Chapter 17
“Hm, is that so.”
After hearing everything from Pyke and Randolph, Isaac fell silent.
It was a heavy silence. The air itself seemed to thicken, pressing against the lungs. Bill’s eyes rolled restlessly in their sockets. He wanted to collapse where he stood. If possible, he wished he could faint and wake only after all of this had ended.
“Bill, the tea has gone cold.”
“H-However, Young Master. We’ve run out of drinking water.”
“Then fetch more.”
“……………”
Bill glared at Isaac, but he knew better than anyone how futile that was. With no other choice, he left Niers’ room.
“I understand your intentions.”
At some point, Isaac had stopped using honorifics with Pyke and Randolph.
The room was not spacious; though Isaac had sheathed his dagger once more, he stood before the fully armed knights and regarded the two company commanders with a gaze as cold as winter steel.
Pyke and Randolph could not comprehend the situation itself. Nor could they discern the proper way to respond.
The boy before them was Goethe’s eldest son, yes, but only twelve years old. A stripling who had never killed a man.
Pyke had taken his first life at seven.
Randolph had first grasped a blade at ten and killed at eleven.
Compared to them, the young master before their eyes had lived an entirely different life.
No, he was a child too young to know the world.
Could this situation be made understandable to him?
No. Impossible.
And to persuade a child ignorant of the world’s filth, Pyke and Randolph stood upon far too ambiguous a boundary line themselves.
“I will render judgment. Pyke . Randolph.”
“……”
“……”
Whatever thoughts such a boy might harbor, neither Pyke nor Randolph had any intention of bending their will.
And yet, strangely, they felt tension coil at the deliberate pauses Isaac left between his words.
“Execution.”
“Thank you for your underst—”
Pyke, who had already anticipated the outcome, doubted his ears.
“…What?”
“Father’s ruling will likely be no different. According to my report, you will be referred to a military council. We will also need to hear again the testimony of the condemned prisoner you charged with insubordination.”
“Young Master!”
“Don’t make that face, Pyke. My judgment will not change.”
“I cannot accept this!”
Pyke shouted.
“Why should your acceptance matter? The decision will be Father’s.”
“Do you know hunger, Young Master?! Have you ever had your fingers and toes cut away by frostbite?! Have you ever watched a comrade die horribly because your blade would not cut deep enough? Have you ever lain awake through the night, haunted by those who died as monsters, wondering if you would be the next to fall to them?!”
“No.”
Isaac answered briefly, as if Pyke’s words, spat out like blood, were nothing more than a passing breeze.
“And yet you, who know none of these things, would condemn us?”
“If you are so righteous, then you would stand proud even if I reported this to Father. So why are you shouting at me?”
“……”
The silence that followed was deeper than before. It stretched, taut and breathless, as though the world itself waited to see who would falter first.
This time, it was Isaac who asked the question.
Pyke could not answer.
Randolph merely kept his head bowed.
Isaac had ordered Bill to bring warm water for the tea, yet the cups before them were already full. Not one of them had taken a single sip.
“You both know it, don’t you? That Father would never permit your little enterprise.”
His voice was calm; it was too calm.
“Fine. I understand that you have your reasons. Father is incorruptible, but he lacks finesse. He has no flexibility. That is why he cannot maintain good relations with the merchant houses, nor can he bow his head to wealthy nobles. Nor does he possess any talent for commerce. He is, quite simply, a shield that guards the North. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Isaac methodically retraced the arguments they themselves had offered.
“You respected that about him. Followed him from the depths of your hearts. The problem is that, because of it, soldiers are dying. Supplies are lacking. You said dozens of infantrymen died in battle because their rusted blades failed them. That some fell ill or froze to death because there was no firewood, no spare fur pelts to patch their gear. That food shortages bred strange diseases among the ranks. Wasn’t that what you said?”
“………….”
“And so, you filled the gaps in supply with the money earned from selling off the vagrants gnawing at Bern like vermin? You could not serve two masters, nor were you mere sellswords. And so the only way you, as men of force, could earn money was through that path. For Father’s sake. To protect Goethe. Is that it? Is that right?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes! That’s right. So you were listening, after all.”
Pyke’s voice rose, and then a thin smile of scorn tugged at his lips.
“As long as you two remained, Nias would be controllable. After all, you’re knights capable of wielding aura.”
“How many times must we repeat ourselves?”
“Then why did you touch the maids?”
“That was Nias’ men acting on their own—”
“And that, too, was within your method of control?”
“………….”
“Or have you, like Nias, crossed the line yourselves?”
“That’s a baseless accusation!”
“Why? Does it offend you?”
“Tch. There’s nothing more to discuss with you, Young Master.”
Unable to endure it any longer, Pyke rose from the table.
“From the start, it was a mistake to expect understanding from a child like you. Randolph, how long are you going to sit there like that!?”
“…………..”
“Lift your head! Get up! We were prepared for this the moment we began! We are Goethe’s sword. If it is to protect Goethe, we are ready to cut down anything! His Excellency has Young Master Jonas anyway. Not some cursed wretch like this brat who does nothing but bring harm to others.”
A faint light began to emanate from Pyke’s body.
Randolph knew what it was.
Aura.
The air sharpened.
It was not cold, yet it flayed the skin like a cutting wind. His flesh prickled; a chill crawled down his spine.
Pyke truly intended to kill Isaac.
What was the right thing to do?
In a fleeting moment, Randolph agonized.
Having survived countless battles, he had learned that hesitation at such moments led to irreversible consequences.
Something irreversible would happen.
He had decided to become Goethe’s shield.
He had pledged to lay down his life for Goethe.
Ever since he became a soldier of Winterband, he had thought so.
The beginning of the slave trade had been meant for everyone’s sake.
To protect comrades.
To protect subordinates.
Thus Winterband would become stronger.
To protect the people of the domain.
To protect Goethe.
For that, he thought he could dirty his hands, bear disgrace, do anything.
However, at this very moment.
Randolph reconsidered.
Was it truly for Goethe’s sake?
It had started that way.
But the place they had arrived at was entirely different from where they had intended.
He arrived at one clear fact.
He was a shield.
“Captain Pyke.”
Randolph rose to his feet.
“Remember what you once said at the watchtower? That you are the sword, and I am the shield. Carlson said something too: ‘A sword that can cut through anything but never breaks is a great sword. But if that great sword gains a will, it becomes a cursed sword.’”
“Why bring that up now… Don’t tell me!”
“As you said, I am a shield. A shield that protects Goethe.”
Randolph drew an arming sword from under his robe.
His blade, too, began to glow faintly.
“Before I lost my ear to that bastard, I used to think his stubbornness ruined everything. Just like how a blade without flexibility easily breaks. But after losing my ear, it feels like I can finally hear clearly. Carlson was right.”
“Are you out of your mind!? If that brat tattles, we’ll be executed! What about our company members!? Should we just leave them to freeze to death in that wretched place!? Or get accused of treason and be wiped out altogether!?”
“That too… would be our fate. And let’s be honest, Pyke. That money wasn’t used solely for the domain’s sake, was it?”
“!?”
Pyke’s eyes widened at Randolph’s words.
A flash of sword light scattered.
***⚜***
“I see. Then I understand why Carlson drew his blade. And why he kept his mouth shut.”
Isaac nodded at Randolph’s explanation.
It was still too early to utter the name Kyle aloud.
From the coarse cloth sack Randolph carried, blood dripped steadily, dark and unhurried. No one spared it a glance.
“Did you anticipate this outcome?” Randolph asked.
“No. I thought both of you would listen obediently. At the very least, I believed Father was not a poor judge of character.”
“Pyke… he was not a bad man. A bit rough around the edges, perhaps, but warm-hearted.”
Randolph spoke with a sigh that seemed to scrape against his ribs.
“If we had both tried to kill you, what would you have done?”
“I trusted you.”
Isaac answered without inflection.
Randolph’s eyes widened.
“And on what basis did you trust me?”
“I heard about you and Pyke from Father. They said you prevented Carlson’s summary execution and requested a military trial instead. That was decisive.”
“And that alone was enough for you to trust me?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Isaac gave a small nod.
He had, of course, prepared a teleportation scroll in case of the worst. Fortunately, he had not needed to use it.
“My… family. What will happen to them?”
“Do not worry. If you surrender yourself, your family will remain unharmed. Bill, you understand what that means.”
Isaac turned his head toward Bill.
“O-Of course. I won’t say a word.”
Bill, walking a step behind them, nodded stiffly, his face drained of color. He could not begin to fathom the magnitude of what he had been swept into.
“Young Master… before we return to the manor, may we stop somewhere briefly?”
Randolph asked carefully.
“As long as it does not consume much time.”
With Isaac’s permission granted, Randolph led them not toward the manor, but to an inn at the edge of the slums.
It was not merely a place for lodging.
It was a house of prostitution.
“Tia. Are you here?”
At Randolph’s call, the madam promptly dragged a woman forward by the wrist. The woman’s face bore an unmistakable look of annoyance.
“What is it? You want me to entertain you? With this handsome young master too? That’ll cost you extra.”
Her expression brightened the moment she caught sight of Isaac. His fine features, well-kept hair, and immaculate attire marked him as someone with coin to spare.
“My name is Randolph. You are Tia, correct?”
“That’s right. And what do you need?”
Tia’s expression gradually stiffened as Randolph repeated her name more than once.
She had noticed the edge of chainmail peeking from beneath his robe, links woven in steel.
“Don’t be scared. I’m just here to deliver news. Pyke has died.”
“Pyke?”
“You remember him, I trust. I believe he brought no small amount of money here.”
“He did. And turned quite a few men into fools along the way.”
The innkeeper grumbled from the side.
Ignoring him, Randolph continued speaking to Tia.
“Pyke loved you. His dream was to marry you… and have children born out of love. Though he was clumsy about it.”
“……How did he die? Can I see the body?”
Tia’s face shifted, color draining and returning in the same breath. It was an expression too tangled to name, grief, perhaps, or something perilously close to relief.
Randolph lifted the coarse sack slightly.
“Here, this is Pyke’s head. As for how he died… let’s just say he was unlucky.”
Randolph lifted the cotton sack he was holding.
Dried, dark blood clung to it.
“Can I see it?”
Tia’s voice trembled slightly.
“Are you sure?”
Randolph hesitated.
He was worried she might faint upon seeing Pyke’s head.
“I watch beheadings at public executions all the time.”
“But this is Pyke’s head.”
“It’s fine.”
At Tia’s insistence, Randolph reluctantly unfolded the cloth.
“Ptui!”
Tia immediately spat on the floor after seeing the severed head inside.
“W-What are you doing!?”
This time, Randolph was the one who was shocked.
“A lunatic bastard like him is better off dead for the sake of the world!”
“P-Please understand, Sir Knight.”
The innkeeper hurriedly explained that Pyke’s sadistic tendencies had gone too far and that one of Tia’s friends had died because of it.
“But I was sure you would’ve built a family with Pyke…”
“Why are you acting all sentimental now? In this world, people sell and buy families for money. Pretending to be a sweet newlywed bride for a few coins is just part of the job. Faking family bonds is nothing.”
“……”
“Thanks for the good news. If you’re not going to buy anything, please leave. I was in the middle of entertaining a guest.”
Leaving the shocked Randolph behind, Tia briskly climbed up to the second floor.
Even until she disappeared completely, her face was filled with vivid contempt.
“So this is what you meant when you said the money wasn’t used purely for the domain’s sake?”
“…Yes. Shall we leave now?”
The scene of half-naked women moving about the inn without a care.
Only now did Randolph realize what kind of place he had brought a twelve-year-old boy into and hurriedly left the inn.
“When Winterband was invaded, Pyke was a child born unwillingly between a tribal warrior and a commoner. Seeking solace, he often came to Tia. But I didn’t know he had gone that far.”
As they rode the carriage back to the mansion, Randolph summarized Pyke’s life.
Thanks to that, Isaac wasn’t bored on the way back.
“It’s ironic. The reason slave trading was banned in Goethe was to eliminate conflicts with the tribes outside the border, yet a boy with tribal blood led such trade.”
“That’s how the world works.”
“So in the end, misfortune made him a villain.”
“That’s right.”
“But not all unfortunate people become villains.”
Isaac stared out the window.
Today, the northern landscape looked especially desolate.
“We’re here.”
Seeing the mansion in the distance, Randolph let out a heavy breath.
Now he had to meet Margrave and confess everything he and Pyke had done.
Without leaving anything out.
Even the fact that they tried to sell the servants of this very house.
The Margrave would not forgive them.
Because he valued honor above all else.
Even if he didn’t take their lives, he would take things just as precious.
Randolph’s estate near Winterband, his status, his honor, all of it.
‘Where did it all go wrong?’
Randolph’s heart was heavy.
“Sir Randolph.”
At that moment, Isaac spoke.
“Would you consider paying for your sins… in another way?”
