Chapter 5
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Reading the Future (2)
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I watched the nobles engrossed in their meals. At the center was Duke Gail, marveling at the Eastern cuisine.
Mone seemed to find my behavior utterly bizarre.
No wonder. She was used to seeing me running around frantically to save the family, yet here I was, sitting idle with a golden opportunity right in front of me.
"You'll know in thirty minutes."
"...In thirty minutes?"
Mone tilted her head at the oddly specific timeframe.
Rather than satisfy her curiosity, I scanned the key figures.
Duke Gail, Tedric Eaton.
And finally, Byan Deolic.
Duke Gail was happily digging into the dish before him, while the other two chatted amiably with their noble acquaintances.
A perfectly ordinary banquet scene.
But I knew better.
This serene scene was merely the calm before the storm.
And that storm hit the banquet hall exactly thirty minutes later.
"The Duke has collapsed!"
"Call the physician! Get the physician!"
The hall, filled moments ago with laughter, erupted into pandemonium in an instant.
At the epicenter stood Duke Gail, slumped over as if merely asleep.
Even from our spot a ways off, the chaos reached us, sending servants scrambling toward their respective lords with panicked expressions.
They realized the banquet could go on no longer.
"Y-Young Master! What in the world is happening? Duke Gail, he..."
"It's fine, Mone."
I shrugged off the outer coat I'd worn to help in the kitchens and handed it to her.
"Handle things here. I've got someone to meet."
"...Young Master."
Mone stared at my unnatural calm, sensing something amiss.
And rightly so—trouble had struck just as I'd said.
"Hoo."
She gazed at me as if she had a thousand words to say, then let out a sigh.
"If there's ever anything I can do to help, even later, just say the word."
Despite her burning questions, she held them back. I flashed a grin and patted her shoulder.
"Then pray everything goes smoothly for me."
"Pardon?"
She took it as a joke, but I meant every word.
By the settings, Mone possessed miraculous luck.
A prayer from her just might bring a little extra fortune my way.
* * *
"This is a frame job! I've never tried to poison Duke Gail!"
Tedric Eaton bellowed from inside his cell, but only stony silence answered him.
*How did it come to this?*
His vision darkened, cold sweat soaking his body.
Of all things, to be branded the assassin of Supreme Commander Duke Gail.
*Why Kinzel, of all people...*
He'd never dreamed Kinzel would poison the Duke's food and pin it on him.
Claiming it was all on Tedric's orders!
He swore he'd never even considered such a thing.
*Could it be Sir Deolic's doing?*
Kinzel had originally been a Deolic family servant.
Now he served House Eaton—thanks to Byan Deolic's personal recommendation.
*And Sir Deolic was the first to act after the Duke collapsed.*
That wasn't all. Every circumstance pointed straight to him.
*But why...*
His mind reeled.
If Byan truly was the culprit, what could have driven him to this?
"A meal for you, Sir Eaton."
"...!"
Lost in thought, Tedric snapped his head up at the sudden voice.
*A meal? It's too early for that.*
Puzzled, he looked toward the sound—and froze at the unexpected visitor.
A man with black hair and blue eyes, handsome in a refined way.
"Clay... Banheart, is that you?"
"I'm honored you remember my name."
The man approaching with a tray of food wore a bright smile—Clay Banheart.
Tedric knew little about him.
Just the son of a fallen count's family, enlisting to restore their name. That was the extent of it.
Even for a fallen house, though, it was odd for such a scion to handle menial tasks.
Clink.
"Sir Eaton, I believe in your innocence."
Clay slid the tray through the bars as he spoke.
The unexpected words made Tedric's eyes widen.
"...You mean that?"
"Of course."
"Even if it's just lip service, I'm grateful."
"Sir Eaton."
Clay called his name again.
In the dim tent, amid rows of cold iron bars, Clay's blue eyes gleamed sharply as they fixed on the prison.
"May I make you a proposal?"
"A proposal?"
"Yes."
Something in those serene blue eyes made Tedric swallow dryly without thinking.
Suspicious words. Yet an inexplicable trust accompanied them.
"Can I hear it first before deciding?"
"Certainly."
"Very well... out with it."
At Tedric's tense response, Clay offered a faint smile.
It was as good as acceptance.
* * *
"I thank you all for gathering here amid the confusion."
With Duke Gail down, Marquis Artam now led the army in his stead.
He addressed the assembled nobles and knights in a somber tone.
Standing beside him was Byan Deolic.
"Fortunately, thanks to Sir Deolic's efforts, we swiftly caught the villain who poisoned the Duke. But the matter isn't fully resolved."
Marquis Artam clapped Byan on the shoulder and continued.
"Thus, I intend to entrust the full investigation to Sir Deolic."
At those words' end, Byan stepped forward.
"Sir Deolic, you say..."
"He was the one who first seized Kinzel and extracted the confession. It's only natural."
Most nobles and knights nodded at Marquis Artam's words.
Byan had handled the incident from the start, and no one dared nitpick a count's son over it.
"I object."
Save for one.
"...Who?"
"Who just said that?"
The murmur died instantly at the sudden voice.
Byan handling the case was all but decided.
Yet someone challenged it head-on.
"Isn't that... Sir Banheart?"
Byan's eyes twitched at a knight's whisper.
At the edge of his vision stood Clay, hand raised calmly.
*Clay Banheart. What do you think you're doing?*
Pathetic. Foolish.
A worthless wretch flailing to save his house too late.
That was Byan's view of Clay.
"Sir Banheart, did I hear you object just now...?"
Marquis Artam scowled at Clay's interruption of what was essentially settled.
Without a solid reason, Clay's military life ahead would be grueling.
"Yes, Marquis. I believe Sir Byan Deolic is unfit to handle this."
"Any particular reason?"
"There is."
Clay's bold declaration sent ripples through the crowd.
Marquis Artam quickly hushed them before speaking.
"State your reason."
"After questioning other servants, I learned Kinzel was originally a Deolic family servant—Sir Deolic's personal attendant, in fact."
"W-What? Is that true?"
"Absolutely. There are witnesses aplenty, but Sir Deolic himself should know best."
The unwavering statement reignited the murmurs, which even Marquis Artam couldn't quell easily this time. He leaned toward Byan and murmured.
"Is that true, Sir Deolic?"
"..."
Byan couldn't answer at once.
He was the most shocked of all.
*How did you find out, Clay Banheart?*
Naturally, no nobles knew Kinzel had once served House Deolic. Who paid attention to a servant's job changes?
Servants might know, but Byan had silenced them.
He couldn't guess who'd leaked it.
Watching Byan's fluster, Clay smirked inwardly.
*Byan Deolic.*
Until now, the man hadn't spared him a glance.
No matter what Clay did, it wouldn't derail his plans.
To him, Clay was just a clueless fool thrashing about.
*You've always been like that, Byan.*
The hypocrite who'd sneered at him from behind a saintly mask was finally seeing him—truly seeing him.
For the first time, recognizing Clay as an 'enemy' and glaring accordingly.
*You have no patience for those you disdain.*
Unthinkable just days ago.
Challenging Byan?
Clay had never once bested him since childhood.
Every contest ended in Clay's defeat.
Not that it was one-sided, though.
Byan grimaced at the irritating memory surfacing.
*You always annoyed me, Clay Banheart.*
Clay had dogged him relentlessly.
Byan despised that tenacious pest who never gave up easily.
And Clay felt the same.
*Don't think you'll always win, Byan.*
Clay met his gaze squarely.
This time, victory was his. He'd repay every slight and humiliation in full.
"Upon verification, Sir Banheart's claim proves true."
Marquis Artam returned after checking Clay's words, his voice heavy.
"It's true?"
"Kinzel really was a Deolic servant?"
No one had expected Clay's words to hold water; the assembly buzzed with shock.
Byan's face hardened further.
*Stings, doesn't it?*
The nobles' sidelong glances were one thing, but Byan's glare burned.
If glares could kill, Clay's face would be shredded.
"Sorry, Sir Deolic. It seems you'll need to undergo investigation as well."
"...It's fine."
Byan's response rang hollow against his expression.
No desperation, though.
Just a minor hiccup in his plans—nothing serious.
He still underestimated Clay.
Even seeing him as a foe, he didn't believe the man could trip him up.
*Is that so?*
Clay chuckled to himself.
The real gift for Byan was yet to come.