Chapter 88
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The Last Dance Before Midnight
A masked dragon asks the lanternwright for one slow dance
As the sun sank completely in the west, night fell.
Leaving William's group of refugees behind, Ferda returned to the castle.
Ferda sat on the sofa in the reception room and looked at the man seated across from him.
Stephan was there.
The haggardness characteristic of someone driven into a corner had faded somewhat, but his eyes still looked hollow.
Ferda looked at him and spoke.
“I have good news.”
“Wh-what good news?”
Stephan asked anxiously.
Ferda slowly told him everything he had pieced together.
“Stephan, the mercenaries you hired had more malicious intentions than we expected.”
They were not third-rate mercenaries but assassins organized for the express purpose of sowing chaos.
They had killed all the merchants and laborers at the rendezvous point.
They had ransacked all the cargo, pulling out and displaying some of its contents to make it look like a robbery.
“But making it look like a robbery carried too much risk.”
“Because of the anti-theft magic.”
As the branch manager, Stephan knew about it well.
The anti-theft magic placed on valuable goods.
The moment someone touched them, they would be branded as criminals, making that the worst possible situation for the assassins.
For it to be a robbery, the valuables had to disappear, but the ironic fact that none of them had vanished would only make it more obvious that the incident was an assassination.
“So the two mercenaries laid the groundwork.”
“How?”
“They must have forced open and smashed the crates containing the valuables to get the items out.”
“But they would still have been marked by tracking magic. Why would they do something so stupid…?”
“They probably fell into the trap as well. Whether they had not been given the information or were greedy by nature, they were likely eliminated in the process.”
Stephan nodded slightly, convinced by those words.
“Getting those valuables out seems to have been the groundwork, but what was it groundwork for?”
Ferda continued.
It was a pawn.
“Groundwork for getting the refugees to join the robbery.”
Refugees moving about while trembling in the early-winter cold.
Since the mercenaries had come from the Empire, they would also have known that refugees were heading toward the Far East in search of hope.
They had discovered William's refugees.
As planned, they had lured the refugees with promises of food, giving them a glimmer of hope.
“The refugees would inevitably head there. Whatever the case, they needed something to eat immediately.”
Even if it was a lie, it was information worth acting on for starving people, so they had hurried there.
What awaited them was not a generous distribution center but a horrific slaughterhouse.
“All they had to do was let the refugees rummage through the meal laid out before them.”
Ferda crooked his index finger toward the refugees as he spoke.
“What would they see? Food, weapons, and precious treasures made of gold—things they might see only once in their entire lives. The things they needed right now, the things they wanted, and the things they wanted but could never possess in a lifetime were all laid out in one place.”
It was like walking into a temple of desire.
Stephan could guess how the scheme worked.
Thus, the assassination would be transformed into a robbery through the involvement of the refugees.
Since the refugees had carried out most of the looting, the instigators would naturally assume that the refugees were responsible and slaughter them all.
They would not bother tracking down the troublesome remnants.
They had already been punished enough to serve as an example.
Yet there was one strange point that formed the heart of the matter.
Everything they had uncovered so far pointed to an assassination disguised as a robbery.
That meant everything they had intended to do here had failed.
“So the refugees did not touch the jewels?”
“There was an unexpected variable.”
Ferda nodded.
“No one could have predicted it. No, it was too unlikely and absurd to include within the range of their expectations. It was like being struck by lightning from a clear sky.”
Ferda placed a knight beside the pawn he had tipped over.
“A knight who lived by his convictions was the leader of that group.”
William.
That man, who could have become a knight, understood duty and honor.
He saw the gold before him as nothing more than stones, gathered the bodies, and prayed for them.
Although he had touched some of the goods, he had chosen only what was necessary for survival, and the amount was less than one golden.
It was something that could be forgiven.
“That made it possible to confirm with certainty that this was an assassination.”
That was the story of the events they had uncovered so far.
Their explanation led to the next question.
“Then who on earth commissioned the assassination?”
“This man is the strongest candidate.”
Ferda handed over Pascal Company's personnel records.
“Frank Fontaine, the only one of the twelve merchants who is missing.”
“Frank Fontaine.”
Hearing that name, Stephan instinctively frowned.
“You do not seem to like him very much.”
“He has worked here for ten years, and he was always complaining that he could never become a branch manager and had to keep doing this sort of driver's work.”
“Why?”
“There is no grand reason. His performance was simply poor. He just lacked the qualities of a merchant.”
Stephan ground his teeth as he looked at the man's face.
“He acted like some old geezer, so we clashed quite a bit. I even thought about firing him because I decided he was hopeless, but I let it go.”
“Why?”
“He had five children to support.”
“You were too soft.”
“I know.”
Crrrinkle.
The personnel roster crumpled.
“This bastard… Are you saying he ordered someone to kill eleven of my merchants?”
A little compassion.
Was this entire disaster the result of that softhearted compassion leading to the deaths of other families?
“No.”
Ferda shook his head.
“I am certain that a man named Frank Fontaine is involved, but he cannot be the instigator.”
“Can you tell me why you are so certain?”
Stephan thought he might be overstepping, but he needed an explanation he could accept.
“It was reported that, excluding the refugees' footprints, the footprints of twelve people came and went. That means thirty-two mercenaries took part in this assassination, correct?”
“That is correct.”
“Even at the highest estimate, the amount looted was two hundred goldens. If thirty-two people divided it evenly, they would receive about three goldens and twenty-five shillings each.”
Three goldens and twenty-five shillings was quite a lot of money.
But it was a small sum for money earned by getting blood on one's hands.
“That might make sense if they were cheap labor, but these men are skilled at erasing their traces. Do you know how much people like that charge?”
“I do not.”
“They would start at a minimum of fifty goldens per person. Even at a cheap rate, the total would exceed one thousand goldens.”
“A thousand… With Frank's finances, that is more money than he could raise even by scraping together his very soul.”
Stephan set down Frank's personnel records.
“If there is some force behind this trying to shake me, what kind of damned bastards are they…?”
“That is the good news.”
Ferda reached into the inner pocket of his coat.
“We identified the people behind it.”
Ferda took something out and placed it on the table.
It was a green scarf.
It was the item that had been in the hands of the young refugee boy.
“This…”
Stephan recognized it the moment he saw it.
“This belongs to the employees of my brother's company… Why is it in your hands, Your Excellency?”
“One of the refugees said that a child saw one of the men who plotted this drop the scarf and picked it up.”
“Could it be that the people behind this…? They…?”
Stephan could not continue.
But both Ferda and Stephan knew whose name was about to come up in that conversation.
Overcome by shock, Stephan finally dropped the glass he had been holding.
Crash!
It shattered and spilled its contents, but he paid no attention.
Ferda, too, left the trivial matter alone.
Stephan covered his face with both hands.
He did not even know what expression he was wearing.
“…Are you certain?”
“That is what I was told.”
Stephan reached out and accepted the scarf.
His pupils, contracted by shock, slowly traced the embroidery on the scarf.
What held his gaze was the Pascal family's emblem.
Behind it were two crossed swords.
He checked it several times, but there was no mistake.
It was not a counterfeit. It belonged to the Pascal Mercenary Company.
“My brother's company…”
Stephan said as he looked down at it.
“There is a saying that signing a contract with the Pascal Mercenary Company is like making a pact with the devil. Do you know what that means?”
“I do not.”
“It means that once you sign a contract, you can never escape… Something like that.”
A hollow smile appeared on Stephan's face.
Then it soon twisted.
The emotions swirling in his mind seemed to leap onto his face whenever they surfaced.
“They say that once a contract with the Pascal Mercenary Company ends, quiet bands of bandits immediately begin targeting the wagons. As if someone deliberately told them.”
Stephan's voice trembled faintly.
“It was strange. The first merchant expeditions after a contract expired always went wrong. They would be robbed, the mercenaries would become robbers, or they would flee… Eight out of ten would always meet with misfortune, and seven of those eight would come back to sign another contract with my brother.”
“Do you think that was Murchit's own staged act?”
“There is a saying that necessity creates demand. In the security business, you have to make the other party aware of that necessity.”
Stephan recalled the friction he had recently had with Murchit.
He had said,
“Let's see how well you live without me.”
This was far more vicious than the attacks rumored to have happened.
They were practically Stephan's family.
They had been his seniors and fathers, his juniors and younger brothers, his peers and friends.
Murchit had taken them away.
Simply because they had crossed him.
The scarf in Stephan's hand crumpled.
He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip.
It hurt.
He wanted to cry, but no tears came. He wanted to scream, but his throat was choked.
It hurt like madness, and because he did not know what to do with that pain, he felt even more stifled.
Then it happened.
Ruri entered the room and stood beside Ferda.
“Lord Ferda. We have a visitor.”
“At this hour?”
Her eyes flicked toward Stephan, who was clutching his head.
“Yes. The visitor wishes to see both you and Lord Stephan.”
“Me?”
“Who is it?”
The name that came from Ruri's lips shocked them both.
“He asked me to tell you that it is Murchit Pascal.”
* * *
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Regent.”
Murchit Pascal sat across from Ferda in the reception room and greeted him.
Looking at the two brothers together, Ferda thought,
‘Do they really share the same blood?’
Stephan had a glossy sheen to him and skin as white as jade.
He had the air of a wealthy merchant and the look of a model student, the sort who seemed capable of leaving an imprint in his chair shaped like a large peach.
Murchit, however, had dusky skin and a short, rough-looking regent cut.
He had a thick neck and broad shoulders, and although he wore a uniform, the intimidating lines of his muscles made him seem like the leader of a gang.
If their hair and eye colors had been different, Ferda would certainly have taken them for strangers unless they had introduced themselves as brothers.
“Welcome, Sir Murchit.”
“Sir? I am merely a nobody on the level of a captain of ten leading a bunch of common soldiers.”
Murchit put on a sheepish expression and modestly downplayed himself.
He exuded a boldness far removed from the appearance of a heinous villain making his entrance.
Ferda could feel it clearly.
This man did not know that he had been singled out as a suspect.
No, he was acting as though he could not possibly imagine that anyone here would suspect him.
“I heard that my little brother was having a difficult time, so I went looking for him and ended up coming all the way to the castle. Thank you for receiving me so warmly at this late hour.”
“Not at all. Seeking out family in difficult times is a good thing.”
After some light small talk, Murchit rolled his eyes toward Stephan.
Stephan's eyes were cold.
Whether he knew how Stephan felt or not, Murchit tried to comfort him.
“Stephan. I heard the news. They say the Eastern Trading Company was wiped out?”
“……”
“It is truly unfortunate. I know how loyal those men were to you, so their absence must leave an enormous hole.”
“……”
“I have already had our people deliver the tragic news to their families. We will arrange the funerals here as well. For now, compose yourself.”
His words made him sound like the kindest older brother in the world.
But that was true only for those who did not know what lay beneath them.
Stephan was neither blind nor deaf.
He was a human being who saw, heard, and thought about everything, and he knew what was hidden beneath that thick skin.
“You are truly… shameless.”
“Hm?”
With indignation boiling inside him, Stephan calmly spoke again.
“After ordering people to kill them all, why are you sitting there pretending to be such a good person?”
“……What?”
One of Murchit's eyebrows shot upward.
The ember in Stephan's heart flared violently.