Roland sat at his desk, lost in thought. He never imagined anyone would dare storm into the castle. Had the Nightingale not noticed in time, he would have met his end.
Who is this again? Sister Sanwang or another sibling? Why such haste? The five-year royal succession decree has only been in effect for a few months now. Roland slammed his hand on the table in frustration, utterly baffled. How could they still demand such haste? Shouldn't they at least let him have a proper winter?
Footsteps rang out from outside. Chief Knight Carter Lannis burst in, "Your Highness, the identities of the deceased have been confirmed. Seven of the eight bodies are former patrol members, while one remains unidentified. The two survivors—one was treated by Miss Payne... no, by the Witch—still hasn't regained consciousness. The other has been taken to the dungeon and is under strict guard." Patrol? Roland thought bitterly. He knew this group, groomed by the former Lord, was unreliable. Eight of ten had betrayed him. It was the right call to keep them out of the militia.
"Keep that man in custody. Make sure your men keep a close watch. Don't let him poison himself like last time!" "Last time... like that?" "Well, nothing much," Roland shook his head. Apparently, the nightingale's call had jolted him awake in the middle of the night, leaving him dazed. "Anyway, I need to get all the details from him—whose mastermind it was, who coordinated the plan, who paid the price. You're the one to investigate." "Yes, Your Highness," Carter didn't leave immediately after speaking. Instead, he knelt down. "Letting the assassin infiltrate the castle this time was my failure. I hope Your Highness will punish me." "Enough. You weren't in the castle then. This isn't your fault." "Then..." Carter hesitated. "Can you tell me who actually stopped this assassination? I saw them..." Knight swallowed hard. "They all seemed to have been killed by the same person, and completely defenseless." "You saw that?" Roland asked curiously.
"If the forces were evenly matched, the scene wouldn't be so immaculate, and the wounds would be more varied," Carter murmured. "Everyone collapsed in a small warehouse, with only blood and corpses on the floor—no damage to the stored items, not even a single sword mark on the large crates of cured meat. This means the man moved freely through the open space without cover. Let me be clear, Your Highness, this is utterly unbelievable." "I see," Roland nodded, understanding the implication. Theoretically, even the strongest would be at a severe disadvantage when surrounded—real combat isn't like movies where people keep falling in one after another despite the apparent encirclement. Attacks from blind spots are particularly lethal. Therefore, in a one-on-many situation, the correct strategy is to rely on terrain and environment to maintain a frontal position against the enemy.
But Nightingale is not an ordinary person.
"Whatever the case, go ahead and do what you need to do. This person can't show up right now. I'll let you know when the time's right." Despite Chief Knight's loyalty and knowing Anna and Nana were witches, Roland chose to keep the Nightingale's existence under wraps. Unlike the other two witches, she wasn't on his side—she'd stayed in town solely for Anna's sake. Behind her stood the Witches Association, and she would eventually leave this place.
Carter left with a look of disappointment.
Roland grasped his thoughts. As a swordsman, he had honed his craft through centuries of practice, treating it as an unshakable truth. Yet when confronted with an incomprehensible vision, he couldn't help but question himself—how could his daily pride be measured against such sublime swordsmanship?
"I thought you'd call me out," Nightingale said, her figure emerging from the corner of the desk where she was still sitting, legs crossed.
"I agree. Why don't you settle here and become my personal bodyguard? You'll earn two Golden Dragons monthly—double what Anna gets. How about that?" Roland continued his proposal. "A house with a garden, two days off weekly, and annual paid leave—well, you know, paid time off." To his surprise, the man didn't reject outright but smiled. "I can't abandon my comrades." "Then bring them all. Once winter ends, Border Town will be rebuilt, and we'll have enough space. Plus...Witches can walk the streets without discrimination. No one will see you as evil." "Wait until you've proven that," Nightingale shrugged.
Well, Amway's approval depends on the product—this kind of thing takes time. Roland shifted the conversation, "Nanawa's been safely returned, right?" "Yeah, she was terrified," Prince sighed. He'd been woken by the nightingale at midnight and nearly vomited when he saw the scene. After she gave a brief account of what happened, Roland ordered her to secretly bring Nanawa out. The girl, who usually only treated chickens, fainted at the sight of a bloodied human. After a chaotic scene, she finally treated the patrol captain with tears streaming down her face.
To avoid detection by his family, Nightingale was also responsible for bringing her back.
When all the work was done, the sky was almost bright.
"What do you think about this? Can you guess which of my brothers or sisters did it?" Nightingale shook her head. "They're all from the patrol team. The only exception didn't carry any identity markers. If it was bribery, anyone could pull that off... But I think your siblings might not be involved." "Why?" "Because it's too sloppy. A group operation turned into internal strife. They didn't commit suicide immediately after failure, at least leaving two alive. Their behavior was completely unprofessional, like street thugs. This doesn't match your siblings' usual style—it sounds more like a amateur group's scheme. I bet even without me, this assassination attempt wouldn't have succeeded... Don't forget Anna's sleeping downstairs." Nightingale picked up Roland's cup and took a sip nonchalantly. "Anyway, your Knight has already gone to the dungeon to get a confession. I bet he'll find out soon—compared to the pawn your sister set up, that guy's way below his level. He even knelt down begging me not to kill him." "The severely injured patrol captain... I think I summoned him." "Really?" Nightingale tilted her head. "I think you should thank him. If he hadn't single-handedly tied up the others, I wouldn't have discovered the rats sneaking into the basement so quickly. Though I don't fully understand why he did it, the enemy's enemy is our friend, right?" That's right, Roland thought. But the key wasn't whether he was friend or foe—it was what Nightingale had said.
"Us" friends.