Chapter 84

In the threatening scenes of gangster movies, there is a repertoire often used.

It's scaring subordinates by telling the experience of raising a dog and then killing it.

In movies, the dialogue typically starts like this:

-"Hey, Sangsik. I once raised a dog. It was big, and I tried to treat it well.

-But because I was too indulgent, one day it bit me. Do you know what I did?

-I killed it right there."

-"A dog that bites its master doesn't need to stay alive, does it?"

He hadn't understood what it meant before.

But now, somehow that dialogue particularly came to mind.

The inner courtyard of the castle.

People were busily going back and forth, carrying luggage.

It was luggage for Sir Leandros, who would now be dispatched to the capital.

The trigger was what had happened at the training ground last night.

The training ground last night.

Faced with Leandros's ready willingness to go, he was momentarily speechless.

Had he inadvertently given some hint?

No. That couldn't be. All of this was for Hartmann.

Could Yurik have said something? That bastard wouldn't have threatened him, would he?

All sorts of speculations rushed in, but what came out of his mouth was only foolish words.

"Why?"

"If you ask for my reason, firstly, doesn't Your Grace need that mithril?"

"No, no. Isn't it fine for now? We moved all the mithril from the castle. So..."

"From a long-term perspective, I mean."

"You really don't have to go. What did Yurik say to you? Did he say something strange?"

That bastard Yurik.

The next time they met, he should personally tear off that flowing hair.

But Leandros shook his head.

"No. I want to go of my own will."

"Was there something I didn't do well for you?"

"No. You treated me more than generously."

"Then, did I make a mistake?"

"Your Grace has always acted in accordance with duty and conscience."

"Then why..."

"Because I judged it necessary."

He donned the clothes he had taken off.

Returning to his normal cold, chilly, somewhat impertinent self, Leandros spoke seriously.

"Since I have been given so much by the Duchess and the Hartmann ducal family, I now want to gain more experience and return."

"More experience in the capital?"

"There is something to learn in any battlefield."

That was true, of course.

It wasn't that he didn't understand what Leandros was saying.

There might be knights more skilled than Sir Russel at the royal palace.

And there might be opportunities to make a name for himself in the capital while dedicating himself to swordsmanship.

Moreover, since the Crown Prince of the nation had personally requested his dispatch, no one could ignore him.

But still.

Was it really true that Yurik hadn't said anything?

Even if Leandros himself had such thoughts originally, would the timing be this convenient?

Hadn't they hated Yurik together?

Hadn't he been nurturing hatred for Yurik because of that woman, the Duchess?

Had something happened in the north that he didn't know about?

If not, he must have done something wrong.

He might have done something really bad to him.

So he might be saying he's escaping to the capital to avoid him.

Or maybe he had shown off too much.

He might think that his path was being blocked.

He barely pulled up the corners of his stiffened lips.

There was only one thing he could say.

"Take care."

And the next morning, when Yurik heard the news during breakfast, he abandoned his meal and made a fuss, demanding that luggage be packed immediately.

Just looking at him, he resembled a child with a longed-for toy in front of him.

He kept sighing deeply as he watched the luggage being stacked up neatly and drearily.

But nothing changed.

By the time the luggage was arranged, annoyingly quickly, Leandros and Yurik walked out of the castle together.

Just seeing the two of them together made him feel like his intestines were twisting.

"Your Highness the Crown Prince. Why not finish your meal?"

"I feel full without eating. Are the preparations done?"

"Though you would have preferred it to never end, yes. It's finished for now."

The horse Yurik had ridden and a horse for Leandros were brought out.

Yurik, mounting his horse with a hop, cheerfully exclaimed.

"Time is tight if we're to stop by the north before heading to the royal palace. You must be eager to receive the deed for the mithril mine development rights soon?"

"Don't forget to send it as soon as you arrive."

"Of course, as if I could forget such a thing."

Ah. Could he not just slap that face once, even if it meant being charged with regicide?

And if he fell off his horse and broke his neck, it would be the best ending.

What kind of wealth and glory was he seeking to go through all this?

As he was calculating the possibility of Yurik meeting with an unfortunate accident, Leandros approached him.

"Your Grace."

"You won't be able to come back for a while, did you forget anything?"

"I threw everything away when I escaped the castle with the young master. I didn't think I would take much with me."

Leandros looked at the pile of luggage on the cart and said.

"What is all that?"

"Nothing strange. Just a few sets of clothes for you to wear when you go up to the capital, protective gear, gloves, a uniform and shoes that you can wear for events, food that can be stored for a long time in case the capital food doesn't suit your taste, sage bedding for insomnia, and in preparation for your rhinitis..."

"Anyone who hears this might think I'm leaving for a foreign country for 10 years."

"Isn't it similar?"

He really doesn't understand the heart of an older brother who packs rice balls for his younger brother's lunch before going to work.

Leandros bowed his waist.

"I'll be back soon."

"Sure."

"Your Grace."

"What?"

"Please stay healthy during my absence."

'During my absence'?

Before he could ask back, Leandros turned around and mounted his horse.

With Yurik's signal to depart, the cart pulled by a mule and two horses left the castle.

Today, he had been abandoned by the protagonist.

* * *

After Leandros left the castle, he felt empty.

It was like sending off his precious child, whom he had raised with utmost care, with an undeserving fellow.

He never thought he would feel this way in his life.

"Your Grace, what are you so worried about? You're thinking about Sir Leandros again, aren't you?"

"But what if he doesn't like the capital food and wants to come back to the ducal residence?"

"The food here and there is pretty much the same."

"What if he tosses and turns all night because the royal palace bed is uncomfortable? He'll lose muscle."

"Sir Leandros sleeps less than others."

"What if he meets bandits on the way!"

"Then shouldn't we pray for the bandits' souls? Who is more pitiful, the bandits or Sir Leandros?"

Arndt sighed deeply and cleared away the scattered documents on the office desk.

"Your Grace, Sir Leandros will do well. You need to focus on your tasks here."

"......"

Even if the earth stopped and Leandros destroyed the royal palace, he had work left to do.

And a lot, lot, lot of it.

Perhaps it would have been better to be incarnated into another supporting character rather than the ducal family.

He finally sat down properly and looked at the documents Arndt had brought.

"Baron Arnold's order seems to be progressing well."

"Yes. But since we provided the mithril this time, shouldn't we review the existing contract?"

"That's the plan. I was planning to meet Aiden soon anyway to discuss the mine development rights. What about the mercenary band in the north?"

"They're at the Margrave's castle. But it's unreasonable to use that place as an outpost."

"It's because of supply issues, right?"

When he was in the north, Philip Müller had played the role of messenger and provided supplies.

But even with that, it would be difficult to stay at the castle.

The cold, the inadequately prepared living environment, and other such problems.

"Above all, what we left behind is the biggest problem."

He had taken care of the minor monsters roaming around the north to some extent.

The burning people running around, the grotesque monsters with bent backs that made strange cries, the bizarre birds larger than horses.

If one had the skills to protect oneself, heading to the north wasn't difficult.

But even such people would die immediately if they encountered the gods wandering in the north.

If only he could do something about those gods, he would have tried it right away.

Killing a god was impossible as long as humans existed as humans.

Just clearing out the small fry in the north had required him to lay down his life seventeen times.

Then what would he have to pay to challenge a god who could sweep away those small fry like dust?

He recalled the items brought from the north.

If, by any chance, what he was thinking was right.

"We can't help it if there are complaints. What about Sir Russel? Did he do everything I told him to?"

"The last news was from the temple. Should we check?"

"No, for now, let's..."

With a knock, a polite voice was heard from outside the door.

"Your Grace, I apologize for interrupting. Sir Russel Nabilov, the escort knight, and Sir Philip Müller, who has arrived from the north, are here."

"Finally, they've come."

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Russel, could he actually be a tiger?

But the maid continued.

"And there are guests accompanying Sir Nabilov. They say they are priests dispatched from the temple."

"Which temple dispatched them?"

"Well."

The maid hesitated for a moment.

"They said they're from all the temples that have capacity in the kingdom... Um, a total of 65 people."

"Huh? What? Huh?"

How many did she say?

What had he just heard?

Arndt and he looked at each other without saying a word.

"...I'll tell Sir Russel I'll see him later."

"...Okay."

Arndt, with a tired and solemn face, walked out of the office to prepare for the guests.

He would give Russel a good scolding when he saw him later.

He had to buy time, even if just a little, while Arndt prepared.

He also left the office and went down to personally greet the guests.

The hall on the first floor was already crowded.

They couldn't leave more than sixty people standing outside.

But they couldn't all be crammed into the reception room either.

He deliberately made a coughing sound as he descended the stairs.

At that moment, the polite whispering of the priests stopped abruptly.

What was this?

"Thank you for taking the trouble to come to such a rough place. I am the successor who has newly inherited the ducal family, Arenheit Hartmann..."

"Your Grace!"

Good heavens!

With a resonant voice, Russel, who was standing in front of the priests, stepped forward.

It was good to see him after a while, but his strangely glittering eyes were somehow frightening.

He knelt on one knee and exclaimed.

"Your Grace, how much have you suffered for the reconstruction of the northern temple? Don't worry anymore. I have sought the help of my brothers!"

"Help?"

Russel turned around and shouted to the sixty-five companions dressed in pale priestly robes.

"Brothers, behold! This very person, Duke Hartmann, is the one who perceived the evil heretics of the north and defeated the wicked monsters they summoned! Moreover, he personally practiced deep faith to return the north to our Lord!"

"No, that's not it."

"I cannot forget that moment. The figure standing calmly, filled with love for God, even in front of the northern monster that was conceived and hatched by the malicious groups!"

"I fell down at that time, you know? I couldn't even stand!"

"Now, brothers. Let us pray. Let us pray for blessings upon this Duke with such a noble and deep faith."

The priests all bowed their heads with folded hands.

Some kind of blessing that he did not know was recited beautifully.

He exchanged glances with Sir Philip, who, like Russel, was standing at the very front, swept up in this trend.

So that was how Russel's paranoia played tricks on him.

He should have hit him on the head earlier to cure him.