Chapter 45
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: Old Comrade
Three days after descending from the tower. In the evening.
As I was about to leave the mansion, a knight from the main family arrived.
"This is a message from Lord Roys."
He handed me a red letter.
Deveri the butler glanced around before sending everyone in the room outside.
Of course, that meant everyone except me, so he emptied the room including himself.
'A red letter.'
These weren't delivered to just anyone.
They were used only for special matters or unique situations, treated as secret codes to convey hidden messages.
I carefully began tearing open the letter.
Rip.
The red seal bearing the Strange Family crest—a cross. As I peeled it away bit by bit, a whisper emanated from within.
This was a letter empowered by spirits, conveying not 'words' but 'voice.' The recorded message spoke for itself.
Swish.
I pulled out the plain paper from the envelope, and a gruff male voice rang out.
"If you want war, create a justification."
A firm tone laced with resolute determination.
It resembled Father's voice, but it was different.
This was to prevent the letter's contents from leaking outside—delivered through another's mouth.
Some high-ranking alchemists could steal a voice's power with nothing but sound, so they must have used this method out of caution.
'Just a justification, huh.'
I confirmed Father's message and set the letter ablaze with a candle.
Whoosh.
As the paper burned, the voice faded.
Tiny spirits clinging to the paper like flies scattered one by one, unable to withstand the heat.
I blew gently from my mouth to send the spirits flying, then burned the remaining paper completely.
Fwoosh.
"Father knows everything."
The curtains and shadows writhed and surged upward.
Hiss—
Gangradra emerged from within, bowing deeply in response.
"The Strange Family's intelligence network is the best on the continent. He probably noticed the moment Marquis Pierre started tampering with the potions."
Indeed, with so many bearing the Strange name across the continent, they wouldn't stay quiet if someone messed with potions.
"Curious about the letter's contents?"
"A little. Can you tell me?"
"Yes. I'd like Gangradra to handle this matter anyway."
"Me?"
I placed the remaining spirits on the back of my hand as I burned the paper and replied.
"If you want war, create a justification."
"War... justification..."
Gangradra's eyes rolled from top to bottom, then he responded with a look of realization.
"So, the Strange Family intends to end things with Bourbon?"
"If I desire it."
"Do you?"
"A little."
"A little?"
"I do want to kill Marquis Pierre. But I don't want to get my hands dirty."
Of course, crushing them myself would feel satisfying.
But in this situation, what would I gain from fighting them directly? Even if the beginning and end were set, the process wouldn't be smooth.
A conflict between lords would surely escalate into a massive war, inflicting heavy casualties on both sides' formations—with no real merit.
It would be far easier and cleaner to send an assassin to take the enemy's head.
'Of course.'
The honor-bound Strange Family wouldn't resort to such tactics.
'What to do?'
In my past life, it was Glazer—not us—who toppled Bourbon.
That gave the mages financial breathing room, allowing them to later create the 'Philosopher's Stone,' the ultimate form of mana.
Of course, that same year, the Emperor used the pretext of Marquis Pierre's death to smash Glazer.
By issuing a continent-wide mobilization order based on our Strange Family.
'Right.'
That was the problem.
Father could erase Bourbon from the map single-handedly if he stepped in.
But if the Emperor allied with Glazer to eliminate Strange—unlike in my past life—the repercussions would be beyond what we could handle.
"Gangradra, could I ask you for a somewhat unreasonable favor?"
"...Please speak."
"Do you know how to use mana?"
"Yes."
"What about magic?"
Gangradra hesitated, then conjured a blue flame in his palm.
Fwoosh.
"Up to 3rd circle. But the spells I use are closer to 'shamanism' than true 'magic,' so they're not very powerful."
"That's enough."
"Enough?"
"Yes. I just need you to show magic."
"What do you mean?"
I picked up the Blue Cannabis from the desk and said to him.
"Marquis Pierre's vassals are searching for whoever supplied the beastkin caravan with high-grade potion ingredients. They still don't know our identities."
"..."
"So, if Gangradra appears before them claiming to be the beastkin caravan's supplier... and threatens them with magic, what do you think would happen?"
"...You're going to pit Bourbon against Glazer—"
"Can I leave it to you?"
Gangradra swallowed hard.
He clenched his fist, thought for a moment, then nodded curtly.
"Entrust it to me."
Dark clouds hung low.
Raindrops began to fall.
A storm was coming.
I headed to the Adventurer's Hall with Cynthia's party.
There was something we needed to prepare together before entering the tower.
"What? You want us to take an S-rank commission?"
Cynthia looked displeased.
Her reaction was entirely natural.
The Adventurer's Hall held you accountable for failed commissions, and S-rank ones often meant risking your life on failure.
"Yes."
"No way. I mean, I can't. Do you know what happens if you fail an S-rank?"
"What happens?"
Instead of her, one of Cynthia's ponytail-wearing party members stuck his face in and answered.
"Not long ago, a knight with swordmaster potential vanished in the east. His name was 'Monestier.'"
"Monestier?"
A name I'd heard somewhere before.
"Yes, Baron Monestier. Known by the moniker 'Blue Hound.'"
Blue Hound? Another familiar title, but no face came to mind immediately, so probably not someone I'd seen often.
"And?"
The ponytail guy pushed up his glasses with his index finger.
"He failed an S-rank commission before disappearing. The Hall warned him, but he took on an unreasonable one!"
"So the Adventurer's Hall takes action on failures?"
"Exactly. They send the 'Seven in Black' they hire."
First time hearing this.
Of course, I'd never failed a commission in my past life, so maybe that's why. But I'd succeeded up to SSS-rank—I shouldn't be unaware of this.
'Of course.'
I knew failure could mean death. But that was usually handled by the client, not the Hall's agents.
I leaned back in my chair, scanning the commission board on the tavern wall, and replied.
"You made two promises with me."
"Promises?"
"One is my proposal to accompany Cynthia up the tower. The other is Cynthia's proposal for her existing party members to join."
"Th-that's... right?"
"So, in this situation, how do we fulfill both promises?"
The ponytail guy glanced at Cynthia. He understood but kept his mouth shut.
I didn't wait for an answer and pointed to the S-rank commission.
"The failure chance is extremely low, so don't worry and take it. The commission is 'Demon Horn' collection."
Cynthia shoved the ponytail guy aside and asked.
"How do you know the failure chance is low?"
"I've done it."
"You've done it?"
"Yeah. That commission. I did it before."
Of course, in my past life.
"...Really?"
"Really."
"Same contents?"
"Identical. And no more questions. This isn't a request—it's an order. You risked your lives climbing the tower anyway, right?"
Alfred furrowed his brow deeply and stepped between us.
"Hey, kid. What did you just say?"
"I said order."
"You're giving us orders?"
"Got a problem?"
He met my eyes briefly, then suddenly turned to Cynthia and said.
"Nah, if it's an order, we obey. What are you waiting for, Cynthia? Let's grab that commission."
Cynthia let out a long sigh.
"Fine, one last question. Why take a commission before heading to the tower?"
"I need the item from this commission for the next trial's reward."
"Reward?"
"Explanation ends here. Go get the commission."
Cynthia glared at me for a long while before reluctantly heading to the tavern master with her party.
'No helping it.'
A promise is a promise.
Thud, bang bang crash!
A table crashed over, and a chair was thrown.
"I don't care who you are. You lose the game, you pay up—pay!"
The tavern grew rowdy.
Amid the noise, a familiar voice caught my ear.
"I-I'm gonna pay! I'm Strange—Strange. Sword, alcohol, fame, house. The house that produces the continent's strongest swordsmen!"
Bang!
'Strange?'
I moved from the corner to the noisy center where people crowded in a circle like a fighting ring. Squeezing through the adventurers, I saw two men in the empty round space.
One was a brown-haired dwarf with a beard grown down to his navel.
The other looked about Cynthia's age.
A young man draped in a red cloak bearing the Strange Family's cross emblem, his face scarred countless times.
'No way.'
"My name is Monestier de Strange. The moment I return to my house, I'll bring the money—just wait a bit!"
I couldn't hide my shock.
I'd been skeptical when the ponytail guy mentioned it, but seeing his face brought it all back.
The black sheep of the Strange collateral branch.
His talent rivaled the direct line, but constant lack of contact led the family to treat him as nonexistent.
'Monestier de Strange.'
He was groveling with aura-control shackles on both wrists.
"I'll pay, I'll pay, you fucking bastards! So, total how much?"
The dwarf extended his thick hand.
"Two gold coins."
"Huh? Did I lose that much?"
"Yeah, you're Strange, right? Seeing you broke, you must be collateral. If you don't pay, I'll tell the main house."
"..."
"That you're tarnishing the Strange name. Then not just you—your whole family loses their heads."
The brown dwarf held the family hostage. Monestier waved his hands in distress.
"N-not that."
"Then pay up."
"How about this? I'll complete a commission quick and get the money. Just wait till then."
"How long?"
"A month."
"One week."
"A week? No, that's too short!"
"You know what happens if you don't bring it by then?"
One side smirked vilely; the other looked on the verge of death.
'Money, huh.'
I pulled two gold coins from my pouch and stepped between them.
"Two gold coins. I'll pay it."
Monestier.
The price for your life.