Konrad not only survived the beating, but somehow he'd even become nobility.
And once the healers left, he resembled a mummy, too. Still, whether they wrapped him in bandages or used salves, every inch of his body throbbed in pain.
When that tribal beauty healed him, he didn't even notice.
And that was talons ripping his lungs open, not some lazy guards' bullying.
Now he smelled like menthol, but felt no relief.
Watching their punishment improved his mood a bit, but they weren't executed either.
Their captain even arranged for his room and cut no corners on his treatment.
But magic seemed superior in every aspect. And rare.
He was right about pursuing it. And now that they misidentified him as some noble—
"My Lord, Duke Schwertburg has arrived. He wishes to apologize in person."
He was so, so dead.
The Duke of Aset carried a ceremonial falchion the size of Konrad's thighs. And from his attitude, it seemed like he came to execute him, not to seek his forgiveness.
"Vargas, since when are you bringing noble houses back from the dead?!"
He was almost seven feet tall and terrifying—like the aristocratic version of Welf.
"Your Highness, I'm aware of the Halstadts' demise," the captain shielded Konrad on the bed. He was a head shorter than the duke, but wouldn't budge.
Still, if his stupidity got Konrad executed—
"I fought in Lord Erwin's final battle." Vargas dropped to one knee. "Even if the Halstadts lost their title, we should not offend Kasserlane's noble houses. He opposed the Church, like—"
"I know very well what Erwin stood for," the duke boomed. "But what supports your claim?"
Hold the hell on. Did this man know his family? Or, was it his family in the first place?
Wait, they were both looking at him. Konrad thought the duke asked this Vargas guy.
"Do you even know of Erwin's exploits?" Lord Scwertburg demanded.
Yeah, he was talking to him, but well, at least that was an easy question.
"Keeping the tribes in line?" Konrad said before thinking. "My Lord" was a mere afterthought.
It almost got his head chopped off right away.
"Halstadt was a powerful rival. I have nothing but respect for him," the duke rasped, the light glinting on his blade. "But if you're an impostor, you'll pay with your life."
Yep, execution was most likely. Rivals?! Apologizing could've been an option, but—
"With all due respect, My Lord, but stop offending the boy. Let him prove his identity."
As much as he was grateful to the captain, he wanted to strangle him so bad.
"Fine. I'm sure you have something better than a few moles that are easy to fake," the duke sneered. "How much do you know about your history? Who did Erwin sign his pact with?"
Konrad hickupped, but it might have sounded like a scoff. How the hell would he know?
He heard of some high chieftain, but peddlers were so terrified of him, they'd never even name him. And seeing the duke's eyes narrow, he realized he had screwed it up. Again.
Konrad took a deep breath to think about his choices.
He had none.
The only way out was to double down and lie his way out with fake confidence.
"My Lord, please don't insult me with simple questions like this." He couldn't hide his trembling, though. "Every villager knows the answer."
Except him. But he had an idea.
"I tell you something much more convincing." He offered his sheathed sword. "This blade was a gift to my house from a tribal blacksmith, Welf. And I have ties to the sorceress Liliana."
Okay, he only wished he had ties to her, but—
"Y-you've met Lilith?!" a girl shrieked, and he didn't even realize she was there until now. Her flowing blue dress only appeared when she stepped out from the huge man's shadow.
Her skin was pale like porcelain, her face delicate, her hair a wavy brunette, and—
She was somehow familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
"Gabby, don't get yourself worked up." The duke's artificial-sweet voice was sickening. "I can't have you lying in your bed with a fever for another week."
It was Konrad's turn to go pale. "Gabby, as in—Gabrielle?"
The dream came back sharp in his memories, complete with Lu's face and—
Hold on. Wasn't she like, a female version of Lu?! She didn't have wings, but—
"How dare you address my daughter?" the duke demanded, his sword lifting off the ground.
It was his daughter?!
"Father, please," the girl grabbed his arm, then whispered something only he could hear.
The man sighed, then patted her head.
"Show me that sword to verify," he ordered, and the guards borrowed Konrad's blade. They muttered for a long time before the next question. "Do you know Maou Midori, too?"
This damned name again. Konrad let out a frustrated sigh before he could stop himself.
"That's a children's story from the far east. What does it have to do with anything?"
The girl had to prevent another outburst before she bowed to him.
"Sorry, Ser Konrad, we were testing your honesty," she said, voice so soft he had to concentrate on every word. "I understand they call you the Prodigy of Haiten, right?"
"I, um." He couldn't help but blush. "Some peddlers do."
She was not a minute older than the boy, but she seemed so fragile and delicate. Graceful.
And resembled his guardian so much that he could cry.
"And what brought you to Aset?" she asked with a smile, even adding, "My Lord?"
Was this still part of the interrogation? Did they accept his nobility now?
"I am, uh, here to learn magic from the Green Mage," he stated, anchoring lies in truth. "It has been long arranged, but I wanted to earn his respect without flaunting my heritage."
Because he never had any to begin with. But this might've defused the situation.
"I can give you a letter of introduction for your troubles." The duke's tone became much more measured. What happened? "You'll find him in Ejtyangard village, but we cannot escort you."
Did namedropping the Green Mage make him almost faint?
He had a way to test that.
"When the guards assaulted me," he started, unsure if he should press his luck. "They mistook me for a thief. And he dared to lie that he was the Mage's apprentice."
If that wizard was so scary, and they accepted his nobility, his crystal might—
"I'm afraid that wasn't a lie, Lord Konrad." Vargas cleared his throat, catching him off guard.
The duke nodded, too, hands so tight on his sword that his knuckles turned white.
"That bastard Zoltan?" he asked, lips twitching. His daughter grabbed his arm to calm him down. "He's indeed the Green Mage's learner, making my life miserable."
Huh? He was? And he even made that part up.
"We have a warrant against him," Vargas added, "but we can ill afford to anger the Mage."
Okay, so that guy was that scary. He took a mental note of that.
"As for your claim," the duke said, returning his sword. "I'll write an official letter to the king, and he'll clarify it himself. If you speak the truth, he might give you your family's titles back."
Wait, no. Did they have to involve half the kingdom?
Although if he could gain lands from this—
"And if they're unfounded, expect the Royal Executioners."
Oh. He was so screwed.