The Targets to Avoid
I thought Lena would be at least a little pleased to hear that Florence was dead.
After all, she was the only one who could claim ownership over Lena.
But Lena's face was strangely dark.
She seemed to have something she wanted to say, mumbling to herself.
"Lena-unnie, who's bothering you? Want me to take care of it?"
Camilla was trying to show her concern, in her own way.
Emboldened by Camilla's words, Lena turned to me.
"If Florence is dead... were there any black-armored people or suspicious figures around?"
"Black armor?"
"Ah, no. Of course not. They wouldn't even recognize me anyway..."
She trailed off in a mutter, but I heard every word.
It seemed Lena had complications in her life just as tangled as Camilla's.
Seeing her expression reminded me of Camilla's wild ramblings.
I still wasn't fully trusted as her master.
I'd have to put in more effort, like Camilla—whether through force or humanity.
"It was natural causes, so don't worry. Someone like Florence? No matter how she dies, it's natural causes."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah. The magic puppets didn't detect a thing. You know how reliable they are."
I skipped the pointless detail about all five dying simultaneously.
Lena finally cracked a smile at my half-joking reassurance.
"Someday, tell me about those black-armored guys."
I said it to her back as she turned to leave.
Lena bit her lip.
But she quickly regained her smile and replied softly.
"Yes... someday."
As she walked away, I made a mental note.
If I ever spotted anyone in black armor, kill first, ask questions later.
I had no special feelings toward black-armored folk yet.
It was just the bare minimum duty as a master with minions.
In the brief quiet of the workshop, the chirp of cicadas filtered in.
The fierce spring had passed, and summer's sounds were beginning.
In the basement, five corpses lay neatly aligned.
Florence and her four companions.
Somehow preserved, they showed no decay—still in their original state.
"Unbelievable. Natural causes?"
"It seems the Baron Sellevan side has ruled it that way. In fact... it doesn't even seem to have reached Baron Sellevan himself."
"No interest? Well, no need to care about what you don't know. A headache."
I had no idea how they'd smuggled the bodies out of Baron Sellevan's territory, but they were neatly arranged before Count Arno.
Arms crossed, face twisted in a scowl, Count Arno seemed to be carefully organizing his thoughts.
"Father, Florence aside... these two are Aura Users. They couldn't have died of natural causes."
Bruno spoke urgently.
But Count Arno cut him off, as if he already knew.
"So what are you trying to say?"
Just get to the conclusion, his tone demanded.
Bruno answered swiftly.
"Inform Baron Sellevan of the Aura Users' deaths, demand a full investigation, an apology, and fitting compensation."
"Compensation?"
"Yes. Bundle it with that Theo mage's complaint—it should offset nicely. Shall we proceed?"
Bruno offered a textbook response.
It was standard for any noble house.
But it fell far short of satisfying Count Arno.
"Bruno, what do we gain from that?"
"Well... neutralize the protest letter, get compensation, and reestablish the vassal-lord bond..."
"Exactly. I'm asking what benefit we get."
Bruno didn't know how to reply.
Preserving honor was gain enough—what more could there be? It wasn't clicking.
To such a son, Count Arno spoke lowly.
"To pass these off as natural deaths without witnesses? You'd need at least an A-rank assassin. Or higher."
"True."
"Does Baron Sellevan have the resources to hire that caliber?"
Impossible.
Normally, he might scrape by.
But right after war? Out of the question.
Besides, with his intel, he'd struggle to even learn Florence's group was in the territory.
Yet it happened.
"So you're saying he has backing? Someone hiring assassins and keeping an eye on our Grand Maison house..."
Greed lit Bruno's eyes.
If some backer secretly aided him to kill a vassal's Aura Users?
Treason.
Betraying vassal duty—treason.
The board flips.
Enough to replace the lord.
"One possibility."
But Count Arno neatly severed Bruno's greed with that phrase.
"Another: divide and conquer."
"Someone... trying to drive a wedge between us and the vassal house?"
"Even an ogre hurts if you pull its nails. If it pulls them itself? Drains even more energy."
Bruno's face flushed red.
If someone targeted Grand Maison, this was just the start.
Maybe testing them via Baron Sellevan.
Arrogant fools.
"How dare they!"
Bruno ground his teeth.
Now he grasped it.
Only then did Count Arno continue, satisfied.
But he reminded them of one more fact.
"That iron mask popping up out of nowhere was suspicious too. Like Baron Sellevan couldn't be allowed to fall yet."
"Yes. If that iron mask is also from some shadow force..."
"Can't rule it out. Hmm. Maybe that mage Theo is their vanguard. Heh heh heh. Interesting. Very interesting."
Honestly, hard to buy.
Mage Theo.
A vanguard for shadow forces with that transparently innocent face?
But possibilities stay open.
If he's acting? A talent beyond expectations.
No—a blade still sharp.
A long-overdue game of wits.
How long since anyone dared challenge Grand Maison?
Chills down the spine—their moves were solid.
Almost welcoming.
But no playing chess with eyes closed.
"Double the spies in Sellevan territory."
Intel was lacking.
One certainty: something was brewing there.
A fine stage.
Test how long Bruno lasts against such foes.
Gauge the next Grand Maison's mettle.
"Bruno, you go. Uncover the truth. And if there's a blade aimed at Grand Maison..."
Count Arno's eyes turned icy.
But Bruno's blazed.
Like youthful bravado.
"I'll break it. Guaranteed."
Bruno strode out of the basement, steps bold.
Unburdened, he marched forth.
Like Grand Maison's glory days.
"Mercenaries are starting to gather... is it okay to leave now?"
Post-war, merchants flooded the territory first.
Once stability returned, mercenaries followed.
I'd thought Jacob would return first.
But against expectations, no sign of him.
Not even as our group departed.
'Would've been nice to see Jacob... disappointing.'
I recalled Jacob.
Probably off on some commission.
Mercs wander the continent, after all.
I'd prepared ample map payment, but without him in sight, it stung.
Still, we'd meet again someday. I brushed off Jacob-thoughts and answered Lena.
"I hate missing peak business too... but lately, flies are buzzing too much."
Truth was, it was peak season.
Mercs filling the territory meant resuming workshop trade in earnest.
But pesky flies forced our unintended exit.
"Masteeer! If that Arno or Horno bothers you, I'll handle it! I'm great at that stuff!"
"Nah, it's fine."
"For real... seriously! You just don't know me well enough, Master! I can make 'em vanish without a word!"
Camilla's wounds had healed clean, flesh plump again.
Too predictable what she meant—made it burdensome.
Plus, post-Shadow Guardian job, she handled soul-tracking puppets and intel dolls better than me.
Seemed like it, anyway.
'Talent, huh...'
So I left puppet management to her.
Thanks to that, we learned the flies spying on the workshop were Count Arno's men.
'Count Arno's subordinates... who knew.'
At first, I thought rival merchants' hires.
They weren't buying—just snooping.
But Camilla confirmed: Arno's crew.
And their numbers were growing.
'Why the obsession?'
Didn't make sense.
Sunogi or other tech might have value, but not this much scrutiny.
Something deeper brewing.
'Hope I haven't tangled in something dumb.'
That's why we left.
Staying meant headaches—better bail quick.
Away long enough, whatever it was would resolve.
"Camilla, this the right path?"
We'd passed the mine, deep into the forest now.
Destination: check Magrid's Legacy in the northern woods, then Petron's second-hand market.
Might snag useful spellbooks.
But from the first stretch, something felt off.
"Hmm, should be... but it's weird."
"Weird how?"
"Yeah, too quiet. Not even a single monster detected."
Camilla's detection range was vast.
Plus magic puppet aid.
Hard to slip her net.
Yet zero monsters—like someone swept clean.
Unusual.
'Monsters and undead clashing territories? Nah, undead should've lingered.'
This forest bordered the tampered mine.
Influence might reach here.
But no undead traces? Odd.
"Theo-nim, look at that!"
Lena pointed.
Fierce battle scars amid the brush.
Shattered weapons, scattered bloodstains.
Long ago, by the looks.
Camilla inspected first, then concluded.
"Masteeer! These guys were human undead!"
"Human undead?"
"Those paladin bastards who won't stay dead! Looks like the annoying pricks passed through here!"
Never seen 'em.
But I remembered.
Holy knights—marked in my memories as targets to avoid.
They'd passed this way.
After a brutal fight, too.