Chronicle of the Villain (2)
“Hmm, I see.”
Having heard Pfeil and Randolf out completely, Isaac fell silent for a moment. It was a heavy silence. Bill just rolled his eyes. He wanted to collapse right then and there. If possible, he’d have loved to pass out and wake up after all this was over.
“Bill, the tea’s gone cold.”
“B-but, young master, we’re out of drinking water.”
“Then go get some.”
“……”
Bill shot Isaac a glare, but he knew better than anyone that it was pointless. With no choice, he left Nias’s room.
“I get where you’re coming from.”
At some point, Isaac had stopped using formal speech with Pfeil and Randolf. In the cramped space—not that it was all that big—he fixed the two captains with a chilling gaze, even as he sheathed his dagger once more in front of these armed knights.
Pfeil and Randolf couldn’t make sense of the situation itself. Nor did they know how to respond. The boy before them was the eldest son of the Goethe family, sure, but he was only twelve. A green kid who’d never killed anyone.
In contrast, Pfeil had taken his first life at seven. Randolf had gripped a sword at ten and killed at eleven.
Compared to them, the young master ahead had lived a completely different life. No—he was just a kid too young to know the world.
Could they make him understand this situation? No, impossible. Persuading a naive child was futile when they themselves stood on such a blurry line.
“I pronounce judgment. Pfeil, Randolf.”
“……”
“……”
No matter what this kid thought, Pfeil and Randolf had no intention of backing down. But they felt an odd tension in the pauses between his words.
“Death sentence.”
“Thank you for your understa—”
Pfeil, who’d half-expected the outcome, couldn’t believe his ears.
“Pardon?”
“My father would rule the same. Depending on my report, you’ll be brought before a military tribunal. We’ll have to reexamine the testimony of the convict you accused of lese-majeste too.”
“Young master!”
“Don’t make that face, Pfeil. My decisions aren’t reversible.”
“I can’t accept this!”
Pfeil shouted.
“Why do I need your acceptance? Father’s the one who’ll judge.”
“Do you know hunger, young master!? Have you ever had fingers or toes amputated from frostbite!? Ever watched a comrade die horribly because their blade wouldn’t hold!? Ever spent sleepless nights staring wide-eyed, terrified you’d die as a monster because the faces of those who did kept haunting you!?”
“No.”
Isaac gave a curt reply to Pfeil’s blood-spitting outburst.
“And yet, you—a young master who knows nothing of that—dare condemn us?”
“If you’re so innocent, you’ve got nothing to fear from my report to Father, right? So why are you yelling at me?”
“……”
This time, Isaac turned the question back. Pfeil had no answer. Randolf just kept his head down.
Isaac told Bill to bring warm tea, but the cups before them were still full. No one had taken a sip.
“You know Father won’t tolerate your little enterprise. Fine, I get that you have your reasons. He’s incorruptible, but he lacks resourcefulness. No flexibility. He doesn’t play nice with merchant houses or bow to wealthy nobles. And he’s no businessman either. He’s just the shield guarding the North. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Isaac ticked off the very points Pfeil and Randolf had raised.
“You respect that about Father and follow him from the heart. The problem is, soldiers are dying because of it. Supplies are short. Dozens of infantry died from rusted swords in battle? No firewood or fur patches, so they froze or fell ill? Not enough food, leading to epidemics?”
“……”
“So you sold off the vagrant scum gnawing at Bernsi like vermin to cover the shortages? You couldn’t serve two masters, and as knights—not mere sellswords—that was your only way to make money by force? For Father? To protect Goethe? Right? That it?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes! You get it.”
Pfeil raised his voice, then sneered.
“Nias stays controllable as long as you’re around. Because you’re knights who can wield aura?”
“How many times do I have to say it?”
“Then why touch the maids?”
“That was Nias’s men acting on their own—”
“Is that how you keep them in line?”
“……”
“You didn’t cross the line like Nias did?”
“That’s speculation!”
“Why? Does it bother you?”
“Enough. There’s no point talking to you anymore, young master.”
Pfeil couldn’t hold back and rose from the table.
“Expecting a kid like you to understand was our mistake from the start. Randolf, how long you gonna sit there!?”
“……”
“Head up! On your feet! We steeled ourselves for this the moment we started! We’re Goethe’s swords. We’ll cut anything to protect Goethe! His Excellency has young master Yonas anyway. Not some cursed kid bringing harm to everyone.”
Pfeil’s body began to glow faintly. Randolf knew it was aura. The air sharpened. It stung the skin like a sandstorm—no, it wasn’t even cold, but spines prickled and chills ran down the back.
Pfeil really meant to kill Isaac.
What was right? In that split second, Randolf agonized.
Through countless battles, he’d learned hesitation in moments like this meant death. Something irreversible would happen.
He’d sworn to be Goethe’s shield. To give his life for Goethe. Ever since becoming a Winterband soldier.
The slave trade had started for everyone’s sake. For comrades. For subordinates. To make Winterband strong. To protect the domain. To protect Goethe.
Dirtying his own hands for that? Bearing dishonor? He’d thought it worthwhile.
But now… Randolf reconsidered.
Was it truly for Goethe?
It started that way. But they’d ended up somewhere entirely different.
He arrived at one clear fact. He was the shield.
“Captain Pfeil.”
Randolf stood.
“You said it once from the ramparts: if you’re the sword, I’m the shield. Carlson said this: ‘A sword that cuts anything without breaking is a famed blade. But if a famed blade gains a will of its own, it becomes a magic sword.’”
“Why bring that up now… No way!”
“You’re right. I’m the shield. The shield protecting Goethe.”
Randolf drew an arming sword from his robe. It soon began to emit a soft glow.
“Before his ears got cut off, I thought his rigid personality ruined everything. Like how brittle swords without tempering snap easily. But after losing his ears, it’s like his hearing cleared up. Carlson was right.”
“Are you insane!? What if that brat snitches and our heads roll!? What about our company men!? Leave ’em to freeze in that hellhole!? Or frame us for treason and execute us all!?”
“That too… would be our karma. And let’s be honest, Pfeil. That money wasn’t all for the domain, was it?”
“!?”
Pfeil’s eyes widened at Randolf’s words. Sword light flashed.
“I see. That explains why Carlson pressed his blade—and why he stayed silent.”
Isaac nodded at Randolf’s explanation. Too soon to mention the name Kyle.
Blood dripped steadily from the cloth sack Randolf held. No one paid it mind.
“Did you expect this?”
“No. I thought you’d both obey meekly. Figured Father wasn’t blind to people, at least.”
“Pfeil wasn’t a bad guy. A bit rough around the edges, but he had a heart.”
Randolf sighed.
“What if we’d both tried to kill you?”
“I trusted you.”
Isaac answered flatly. Randolf’s eyes widened.
“How did you know?”
“Father told me about you and Pfeil. You stopped Carlson’s summary execution and demanded a military trial. That swayed me.”
“Just that?”
“Pretty much.”
Isaac nodded. Of course, he’d prepared a teleport scroll just in case. Thankfully, unused.
“Wh-what about my family?”
“Don’t worry. Turn yourself in, and they’ll be fine. Bill, you get it?”
Isaac turned to Bill.
“Y-yeah. I won’t say a word.”
Bill, trailing behind, nodded with a drained face. He couldn’t fathom the scale of what he’d stumbled into.
“Y-young master, before we head back to the manor… could we make a quick stop somewhere?”
Randolf asked cautiously.
“As long as it doesn’t take too long.”
With Isaac’s permission, Randolf led them to an inn at the edge of the slums. Not just a place to crash—prostitutes worked there too.
“Tia here?”
The madam yanked a woman’s wrist and dragged her out at Randolf’s words. The woman looked annoyed.
“What? Need service? This handsome young master too? Gonna cost extra.”
She perked up at Isaac’s face. Refined features, well-kept hair, neat clothes—she figured good money.
“I’m Randolf. You Tia?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
Tia’s face hardened as Randolf confirmed her name repeatedly. She’d spotted the chainmail links under his robe.
“Don’t be scared. Just here to deliver news. Pfeil fell in battle.”
“Pfeil?”
“You remember. Dumped a fair bit of coin here, I hear.”
“Yeah. Turned plenty of idiots into fools with it.”
The madam grumbled from the side. Randolf ignored her and continued to Tia.
“Pfeil loved you. Wanted to marry you… have kids out of love. Clumsy about it, but…”
“……How’d he die? Can I see the body?”
Surprise colored Tia’s face. A complex mix—grief? Joy? Hard to tell.
“Here’s his head. As for how… let’s say bad luck.”
Randolf lifted the cloth sack. Dark brown blood clotted it.
“Can I see?”
Her voice trembled slightly.
“You sure?”
Randolf hesitated, worried she’d faint.
“I watch executions in the square all the time. Severed heads are routine.”
“But it’s Pfeil’s head.”
“I’m fine.”
At her insistence, Randolf reluctantly unfolded the sack.
“Kahk—ptui!”
Tia spat phlegm the moment she confirmed Pfeil’s head inside.
“Wh-what the—!?”
Now Randolf was shocked.
“Better for the world that a crazy thug like him’s dead!”
“P-please understand, sir knight.”
The madam excused it: Pfeil’s sadistic tastes went too far, killing Tia’s friend.
“But he wanted a family with you…!”
“Why act surprised now? In this world, money buys and sells families. We play newlywed bride on the first night for pennies. Pretending to be family? Old hat.”
“……”
“Thanks for the news. Nothing for me here—now scram. I was in the middle of entertaining.”
Leaving stunned Randolf behind, Tia strode upstairs. Even as she vanished, contempt burned on her face.
“‘Not all for the domain’—you meant this?”
“……Yes. Shall we go?”
The inn bustled with half-naked women coming and going casually. Randolf finally realized he’d brought a twelve-year-old here and hurried out.
“Pfeil was born unwanted between a tribal warrior and a domain citizen when Winterband was invaded. Lust aside, he sought solace with Tia. But I never knew he went that far.”
On the carriage back to the manor, Randolf summarized Pfeil’s life. The ride wasn’t boring, at least.
“Ironic. Slavery’s banned in Goethe to avoid conflicts with outer tribes. And a man with tribal blood leads the trade.”
“That’s the world for you.”
“Misfortune breeds villains, in the end.”
“Something like that.”
“But not every unfortunate soul turns villain.”
Isaac gazed out the window. Today, the northern landscape felt especially bleak.
“We’re here.”
Randolf exhaled heavily at the distant manor. Now he had to face the count and confess everything he and Pfeil had done. Every last bit. Even trying to sell the manor’s own folk.
The count wouldn’t forgive. He valued honor above all. Even without taking their lives, he’d strip them of equivalent worth: Randolf’s manor near Winterband, his status, his honor.
Where did it all go wrong?
Randolf’s mind churned.
“Sir Randolf.”
Then Isaac spoke.
“Ever thought of paying the price another way?”