Chapter 92
Chapter 92
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Striking His Pride (1)
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Knock knock.
Rowell knocked on the door before announcing himself from outside.
"Master, it's Rowell."
"Come in."
With permission granted from within, he opened the door.
The room was bathed in a reddish glow from the fireplace flames. In the center sat Carlo in an armchair.
Rowell approached him and prostrated himself on the floor.
"Your lowly servant greets his master."
"Rise."
"Yes."
Rowell stood immediately and took a step back. He waited for Carlo to speak.
"……."
A brief silence followed.
Carlo stared into the fireplace flames. His eyes burned redder and hotter than the fire itself.
Finally, he parted his lips.
"Today, I had a rather unfamiliar experience."
Rowell quickly discerned his master's mood.
*Something unpleasant happened at the conference.*
His guess was spot on.
Ever since the conference ended, Carlo hadn't been able to shake off his foul mood. Even the following banquet had done nothing to improve it.
A single young upstart had ruined his entire day.
"I had a bad feeling even before the conference started...
He pulled himself deeper into the armchair. The empty glass in his hand clinked as he swirled it.
"The glass is empty. Pour me one."
"Yes."
Rowell hurried to the side table and picked up the bottle. If his subordinates from his base saw this, they would be stunned.
*Rowell tending to someone?*
But Rowell showed no hesitation—in fact, he seemed pleased to do so.
"Here you are."
Rowell poured liquor into Carlo's glass.
A sharp, intense aroma wafted up. It was a bitterly strong drink, mirroring his master's sour disposition.
"May I ask what happened?"
"You must have some idea already."
"My apologies."
Rowell bowed his head briefly before lifting it again.
"In all the years I've served you, Master, I've never seen you this upset."
Carlo took a sip in lieu of a reply. It was affirmation.
"It couldn't have been Mikel, whom you've always seen as a thorn in your side. He's too bound by his own name to act boldly."
"……."
"Benifer... She's mad for the Emperor, but she wouldn't do anything overtly insane with eyes on her."
Rowell's assessment was accurate.
For years, he had led the Mare Guild, gathering information and acting in Carlo's stead from the shadows.
He knew the empire's affairs as well as Carlo himself. He was practically his master's shadow.
"All the others tremble at the mere mention of the Ardante name."
After tossing out words to lift his master's spirits, Rowell tilted his head.
"If not them... then perhaps the Emperor himself?"
Even as he said it, Rowell considered it highly unlikely.
For the current Emperor to strike at the Ardante family would be a grave misstep. It would give the nobles cause to unite against him in fear.
*That greedy man wouldn't do something so foolish.*
Emperor Theodore was shrewd and quick with his calculations.
Once called the Conqueror King for his brutality, now that his reign was stable, he chose to exploit the lords rather than oppress them outright.
In other words, his best move was to pit the middling lords against each other for mutual destruction or to cow them into submission.
*If not that... then what?*
Rowell couldn't fathom it. He could only wait for his master to reveal the answer.
"Of course, it wasn't the Emperor."
Carlo finally spoke after a long pause.
"It was a mere boy, far younger than that."
"Pardon?"
"Abel Ovest Kindriel."
Rowell was at a loss for words.
He rummaged through his memory for the name, then realized it referred to the son of the Ovest lord.
"That would be Diego Kindriel's..."
"Yes, his only son."
"You're saying Abel Kindriel appeared in the conference hall himself? Not a proxy?"
"Indeed."
Rowell clamped his mouth shut.
There had been good reason he hadn't even mentioned the Ovest Territory while trying to guess his master's mood earlier.
First, the Kindriel family's weakness.
Even if the lord himself was the realm's strongest swordsman, the territory's power didn't match. And sending proxies every time had earned the Emperor's disfavor.
To the Ardante family, they were no more than flies.
*Is that why he called them flies?*
Second, the unresolved matter in Kader Territory, which he hadn't yet reported to his master.
Establishing a new branch there was progressing slowly.
Sending manpower to such a distant place took time, as did recruiting the local thugs.
Not to mention recovering the lost prostitutes and procuring new merchandise, which required additional capital.
*It wasn't even a high-priority territory.*
It had been a mere outpost to cover every corner of the empire. In fact, he'd considered abandoning it this time.
The only reason he hadn't was,
*That black bastard.*
It was all because of the mysterious man wielding a pitch-black sword.
Third, Rowell still hadn't tracked the man's movements.
He'd vanished after raiding the brothel. Rowell had scoured the surrounding territories like a rat hunt but found not even a hair.
*He's not the type to stay quiet for long.*
Experience told Rowell the man would resurface eventually.
The strong couldn't hide forever, whether by force or choice—they always revealed themselves.
*If only I'd secured that sword, I could have pleased Master.*
He grimaced inwardly. Instead of good news, he only had failure to report—no trace of the man, let alone the sword.
And now, of all things,
*Abel Ovest Kindriel.*
The name's emergence left him baffled.
*This brat made Master so displeased?*
Rowell arrived at the truth through logical deduction. But explaining it eluded him.
"Master."
Rowell let out a groan as he spoke.
"Forgive me, but this lowly servant can't comprehend. Abel Kindriel, of all people?"
"……."
"He's barely twenty. Just a wastrel terrorizing his territory."
He shook his head side to side.
"He has neither the money nor the ability to sway other lords. How could such a fool displease you, Master?"
"Rowell."
Finally called by name, Rowell bowed his head hastily.
"Yes, Master."
"Today, that brat..."
Rather than finishing, Carlo recalled the conference events.
*You'll get wrinkles like that.*
Abel tapping his forehead and shaking his head.
*How truly... pity...ful.*
Emphasizing each syllable.
*I was just curious, that's all?*
The infuriating innocent act.
Crunch.
Carlo ground his teeth audibly.
"In all my life, I've never suffered such humiliation."
Instead of recounting the events, he spat the words bitterly.
"To dare... insult me, Carlo Sud Ardante...!"
His eyes blazed like crimson flames—a destructive fire that would consume even himself.
"You know what must be done?"
"Of course."
Rowell instantly grasped his master's intent and bowed deeply.
"I'll identify his residence and investigate his every move thoroughly."
The subject went unspoken, but both knew exactly whom he meant.
*To displease Master to this degree.*
Rowell's eyes darkened sinisterly as he stared at the floor.
Master had only ordered tracking his background and activities, but Rowell thought differently.
Better to prune yellowing leaves early to avoid future trouble.
"Good. And..."
Carlo bared his teeth in a grin.
"Lord Tyler tampered with the ledgers."
"Tyler—the one handling blue pearl distribution?"
Rowell didn't hesitate to address a noble by name. Only Carlo deserved his honorifics.
"Yes, that's him."
Carlo's voice dropped lower.
"A hunting dog coveting his master's possessions. Time to tighten the leash, no?"
"The audacity...!"
Blue veins bulged on Rowell's forehead.
"To betray your grace with such impudence!"
He crouched low, eyes gleaming with malice. A cold, ruthless killing intent seeped out.
"Leave it to me, Master. I'll send birds at once and punish him for touching what's yours."
"No need for that."
Carlo waved a hand leisurely.
"I never fully trusted him anyway. Humans chase their own gain in the end, don't they?"
"Even if the world is like that, this Rowell will serve you with utter loyalty."
Rowell met Carlo's gaze with eyes burning passionately. In his vision, Carlo was always a blazing red sun.
He would never let that sun set. No dark clouds could mar its rise.
"I trust only you."
Carlo reached out and gripped Rowell's shoulder. The firm touch and warmth solidified his resolve.
"Just leave it to me."
Rowell vowed once more.
❖ ❖ ❖
The next morning, the sun rose.
The lords from yesterday's conference took their seats in the hall once more.
"This is the proposal I submitted this morning as conference material."
I held up my prepared documents.
"Please review item 7-3 in the materials."
The nobles rifled through the papers before them.
Flip, flip.
Among them, one sound was particularly irritable. I glanced that way and swallowed a laugh.
*Must be dying of frustration.*
Carlo flipped through the pages expressionlessly. But his rough handling betrayed his emotions—the edges crumpled under his fingers.
"The chart before you summarizes the number and types of monsters appearing from the western mountains into Ovest Territory."
The lords' expressions shifted as they followed my explanation across the table.
"Tr, twenty trolls?"
"Not every day this many monsters?"
"What the hell is Diego doing...?"
Ah, I wonder if Diego knows. How his standing rises by the minute.
*No son in the world is as filial as me.*
After a brief moment of self-praise, I continued.
"In this situation, Ovest Territory has labored tirelessly for the empire's safety. Therefore..."
Several hours later.
Thud.
The conference hall doors closed. As nobles streamed out toward the banquet hall, their faces were a colorful array.
Satisfied Mikel, smirking Benifer just as pleased. And Carlo, with a rotting grin.
"Ha, this is... unimaginable things keep happening."
"This conference is truly bizarre, isn't it?"
"Indeed. The strangest I've ever attended..."
The nobles whispered lowly, all stealing glances at me. Eyes mixed with intrigue, admiration, surprise—deliciously sweet.
*Pfft.*
Even better with Cain's complicated gaze descending from the observation gallery.
*The flow is good. At this rate...*
I could achieve today's goal.
I looked ahead. There was Mikel, chatting with nobles as he walked.
The next instant, he turned to look back.
"-!"
Our eyes met, and I knew. He would seek me out soon.