It's Nothing New
It was nothing new.
On the way back to the manor we stopped where a scarecrow in ragged clothes stood watch. The ox pulling the cart was exhausted, and we had business of our own to settle. The dark sky had already begun to pale. It was the hour when diligent farmers started to stir.
“Young Master? What brings you here again…?”
The farmer who had once handed me a straw hat approached.
“I’m on my way back to the manor after finishing some business. Unfortunately the straw hat didn’t make the return trip with me. But don’t worry—it fulfilled its duty to the end.”
“Yes…”
I scooped a handful of silver coins from a pouch on the cart and held them out to him. One gold coin equaled a commoner’s monthly wage; ten silvers made one gold. This was no small sum.
“Take it.”
“What’s this?”
“Payment for the straw hat. Use the rest to dress the scarecrow in new clothes. The poor thing’s been working day and night keeping the birds at bay.”
“This seems far too much for that.”
“Don’t refuse—just take it. In return, bring us some water and food. At this rate our little ox is going to drop dead.”
I pointed at Scriben sprawled on the ground.
“Ah, yes.”
The farmer returned with bread and water, and we sat down to eat. Scriben shoveled the food down like a starving man and spoke around a mouthful.
“Young Master, I’ve realized something for certain this time. I’m simply not built for physical labor.”
“You never know. Everything’s hard at the start. This is probably the first time you’ve ever pushed your body to its limit.”
I nodded toward a farmer smoothing earth with a hoe.
“That man over there likely struggled just to get out of bed at first, never mind plowing a field. But he kept at it because he had to eat, and now it’s second nature.”
“Still, I’m far more confident using my head than my body.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Scriben stared at me for a long moment, then pushed up his glasses.
“Young Master, before Baron Skallen caught me I actually…”
“Stop.”
I cut him off cold.
“Your past doesn’t matter to me right now. More importantly, I can’t be sure whether any of it is true, and that would only cloud my judgment.”
“……”
“I’ll judge you by the you from this day forward. I’ll listen to your past when you no longer look like the manager of Pleasure Village. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“If you’re finished eating, we move. It isn’t far—we’ll reach the manor before the sun is fully up.”
“Yes.”
The farmer came over again.
“Young Master, are you leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Please come again.”
He bowed politely at the waist. In my past life the residents had never once told me to come again, not even as empty courtesy. Even when they said nothing, their eyes had always been full of nothing but discomfort. I had only killed the same kind of scum I had always killed—so what was different this time? It didn’t seem to be simply the money. My head was starting to throb, so I decided to think about it later.
“I’ll come again.”
“Yes. Please go carefully.”
I nodded and climbed onto the cart. Seeing that, Scriben asked in a fluster,
“Can I keep pulling?”
“If you don’t want to die, you’d better.”
“Ah…”
When he hesitated I sat on the edge of the cart and looked at the farmer.
“Hey.”
“Yes?”
I pointed at Scriben.
“Don’t you need an ox for the fields? Take him if you want. He talks a lot, but if you thrash him he works hard.”
Scriben seized the cart handles in a flash.
“We’re leaving.”
“Whoa—the ox understands human speech…”
“Moo…”
The cart quickly left the fields behind.
When we returned to the manor, my parents and Aren were waiting for me in the garden. As I climbed down from the cart, Father asked,
“Aren told me you went on another pilgrimage. What are all these things?”
He looked back and forth between the cart loaded with valuables and the ox collapsed on the ground. Mother was already offering water to the exhausted animal.
“You can hear the details from that one.”
Scriben, still wetting his throat, hurried forward, dropped to his knees before Father, and poured everything out—how he had secretly run Pleasure Village at Baron Skallen’s demand without the family head’s knowledge, how I had burned the entire place to the ground, and more.
“Not only that—so it was Baron Skallen who spread the plague half a year ago to ruin the harvest…”
Father stroked his chin after listening.
“I always found something off about him whenever we met. So that smiling face was hiding schemes like these.”
I nodded.
“A thoroughly rotten bastard.”
“But Cael.”
“Yes, Father.”
“As far as I know, you’ve caused no end of trouble, yet you’ve never taken a life.”
“That’s right.”
“From what I’ve just heard, however, it seems you killed everyone there. Most people would hesitate at murder. Did something happen during your pilgrimage?”
The question held no accusation—only worry.
“You could say that.”
“Is that so…”
Father gave a bitter smile and looked at me.
“Cael.”
“Yes.”
I braced myself for a lecture. The father in my memories had always been rigid and upright. But—
“You’ve worked hard.”
“Pardon?”
“Why? Did you think I would scold you for this?”
When I nodded, he continued.
“If those bastards had been left alone, our people and our territory would have been in far greater danger. You simply took on the role that was originally mine. For this, I should be thanking you.”
“I see.”
“However…”
Father’s gaze stayed on me.
“Why did you leave alone without permission?”
At that I could only smile faintly.
“Father.”
“Yes.”
“When have I ever asked your permission before acting?”
“……”
Father closed his mouth as if impressed. Mother and Aren chimed in at once.
“That’s true, dear.”
“Even when Big Brother left on pilgrimage last time, he only left a single letter.”
I nodded.
“It’s nothing new, Father.”
Father pressed a throbbing temple and let out a long sigh.
“Anyway, why did you bring that fellow? From what I hear he ran Pleasure Village on Baron Skallen’s orders.”
“Ah—I brought him because he looks useful as a financial officer.”
“Financial officer?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm…”
Father studied Scriben thoughtfully.
“Baron Luminara.”
Scriben cut in at once.
“Compared to the size of the territory, the reporting system here is poorly organized. Proof of that is that you, my lord, remained unaware until now that Pleasure Village was operating.”
“That’s true. I only heard rumors that unsavory shops were springing up here and there.”
“I believe it would be best to divide the territory into districts and appoint a head for each.”
“Heads?”
Scriben nodded.
“Yes. Then it will be easy to grasp what problems each district has and the state of the farming.”
“Hmm. That does make sense.”
“Frankly, the Luminara Territory has great potential. That is precisely why Baron Skallen is targeting it.”
After a moment’s thought Father said,
“But you know.”
“Yes.”
“Can I trust you? A financial officer handles not only the territory’s finances but many other key duties.”
“That is…”
Scriben, who had been talking nonstop, fell silent. Watching him carefully, Father nodded.
“Well, fine. There’s no money coming in anyway, so I can keep an eye on him for a while. That Cael may be a wastrel, but he doesn’t do things without reason.”
“Th-thank you!”
Color flooded Scriben’s face; he rose and bowed deeply at the waist. Watching him I thought, That bastard will survive somehow no matter where you drop him…
Honestly I had expected Father to accept him. Father was a good man to a dangerous degree. Perhaps I had been born having absorbed every scrap of darkness he possessed…
I sighed and headed for the manor.
“Scriben, come inside. I have questions for you.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
I lifted my face to the sunlight pouring down. Just as I had promised Aren, I had returned safely to the manor by morning.
“Mission success…”
Aren hurried after me.
The next day.
Benedict received various advice on territory management from Scriben.
He certainly seems capable.
It was no wonder Baron Skallen had entrusted him with Pleasure Village. If Scriben worked hard as financial officer, the territory’s situation would improve even a little. Of course, trust would have to wait until he had been watched longer.
By the way, Cael has changed somehow since returning from that half-year pilgrimage.
First of all, his madness seemed to have grown another layer. Where before it had been somewhat predictable, now there was no telling which way he would jump. Moreover his martial power appeared incomparably stronger than before. Otherwise he could never have walked out of the enemy stronghold that was Pleasure Village looking so unscathed.
It would be disastrous if that power flowed in the wrong direction, but the fortunate thing is that he still thinks of the family and of his own blood.
The Cael of the past had always looked ready to abandon nest and family the moment freedom beckoned. The current Cael, however, was clearly watching those around him—like an eagle surveying others from a high place. Was that merely his imagination?
Just don’t go too far.
Whether something had happened on the pilgrimage that drove him to pray to the Goddess, or why he had changed so much—there was no way to know. Benedict had not asked in detail, and Cael had not volunteered the information. Benedict simply waited for the day when Cael would speak of it himself.
“Ah, Father!”
Just then Aren burst into the study without knocking. There had been days like this before; Benedict decided not to mind and asked,
“What’s the matter, barging in without knocking?”
“P-please look at this.”
Aren hurried close and held out a letter. Benedict tilted his head and scanned the contents.
Everyone…
I, Cael Luminara, am departing for the capital of the Holy Empire.
I shall return as the family’s black sheep—and a proud Inquisitor.
Benedict blinked for a long moment before he found his voice.
“Inquisitor?”
Inquisitor.
A group that hunted those who persecuted the faithful of Ella or brought harm to the Holy Empire and the continent. As clergy they ranked only at the level of priests, yet they held authority that made even high nobles tremble.
“Why would you…?”
Was he trying to become a true believer of Ella? No matter how much Cael had changed, he was not the type. But if not that, why would Cael become an Inquisitor…
Wait—another reason…?
“Ah, no!”
Something flashed through Benedict’s mind and he shot to his feet.
“Anyone but him! If that bastard becomes an Inquisitor…!”
The madness overflowing from Cael. The formidable authority of an Inquisitor. If those two elements fused, he dared not imagine what would happen. Benedict clutched his head, then whipped around.
“Aren! Where is Cael right now?”
“I-I don’t know either. There was only that letter left in Big Brother’s empty room…”
“Ahh…”
Strength left Benedict’s legs and he sank to the floor.
“F-Father!”
“How could this…”
He had forgotten. An eagle was still a bird that could fly anywhere—farther, even, than most birds of prey.
“It’s already too late…”
Once a madman had taken flight…
Benedict had no choice but to wait for Cael to return on his own.