7. The Bizarre Incident at the Louise Mansion (4)
Hero of the Northern Winter War.
The object of hatred feared by the entire winter tribe.
The man who single-handedly slew five hundred winter tribesmen.
Identity Unknown
Hired mercenary of the Grand Duchess. Vanished after the war. No one expected him to become a train engineer.
"Kuh…!"
I started gnawing away at the winter tribesman bit by bit with my Revolver. I deflected his incoming punches just enough with mana, then drilled holes into his body with the gun.
His flesh was insanely tough—no ordinary person could survive shots that would punch clean through, but he only ended up with scratches.
"It's no use!"
"Hamoji! I'll cover you!"
To make matters worse, Hamoji charged in, and Janet synced up to launch a joint attack.
Expert level, huh. Spear technique… third-rate at best.
Luckily, in this tight space, sweeping attacks weren't feasible, so it was just simple thrusts.
As I dodged their combo, the two men sensed something off.
A body with barely any detectable mana… how?
Me and Hamoji could take down a graduate no problem…!
In that split-second gap of their confusion, I grabbed the spear shaft and yanked the weapon right out of the winter tribesman's hands.
"You idiot!"
Hamoji rushed in close to compensate, but I smashed the butt of the reversed spear into his head and forced him back.
Snatching the spear. Landing blows on winter tribe flesh. All done with pure muscle—no mana involved.
It's been a while since I held a spear.
First time since the winter war. I gripped it short.
If Hamoji was a survivor of that war, he'd recognize it for sure.
Black Wolf Spear. The ducal house's secret art.
Normally passed only to direct bloodline…
But what can you do when I learned it by watching.
I spun the tiny bit of mana I had left.
Each house's secret arts have unique mana flows. Mess it up, and the technique fails—or worse, backlashes on the user. Some require specific bloodline mana traits or odd conditions.
That's how nobles justified their rule. Commoners could never replicate it.
But the ducal house's art was different. They created techniques that barely used mana.
Their innate sturdy bodies were proof enough.
"Black Wolf Spear, First Form—Fangs."
The basis of Black Wolf Spear is wolf pack tactics. Lone but pack-like, never letting go once they bite.
The spear whipped out at a speed Hamoji couldn't perceive, piercing multiple parts of his body.
A short swing to change trajectory, then thrust. Without a tough body, the recoil alone would kill the user.
Hamoji knew the technique—his expression twisted in recognition.
"You! From the ducal house…!"
"Knew you'd recognize it."
Blood poured from the piercing wounds on his arms and legs, but he glared furiously.
Probably thought he'd met his family's nemesis.
"Surrender here and we're done. I don't want to kill anyone."
"When did you ever see us as people?!"
A pale sky-blue aura rose from Hamoji's body, threatening me. Strength matching his bulk, speed defying it.
I had no choice but to back up against the wall as he ignored his wounds and barreled in.
"Damn…"
"Die!"
Final strike. I swung the spear.
"I warned you. Black Wolf Spear—Claws."
A cross-slash raking forward carved deep gashes from his shoulder to thigh. Unbelievable bleeding for such a short blade.
"Damn it… Hamoji!"
Janet, having lost his spear, watched from afar. The moment Hamoji collapsed, he turned tail and ran.
"Where do you think you're going."
I calmly drew my Revolver and shot his thigh.
"Gah…!"
Janet crumpled forward, clutching his leg and writhing.
Gotta fix this mana shortage.
Even two techniques left my head spinning. Good thing I brought my pipe.
A deep draw eased the dizziness a bit.
I pressed the Revolver to Janet's temple.
"Which of you killed him?"
Janet just glared bitterly, lips sealed.
"Why not just talk. Come on."
His hesitation cost him—a shot to the foot.
"Argh!"
"Next one's the head."
"Wait… I'll talk."
Janet curled up pathetically, hugging his thigh to stem the bleeding.
"Why'd you kill Alfred?"
"He learned info he shouldn't have."
"Info?"
"This, I'll take to my grave. Never."
Then die!
…Wish I could say that.
Killing Janet here would be noble murder. Even if he confessed to Alfred's death, possessing Viscount Styles' body made it impossible. No traces of body-snatching on the corpse would screw me over too.
"Fine. Whatever."
I had no desire to get deeper involved. Just wanted the truth on Alfred.
I knew how curiosity could snowball.
Feels like hearing this would drag me into another mess.
I wasn't eager for more of those headaches.
"Really?"
"Just confess to Alfred's murder. Evidence is all there anyway."
Except for one thing…
I swallowed the unnecessary jab.
"No way. I handled it clean."
"Probably Viscount Styles' cane that did it. An Expert's thrust? Old man's face wouldn't stand a chance."
"…"
"Blood splattered your clothes in the process."
Janet clutched his wound, silent. His last hope was slipping away.
"Went to the boutique to buy new clothes and ditch the bloody ones. Right?"
'Viscount Styles purchased this morning…'
Janet had planned to frame that lunatic knight, live as Viscount Styles.
Figured Alfred's truth would stay buried.
If this gets out, even as viscount, I'm a murderer…!
Empire law was strict. Murder was a heavy crime for a viscount—title stripped, maybe years in the underground prison Abaddon.
"Then ditched the cane used as the weapon. Explains no limp, no cane."
I nodded, satisfied.
And finally.
"No way that psycho wrapped your bandages. Right?"
The real Viscount Styles might've fought in the winter war.
But that was a blatant lie!
I pointed at Janet like a detective, and he shot back incredulously.
"No, that's real…"
"What?"
"It's in the host body's memories. For real."
That crazy old man did something nice?
Bullshit. Then why me… that shitty personality…
"No way…"
My shock faded only when the knights arrived, drawn by the noise.
Wrapping up investigations took a full day before we could leave the count's estate.
Property damage, trespassing—minor stuff the count handled.
By the time we reached the basement, Janet was half-dead under interrogation.
I'd already explained, but the count showed no mercy for Alfred's killer.
"So this isn't Viscount Styles?"
"No, sir."
Whatever method he used to hijack the body, this wasn't Styles. No limp, great fashion sense.
"I see. Another debt I owe you."
"No, sir. My curiosity nearly botched things—I should apologize."
The count clapped my shoulder with genuine warmth.
"Call on me anytime. By the name of Count Morris of the Empire, I'll aid you."
Seems he trusted Alfred more than I'd thought.
"Alfred…"
Lady Amber couldn't hide her tears.
I didn't want to steal their grief.
"Count, we'll take our leave. Thanks for the hospitality these three days."
"No, you're the ones who suffered. When you reach the capital, contact me—must."
Like a professor chasing a truant student.
"Of course, Count."
Blame the tight schedule.
Who knew what trouble a call would bring.
"Then, farewell."
The quiet north. A black-haired beauty flipped through documents at her desk.
Sharply slanted red eyes, snow-white skin. Towering like an average man, yet iron-solid and beautiful—like a statue come to life.
Knock knock.
"Duchess. A word."
"Enter."
She set down her thin rimless glasses, composing herself. Rulers must always exude dignity.
A massive man—unbelievable for an adjutant—entered in crisp black uniform and saluted, handing over a stack of papers.
"Duchess. This…"
"Hm?"
Glasses back on, she read slowly. Her brow twitched.
"I see. Understood. Dismissed."
"Yes, Your Grace."
That presence… always intimidating.
No flicker at news of an old comrade. Straight back to work. Discipline incarnate.
The current duchess rivaled the legendary previous one in strength—and grace to match.
Once he left, she removed her glasses, swept back her hair.
Then snorted.
"Heh. Hehe. Used Black Wolf Spear. Misses me, huh. What to do~."
The dignified duchess vanished, replaced by a giddy girl clutching a photo.
Something's crawling down my spine…
I'd unwittingly summoned someone with my blunder.
Meanwhile, the train buzzed with departure prep. Usually done two days early, but special circumstances demanded haste.
Marie darted about, then burst into the cab.
"Whew, exhausting. Captain, all set for departure!"
"Tell me about it. No rest at all, huh?"
Marie nodded at my sigh. She'd been grilled and on edge at the count's too.
"Same here. Gotta hit the capital and crash. We can stay longer this time."
"Yeah. We should."
With that, I handed her several prettily wrapped boxes. Sweet and nutty scents wafted.
"What's this…?"
"Our promise."
Her ears perked; she tore one open.
"Greenis Bakery…?!"
The patisserie for nobles only!
I hadn't forgotten—asked the count for dozens of tarts and cakes.
"Captain…!"
Nearly teary, she lunged, but I dodged smoothly.
Work time now.
Crackle. Crackle.
Alright, let's roll.
"Ah, ah. This is Engineer Theo Theodor. The train to Capital Levinas departs now. Passengers, please take seats and follow crew instructions. Have a pleasant journey."