Chapter 52
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 52
Despite the man’s advice, Lara had insisted on meeting the knight. There was nothing to be gained from a battle of wills with him.
“Indeed, those are all trivial matters. What is important is that you protected Hastin.”
Even so, she couldn't hide her foul mood; a clear note of dissatisfaction seeped into her voice.
“Though there is not much I can do, I wish to reward you as far as my authority allows. Originally, I would have liked to learn your name and help spread your fame, but the situation does not permit that... Tell me, is there anything you desire?”
Having finished speaking, Lara gave a small cough. The knight, who had been listening with his head bowed, looked up. He replied immediately, his voice surprisingly spirited.
“I require food.”
The Lord replied.
“I shall gladly grant it.”
*
“...On behalf of the people of Hastin, I express my gratitude in the name of the Lord.”
Ah, just as I thought.
Only after kneeling on one knee and bowing his head to the young girl did Patrick, the ‘self-proclaimed wandering knight,’ smirk to himself.
Etarque.
To think the Count who inherited this territory was a member of the Etarque family.
With things like this, it’s no wonder the town is a mess.
An anxious expression, a trembling voice. A single glance was enough to gauge the current Lord’s state. She was a human who lacked the bearing of a ruler.
Judging by her age, she’s likely the former Lord’s daughter, or perhaps a much younger sister.
Patrick mused, keeping his head bowed before her.
‘An incompetent younger sister has ascended to the position of Lord’—several hypotheses came to mind, all stemming from the same root.
In the end, it seemed she had been forced to carry the heavy burden of Hastin on her small shoulders.
How pitiful. A sacrificial lamb for her family.
“...Then, what is your name?”
Lara’s voice snapped Patrick out of his thoughts. He gave a vague answer. Numerous questions followed, most of them blatant expressions of her wariness toward him.
It was understandable for her to be flustered when the knight before her refused to reveal his identity. As Patrick placated her with carefully chosen words, the Lord shifted the subject, as if finally giving in to his pace.
“Tell me if there is anything you desire.”
“I require food.”
Patrick answered without a moment’s hesitation.
Currently, the most precious commodity in Hastin was, of course, food. The only reason the Lord’s Castle remained functional while the village collapsed was because it still had provisions.
He was demanding a share of that food. From the perspective of the Lord of Hastin, this should have been an unexpected loss.
She will surely be shaken.
He intended to grasp the true situation of the castle. Depending on how much food was left, he could gauge how mentally desperate the Lord had become.
If he could determine that, he was confident he could manipulate her with ease.
“I shall gladly grant it.”
His prediction was spectacularly wrong. There wasn't a shred of hesitation in the Lord’s answer.
Soon, she summoned the butler. Realizing the Lord’s intention, the butler immediately spoke to Patrick.
“I will provide the food on your way out. How much do you require?”
“...Two meals’ worth will suffice.”
This time, the Lord herself pressed further.
“Will that truly be enough?”
“I came to Hastin to find someone, but it seems the situation is not right for that now. I had intended to stay at an inn for a few days and take my time, but they have all closed down. It can’t be helped. I plan to look around a bit more and then head back. I have some food with me, so two more meals will be plenty.”
At the mention of the closed inns, the Lord’s expression darkened slightly. Patrick, not missing the detail, let out a soft, meaningless hum.
After a brief silence, the Lord stood up as if she had nothing more to say.
Even after she stood, Patrick remained on one knee. Glancing down at him as she rose, the Lord began to walk back toward her bedchamber.
“Ah, come to think of it.”
Patrick stopped her just as she was about to exit the audience chamber.
His voice slipped out, casual and low.
“This has been bothering me for a while.”
His tone was so quiet it was almost chilling.
The air in the room suddenly grew heavy.
The Lord froze in her tracks. Her eyes widened and a sheen of sweat broke out across her skin; she was clearly flustered, unable to adapt to the sudden shift in atmosphere.
Ah, what a truly honest human. She doesn't know how to hide a single expression.
There was one presence that had been incredibly grating since he first entered the audience chamber. It was a presence the other party must have been feeling the entire time as well—a presence that Rene and Swallow could not sense.
It was something that could only be felt because he was Patrick, because he was a Death Knight, because he was Undead.
A sense of kinship.
Patrick slowly raised his hand. His finger, encased in a dark blue gauntlet, pointed at the man who had been shadowing the Lord from behind.
“You. What is your identity?”
That final sentence swallowed all other sound in the room.
* * *
“Your Lordship must become more prudent than you are now.”
Only after the sole door to her bedchamber was completely closed and she was certain she was alone did Lara bury her face in the plush blankets.
“That knight... who was he...?”
There were too many suspicious things about him.
She had insisted on this meeting, yet she had learned nothing. Instead, she had been completely outmaneuvered. Even the words she had spoken with such confidence to project the dignity of a Lord had been a mistake.
“If rumors spread that there is food within the castle, the situation will become difficult, will it not?”
The man’s advice had certainly made sense. It would be disastrous if word of the castle’s food supply leaked out. She should have refused the knight’s request.
Only then would her current neglect of the village have any meaning.
When she had accepted the man’s proposal, he had told her:
Lara Cinebier Etarque was not the Lord the residents of Hastin wanted.
Now that disaster had struck, if Lara failed to resolve the incident properly, she would surely earn everyone’s hatred.
And then the man had offered his counsel. He claimed that if she could turn this crisis into an opportunity, she would be loved by all. His method was as cold as it was simple.
—Lara just had to become the savior.
When everyone was starving, when the village reached the brink of ruin, she would become the great figure who bestowed upon them the food that would save their lives.
“I... want to live.”
She just had to endure a little longer.
If she held out just a bit more, the man would bring salvation to Hastin, just as he promised.
Lara was prepared to take the hand of a devil if it meant surviving.
Outside the door, the man who had been listening laughed.
It was a bizarre, indescribable sound.
Phase. 6
“Well, that’s what happened.”
After his audience with the Lord, Patrick headed straight for the back alleys to share what he’d learned with Swallow.
He found Swallow sleeping in a tangled heap of people who looked like little more than rags.
—It was good that he had gotten friendly with the locals, but it seemed he’d gotten a little too close.
“...So, what happened?” Swallow asked, scratching his head after hearing Patrick’s entire explanation.
Even after being dragged away by the scruff of his neck for neglecting his duties, he still looked half-asleep. Small tear-like droplets had gathered at the corners of his eyes from what must have been a habitual yawn.
“There’s nothing more to it; that was the end. I brushed it off, telling them I was just curious and meant nothing by it.”
“Didn't you say you felt a sense of kinship? You just left an Undead alone?”
“Feeling kinship doesn't necessarily mean they are the same kind of Undead. Necromancers can give off a similar energy, and even humans who dabble in black magic can emit that aura, depending on how much it has consumed them from within.”
In short, they had to be cautious.
“...Then why did you say that last part?” Swallow asked, clearly unable to understand Patrick’s actions.
In Swallow’s mind, if you suspected someone, you beat them up first and sorted it out later.
Patrick stared blankly at Swallow for a moment before adding with a sigh, “I have my reasons.”
In Patrick’s view, the Lord was part of some scheme. She must have had something to rely on to neglect the territory like this. Furthermore, there was a high probability that the man he’d sensed was involved in this incident.
To them, the existence of a ‘blatantly suspicious knight’ would surely disrupt their plans. If they acted rashly, they were bound to slip up.
And if the anxious Lord tried to approach Patrick first, he couldn't be more grateful.
“If it were me, I would have smashed everything on the spot.”
“Boss, are you trying to resolve this incident or finish destroying the village?” Patrick muttered, loud enough to be heard. It’s a relief I went instead of the Boss.
Of course, it wasn't as if Patrick hadn't considered it.
However, one must always prepare for the worst-case scenario. If he caused a ruckus only to find that the man had little to do with Hastin’s situation, cleaning up the mess would be incredibly difficult.
“Did you find anything, Boss?” Patrick asked after organizing his thoughts.
Swallow had gone beyond being friendly with the back-alley residents and had become one himself. Even if he had just been lounging around sleeping, he must have gathered some information.
At Patrick’s question, Swallow adopted a serious expression.
“First of all, I think the Lord is suspicious.”
“...Wasn't that what I was telling you until I was blue in the face before we even got here?”
“There are a few other things I found out... Ah, the people here are subsisting on grain that was discarded because it was plagued. I wondered why the village was so quiet, but it turns out some of the people hiding in their houses have starved to death.”
“Not that. Did you find out anything about the Rosary?”
“As if.”
Crack. The sound of a bone snapping echoed from Patrick.
“So, to summarize, you haven't found out a single thing we actually need to know.”
“Didn't you say last time that it would take a while...?” Swallow muttered meekly. “I did try,” he added, as if he’d thought of a suitable excuse.
“What was that human’s name again? Ah. Rosalina? That human, her mood swings seem more severe than I thought. It’s hard to approach her.”
Only after hearing Swallow’s explanation that she didn't seem sane did Patrick nod in understanding.
“That would certainly be the case.”
It must be a harsh reality for a young girl to accept. The situation in Hastin was dire, and people around her had been harmed by her actions. The mental shock must have been significant.
“Still, we need to find out quickly. We aren't in a position to just wait until she regains her stability.”
“It's not like we have any better ideas, is there?”
“...It would have been nice if I’d learned mind control magic or something.”
I should have carried a staff instead of a sword, he thought with belated regret, which suddenly brought Melju to mind.
Should I have just brought Melju? But a mere gatekeeper couldn't say that to his boss's face.
Patrick pulled himself together.
“I should have just brought Melju.”
“...Are you really saying that after dragging me here when I didn't want to come?”
They sighed in unison.
It is easy to break a sane person’s mind. Restoring a broken mind, however, is twice as difficult.
For now, no brilliant strategy came to mind.
“...Ah, how about this?”
After several minutes of them both hanging their heads in despair, something seemed to occur to Patrick. He snapped his head up and spoke.
At his words, Swallow lifted his bowed head. He swallowed hard, as if his appetite had suddenly returned.
Just how far do the Boss’s limits go— it had reached a point where it was difficult to even nitpick anymore. Patrick wordlessly rummaged inside his chest. Watching him, Swallow suddenly frowned.
“You... don't tell me you’ve been walking around with your ribs removed just for that?”
He had thought it was strange how Patrick always rummaged inside his own chest to take something out. Come to think of it, to fit a hand inside his chest, there had to be space.
As if proud of it, Patrick straightened his spine and said, “I only need to remove three ribs. It’s one of the blessings given to someone destined to wear armor instead of a coat.”
Destiny or not, you could just wear a coat with pockets. Or carry a pouch on your belt.
“You don't have to look at me with such worried eyes. They’re detachable.”
“You could have just kept the detached bones inside your body, too...”
Patrick lightly ignored Swallow’s words and held out a bundle with a faint smile.
“Anyway, this is the food I obtained from the Lord’s Castle.”
“You want to eat and then think?”
“No. Let’s use this to win the favor of the girl named Rosalina.”
The plagued grain the people in the alleys were eating was barely enough for survival.