Chapter 40: Protecting Sebas
"Stand down, Germann."
The voice came from somewhere toward the back of the cavalry formation. It wasn't raised, but it reached everyone clearly.
Germann's hand was already on his sword hilt. At the sound, he went rigid for a moment, then looked back. His lips moved as though he had something to say. In the end he only produced a quiet, flat "Yes, sir," released the hilt, and took three steps back to stand at the side of Lucian's horse.
Every bit of that scarred face said he wasn't pleased about it — a large dog hauled forcibly back from something it considered its quarry.
Lucian's expression showed nothing. His back was already soaked in cold sweat.
That idiot Germann.
He cursed the man thoroughly in the privacy of his own head.
I told you to play the villain blocking the road. I did not tell you to actually draw on them. You were about to pull your sword on a level-100 dragonoid, you absolute disaster. You nearly got the entire unit killed.
Lucian drew a slow breath and pressed the wave of delayed panic back down.
He swung down from the saddle.
The motion was unhurried. His boots met the ground with a quiet thud. Moonlight fell from overhead and caught his mithril armor, throwing back a cold silver sheen.
He walked to where Sebas sat and stopped three paces short. Far enough not to crowd, close enough not to seem deliberately distant.
Then Lucian raised his right hand, placed it at his chest, and inclined his head in a slight bow. The gesture was measured and precise in every detail — the standard greeting between nobles, maintaining dignity and offering appropriate respect in equal measure.
"Lucian Alvein Dale Aindra." He straightened, meeting Sebas's gaze level. His voice carried a precisely judged note of apology. "My man was out of line. I apologize for the trouble."
From the driver's seat, Sebas looked down at the young man.
In the moonlight that face was still young — twenty or thereabouts — golden hair stirring lightly in the night wind.
He had seen the young man come down from his horse, and the manner of it had registered. The movements were steady. None of the restlessness common to youth, and none of the particular arrogance that tended to come with noble birth.
There were other things Sebas had noticed.
When the broad-shouldered man called Germann had been pulled back, what crossed his face wasn't only compliance. There was something underneath it — something deeper, almost instinctive. The kind of trust that doesn't come from rank but from years of being beside someone through difficulty.
And those eyes.
Visible clearly in the moonlight: pale green, very clean. Looking back at him openly, without evasion, without the push of someone trying to make a point.
"Sebas Tian."
The old man gave his name. His voice was low and steady. He did not bow in return.
Lucian didn't appear to mind. He gave a small nod and moved directly to the matter.
"Has Mr. Sebas happened to notice a group in this area — calling themselves a mercenary company, but living by the road?"
A faint furrow had formed at Lucian's brow.
Sebas was quiet for a moment.
Mercenary company.
Those men Shalltear had disposed of — their equipment had been somewhat above the standard of common roadside thieves, and they had shown a degree of coordination. That would be them.
At the same moment came the image: bodies drained dry by the vampire brides, and the rather unfortunate individual Shalltear had relieved of his head with a casual flick.
Those scenes had no business being connected to him while on a mission.
"I have not." Sebas's voice was as steady as it always was. "The road has given us no trouble."
He held Lucian's gaze as he said it, his face carrying nothing beyond the words themselves.
Lucian appeared unsurprised by the answer. He only gave a small nod, as though he had expected exactly this.
"Good." He paused. His gaze rested on Sebas a moment, then moved briefly across the carriage. "Even so — the road hasn't fully settled. Those bandits may have gone quiet, but that doesn't mean they've gone. And you appear to have no escort..."
His eyes moved between Sebas and the carriage and back.
"Would you allow me to send some men along with you?"
He said it with complete sincerity, and there was a slight earnestness behind it — the kind that tends to belong to people still young enough to mean things directly.
Sebas looked at him without immediately answering.
The moonlight fell across that young face plainly enough to read. The eyes were serious, the lips lightly pressed together, waiting for an answer.
He is genuinely worried.
Sebas reached that judgment.
A young lord, cavalry unit in tow, out clearing bandits from the road — he encounters a lone traveler moving by night without guards, and immediately offers to detach an escort. By Sebas's assessment, this fell cleanly within what human society called goodwill.
"That won't be necessary." Sebas declined without hesitation, his tone not unkind. "We are heading in a different direction. I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble, Mr. Aindra."
Lucian was quiet for a moment.
In the moonlight, something thoughtful moved across that young face.
"Mr. Sebas." A careful note had entered his voice. "I have a rather presumptuous request."
Sebas raised an eyebrow slightly.
"I've brought men out to deal with this group several times now." There was a faint, genuine frustration in Lucian's tone. "We've come up empty every time. They always seem to get word of us before we arrive and clear out ahead of us."
He paused. His gaze settled on Sebas. Those pale green eyes held the slightly unpracticed quality of someone attempting to be subtle.
"So I was thinking — if you continued ahead, and the cavalry followed some distance behind at an interval..."
He left it there. The meaning was clear enough without finishing it.
Use the carriage as bait.
Germann's voice came from behind him: "My lord, this—"
The disapproval in it was unmistakable. The big man took a step forward as though to add something, but Lucian had already raised one hand and given it a light, brief wave.
Germann closed his mouth. The scarred face kept its shape, but the brow had pulled itself into a knot.
In the moonlight, Sebas's expression did not change.
But his gaze stayed on Lucian for a long time.
He was observing.
The flaw in the proposal was obvious.
If catching bandits was the genuine purpose, the simplest approach was to follow quietly without informing the person being used as bait — the less they knew, the more naturally they would behave, and the more effective the trap. Telling them accomplishes nothing toward that goal.
The night wind came through the trees and lifted Lucian's golden hair.
Sebas looked at that young face.
There was no trace of calculation in it. The eyes were clean and open, carrying only a straightforward, almost artless honesty.
So. Mr. Aindra is simply still worried about us being attacked by bandits.
This roundabout, self-concealing kindness — the "bait" scheme as a cover for a much simpler impulse — sent a quiet warmth moving through Sebas.
'It is precisely because people like this exist — people who want to help the weak — that I cannot bring myself to dislike humans.'
Somewhere deep where it wouldn't show, Sebas smiled.
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