The Ruffian Baron (2)
Baron Manfred.
Christopher Manfred was a man who gave the impression of a lion.
Nearly two meters tall. His red hair and beard were like a mane, angry veins stood out against his brown skin, and his golden eyes radiated an overwhelming presence.
Judging by appearance alone, one might have believed he was a noble.
"Hic! Ugh… damn it… why… is everything… spinning so much~~!!!"
The sight of him tumbling off his horse and rolling across the dirt, however, made him look like nothing more than a commoner who had always belonged there.
"The hell is that guy…"
Beastman bandits whose bodies were covered in fur, with tusks jutting out like a wild boar's. Even they looked down on the baron with pitying eyes as they surrounded us.
"Boss! You finally show up and this is what you do?!"
Brenden, the baron's subordinate sitting in the driver's seat — the same man who had been escorting me — snapped at him in disbelief.
"Good grief…"
The retainers who had ridden in with the baron sighed as well, watching their lord make a spectacle of himself right in front of the enemy.
"Get those peepers off me~~! You sons of bitches~~~!!!"
Christopher Manfred was not born into nobility. He had originally been the captain of the Christopher Mercenary Company, and the men under him now had all been with him since those days.
In the past, this region had been a lawless zone belonging to no nation. People lived here, but with no one to govern them, bandits had always thrived.
Then the Laviart Empire launched a war of territorial expansion. To secure their supply lines, the Empire cleaned out this area.
Christopher set up his mercenary company's base of operations here, looking to profit from the war.
Now that the Laviart Empire had signed armistices with the other nations, the Imperial army had withdrawn — and the bandit gangs came flooding back. Having failed to achieve a proper victory, the Empire lacked the resources to administer this occupied territory. So they bestowed a baronial title upon Christopher, who had already established a firm foothold in the region. They made him the lord and dumped the management of the area on him.
From a mercenary's perspective, with less work to do in peacetime, it was hardly a bad deal.
"You drank more than usual 'cause you were finally gonna see your son's face?"
"Shut up! My kids have never seen me sober anyway!"
Rolling around on the ground seemed to have sobered him up a little; his speech was starting to sound almost normal again.
"Well, ain't that something to be proud of, you bastard!"
"So where's Karl! You brought my son back safe, right?! If he's hurt even a little — damn it! You're a dead man, Brenden!"
"Just get up already! You can check for yourself!"
"Just you wait! Ugh…"
The headache still hadn't cleared. The baron kept thrashing about in the dirt.
That was when one of the beastmen decided it was his chance. He drew his sword and approached the baron.
"Hey! Hey! Drop the sword, you bastard!"
"Fuck off."
Brenden waved him off, but there was no chance the bandit would listen.
"Drop the damn sword if you don't wanna die!"
The beastman who had reached the baron suddenly dropped to his knees — as if offering his submission.
A look of pure shock crossed the beastman's face as his head went sailing casually through the air.
"You… furry bastard… how DARE you draw a blade on a noble~~~!!!!"
The baron's tongue was slurred again as he rose to his feet. His pronunciation may have been mangled, but his voice roared like a lion.
His great curved blade, bent much like his speech, danced through the air. Scattering blood traced its arc.
"Wh-what the fuck!"
"Run!"
In an instant, several beastmen lost their heads. The rest, witnessing the carnage, lost all will to fight and began to flee.
The skill to sever a neck in a single ghostlike stroke. That was another reason Baron Manfred was called a ruffian.
Even the thick-hided beastmen were no exception. A man who had swept through countless battlefields and lived to tell of it was, without question, a swordsman of the highest caliber on the entire continent.
Whether he had the makings of a proper lord remained doubtful — but when it came to cleaning out bandits, he was rock solid.
"Boss! You can't kill 'em all! The vice-captain said to take a few of these alive!"
"Aaaagh! What a pain in the ass! Fine, catch the rest!"
At the baron's gesture, the mounted retainers behind him sprang into action. Beastman bandits running on two legs never stood a chance of outpacing them.
The baron's eyes met mine. I had been watching the whole affair with my head poked slightly out the carriage door.
His face bloomed into a broad grin.
"Karl! You're back!"
"Uh… Sophie. Father's coming. You can get up now."
"Eek! Yes!"
Sophie, who had been curled up in a ball, sprang to her feet and straightened herself out. I stepped down from the carriage, and the approaching baron swept me into a crushing embrace.
Incredible strength. I felt like my body was about to break apart.
"My son! I've missed you!"
"F-Father… me too… but I can't breathe…"
"Boy! Your color's improved a lot! Those peepers of yours still look rotten, though! So you don't see those phantoms anymore?"
"No… I still see them… but they're bearable… more importantly, Father, you…"
"Woooooh! My sooon!"
"Ghk…"
"Boss. You're gonna crush the kid. What'd you come all the way out here for anyway? We're outside the territory."
"Ah. Right."
Thanks to Brenden speaking up, I managed to escape my father's arms. The baron pointed at the beastmen his men were dragging over in restraints.
"Heard these furry bastards were raiding a nearby village, so I came. Wasn't planning to come this far, but I figured Karl might be in danger."
"I could've handled this much on my own."
"Like hell I'd trust you with that! Anyway, since I'm already out, I'm gonna take a longer look around. You take my son and the prisoners back home!"
"Got it."
The baron whistled, and the horse that had been standing where he'd rolled earlier came trotting over. He vaulted his massive frame onto the saddle and looked at me.
"See you at home, Karl!"
"Yes, Father."
The baron spurred his horse and galloped off in another direction. Brenden returned to the driver's seat and set the carriage in motion. A few retainers with prisoners in tow followed behind us.
We arrived at Baron Manfred's castle late that evening.
A crude fortress built of stacked timber. It wasn't a proper citadel, but it was the largest and most solid structure in the barony.
Past the outer walls lay a residential quarter where the townsfolk lived — the families of the baron's retainers, brought here to settle. Further in, the castle gates opened, and the main keep came into view.
"Little brother! Welcome home!"
"It's been a while, Brother."
A young man offered me a handshake. His grip felt like it might pulverize my hand.
Baron Manfred's eldest son. Cain Manfred. Eighteen years old.
He was, quite literally, the baron's spitting image. Red hair, brown skin, golden eyes. Stick a beard on him and you'd never tell them apart. His build, too, took after the baron — larger than most grown men.
There was only about two years between us, yet Karl's body was far more slight. We were brothers, though. If I ate well and moved around enough going forward, maybe I could catch up.
"Karl. Are you truly all right?"
"I'm fine, Mother."
The baron's wife. Lady Gregoria Manfred.
Karl's golden eyes came from his father, but his pale skin and black hair were his mother's. The only reason a baron who had spent his entire life fighting could function as a lord at all was thanks to his wife, born to a merchant family and raised with a proper education.
"Sophie. Did Karl have any seizures on the way here?"
"N-no, my lady! If anything, the young master looked after me the entire journey!"
"Is that true?"
"Of course!"
"…Brother."
Amid the bustle, a girl approached. Red hair and golden eyes like her father's. Pale skin like her mother's.
Clara Manfred. The baron's only daughter. Fifteen years old.
She was looking at me with eyes that seemed ready to well up with tears at any moment.
"Have you been well, Clara?"
"…Yes."
Clara was a familiar presence to me as well. In Luke's Biography, she was a highly skilled mage who carried considerable narrative weight.
In the game, the entire Manfred family — save for Clara — was wiped out and never appeared. Charged with the crime of producing a demon worshipper, the Laviart Empire massacred the Manfred household. It was done to quell the terror and rage of the Imperial citizenry toward the Demon King's army.
Clara somehow survived. But she was torn — whether to stand against Karl, who had stained the family name, or to take revenge on the Empire that had murdered her family.
Now that Karl would never become a demon worshipper, she wouldn't have to fall into a torment she could never resolve.
"Let's get along again."
"Let's do that, Brother."
The baron still hadn't returned by late evening, so Mother, Daughter, and the two sons dined together.
During the meal, the food sometimes appeared as black lumps filled with eyes and mouths. Fortunately, thanks to the Ark of Curses trait and the Curse of Emotionlessness, my body didn't lock up. My appetite took a serious hit, though.
The family seemed genuinely moved just watching me finish a meal without incident.
After dinner, I stood before the door to Karl's old room.
"I-if you need anything, please call for me! I'll be in the room across the hall!"
"Got it."
Sophie bowed deeply and turned away. I opened the door.
Aside from the bed, the room held almost nothing. A covering was drawn over the window. Thinking I ought to stock the place with some books going forward, I lay down on the bed.
Then came a knock at the door.
"Brother. It's me."
"Clara? Come in."
Clara entered in her nightclothes.
"What is it?"
She clasped her hands together and spoke bashfully.
"Well… I came to sleep with you…?"
"…Huh?"
"Before you were hospitalized, we always held hands when we slept, remember…?"
Wondering what on earth this was about, I hurriedly sifted through Karl's memories. Just as Clara said, Karl had often shared a bed with her, holding her hand. When the illusions filled him with such terror that he couldn't sleep, Clara had been the one to calm him.
There was no need for that anymore.
"Ah… that's right."
"You can't sleep without me, Brother…"
"Uh… I'm fine now. You don't have to."
"…What?"
"You're a young lady of fifteen now. You can't spend all your time looking after me."
"But, Brother…"
"I'm all right now. Look — did you see me tremble in fear even once today?"
"…I didn't."
"So go back and get some proper rest. You must have worked hard studying at the Academy. You should take it easy while you're here."
"…All right."
Clara turned away looking somehow dejected. She'd come all this way meaning to care for me, and I'd refused her rather bluntly.
"Still — thank you for worrying about me."
"…Okay."
A short while after Clara left the room, a noise like something collapsing came from outside. I wondered if I should go check, but after Sophie's voice briefly floated through, the situation seemed to resolve itself quickly.