Sevillea, the Plague-Infested City (5)
When family members died, I was usually too busy handling the aftermath of their deaths. Unlike the deaths of ordinary folk, a noble's passing came with all sorts of complicated procedures.
In that sense, this man—Gamos Sevillea's actions as the new 'baron' were anything but ordinary.
"My father wasn't a good man."
In the Sevillea mansion's drawing room, he fiddled with his black necktie like he was lamenting, even with me and my guards—and a few of Sevillea's own knights—standing behind him.
"He'd fly off the handle at the drop of a hat, always irritable. Do you know why?"
"Probably because he kept hearing news from the border—magic beasts slipping through, knights getting injured, or adventurer parties and mercenary bands getting wiped out while hunting them."
"Exactly. Even without that, he'd nitpick and rage, but with all that piling on, he got even crankier."
Gamos Sevillea pointed to a large board hanging on the drawing room wall.
"Any guess what that is?"
"A calendar. One board per year. And those numbers inside... casualties?"
"Right. You know your stuff. Looks like Margrave Gibraltar educated you well."
The wall was covered in all sorts of numbers. Some days had none, but most had single-digit figures scratched in.
"Not on Gibraltar's level, but Sevillea has defended Nostrum from magic beasts time and again."
Sevillea had no canyon. Just wooden fences built by human hands.
"Would've been nice to have a bunch of mages, but even they got killed by magic beasts more often than not."
"Father must've regretted that too."
"It's fine. Gibraltar has the canyon to guard."
When Sevillea was in danger, Gibraltar often sent aid. But it couldn't happen every time, and Margrave Gibraltar himself had never come even once.
"Had lunch?"
"No. I rushed here without eating."
"I see. I get that we can't offer proper hospitality right now."
Me and the knights weren't in mourning clothes. Even Sevillea's knights, aside from Gamos Sevillea, weren't wearing them. He wasn't officially 'baron' yet anyway.
"Father died of acute heart failure. We're looking for a will, but he didn't leave one."
"......."
"By procedure, I should inherit the title. But the situation's messy all around."
"If it's something you can't discuss with me..."
"No. You need to know this too, so I'll cut to the chase. Enough venting."
Gamos Sevillea took a deep breath.
"Father told the knights to investigate, then took his concubine to bed that morning."
"......."
"Concubine—well, a woman who got paid to sleep with him regularly."
The kind society types called mistresses.
"Like a lover?"
"Yeah."
"Did she assassinate the baron?"
"She's detained as the first witness. It's just... awkward to say."
I got it. If the imperial press covered this...
Knowing her killed him via heart attack. Or brain hemorrhage, blood pressure spike. If natural causes, only one option: death during sex.
"The real issue is this, found in Father's room."
Gamos Sevillea pulled out a glass vial and set it before me.
"Familiar?"
"Yeah."
Troll blood, half-used. Mixed with mana-neutralizing solution, it boosted vitality. That's why troll blood fetched a high price.
"With magic, we could even check for my fingerprints. I brought that vial."
"Why was it in Father's room..."
"Who knows. Rumors could get awkward for both of us."
Grey Gibraltar assassinated the baron. Or the baron stole troll blood secretly, OD'd on heart stimulants. Rumors we'd both have to deal with.
"Caught the culprit?"
"...Huh?"
"Looks like the baron caught the thief in the act, got too excited checking his personal stuff, and... overdid it."
"Uh, well."
Won't work. Can't just hand him the spoon—I need to shove it in his mouth.
Time to guide him to simple thinking.
"Baron, you caught the culprit—or recovered the stolen troll blood. Makes sense you'd get worked up."
"That's not—"
"Knights. Caught the thief?"
"...No. Not yet. We're looking."
One knight behind Gamos Sevillea answered promptly.
"Right. This troll blood could be key evidence, so let's keep it until investigators from the capital arrive with a mage. Who knows—might be poisoned."
"P-Poison...?!"
"Yes. If you don't mind, I'd like to see the baron myself. Father taught me a few things."
"......."
Gamos Sevillea fidgeted with his fingers, deep in thought.
"That..."
Should I push—
"Fine. Let's do it."
Gamos Sevillea decided.
"Follow me. I'll handle this troll blood."
He pocketed the vial and stood from the drawing room.
No poison, obviously. Just a plausible excuse to play along.
But it is poison.
One effect alone? Fine. But mixed with certain things, it killed. It reeked.
The familiar stench hit harder as we left the drawing room and walked the hall.
Smell of death? In a city with cold storage for magic beast corpses, no way a body reeked this fast.
"This way."
Creeeak.
The door opened, cold air brushing my skin. In the dim room, an old man lay on a bed, positioned hastily.
"This is just..."
Even someone like me, who'd seen many deaths, found this one bizarre.
Lucky.
Good that I saw and smelled the oddity everyone else would notice. Meant I was sincere.
"Gamos. Any meds the baron took regularly?"
"Worried about poisoning? Relax. It's just... haa."
Gamos Sevillea clearly hated naming the cause. Even the blanket rose conspicuously, like proof of how he died.
That's the giveaway.
Made sense for the dead man. Silver Dust orally ingested caused blood qi overload; victims stayed erect about 48 hours postmortem.
Silver Dust alone was plenty, but he added troll blood.
Natural causes. Troll blood was just the old fool's greed.
The real issue: Silver Dust.
"Looks like..."
Not our territory's Caroline. Imperial Silver Dust stench.
"...I'll need to stick around a few days."
Stay and slowly uncover the truth. After handling the immediate problem.
Late night.
When a noble dies, the capital sends several people. Central officials for title succession. Mages to check for foul play. Funeral directors to read the king's condolence letter (standard form) and uphold the dead noble's dignity.
"What brings the Foreign Minister here?"
All three in one man.
"Quit Foreign Minister. Now Justice Minister and Special Investigator for the Justice Bureau."
"Justice Bureau?"
"New department, one month old. Created by the queen to counter imperial law."
"One month... ago?"
"Hey. You have no idea the budget fights... ugh. Whatever."
Viscount Hex Romana arrived at the Sevillea mansion, looking exhausted.
"But why're you here?"
"You came because I am?"
"Cause trouble?"
"The corpse caused it."
I bristled a bit.
"Every death my fault?"
"If they deserved killing?"
"If I killed him?"
"You'd have reason. But your face says no. Real accident?"
"Probably."
For now, yes—accident.
"Not official, but wanna hear?"
"No Sevillea lord yet, so sure."
I briefed Viscount Hex on everything but the Silver Dust.
"You stepped in shit."
"No body exam, no investigation—you believe me?"
"Reports via magic comms were enough. How're you this unlucky?"
"Good for Sevillea, no?"
No Gamos or other Sevilleans yet.
"Incompetent baron dead, Gamos inherits."
"That's the thing. Complicated now."
"Complicated...?"
"Gamos is adopted."
"......."
"Adopted son. Entered the family young."
"Oof."
Stepped in shit.
"I'm out."
"Nope."
"I'm pure victim."
"Yet you thought of others first."
"Before hearing that."
Adopted, and still that similar?
"Really adopted?"
"Your shock says it all. Yeah, really."
"Damn."
"Heh. Your pained face makes coming worthwhile."
Silver Dust or not, maybe slip away—but Viscount Hex wasn't letting go.
"You've arrived, Viscount Romana."
"Been a while."
As we talked, we reached the mansion entrance. Gamos Sevillea, waiting there, greeted us.
"Regrettable we meet again after the capital festival. My condolences."
"Thanks for the long trip."
"The investigation..."
"Follow me."
After Viscount Hex followed Gamos Sevillea to the scene...
"Then I'll tear the scroll. For the deceased's honor, no leaks outside."
Viscount Hex tore the scroll in the bedroom; mana shimmered in the room.
"Young master. You can't watch."
"Got it."
Reenactment magic—just mana mist sparkling, the victim as a ghostly light-form moving.
"Haa..."
"Tsk..."
Sighs from inside.
"Magic reads the scene... cause of death..."
"Heart failure, Viscount Hex."
"...Not wrong. Fine."
For the deceased's honor.
"Plambel Sevillea's cause: heart failure."
Thud thud thud.
Near midnight.
"Tell Lady Carmen this size doesn't fit."
"She'll be hurt. Custom-made expensive."
"Doesn't fit, what can we do."
The black suit Viscount Hex brought was way off for me.
"Who knew you'd grow that much? Don't gripe to the queen."
"Not griping—just explain later why I can't wear it. Misunderstanding."
I pointed to the hem showing my ankle bone and three finger-widths above.
"No way. I'll take it. Gift for Noir."
"Hey. Give it to me instead. Waste on him."
"Just remove the Morgania crest buttons—still luxury."
"Know 'pearls before swine'?"
"Of course. Waste on Noir."
For now.
"Taking care of your brother, huh. Fine, yours. Your suit..."
"Sent a White after lunch. Mourning clothes and wreath from Gibraltar by morning."
"Yeah. Gotta stay for that."
Seven days. Noble funerals lasted long. Some guests too far even by 24-hour horse ride, so wreaths sufficed.
"Condolence visitors via teleport circles?"
"Group teleports. Latest by afternoon after tomorrow."
"Two days. Tomorrow for territory folk's mourning."
If they actually mourned properly.
"Anyway. The 'secret deal' with Gamos Sevillea?"
"As expected, he sees you as a pawn, so I stepped in..."
Viscount Hex scratched his head.
"Success. So you'll be the face more."
"Success is fine."
"But... okay with it?"
"What?"
"Recognizing Gamos Sevillea in Gibraltar's name."
"In exchange, we get the training grounds."
Viscount Hex handled the politics for me.
"Just acknowledging Gamos as 'Sevillea Baron' got me land. What I need most."
I flicked the sword at my waist.
"Hunting grounds."
"Right. So..."
"Yes."
Couldn't grab any this rushed return, but...
"Regular Caroline raw materials secured."
On six expeditions, I'd secretly hunted vampires and thralls, pocketing their dust.
"Secret from Gamos. He'd whine for cash if he knew."
"Got it."
Magic beast pollution zone. Plague-infested city, Sevillea.
"Poor Sevillea baron. Crossed you, now watching resources plundered wide-eyed."
"Plunder? Legitimate spoils from fair hunts."
"Expeditions into the zone, supplies from Sevillea?"
"They should be thrilled. I come here, buy food, leave corpses."
To us, this was opportunity land.
"Even if we hunted a dragon in the zone, Sevillea can't claim a scale. That's the deal."
"Might get assassinated by Gamos later?"
"Should've made a better contract then."
I pointed to the contract's bottom.
"Plambel who stamped it is dead. Gamos did."
The Sevillea crest was stamped firm in red ink, drying slowly.