The Price of Silence
Baron Isquente launched a massive investigation at the site of the ambush. Accompanied by Sirien and even the priests of Order, he conducted a meticulous search of the area. It was an investigation launched on the off chance they might find something. As expected, there was no significant harvest. Not a single trace of mana could be found; they merely cleaned up the rotting carcasses of the monsters and called it a day. It seemed Marquis Eloran was not foolish enough to leave behind obvious clues.
However, we were not just taking these blows lying down. After all, this was Edelmarion, the heart of the Empire. While the Baron could not prove he had been targeted by demons, the fact that casualties had occurred due to a monster raid required no further proof. The Imperial Guard of Edelmarion had already verified the monsters' corpses and was currently scouring the surrounding area on our behalf.
It was then that Russell came to find me. A faint scent of blood clung to him, suggesting he had just returned from somewhere. The metallic tang of the blood was unusually thick. It didn't seem like he had killed someone himself, but rather that he had been stained with old, dried blood. Though, of course, I couldn't be entirely sure.
"Sir Rajen? Do you have a moment? I have something to tell you."
"Yes. Do you need a quiet place?"
"A crowded area would be... inconvenient."
We moved to a secluded room nearby. Russell remained hyper-vigilant, scanning our surroundings until the very moment we stepped inside, and even then, he kept his voice low. He began to speak, his expression grim.
"Do you remember the dwarf friend we met last time? The foul-mouthed one."
"Yes, of course. It wasn't that long ago."
"After hearing what you and Lady Sirien said, I went back to see him. After all, we were ambushed at the very location he told us about."
I recalled the tavern I had visited with Russell not long ago. The dwarf who had spat harsh words at Russell, yet whose eyes had been filled with deep concern despite the torrent of curses. Their bond had clearly been close. For Russell, it meant he had lost a dear friend. In any case, being ambushed at the designated meeting spot meant one of two things: either the dwarf had betrayed Russell, or the dwarf had been caught in the trap as well. No matter how I looked at it, my intuition leaned toward the latter, and Russell seemed to feel the same.
"Their hideout had been thoroughly 'cleaned.' I found him dead, his tongue pulled out. I do not know if there are any survivors, but if there are, they are likely not on our side."
"His tongue pulled out?"
"Ah, it is the Rule of Silence. It is a method primarily used to punish informants. Normally, they just cut out the tongue, but in severe cases, they slit the throat and pull the tongue out through the wound. It is not a pleasant sight."
Ah, I had heard of it. I recalled it being mentioned once or twice in the original novel. The description had read like a hybrid of Sicilian Mafia and South American cartel execution methods. It was a scene where Dersian had flared up in anger, calling it a desecration of the dead. Russell swallowed his simmering rage—or perhaps his grief—and continued.
"But he was not a man lacking in skill. He was not the type to sit idly by and let himself be taken helplessly. Though he failed to fend off the attack, it seems he had prepared even for the possibility of his own death."
Come to think of it, the dwarf hadn't even asked for our names. Few people can withstand prolonged torture. The dwarf likely didn't overestimate his own mental fortitude, and the best way to prevent information from leaking is simply not to know it in the first place. Even after our conversation had ended, he had told us not to leave with him and to wait at least thirty minutes. It must have been to ensure that meeting him wouldn't look like our primary objective.
Russell handed me a bundle of papers.
"I found this in a place only I would know to look. It is my friend's final keepsake. Please, take it."
"Do you want revenge?"
"Yes. He was a friend of over twenty years. Since I failed to protect our friendship, I intend to extract the price of his blood."
I accepted Russell's gift.
The castle of the Eloran Marquisate was famous for being the largest and most magnificent in the North. It was the seat of the undisputed leader of the region. Although the Eloran Marquisate's power could not quite compare to the Ilencia of the West or the Harmenia of the East, the sheer scale and opulence of this castle certainly did not fall short.
And the castle was not the only thing that refused to be outdone. Since the dawn of the Empire, the Eloran Marquisate had strived tirelessly to catch up to the pillars of the nation. For some reason, the previous Marquis had shown little enthusiasm for this pursuit, but the current generation was different.
In his own estimation, the Marquis was a man possessing both capability and talent. Opportunity was meant to be seized by the prepared, and great deeds were accomplished by those with ambition. Unlike his father, he possessed ambition, and with it, the duty to bring glory to his family.
At the highest point of the Marquis's castle, inside a chamber adorned with brilliant jewels, a sweet, feminine voice echoed.
"I have completed everything you asked, Master. Those loathsome traitors are all dead."
"Is that so? You have done well, my love."
"Oh my, what a naughty hand. The night is still young. For now, you must still treat me as your maid."
"There is no one here right now. Come here. My arms feel empty without you."
"Hehe, if that is my Master's command."
The woman nestled in the Marquis's embrace possessed thick, jet-black hair. Her pale, jade-like skin and bedroom eyes exuded an undeniable, sultry allure. The stuffy, conservative vassals despised his maid, Lisia. A girl of unknown origin. We cannot allow such a suspicious person near the patriarch. That wench only seeks to wrap the Marquis around her finger. Your Lordship must banish that temptress. It was all slander. Once he purged those old fools blinded by jealousy, a smooth, unobstructed path had opened before him.
"Mmm. Why is my Master so upset today? I brought such good news, yet you do not seem pleased."
"That wretched Isquente is still breathing. I hear he is currently roaming all over the capital, which worries me. On top of that, the inquisitors of the Pantheon are said to be heading to the Northern Front soon."
The Marquis loathed Baron Isquente. A detestable half-breed. A clown playing noble despite his lowborn blood. Ever since that cursed peasant began to rise in prominence, the North had stopped looking to the Eloran Marquisate as its sole leader. What on earth did he lack compared to that man? He was born of a far grander lineage. He held a military force in his hands that Isquente could never even dream of. It was Eloran, not Isquente, that protected the North. The northern garrison was merely a pack of hunting dogs, not guardians. Yet, the hearts of the northern people gravitated toward Baron Isquente first. Even after all this time, the capital still refused to place Eloran on equal footing with Ilencia and Harmenia. The Marquis needed a decisive stroke. A single, powerful blow to prove that Eloran had simply chosen not to step forward until now—that Eloran was the true guardian of the North, and its stature was by no means inferior to the two pillars.
"You truly worry too much, Master. But everything will be fine. Can we not leave the complicated thoughts for tomorrow?"
"But... I still have state affairs to attend to."
"If you play with me for a bit, I will help you. Isn't it a waste for a great man like you, Marquis, to squander your time sitting at a desk?"
Lisia whispered softly, her voice dripping with sweetness.
"Besides, tomorrow you must travel to the capital because of Count Eschke. And you are leaving me behind. I will be so lonely without you, Master. Are you really not going to play with me?"
The Marquis hesitated. Was it truly alright to indulge like this? But soon, Lisia began to lick his hand with wicked playfulness. Her soft, supple tongue left a trail of wet warmth across his skin.
"Come now, Master. You must look further ahead. Imagine it—the entire world praising your name and the Eloran Marquisate. No, perhaps you will achieve such great deeds that you will be elevated to a Duke. Would that make you the future Duke?"
The Marquis's eyes met Lisia's. He deeply adored her eyes—captivating, wine-colored depths. Whenever he locked eyes with her, it felt as though his very soul was being pulled in.
"You are a pioneer, Master. You did not cast me aside even though I am a demon. How incredibly magnanimous of you. Surely, you will one day become the bridge that connects our two races, leaving your name in history forever."
A series of wet, sticky sounds followed. It was an overt temptation. The Marquis was still young, and he was not a man to suppress his desires. Before he knew it, his hands were eagerly exploring Lisia's body.
"I look forward to that day so much. The day when everyone who failed to recognize your true worth falls to their knees and sings your praises. Don't you feel the same, Master?"
"I... I do as well..."
"I am so happy to hear you say that."
Lisia giggled. The Marquis laughed along with her. Soon, the laughter of the man and woman dissolved into breathless, coquettish sighs. A sultry, stifling heat enveloped the Marquis's chamber.