Chapter 103
Chapter 103
"Me? Just you, the Marquis, and me? Without even attendants?"
Dwain, who had come to deliver supplies, looked utterly bewildered as he repeated the question.
Even considering the recommendation to bring only minimal personnel during the state funeral period, this seemed excessively sparse.
Yet Logan remained unfazed by the question.
"It's already been some time. We're at the southwestern edge—if we don't hurry now, we'll barely make it to the capital by the funeral's start."
"The two of you, fine, but why me?!"
"You just said it yourself—'without even attendants,' didn't you?"
"Huh? You can't mean—"
"Since you're here, you might as well help out."
And so, the middle-aged financial administrator found himself temporarily assuming the role of an attendant at the Marquis's behest.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
"M-My lord! This schedule is too brutal—ack!"
"Less talking, more lifting your rear and leaning forward, Dwain! Unless you want to be unable to sit later!"
"Gah, damn it! Why does it have to be me?!"
The burly administrator, utterly unaccustomed to such relentless riding, screamed in protest, but his companions showed no mercy.
Their two-day gallop only came to a halt when they encountered a lavishly decorated carriage on the well-maintained highway.
A carriage bearing the banner of a rose blooming within flames.
"Well, well. They say even ill-fated connections are still connections—how stubbornly persistent they are. Amusing."
The voice of the blue-eyed, blond middle-aged man who stepped out carried clearly despite the distance.
"Indeed, Count. You needn't have stopped to wait for us—you could've gone on your way."
"I wanted to see the faces of those whose lifelines were miraculously extended. Who knows? Some of that luck might rub off on me."
"I'd prefer you continue straight to the underworld without detours. Don't block the road."
"Patrick MacLaine. Your survival was mere luck, and that'll only last until the funeral ends. Do you truly not realize how much more miserable your end will be if you provoke me?"
Roger Vifros stood flanked by Flanz and Aslan, with three high-ranking knights from Tomodo behind them. The odds were overwhelmingly against them if a fight broke out now, yet Patrick's words held no hesitation.
"Hah... I see what you're relying on. You think if anything happens to MacLaine before the funeral starts, everyone will blame me. But so what?"
Before Vifros could finish speaking, killing intent surged from his retinue.
"Do I seem like the type to care about such trifles? Burying you here and dealing with the aftermath is all it takes."
Clang!
Vifros's knights stepped forward, weapons drawn.
Patrick's expression stiffened slightly, while Dwain turned pale.
"Tch, what pointless bluster. If you truly didn't care, you'd have attacked already. Enough posturing—let's each go our separate ways. You're running late too, aren't you?"
Logan's calm retort drew the Count's sharp gaze.
"...Keh. Kekeke. Now that I think about it, this all started with you, didn't it? Logan MacLaine. Well, enjoy what little life you have left. I'm already looking forward to seeing your face when MacLaine burns."
At Vifros's gesture, the knights retreated.
Logan urged his horse forward, passing them without hesitation.
Patrick followed with equal composure.
"Take good care of my sword, Baron. I'll be back for it soon."
Aslan, his gaunt cheeks making him look haggard, spat venomous words, but the MacLaines merely smirked as they passed.
Only the middle-aged administrator, trembling and pale from the unfamiliar tension, forced himself to follow.
Seemingly pleased by his expression, Roger Vifros added one last remark as they departed:
"Once you reach the capital, I advise you never to leave. Cling to the Sword Duke or that old fool Dylan if you must. The life of a landless noble is still better than losing your head."
Patrick's grip on the reins tightened momentarily, though he didn't turn back.
Logan chose not to respond. The three riders gradually picked up speed, leaving their unwanted company behind.
And leading the charge was Dwain, who had spent two days begging for rest.
"My lord! Young master! Faster! The funeral's upon us—why so leisurely?!"
His exaggerated enthusiasm was comical, easing some of their worries about the future.
"So what happens now?"
"How should I know? That's the problem..."
"What about the funeral..."
"Matters to the nobles, not us..."
"What do you think will happen?"
The clamor of voices.
The capital, Gran, was more chaotic than ever upon their arrival.
From the western gates onward, crowds gathered to gossip about the king's death.
But that wasn't all.
Thud.
"Move aside."
"You first."
Two knights squared off over the ample space on either side of the road, neither drawing their swords first.
"Look, another one."
"The Davis and Clette factions..."
"Why are their low-ranking knights always at each other's throats?"
Factional conflicts, once subtle, now played out openly—visible even to commoners.
With violence banned during the state funeral, it was only a matter of time before blades were drawn.
The gloomy faces of passersby were no surprise.
"The mood is worse than I expected."
"Naturally."
"What's the world coming to..."
"My lord, forget the world—we're the problem here! What about them?!"
Dwain, who had laughed it off when delivering supplies to Tomodo Castle, was now a nervous wreck.
Ever since encountering Roger Vifros, he'd been obsessively comparing their military strength.
For a trusted vassal, three days of patience was already generous.
"Enough! Dwain. That's our—no, Logan's problem to solve. Right?"
"Of course, Father."
"...I'd appreciate some consultation this time."
Logan only smiled at his father's uneasy addition.
Some plans couldn't be shared—especially not this one.
"Stop smiling like that. It's unsettling."
"That smile means he's planning something reckless, my lord! Keep him in check!"
"Let's settle in first. Do you plan to stand here all day?"
"Settle in? You've already arranged lodging?"
"Not lodging—an estate. I bought it just before leaving the capital last time. Staying at my master's place every time seemed..."
Though he'd never seen it, Logan trusted Philip to have chosen well.
"A hotel would've sufficed—why buy..."
"He's already done it. Why a house in the capital... How much was it... Extravagance becomes habit."
Logan chuckled at Dwain's grumbling.
"A pleasure to meet you, my lord. Young master. I am Retro, the butler. This is Lena, and Lucy. Greet them properly."
A elderly gentleman with sparse brown hair amidst white locks bowed respectfully alongside the maids.
Beyond them lay a small garden and a modest two-story house—hardly an estate, but its prime location near the Inner City's center and elegant simplicity suggested it wasn't cheap.
Dwain nodded, then discreetly asked the butler while the masters entered:
"Good sir, what was the price—"
"From what I understand, a man named Philip purchased it from the previous owner for about 3 million gold."
"Th-Three million?! My lord! For one house—!"
"And its current market value is approximately 5 million gold."
Dwain froze mid-outburst, gaping at the butler.
"F-Five million?"
"Yes."
"You said it was bought just months ago..."
"The recent instability has driven prices up."
"I see... Well then..."
His frown instantly vanished.
The butler hesitated whether to mention the monthly maintenance fees and taxes.
"So. What now?"
After unpacking, Patrick's question remained consistent.
Though less dramatic than Dwain, he too was uneasy about their post-funeral plans.
"First, I'll visit my master."
"As I thought. Is the Sword Duke your solution?"
"...Huh? Oh, no. Just paying respects since we're in the capital."
If he knew what I'm planning, he might kill me himself.
Logan forced an awkward smile, hiding his thoughts.
The official funeral began tomorrow.
His plans could only unfold afterward.
'Besides, Philip isn't here yet.'
Until then, he'd observe the factional tensions.
But—
"Is that so? Then I'll join you. To meet the revered Sword Duke at my age—how embarrassing to feel this excited."
An unexpected companion joined him.
"Young master Logan, welcome."
"Long time no see, Jaygun."
After greeting the Sword Duke's gatekeeper, Logan was escorted inside by the ever-composed adjutant Louis.
"You needn't have come out personally."
"You're his only disciple. It's only proper—please don't feel burdened."
Louis spoke matter-of-factly, but—
'Being escorted by my former commander is burden enough...'
Logan still felt awkward receiving such treatment from his old superior.
He forcibly changed the subject.
"How is my master?"
"The shock hit him hard. No one expected His Majesty to pass like that."
"Hm?"
Patrick's puzzled murmur from behind made Logan hastily interject:
"Ah—do you know how His Majesty passed?"
A deliberate diversion, though he already knew.
"He collapsed suddenly while attending to state affairs. The temple cited overwork leading to cerebral hemorrhage. By the time priests arrived..."
"What?"
The unexpected answer genuinely surprised him.
This differed from the king's death in his past life—then, he'd died peacefully in his sleep, officially from acute heart failure due to old age.
That discrepancy had puzzled him when he'd seen the king's robust health.
'Back then, I thought he might've looked healthy despite his age... But—'
Overwork? Cerebral hemorrhage?
A king collapsing during state affairs?
'Similar to old age, but... unsettling.'
He couldn't fathom why history had changed.
Unless...
"Forgive the irreverence, but... could it have been foul play?"
"Many witnesses were present. His Lordship investigated personally but found no evidence."
"..."
Regardless, it was done.
Now wasn't the time to dwell on the king's death.
Logan shelved his questions and followed Louis.
Or tried to.
"Logan. Your story and the situation seem slightly different..."
His father's icy remark from behind nearly made him sweat.
"Given my master's close relationship with the late king, the shock must've been severe. Right, Louis?"
"Ah, yes. They'd been close since youth..."
"My master often worried about His Majesty's health. To fail to prevent this..."
"His Lordship... Well, such things are beyond human control."
Elderly friends commonly express health concerns—why emphasize this?
Louis gave Logan a puzzled look, but the platitude quelled Patrick's rising doubts.
Seeing his father's accepting expression, Logan finally relaxed.
Only then could he continue forward.