good at making jokes, are you?”

“You also lamented it was because of your age. And if we work backward to figure out how old you were at the time—”

Clunk!

Cutting him off, Grandmaster flung the door open and strode inside.

Then, glaring down at the tied-up mercenary captain of the Bellingwaltz Mercenary Corps, Grandmaster kicked him square in the chest and roared:

“You dared to attempt to assassinate Her Highness?!”

It was an outburst brimming with genuine fury.

*****

Grandmaster was a force to be reckoned with, singlehandedly capable of overpowering hundreds.

With the pent-up wrath of a “late-blooming spinster,” she ruthlessly interrogated them, prying out a great deal of information.

Given his injured hand, Isaac found it quite a task to write all the details into a single report.

“Your handwriting is the same as ever, even with that hurt hand.”

While Isaac worked on the letter, Grandmaster sat on the bed beside him, drinking wine.

Sharen was still sound asleep.

“I’m doing my best. Normally, I’d have been finished much sooner.”

After all, this was an important letter meant for the princess.

Scrawling it out carelessly or letting someone else write it for him would feel disrespectful.

Glup, glup.

Hearing Grandmaster gulp down her drink, Isaac sighed.

“That’s your third bottle today.”

“Mm? I’m just craving a bit more tonight. Don’t mind me.”

“Is it because of what we talked about earlier—”

“It is not.”

Grandmaster cast him a hazy stare, then glanced down at the wine bottle and continued:

“Admitting out loud that none of our fellow disciples are still alive…it’s more complicated than I expected.”

“…I understand.”

Even Isaac hadn’t fully let go of Milli yet.

But both of them were forging on regardless—that much was certain.

Glup, glup.

After another swig, Grandmaster wiped her mouth and gave Isaac a sidelong glance.

“But tell me something.”

“Yes?”

Still focused on his letter, Isaac answered while diligently moving his pen. Then Grandmaster posed a crucial question:

“Do you have any idea why you were able to regress? Any clue at all?”

Tap.

Slowly, Isaac set his pen aside.

He was thankful to finally have someone with whom he could share the burden he’d kept to himself until now.

“May I have some of that drink as well?”

He was glad, yes—but it felt like a conversation best had with a little alcohol in his system.

– – The End of The Chapter – –

 

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