5. I'm Actually a Good Guy
Screeeech— THUD!
"Wait, hold on! What happens to me?!"
I pressed my face into the gap of the closing iron bars and shouted at the knight locking the cell door. The knight, tucking the jail keys into his breast pocket, merely scowled and glanced at the man standing beside him.
"@#$&*$@#"
"@#$\%\%&@@#$"
They exchanged a few words, and then the man with glasses stepped closer to the door, studied me, and spoke.
"Your disposition has not yet been decided. So wait quietly."
"Oh? So you speak the barbarian tongue?"
Thankfully, at least one of them could understand me.
"Excuse me! I'm telling you, I was actually the one doing the rescuing here? Please, just pass that along!"
I clung to the interpreter and poured out my grievances, but the man and the knight simply turned their backs without a word of reply.
"I'm telling you, I'm a good barbarian!"
I protested my innocence to the backs of the two figures as they vanished into the far end of the dark corridor.
"Ugh, this is exactly what I was worried about. I was only planning to escort them partway and then slip away."
I slumped down against the cold prison wall.
Of all the luck, I'd run headlong into the order of knights that had come searching for the two of them, and completely lost my window to escape. And so I'd been hauled off, captive, to this place on the northern frontier—the underground dungeon of Boreas Fortress.
"Well... Ceris will explain everything for me, right?"
Just moments ago, when the knights had been about to take my head, Ceris had shouted something and stayed their blades.
"Ah, I'm sure it'll be fine. Surely they wouldn't kill the man who saved Ceris's life?"
Trapped as I was, there was nothing I could accomplish by thrashing about anyway. Resolving to sleep until my fate was decided, I sprawled out on the damp floor.
Boreas Fortress, the Commander's Office.
"Uncle, what do you intend to do with that barbarian boy you've locked in the dungeon?"
Klaus directed the question to Hermann Argent, the fortress commander—and his uncle.
"Hmm... Judging by Lady Rene's testimony, there seems to be no doubt the boy did save Ceris."
Hermann stroked his chin, sinking deep into thought.
"I care not what scheme he's hiding, but at his root the boy is a barbarian. Would it not be correct to simply take his head, without leaving trouble behind for later?"
"But Uncle... regardless of anything else, he is the one who saved Ceris's life."
Klaus cautiously voiced his dissent at Hermann's firm declaration that barbarians must be killed.
"You're not wrong, either... Agh, what a headache."
Hermann leaned back in his chair and raked his hands through his hair in frustration.
"In any case, our brother is already traveling here in person. Let us leave the matter of the barbarian's disposition to the judgment of the head of House Argent."
"Yes, understood."
Klaus gave a short nod.
Three days later.
The head of House Argent arrived at Boreas Fortress, leading his order of knights.
"You've come, brother."
Hermann and Klaus, who had been waiting before the fortress's main gate, bowed their heads respectfully. Duke Balian Argent, the head of the family, released his horse's reins and stepped down with long, easy strides.
"I received a general report on the way. Is Ceris safe?"
"Yes, Ceris is resting in her quarters at the—"
"Father!"
Before Hermann could even finish, Ceris came scrambling out through the fortress gates.
"Ceris!"
The young Ceris ran straight into Balian's open arms.
"Are you hurt anywhere? Not a single wound?"
Balian let out a sigh of relief as he gently cupped Ceris's face.
"I'm really all right. But... Father, I'm sorry. It was my selfishness, insisting I join the subjugation..."
Guilt over the disaster her own stubbornness had caused darkened Ceris's face in an instant.
"Brother. I should have stopped her to the very end. This failure is mine."
"No. The child has returned safely—that is enough."
Balian waved off his brother, who was bowing his head. Then he turned his gaze to his eldest son, who stood silently nearby.
"Klaus, are you all right?"
"Yes, Father. Unharmed."
"Brother, come inside for now. We should speak of the details indoors."
"Yes, let's do that."
The four members of House Argent entered the fortress.
"So... you're telling me those fiends drove a horde of demonic beasts into the edge of the Demonic Lands, and in the chaos they made off with supplies, Ceris, and Lady Rene?"
"Yes, that is correct."
Klaus reported the full details of the incident to the head of the house, Balian.
"Have you identified which tribe they belong to?"
"They bore burn scars seared into their backs."
"The Red Fire Tribe, then."
Balian clenched his fist, grinding down his fury.
"Father..."
Ceris, seated beside him, reached out and carefully laid her hand over Balian's, where the veins stood taut. Only then did the tension leave his face, and with a faint smile he gently patted the back of his daughter's small hand. Then he turned his gaze back to Klaus.
"So... one other young barbarian saved the Ceris who had been taken captive?"
"Yes, that's right."
Klaus nodded with a voice full of conviction.
Balian pressed his lips together, deep in thought.
"Father... that boy isn't a bad child. He truly did bring me and Rene somewhere safe."
Ceris looked up at Balian with pleading eyes, adding her own words. Balian gazed quietly into his daughter's earnest eyes for a long moment, then addressed Hermann.
"Bring the boy here first. I will meet him face to face myself."
"But brother, all of this could very well be an elaborate ploy, staged by the fiends with something in mind."
Balian shook his head at Hermann's wary objection.
"Hermann, do you not know those fiends better than anyone alive? A tribe like that might well drag their entire clan up against our walls—but scheming with such cunning tricks is simply not their way."
"Hm..."
Hermann could find no words of rebuttal and let out a low groan.
"Understood."
As if to say he would defer to the head of the house, Hermann nodded.
Snore... hoooooh.
Screeeech—
"Hey! Wake up!"
"Mnnh... hmm, ugh...?"
At the sound of someone rousing me, I forced my eyes open and wiped the drool from my chin.
"Uh... what is it? Has my fate been decided?"
"Honestly. How can this one be so relaxed?"
The interpreter looked down at me, sprawled fast asleep on the dungeon floor, with sheer exasperation.
"Duke Argent himself wishes to see you. Come along."
Duke Argent? Has even Ceris's father come in person?
In the original story, the Duke of Argent had doted on Ceris so thoroughly that people called him a fool for his daughter. If that was true, then things couldn't have spiraled into the worst possible outcome.
I rose from my spot, stepped out of the cell, and followed hard on the interpreter's heels.
The entire time I walked through the fortress after leaving the underground dungeon, the soldiers and servants who passed by shot me sidelong glances and muttered amongst themselves.
Hm... they're looking at me like I'm a zoo monkey.
Apparently, the sight of a barbarian strolling freely through the fortress did not sit well with them at all.
Ignoring the piercing stares, I trailed after the interpreter, climbing the stairs to the first floor, then the second, heading ever higher—when a voice called out from behind me.
"#$@&^#$!"
Turning around, I saw a lady in a neatly pressed maid's uniform walking toward us.
Oh... an actual maid.
Seeing the full-length, authentic maid dress trailing down to her ankles—not some half-hearted costume cosplay—finally hammered home the fact that I'd truly crossed over into the civilized world.
The interpreter exchanged a few words with the approaching maid, then clicked his tongue and looked at me.
"What? What did she say?"
"Haah... She says that in your current state, you are in no condition whatsoever to be granted an audience with the Duke."
"Ah..."
I surreptitiously glanced down at myself. Right now, I was wearing nothing but a scrap of leather loosely covering the essentials.
I had to admit, it was not a good look.
"Follow me."
Chasing after the interpreter, who followed the maid, I arrived at a fairly spacious bathhouse.
"Oooooh!"
The moment I saw the steaming, mist-shrouded bath, my eyes rolled back and I was about to dive straight in when—
a hand thrust out from behind and snatched my wrist.
"Whoa—!"
My foot slipped on the damp tile floor, and I nearly landed flat on my rear.
"Hey, why are you stopping me?!"
I turned around in irritation to find that maid from before standing inside the bathhouse with a stern expression, somehow having arrived ahead of me. Without a word, she shook her head.
"Don't tell me I'm not even allowed in the bath?"
So barbarians don't even have the right to soak in warm water, huh?
While I grumbled to myself, the maid took my arm and led me off to the side of the bath. Then, without warning, she moved to strip off the single scrap of leather wrapped around my lower half.
"Wait, wait a second! Why are you taking that off? Ack!"
After a desperate struggle, I lost the contest of strength and ended up sitting flat on the floor, bare as the day I was born.
Don't tell me... she's going to wash me herself?
My guess proved half right—the maid ladled up a generous scoop of the bath's hot water in a basin and dumped it mercilessly over my head.
SPLASH—!
"Bwagh! Ptoo, ptoo!"
Shaking the water from my hair, I opened my eyes and looked down at my feet. Black filth pooled thickly across the entire floor.
"Yeesh, damn... I'm filthy as hell."
Who knew living as a barbarian would cake this much grime onto a body?
As I stared at the puddle at my feet, a basin suddenly thrust itself in front of my face. I looked up at the maid, and she responded with a gesture—pointing at the bath, then at me, then back—clearly signaling me to scrub myself down, and quickly.
"Oh, come on..."
So there was no white-glove washing service after all. She just wanted to keep me from fouling the bathwater.
Swallowing an awkward cough, I meekly accepted the basin and scrubbed myself down with real effort. The layers of caked-on grime were so thick that it took me quite a long while before I finally finished the bath.
I changed into the clothes laid out in front of the bathhouse and stepped outside, where the maid, waiting up ahead, led me into a small nearby room and seated me in front of a mirror.
"And next is... a haircut, apparently."
In the mirror, I could see the maid standing behind me, scissors in hand.
Snip, snip, snip.
Only the sound of scissors filled the quiet room. Before long, the haircut was finished, and the shaggy bangs that had been hanging over my eyes were neatly cleared away.
I opened my eyes slowly and looked up into the mirror—and found the maid behind me frozen in place, her eyes gone wide as saucers.
What's with her?
I tilted my head in confusion, then shifted my gaze to the mirror itself.
"Ah... right. It's this face, isn't it."
Black hair, and dark reddish eyes carrying a strange, subtle gleam.
Honestly, the first time I'd seen my own reflection in the river while drinking water back then, even I had been fairly startled.
And here I'd assumed all barbarians were supposed to look like surly bandits.
Ahem!
The maid, coughing as though embarrassed, called out toward the door, and the interpreter came in.
"...Is that truly the same fellow from before?"
Even the interpreter's eyes bulged at my complete transformation.
"Yes, it's me."
"Unbelievable. If you're finished, hurry up and follow me. We've already wasted enough time."
Before leaving the room, I bowed my head slightly toward the maid in thanks.
Back down the corridor again, we came to a stop before a door at the very end of the fortress's topmost floor.
Knock, knock.
The interpreter rapped carefully on the door.
"Your Grace, I have brought the barbarian boy as you commanded."
— Enter.
At the deep, weighty voice from within, the interpreter opened the door.
The moment I stepped into the room, the four silver-haired figures seated around the sofa all turned their heads in unison to look at me.