I. Where the Frost Lingers (6)
I. Where the Frost Lingers (6)
The table was set for House Bellaf's evening meal.
The family ate together every evening, but tonight differed in two respects.
"Thank you for your hospitality. I hardly know what to say."
First, the peddler Joseph had joined what was normally a private family meal.
"Don't be so stiff. Eat, eat."
Second, Fritz did not throw Joseph out on sight.
In fact, the astonishing part was that Fritz had been the one to invite Joseph to supper in the first place.
Ordinarily, Fritz would have kicked Joseph square in the backside without a second thought.
He would have berated the lowly merchant for daring to intrude on a noble family's meal.
Tonight, however, Fritz was entirely different. He treated Joseph with the familiarity of someone he had long awaited.
"Try a bit of this, too."
"The flavor is superb. A humble peddler like myself could never dream of such fare. One might justly call it heavenly food."
"Our family's cooking is fairly passable."
In Hilmer's absence, as head of House Bellaf, Fritz would indeed be responsible for entertaining a guest.
And so, Fritz's present conduct could be seen as beyond reproach.
But only if Hilmer were absent.
"Fritz."
Hilmer sat at the head of the table, displeasure visible on his face throughout the meal.
Halfway through his meal, he set down his utensils and called Fritz's name in a tone that said he could bear no more.
"I cannot begin to guess why you invited that peddler bastard... Joseph to dinner."
Lady Bellaf, seated beside him, nodded in agreement.
She looked deeply discomfited by any sight that whittled away at her firstborn son Hilmer's authority.
"Yes, Fritz. Hilmer is right. Any other time, perhaps, but supper is when our family gathers to eat together, is it not? Joseph, for a merchant you seem unusually lacking in tact."
"My apologies, Lady Bellaf. I could not presume to refuse Master Fritz's invitation to dine."
"Mother. Isn't a meal more enjoyable with a welcome guest? Why spoil a pleasant atmosphere?"
"Fritz! Mind your tongue!"
Fritz's manner toward Hilmer and Lady Bellaf remained flippant as the meal went on.
It was only natural that Hilmer's voice would rise.
"I know you constantly behave like a scoundrel. But remember that I have overlooked it only because you never crossed the line."
"..."
"Answer me!"
"Ah, yes. Brother. I'll take it to heart."
"Haa..."
Supper resumed to the rattle of cutlery.
Joseph tactfully fell silent, and Fritz, though rarely tactful, clamped his mouth shut whenever his mood soured. The rest of dinner seemed likely to pass quietly.
"And... Keldric."
But that was only Keldric's assumption as he ate quietly in one corner of the table.
Hilmer's reproachful gaze shifted onto Keldric, who set down his cutlery with an awkward expression.
"Yes, Brother."
"Malcolm told me you took a sword."
"That's right."
In that instant, Hilmer's eyebrow twitched.
Keldric did not miss it, though the others seemed unaware.
Keldric spoke first.
"Brother, I wasn't plotting anything. I'll be taking the sword with me anyway; I only wanted to become familiar with it a day sooner."
"You... Yes. I know you aren't the sort to plot something improper. But if even a small crack is ignored, a solid dike will eventually collapse."
"..."
"What I mean is that no exception to our family's rules can be permitted—no matter how innocent your thoughts. All the more if it's a rule that must be strictly observed within the manor house."
Keldric found himself with nothing to say.
Hilmer had been clever since childhood; his words left no foothold for argument.
There was still no proof regarding Fritz and Joseph.
Moreover, with both men present, there was no telling what Fritz and Joseph might do if Keldric raised his suspicions prematurely.
"Return it to the armory after dinner. I've told Malcolm to put your sword back before he goes home."
"...Yes. Understood."
Weaving Malcolm into his command was a shrewd move on Hilmer's part.
The clever Hilmer knew that for all his bulk Keldric had a considerate nature, and that Malcolm's involvement would leave Keldric no choice but to return the sword.
Keldric's expression visibly fell in response.
At that, Lady Bellaf spoke up to him in turn.
"Keldric. Don't be too downcast. I'll see to it that you're allowed to practice swordsmanship during the day."
"Mother...!"
"Hilmer, yield on this much. You know your father kept Keldric on far too tight a leash."
All Hilmer could do was nod.
Though Hilmer had become master of the house, his succession had not yet been formally recognized by Baron Yaven, so Lady Bellaf could still exert strong influence.
"I'll excuse myself first."
As dinner neared its end, Keldric finished first and rose from his seat.
If he was to return the sword, he would do well to move before it grew any darker.
Hilmer understood and silently overlooked the discourtesy of Keldric leaving before him and Lady Bellaf.
"Very well. Think carefully about what I said, then go."
"Yes, Brother. Then..."
As Keldric rose and left the table, no one noticed.
That Joseph and Fritz, who remained at the table, were secretly trading glances with each other.
Nor did anyone notice Keldric's navy-blue eyes catching the exchange.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
Back in his room, Keldric let out a soft sigh.
"I can't... actually return this."
He had agreed at dinner, but now that it was time to return the sword as Hilmer had ordered, he could not bring himself to do it.
If asked for a good reason, he would have none, but Keldric's instincts screamed that he must not return the sword in his hand.
Keldric placed great trust in his instincts.
So he obeyed them.
He stopped hesitating by the door and threw himself onto the bed.
'Don't overthink it.'
The fact that Malcolm was waiting bothered him, but Malcolm would eventually leave on his own.
If it came to it, Keldric could simply tell him outright.
But if Hilmer got wind of the matter afterward and sharply rebuked Malcolm for it—that was a separate concern.
Given Hilmer's uncompromising nature, Malcolm might even be flogged.
'...I'd better at least tell him.'
In the end, not even a minute after savoring the bed's comfort, Keldric rose again.
Seeing the once-neat bedspread wrinkled, Keldric thought of Mariam.
Come to think of it, Keldric had warned Mariam not to wander around after sundown.
Whether Mariam would actually heed that was another matter entirely, of course.
"I could just check."
Keldric buckled the sword at his waist and left the room.
Given how early the sun set in the North, darkness had already settled inside the manor house.
If he was going to move, now was the time. Any later and it would be pitch-black outside.
'Though it's already dark enough.'
Keldric began to walk slowly.
He meant to stop by the armory first.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
Hans, the scarred mercenary, scratched roughly at his beard.
With the attack imminent, he fidgeted like a dog that needed to shit.
And the other mercenaries lying concealed around Hans were no different.
"Fuck... are you sure this is all right?"
"What, having second thoughts now? Didn't you see the eyes on those bastards?"
Another mercenary answered.
By then, he could see nothing but Ducat gold coins, though fear of the cavalrymen he had just seen remained.
"Those eyes... Those bastards kill people for a living. They're not like us, doing odd jobs."
"What's the difference? We've carved up bandits plenty of times."
"It's different, you shit. Ever seen a bandit wearing armor and riding a horse?"
"I heard even the bandits among the demons beyond the eastern plateau ride horses."
"Demons, my ass. Anyway, the look in their eyes wasn't normal. If we'd refused earlier, they might've attacked us on the spot."
"Well, that's... tch."
Finding no real counter, Hans clicked his tongue at length.
The six light cavalrymen they had seen earlier were well armed and radiated the chilling air of men who killed for a living.
"We just need to collect our Ducat gold coins. They promised more if we handled it without alarming the villagers, right?"
"Villagers? What's scary about a bunch who farm and chop firewood?"
"Maybe not scary, but they'd get troublesome. The villagers number at least fifty, near as I can figure."
If the village was roused, things would get messy. The mercenaries understood that much.
If discovered, they would inevitably need light, and fire might spread in the chaos of a fight.
Fire would finish the job, but cleanup would be difficult and retaliation far worse.
Launching a night raid on a manor house was already crossing well over the line, but torching the place was the worst possible way—it would render the fief itself unusable.
If that happened, they would face far more than Baron Yaven's mere hostility.
Still, there was no need to worry. That was not going to happen.
"Time to move. Tell the others to follow."
"Those cavalrymen said they'd block the escape routes, right?"
"Yeah. So let's just think about making money."
"Money's good."
The mercenaries each grinned slyly.
Eight Ducat gold coins was a fortune even when divided among ten mercenaries.
And mercenaries were men who wielded force for money.
Hans, Gunther, and the others had no reason to hesitate.
"Move out. Just follow the plan."
The ten mercenaries split at once into two groups.
Hans led his men straight for the manor house, while Gunther took the other four around to the rear of the manor house.
Joseph had told them there was a back door around there that offered secret entry.
"Keep quiet from now on. If we're spotted at the start, things will get messy."
After a brief word of caution to his men, Hans crept toward the manor house, his hands restlessly fidgeting all the while.
He had accepted after losing his head over the fortune, but with the attack approaching, he could not help feeling tense.
"Fuck... I'm going to have nightmares."
"Foul dreams? You'll only dream of ducat gold coins piled mountain-high."
"Your mouth's spewing shit."
"Shh. Shut your trap. Get caught and that's half a ducat gold coin gone."
Hans and his mercenaries carefully crossed the forecourt of the manor house.
To the right of the forecourt was a passage leading down to a cellar, and a little farther off to the left stood a building of unknown purpose.
He could dimly make out Gunther's mercenaries standing in front of it.
Hans clicked his tongue softly at the sight.
"Which way do we go?"
"Straight through the front. Ignore the outbuildings."
At Hans's firm words, a few mercenaries who had been eyeing plunder licked their lips in regret.
But right now, completing the job mattered most. Ducat gold coins seemed to shimmer before Hans's eyes.
Reaching the manor house door, Hans was promptly handed a crowbar.
Even in the dark, they moved quickly; Hans was quicker still as he wedged the crowbar into the tightly shut door.
Unfortunately, the timing was poor.
Click—.
"...Huh?"
Straining on the crowbar, Hans suddenly found himself staring blankly at the door as it swung open.
Why would the door suddenly open?
"..."
"Uh, uhh..."
There was a reason.
Hans slowly looked up at the enormous shadow before him.
Gulp—his Adam's apple bobbed hard.
The outline barely visible in the darkness was enormous, like a giant.
Hans craned his neck far back and snapped to his senses the moment he met the cold navy-blue eyes at the top of the shadow.
'Nothing was going right!'
Whoever the man was, Hans could not leave him alive now that they had crossed paths.
Something unexpected had happened, but Hans figured it was still manageable.
That was why Hans thrust his rusty dagger—the finest stab of all his years wielding a weapon.
Crunch!
It would have been, had his dagger-wielding wrist not been caught with absurd ease.
Consternation flickered across Hans's face.
"Kgh—"
With a sickening crack, the dagger tumbled across the ground.
"Aaaaaagh!!"
Hans screamed.
Meanwhile, the mercenaries behind him stood frozen, unable to lift a finger.
Even darkness had its limits. The sight of Hans's wrist breaking as easily as a dried twig was impossible to ignore.
"Who are you?"
Unconcerned with Hans's shattered wrist, the owner of the massive shadow spoke in a voice as deep as a cave.
A voice that made the knees go weak just to hear—like a fiend's growl.
No one dared speak.
Just as a thief never announces himself a thief, the mercenaries could not spit out the words, 'We've come to murder the master of your house.'
"Aaaagh!! You crazy bastard! Let go! Let go, damn it! You boar of a—"
Wham!
For a moment, a sound like that rang out.
"Ghk..."
Hans, who had been thrashing with his wrist trapped, went limp like a puppet with its strings cut.
The huge man's fist had driven squarely into his face.
None of the mercenaries could follow movement so swift for a man of his size.
Several of Hans's broken teeth flew out and struck the mercenaries.
The huge man tossed the limp Hans aside and strode toward the others.
"If no one answers this time either, I'll break the limbs of the next man I catch."
His tone was as cold as the north wind.
Circumstances be damned—a monstrous strength that looked like it could fold a man in half the moment he blocked the way, and a killing intent to match.
Shhhhh—.
The acrid smell of urine spread.