Rescue in the Alley: The Benellia Conspiracy
html, body { margin:0; padding:0; } Cast: Derek Walker 3
When their boss got utterly wrecked, his underlings freaked out and backed off. Out of the bunch, this guy was the only one with any real skill—the rest were just mediocre thugs.
A cut above your typical back-alley punks, maybe. They'd probably dragged them along just to intimidate with numbers. Sure, the ringleader could use mana, so they weren't total street trash from the neighborhood.
"R-retreat for now—tactical withdrawal!"
They spouted the classic lines you hear from extras and sidekicks getting pushed back.
"What about the boss?"
"Our heads are on the chopping block—you worried about him?!"
They didn't seem like any proper organization with structure. No discipline, no loyalty, no power. The black-robed crew spun on their heels and bolted.
I could've hunted them down one by one, but it was too much hassle. They didn't look like the type with the guts to come grinding their teeth for revenge anyway.
I approached Lady Benellia, who stood there with a dumbstruck expression. She stared at me, face frozen stiff like she couldn't believe what she'd just witnessed right in front of her eyes. She flinched when I got close.
"L-Lord Lyd?"
"Yes, milady."
"When did you learn fist arts? From what I knew, Lord Lyd was a master of swift swordsmanship."
"......Milady. I'm not Lord Lyd."
I thought she was sharp, but damn, she's denser than I figured. Must be the shock.
Well, she'd nearly lost her head, so yeah, fair enough.
"Ah! Right...! I was so shocked I just... Sorry. Forgive my rudeness."
"The name's Derek Walker. Merchant from the Miles Kingdom. Just passing through."
Once I revealed who I was, Lady Benellia finally caught her breath. She shook her head, trying to piece things together.
After about five minutes of silence, right when I was debating breaking it, she spoke up at the perfect moment.
"First off, thank you for saving me. I'm Isabel Benellia, second daughter of the House Benellia."
"Allow me to introduce myself properly. Derek Walker, merchant from the Miles Kingdom."
I dropped to one knee in a light bow. Women eat this stuff up, right?
"Anyway, care to explain what the hell that was about? I can guess the gist."
She hesitated, lips twitching. Probably nothing good—hard to share with a stranger she just met today.
After agonizing another five minutes, she finally spoke.
"This might take a while. Is that okay?"
"A long chat with a beautiful lady? I'd welcome it."
"Sigh. It all started with the fight over the throne's succession."
*-*-*
House Benellia.
A fairly prestigious marquisate in the Dove Kingdom, apparently. I wouldn't know, but an elf or Lienna versed in high society might. They claim to be well-known domestically and abroad.
King Dove XIV of the Dove Kingdom has three sons—all boys, and triplets, no less.
Just from that, you can tell Dove Kingdom's got a nasty successor problem on its hands.
"By tradition, the throne goes to the rightful heir of the royal bloodline—the eldest son."
"Most kingdoms work that way. Ours in Miles does too."
The crown prince spot is reserved for the firstborn royal. The other brothers? Just spare parts to swap in if something happens to him.
But human greed always pierces the heavens.
No one turns down the seat above all others, and plenty are willing to stain their hands with family blood for it. Even if the princes themselves aren't thinking that way, the sycophants whispering in their ears make sure they do.
"Dove Kingdom had plenty of those vermin too. A tragedy. Even a mighty tree like Dove in the Great Forest rots from within—no surviving that."
"So those worm-like flatterers sparked the war for the throne."
"Exactly. For those dreaming of defying fate on their one shot at glory, this was their chance. Three princes born the same day, after all."
Triplets born at the exact same moment.
In the real world, the one who pops out first gets called the older brother, right?
From the younger ones' perspective, that's gotta sting a bit. And in a royal house where the eldest takes all? The sense of deprivation for triplet brothers must be unimaginable.
"Dove's current crown prince is Prince Bait—the eldest triplet. But even before his official investiture, there was backlash. Not a day, not an hour—just one minute earlier out of the womb, and he's the heir? Unacceptable, they said."
Legitimacy is key to claiming the throne. Countless usurpers, once they snag the prince and crown, scramble to legitimize themselves.
And what grants that legitimacy? Eldest son status. So when the crown prince's claim gets challenged like this, chaos is inevitable.
"The other princes figured they had equal legitimacy too."
"Right. And plenty of retainers agreed."
Civil war in the kingdom, then.
"House Benellia stood by Crown Prince Bait, as per law and custom. The right choice. But..."
"But?"
Her brief silence telegraphed what came next. If the lady of a house backing the crown prince was getting chased by assassins in some mountain backroad, that said it all.
"Prince Bait fell into a coma. Probably the second or third prince's doing."
The bloody throne war had begun. House Benellia backed the first prince—and boasted prestige at home and abroad. To the other princes, they'd be a thorn in the side, ripe for a frame job and exile.
"I can guess the rest."
"Yes. As you suspected, they framed our house. I swear on my life, Benellia plotted no treason!"
"Who's behind it? Second prince? Third?"
"Probably both. A temporary alliance to sever Prince Bait's arms and legs completely."
Kill the tiger before fighting over the throne?
Smart move.
"For a famed house like ours in Dove to be branded traitors overnight, both factions must've teamed up."
I got the picture. Not as dire as it seemed.
"What about the rest of your family?"
"Father and Mother caught on quick and fled abroad. Most retainers at the main estate escaped before the flames spread. But my sister and I..."
She bowed her head.
"We were at the villa. News reached us late, so now we're fugitives. My older sister and brothers got caught."
"Any idea what happened to them?"
"No... Gods, I hope they're alive..."
Tears like chick peas rolled down Lady Benellia's cheeks. I nudged the bald thug's head on the ground.
"Hey. I know you're awake. Get up, or I'll smash your skull."
"Eek...!"
The guy screamed. With his limbs broken, he wriggled like a worm.
"P-please, spare my life!"
Only two teeth left, but he spoke clear enough. Pronunciation a bit mushy, but understandable.
"Answer my questions first."
I pressed down on his wrist.
"Guhh!"
"You grabbed the other Benellias too, right? Killed 'em?"
"Guhh! My wrist hurts too much."
"Slow answers."
Crack!
I crushed his wrist flat like a pressed dumpling. His screams echoed louder.
"Gaaahhh!"
"Whine more, and the other hand gets it too."
"I'll talk! I'll talk!"
The bastard convulsed for a full minute before sputtering out words.
"Sold 'em to the slave market! Guhh! The other ladies didn't resist...!"
"Where!? Which market!?"
Lady Benellia's eyes lit up at the bald guy's words.
"Guhh! Kegen slave market...! Sold 'em three days ago, so they might still be there...!"
Kegen slave market.
I filed that away. Sounds like things are about to get interesting.
"Kegen's close by. If we hurry, maybe we can save my sister and brothers..."
She murmured thoughtfully.
"I told the truth—please spare me...! Ack! It hurts so much..."
Watching the worm beg pathetically soured my mood. Felt like stomping his head flat. But I still had questions.
"Who gave the order?"
"Guhh...! No idea. We just get the fee and details—no client names."
"Hmm. Your head's clueless, so let's ask your hand."
"N-no!"
Crack!
Smashed his remaining left hand like a cookie.
"Gaaahhh! It's true! I really don't know!"
Sounded legit. No more intel to squeeze from this trash.
"Truth gets you to heaven."
Crack!
I crushed his skull.
