Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: 1 Hour
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“The family head has fallen?!”
Deia Verdi, who had been reading a book, jumped to her feet in shock.
The chair tipped backward with a loud crash, but she had no time to care.
The sudden ill news brought by the maid.
The report that Darius Verdi—pride of the Verdi family, their glory, and their final guardian—had collapsed.
It was a crisis for the Verdi family, the most urgent alarm echoing through Northsweden.
“The family head is on his way right now. His shoulder wound is severe, so I’ve already summoned a physician.”
“Warm up the room, and bring all the bandages and medicines. Have them prepare some nourishing stew too.”
“Yes, understood.”
“And.”
The maid, who had received her orders and was about to move, hesitated mid-step.
Deia clamped her open mouth shut and bit her lip.
“No. Proceed as is. Magical treatment would leave deep fatigue in his body, so we need to create an environment where he can rest as comfortably as possible.”
“Understood.”
Her peaceful daily life had suddenly turned urgent.
The face of the family head, who had marched out sneering that barbarians crossing the mountains was nothing new, flashed in her mind.
‘That’s why I told you not to let your guard down!’
He should have at least scouted the enemy’s forces properly.
Rushing off with the usual preparations had led to this mess.
‘All the men in this family rub me the wrong way!’
Both Darius Verdi, carried in wounded, and Deius Verdi, pretending to be normal.
Deia disliked them all.
She threw on the coat hanging on the rack and headed outside.
Her steps had unconsciously quickened, her footsteps resounding strongly down the hall, announcing the dire situation.
She planned to head to the first floor and greet Darius as he was brought in.
But as she walked the corridor, her eyes fell on the firmly locked room right next to her.
Deius Verdi’s room.
Deia herself had locked it with magic on Darius’s orders, so she knew it wouldn’t open easily.
“Ha.”
Just moments ago, while speaking to the maid, she had hesitated briefly.
Should she ask for help from the second son, Deius?
It was a situation where she’d borrow even a cat’s paw.
But no.
“What can I expect from that cripple?”
That wasn’t even a cat’s paw—it was more like a bug’s leg.
With that thought, Deia passed Deius’s room without hesitation.
After waiting about thirty minutes at the entrance on the first floor, she spotted soldiers urgently riding in, towing a cart from afar.
They looked filthy, as if they hadn’t washed in days, their dark circles sunken and cheeks hollow from lack of sleep, making Deia feel a pang of guilt.
“D-Deia! The family head…!”
“I know! Butler, hurry and carry the family head inside!”
The servants waiting with Deia rushed to the cart and moved Darius into the mansion.
Deia glanced at the soldiers staring blankly, then approached and patted their shoulders.
“Come inside. I’ve prepared food for you all, so fill your stomachs and warm up.”
“Sniff… We’re sorry!”
“If we had tried harder…!”
The soldiers’ emotions overflowed at Deia’s warm words.
“It’s alright. It’s alright, so come inside. You’ve all done enough, so I’ll take responsibility from here.”
With renewed resolve, Deia provided food and rest for the soldiers who had brought Darius this far, then headed to his room.
Inside the warmly heated room sat Northsweden’s finest physician, surrounded by ample stores of medicines.
The mansion’s servants were all glaring with fierce determination, ready for anything.
They were all natives of the North.
Their families waited in Northsweden city beyond the mansion.
With barbarians invading their land, everyone hoped for the recovery of Darius, the mightiest warrior who could stop them.
“Physician, how is the family head’s condition?”
At Deia’s tense question, the physician let out a gloomy groan in reply.
“It’ll be hard for him to return to the front lines anytime soon.”
The diagnosis struck everyone in the room like a bolt from the blue.
Deia cried out desperately.
“Th-that’s nonsense! Considering the family head’s caliber, a mere shoulder wound shouldn’t…!”
“But the opponent was no good. A peculiar mana remains inside, continuously eating away at the wound.”
“…What?”
It was news she’d never heard before.
The enemy’s mana lingered in the family head’s body, keeping the wound from healing?
“I’ve heard Clock Republic has such warriors. Combat specialists who disable foes with a single strike.”
Pushing up his glasses, the physician continued with a look of despair.
“It seems he fell to one of them. Unless that mana is extracted or the family head faces no threat severe enough to prevent its use… no amount of treatment will heal the wound.”
“Ha.”
Deia struck her forehead.
She took a deep breath.
The barbarians would regroup along the ridgeline and charge straight for their throat.
To advance from the North into the kingdom’s interior, they needed food and supplies, so they’d pillage Northsweden.
If she’d had just a bit more time, she might have made a wise choice.
But with the crisis imminent, even this moment of sighing felt wasteful.
“Request aid from the other Border Counts and nearby nobles.”
Everyone in the room knew the magnitude of her decision.
She was willing to abandon the privileges of her Border Count title and bow to neighboring nobles to defend Northsweden.
The Verdi family might shake afterward.
She could even be ousted as incompetent.
But people had to be protected.
“Gather all available soldiers and hold out until reinforcements arrive. I’ll take command.”
Deia stepped forward with firm resolve.
But.
“No…!”
Darius, whom they thought unconscious, bolted upright and shouted. Madness gleamed in his bloodshot eyes.
“The history of our Verdi family is rooted here in Northsweden! You’d cut the family’s roots?!”
Grit.
Deia ground her teeth, swallowing the impulsive retort rising in her throat.
“Then what do we do? We can’t just sit idle.”
“We sit idle.”
“…What?”
It was shocking.
More so than the initial report of Darius’s defeat and injury—it slammed into the back of her head.
“Just stay put. Brush it off as them not crossing the mountains.”
“A-are you joking right now?”
“Seal the lips of Northsweden’s citizens and promise compensation for the barbarians’ pillaging later…”
“Shut up!”
Deia’s sharp voice rang out fiercely. Darius tried to scold his little sister for her insolence, but her words came faster.
“You’d abandon people for some damn history? Again? Repeat the Verdi family’s shame once more?”
“Watch your words, Deia!”
“If you didn’t want to hear it, you shouldn’t have been carried in like a beaten dog! I told you so many times! Don’t get complacent and assemble proper forces!”
“That one was off-spec. No way to stop it anyway.”
“Does that make you feel better, comforting yourself? But you’re not in a position to—you’re the one who has to take responsibility!”
Their heated exchange flew back and forth.
The servants and physician in the room could only watch awkwardly, unsure what to do.
“Fine! I’ll go block them! Request support from Count Tolkien and Count Herameus right now! We defend Northsweden!”
And then.
One man floated into Deia’s mind.
Her other brother.
“Call that damn second son here too. He’s a bug, but he’s still a Verdi, so he shares the responsibility.”
His favorite brothel was in Northsweden, so he’d fight to protect it.
Thanks to connections, he’d been a professor at Robern Academy for three months.
He hadn’t lectured, but.
“He can probably launch a fireball or two.”
As she waited briefly, the door burst open.
The air in the room shifted abruptly.
Long, straight black hair.
A coat buttoned all the way up, shoulders squared with confidence.
Deius Verdi entered with unwavering steps.
It was enough to make one wonder if this man had always carried such intimidation.
His mere presence brought a chilling, ominous cold to the warmly heated room.
Deia frowned, about to explain the situation.
“One hour.”
Deius raised a hand impassively and declared.
“Give me one hour, and I’ll handle everything.”
As if he were a demon granting a wish.