The morning mist had yet to dissipate when the sound of heavy, dragging hoofbeats echoed from outside the stables.
Murphy looked up to see Lawson slowly leading his warhorse, Red Leaf, into the stables.
Though it had only been half a month, Lawson looked as if all his Essence, Qi, and Spirit had been drained away. His expression was so grim it looked like it could drip water.
When he saw Murphy, he skipped even a basic nod and simply flung the reins over violently. The force was so great that Murphy had to feign taking half a step back just to keep his balance.
"Clean it up! And be thorough!"
Lawson's voice was hoarse and impatient, each word laced with gunpowder.
Without a single glance at Murphy, he turned and walked away. His back was rigid, radiating an indescribable exhaustion and aggression.
Murphy quietly took the reins, paying no mind to the misplaced anger.
His gaze was quickly drawn to the state of both Lawson and Red Leaf.
Lawson's well-maintained Leather Armor was now covered in deep scratches on the left shoulder and right side of his ribs. Several links of the underlying Chain Armor were even broken.
As for Red Leaf, the horse was in an even more wretched state. Its once magnificent, chestnut-colored coat was matted with dirt and grass, and it snorted listlessly.
Upon closer inspection, Murphy found several scabbed-over gashes on its powerful legs. The iron shoe on its left forehoof was even bent unnaturally at the edge.
This was clear proof of a fierce battle and a long, hard ride.
Murphy's heart sank.
He recalled the day Lawson had left. The stables had been unusually busy.
Including Red Leaf, a full twenty warhorses belonging to the followers had been led out, fully tacked and ready.
Even more unusually, the heavy, distinctive sound of hoofbeats echoed from the direction of the inner stables, the ones reserved for the Knights. It was the sound only a Knight's personal mount would make.
Then, Baron Duval and Roton Knight had appeared in turn.
An elite force of that size, combined with the state of Lawson's return, meant it couldn't have been a simple patrol of the domain.
Sure enough, within half a day, rumors were already spreading like an undercurrent among the servants.
Baron Duval had personally led Roton Knight and twenty elite followers to wipe out the bandits occupying the Northern Trade Route, but they had walked into a devastating ambush.
The expeditionary force had lost over half its men, their blood staining the canyon beside the trade route red.
Those who made it back were almost all wounded.
According to the rumors, the incredibly valiant Roton Knight had used his heavy Plate Armor to shield the Baron's retreat, absorbing several abnormally powerful crossbow arrows. His Armor was pierced, and he suffered severe internal injuries. His men had to fight desperately just to drag him back.
Baron Duval himself was even more grievously wounded. He had been carried back to the castle on a stretcher by his personal guard and had been unconscious ever since, his fate hanging in the balance.
In the wake of such a crushing defeat, the fact that Lawson had returned relatively unscathed was seen by others as a stroke of incredible luck.
One rumor claimed that at the height of the battle, Lawson's flank had been shielded by the terrain, allowing him to avoid the first and most lethal volley of ranged attacks.
In the ensuing melee, Red Leaf had performed exceptionally, leaping him out of encirclements several times.
And during the final rout, he had luckily found a hidden path to make his escape.
Within the castle walls, however, this "luck" was viewed with a certain nuance.
Especially to the families of the other followers who had also gone on the expedition but lost their loved ones, Lawson's uninjured state was almost an eyesore.
Of course, not a single servant or groom dared to show any sign that they thought otherwise.
The painful lesson of Carl, and countless others before him who had been hanged from the castle gates for angering a noble with a careless word or deed, was seared like a brand into the mind of every servant.
They still respectfully addressed him as "Master Lawson" and cautiously carried out his every order.
Only in unnoticed corners might a flicker of some subtle emotion pass between them in a shared glance, but it would never dare be mockery.
The real animosity was found at a higher level.
The very next day, Murphy witnessed it firsthand. As Lawson was crossing the training grounds, another follower, Derek, deliberately raised his voice and said to his companion, "Seems some people are naturally good at finding paths, whether it's a hidden path to safety or a shortcut to success."
His companion snickered knowingly. The undisguised mockery in their laughter made Lawson's face turn pale with rage.
But a larger question was swirling in Murphy's mind: 'How could ordinary bandits possess such power?'
'How could they gravely wound an Official Knight and leave nearly half of the elite followers dead in the wilderness?'
He had seen the strength of Baron Duval's forces with his own eyes.
The Knights could move freely while wearing dozens of kilograms of Plate Armor and could single-handedly lift a stone weight that took two grooms to move.
The followers, too, were all far more agile and skilled than ordinary men.
Logically, wiping out a band of common bandits should have been an effortless task.
'No wonder I always found it strange,' he thought. 'With the military strength of the Baron's Domain, why was the Baron so hesitant to use force to clear out the bandits and reopen the trade route, especially when its closure was causing such financial strain?'
'Now it seems it wasn't that he wouldn't act, but that acting was useless!'
'In fact, this military action only proved it: the ones blocking the Northern Trade Route were no ordinary bandits.'
'That's it. It has to be.'
Murphy thought to himself as he silently brushed Red Leaf's coat and applied a special herbal salve.
'There is a more powerful force, secretly preventing the reopening of the trade route. Is it a neighboring noble with an old grudge against Baron Duval? Or some power that doesn't want to see the Baron's Domain recover?'
Unfortunately, he was just a lowly groom.
In an age where information was scarce and news traveled slowly, he was like a frog in a well, completely unable to see the bigger picture.
「Three days later」
The castle was preparing a requiem mass for the fallen, and Murphy was temporarily reassigned to help move supplies.
At a bend in the corridor, he overheard two senior servants talking in hushed tones.
"This is certainly a much more modest affair than the one Bishop Alberto presided over two years ago," one servant remarked while counting candlesticks. "Back then, they lit fifty pairs of vigil candles for the deceased. This time, I hear they only prepared thirty."
Another servant, organizing prayer books, quietly agreed. "It's not just the candles. Even the incense has been downgraded to the common sort. Two years ago, they used top-grade frankincense from the East. Now we have to make do with what the local monastery produces."
A third servant, passing by with an armful of linen, couldn't help but chime in. "The most obvious difference is the arrangements for the guests. Two years ago, all the retainers of the mourning nobles could enjoy refreshments in the side hall. They served honey cakes and preserved fruits back then. Now, it's just plain bread and cheese."
The older servant immediately gestured for them to be quiet. "Watch your words. But you're right. Even the prayer books are old editions; they haven't been reprinted."
Murphy listened in silence.
When he returned to the stables that evening, Red Leaf was quietly chewing its fodder.
He stroked Red Leaf's mane, began his Breathing and Guiding practice, and felt the Qi circulate through his meridians. "I'm glad you're all right," he whispered.