"Hm. I can't seem to concentrate properly."
After the banquet.
Hans, who she had been worrying about, had returned, so Luciana, who had intended to devote herself to training for the first time in a while, found her sword halted in midair.
"As a swordswoman, it would be proper to always maintain composure."
Perhaps because her heart felt unsettled.
Not only the aura at the tip of her sword—
even the aura within her body wavered unstably.
The cause of it, of course, was something Luciana herself knew best.
Hans Byron, her right arm who had made a splendid return today.
For some reason, his figure kept lingering in her mind.
Her relief at his return had lasted only briefly.
She had been happy to see him welcomed by everyone, but after that, she hadn't had the chance to properly speak with him, which left her feeling somewhat regretful.
After some thought, Luciana soon sheathed her sword and left the training grounds.
"Come to think of it, I haven't crossed swords with anyone in a while. Sparring is better than training alone."
Once she knew the cause, fixing it was simple.
Rather than trying to erase her stray thoughts, she chose to accept them as they were.
"Hans, are you inside?"
Knock, knock.
Luciana's eyes narrowed.
Even though she had signaled her presence with a knock, there was no reply from the other side.
'…I know I shouldn't be using it at times like this.'
Aura, normally used to sense the presence of enemies.
She drew it out to check beyond the door.
—…
All she heard was silence from within.
She couldn't sense the presence of a puppet or anyone else.
But that was no problem for Luciana.
—Hans, where are you?
She had a means of secretly communicating with her right arm.
Transmission of voice by aura.
—Lady Luciana, you were looking for me?
—Yes. You must be lacking in training after living in the jungle. How about a spar for the first time in a while?
—…
When the voice transmission cut off briefly, Luciana's brows drew together.
—Hans?
—Ah, my apologies. I have urgent business at the moment. Once I finish, I'll head to the training grounds right away.
'…Urgent business, leaving your master waiting?'
Luciana's eyes sharpened.
Even before returning here, he had claimed to have matters to take care of in the jungle.
What urgent business could remain now?
Luciana's patience had already run out; waiting any longer was impossible.
Fine.
Was it necessary to meet only at the training grounds?
—I'll wait.
She said so through transmission.
But "coincidentally" meeting him was also within the realm of possibility.
Following his aura, Luciana set off.
"…If I come in person, Hans won't be able to refuse and will accompany me."
Yes.
Even if she forced it a little, he had always accepted her demands—this time would be no different.
Luciana herself wasn't aware, but having once lost and then regained this loyal subordinate, she felt a faint unease.
Click, clack—
As she walked down the corridor with such feelings, Luciana suddenly felt a sense of déjà vu.
"…This atmosphere feels strangely familiar."
She, too, was the daughter of a ducal house, and thus noticed quickly.
A floor gilded with thin sheets of gold.
An extravagant door beyond compare.
And then…
"…to give precious teaching to my young friend…."
From beyond the door came a voice she remembered.
—Hahaha, indeed. With the ducal house's military pressure, bandits wouldn't dare show their faces.
—…Father.
—A pity, though. Even if we sell weapons, sales will be lackluster like this.
It was the voice of Duke Daimon, who had once laughed boisterously at a mock negotiation between the children of the noble houses.
'So this was the duke's room.'
Even if Hans was inside, approaching here without the duke's permission would be a great discourtesy.
Thus, Luciana, who valued etiquette, turned to leave.
"…It was helpful indeed…."
If not for another voice she then heard inside.
Luciana stopped in her tracks, unconsciously drawing upon her aura.
At the root of it, of course, was her vague curiosity about the contact and topic of conversation between the two.
"…I'll be straightforward. I like you. How about becoming my exclusive attendant?"
"…!"
Luciana's eyes widened in shock.
Who to whom?
Was this the time to argue about rudeness?
If anything, the rudeness lay with the one attempting to steal away a servant working properly in another house!
'How dare he covet Hans!'
Her anger boiled over, and she even felt the urge to kick open the door.
"I guarantee you treatment far better than you get in the North. Don't you want to take hold of this 'youth'?"
But when Duke Daimon spoke such words, Luciana suddenly felt anxiety before anger.
'Hans, don't tell me…!'
The duke spoke of youth.
But surely it wasn't just that.
Knowing the duke valued talent, he would surely offer more.
Luciana's grip on her sword tightened.
Hans was the third son of a baron.
Could he withstand such enormous temptations?
No, even before that—
'Can I even block this deal…?'
Even if Hans had sworn loyalty to her,
even if they had spent much time together—
…morally problematic though it was,
if Hans truly decided to attach himself to the South, the Speda family would have no choice but to simply watch.
After all, Hans was not born and raised in the North, but in the West.
There were no ties of family or alliances of interest binding them.
At best, the only consequence would be criticism for betraying the bonds between nobles.
Her servant would never return.
'I won't allow that…'
Luciana unconsciously clenched the hilt at her waist.
Someone other than Hans by her side?
Unthinkable.
'Should I break in right now and drag him out?'
But what if such discourtesy turned Hans's heart away?
Or if his heart had already turned?
As Luciana stood frozen in turmoil—
"Hmm, my apologies. I don't think I can meet your expectations."
As though in answer to her prayers,
before the duke, Hans declared his refusal with confidence.
Luciana's face brightened.
"Why so? Hm, was my price too small?"
But that shameless noble, ignorant of propriety, would not give up.
"The salary you receive must be a pittance. I'll pay you ten times that. And not only that—working under me, I can grant you noble title depending on results. A viscountcy at least would be no problem."
"Haha, I'm not seeking a wealthy life, nor do I crave advancement."
"…Even the slaves you so adamantly rejected—everyone secretly keeps one or two. I'll give you as many as you want."
"I appreciate the thought, but no thank you. I'm already overwhelmed with just my fiancée. In fact, rumors of keeping slaves would only cause trouble for me."
Youth, wealth, power, women…
The duke's offers were endless, but Hans refused them all without yielding.
Then.
The duke dropped a bomb.
"This way, we'll never strike a deal. State your demands. I'll match them."
"…What tremendous boldness."
"To welcome a capable and clever talent like you, no price is too high. Speak."
And Hans gave an answer that was truly his own.
"However, there are things in this world that cannot be priced in money. Like loyalty."
'…!'
Luciana's long lashes trembled.
After a brief silence, the duke responded bluntly.
"…Tch. I thought we understood one another. To think someone like you would be bound by sentiment."
"Ahaha, in the Speda ducal house, my lord values me endlessly."
At his principled refusal, the strength in Luciana's grip slackened,
and the corners of her mouth rose of their own accord.
'Hans… so that's how you felt.'
A mutual devotion to one another.
Was this not the very picture of the bond between a loyal retainer and his lord?
"To have not met you earlier is a true regret."
Clicking his tongue in regret, that greedy duke soon calmed his passion and spoke in a dull tone.
"I'll give up the plan to bring slave hunting into the open. I'll even attempt talks with the elves. Whether they'll listen, I can't say."
"Thank you."
"No need for thanks. I just think your opinion is more reasonable. Watching a talent I can't recruit is only vexing, so begone."
Step, step.
Footsteps drew nearer to the door.
Snapping back to her senses, Luciana quickly retreated.
As a warrior who had reached a high level, it didn't take her long to secretly return to the training grounds.
But—
Thump, thump.
"Haa. Running this much isn't tiring, so why is…."
Why was her heart pounding so violently when she arrived?
Luciana had no answer.
Her face faintly flushed, she placed a hand on her chest and tilted her head.
'…Could I have caught a cold here, when I never did even in the North?'
"For the dispatched lessons, let us welcome the academy students who have come to our South."
The next day, back in Duke Daimon's room.
This time, not only I but all the students were present.
Still seated on his throne, his gaze fell on me, and I subtly turned my head away.
'Still not given up? What a persistent man.'
The passion in his eyes had not gone out.
He would surely extend another recruitment offer someday.
'Sorry, but I've no intention of working under you, old man.'
Naturally.
Youth? I've already made a blood contract with Batory—management is meaningless.
Money? If I wish, I can rake it in using original story information.
Title? I'm already a king, you fool.
Every offer he made held no meaning for me.
Above all, how could I ever give up the option named Luciana?
Watching her beauty and growth up close was the greatest benefit!
Since I showed no interest, he soon straightened his attitude and spoke.
With other guests present, clinging only to me would be rude. Though not as seasoned as the duke, among the students were even two direct scions of the imperial family.
"Since we have enjoyed enough of the welcome banquet, let us now discuss the commission."
"Please explain the commission's contents. You mentioned 'investigating the abnormality of the southern jungle'—what do you mean by that?"
Nodding at his son's skilled questioning of what everyone wondered, the duke answered.
"Recently, the roots of the World Tree have begun to rot. Thanks to the Saintess's advice, we prevented an emergency, but there's no guarantee it won't happen again."
"You mean this is due to abnormalities in the jungle?"
"Yes. More precisely, it's the beastmen's magic circles."
The duke furrowed his brow as if vexed.
"According to our family's magicians, they deliberately channeled mana from the jungle to infect the World Tree's roots."
"Then subjugating them will suffice."
"If only it were that simple… Luke, you know, don't you."
The jungle was ill-suited for the movement of large armies.
Though clearing trees and pioneering small routes for limited subjugations was possible—
"The losses are considerable."
"Exactly. Moreover, the jungle is their territory. How many times have we suffered ambushes from beastmen hiding in the thickets, or arrows from elves?"
As the duke sighed faintly, everyone's eyes turned to the lone elf present, Frigia.
Eyes wide, she flusteredly protested.
"Eh? Th-that… but wouldn't it be self-defense? Even we can't help but resist against humans trying to enslave us."
"Enslave? Elves?"
"Yes! I personally drove off slave hunters with Hans. They're garbage! Dressing us in rags, shackling ankles to prevent escape…."
So pure it was frightening.
Revealing the South's disgrace from her own mouth, Duke Daimon coughed hurriedly.
"…Ahem. Let us stop there. We do try to prevent it, but realistically we cannot restrain every private fortune seeker."
"That's true, Miss Frigia. And importantly, the culprits this time are not elves but beastmen."
"Indeed. And the commission I entrust to you is related."
Clap.
At the duke's signal, maids handed each of us a sheet of paper.
"What is this?"
"The medium of the curses, uncovered by our magicians after nights of toil. A shamanic tool of the beastmen, called a 'totem.'"
An unusual ornament—a wolf skull cradling a dark blue crystal.
It was familiar to me.
Seeing it, I understood why the Saintess's complexion paled instantly.
"Rene, are you all right?"
"Ah, Your Highness the Third Prince. I'm fine. Just a little dizzy."
"…Hmph. To act so carelessly before the duke, when you are of imperial blood."
"Haha, but the Saintess is a talent who has even aided the ducal house. Even aside from that, as a knight I must protect a fragile lady."
"..."
'So that's why it was quiet.'
At the Third Prince's counter, the Crown Prince who had been picking a fight pressed his lips together.
The students exchanged discreet glances. But in the duke's presence, no one acted "recklessly like the Crown Prince."
They kept elegant smiles, as if nothing had happened, and listened attentively.
Of course, I wore a clear smirk.
I had already secured the duke's favor, and I had long since turned hostile toward the Crown Prince.
Why pretend not to see?
Thus, the Crown Prince's face reddened, and throughout the ensuing discussion he stayed silent like a mute.
I half-listened to the details I already knew from the original story, my thoughts wandering.
The true identity of that object was none other than the emblem of the "Calamity of the Pack."
It was the source of countless curses we would face in the jungle.
'Which means… the calamity of the South is finally beginning to stir its lazy backside.'
One of the earliest final bosses to appear.
The day of facing the "Calamity of the Pack" drew near.
"Fenrir, preparations for departure are complete."
"…Good."
When a burly young man with wolf ears rising from his hair spoke, all the foremost tribal chiefs among the beastmen knelt before him.
He was the chosen one of the beastmen.
The one who would free them from the oppression of humans and dwarves.
—When the world is shrouded in darkness, surviving by licking despair—
—Then shall one come who grants eternal freedom.
—He shall be born outside the forest and reign as lord.
By shamanic prophecy.
And by the principle of strength.
It was natural the long-oppressed beastmen should revere him.
"Are you still casting curses upon the Mother Tree?"
"Yes, but… some worry. That when we drive out the humans, the Mother Tree might be harmed…."
"Foolish concern. The Mother Tree is not so weak. All lies in weakening the humans' forces. Continue the curse without rest."
But what they did not know, bound by prophecy and sorcery—
'Hmph, bothersome old fools. The Mother Tree—what's so important about that?'
That their leader harbored such blasphemous thoughts.
"Tell those with complaints to come fight me. Then I'll hear their opinion seriously."
At Fenrir's words, the beastmen kneeling shuddered.
Given no one had survived battle with him before,
his words were like those of a tyrant.
"…Understood. Then we'll hasten the departure."
But following the strong was also the beastmen's nature.
And so it was with those who followed Fenrir.
"Now then, I truly look forward to hearing the screams of humans."
His gleaming fangs and blood-red eyes shone in the jungle night with chilling brilliance.
Read on VineNovels.com