Chapter 89
The story continues off the page
The Last Dance Before Midnight
A masked dragon asks the lanternwright for one slow dance
“Stephan.”
Emotion colored Murchit's voice.
But that lasted only a moment.
“Given the difficult circumstances, I understand. Once you've calmed down, apologize for treating me like a murderer.”
Though he spoke as if gently admonishing him, Stephan felt he was being treated like a child.
“Don't be ridiculous. Are you saying that I… that I'm barking up the wrong tree?”
“Do you sincerely believe this was your brother's doing?”
“We already have evidence. Look at this!”
Stephan pulled out the scarf he had been holding.
The Pascal Mercenary Company's crest caught Murchit's eye.
“I already know your methods, brother! That filthy method of creating demand through necessity! This happened after I said I would monopolize that trade route.”
“You believe the nonsense those merchant bastards tell you?”
“It wasn't just one person. Everyone who contracted with you said the same thing, so how could I not suspect you?!”
Murchit pondered those words.
“Yes, perhaps what happened to those people was my doing.”
He sounded as though he readily admitted it, then cocked his head.
“But what evidence is there that I had anything to do with your business?”
“Isn't it right here?”
“You mean this precious scarf? Something like this can be made anytime.”
He fluttered the scarf and tossed it onto the table.
“Our company has more than ten thousand registered mercenaries alone, and we have over two thousand scarves in stock. Anyone could have siphoned one off and framed our mercenary company. Are you really unable to think of something so obvious despite being smarter than me?”
“Can you say that in an Imperial court as well?!”
“You want to take this to court? Are you trying to wage an all-out war? Boy, you really are angry. To think you'd drag family all the way to court.”
“Stop with this family nonsense. You only call us family when you're in trouble, but when it's time to eat, we're strangers, aren't we?!”
“Are you saying I was trying to fill my belly alone? Hey, Stephan. I helped you plenty when you were in trouble too. I gave you special treatment and did everything I could, so what the hell is the problem?”
“Didn't I just tell you? The problem is that those thieving bastards you lead killed my employees!”
“You bastard, you really are going to keep calling my employees third-rate scraps—”
“Murchit Pascal.”
Veins bulging in his neck, Murchit tried to rise from his seat.
When Ferda called his name, Murchit realized Ferda had been watching and bowed his head to him.
“My apologies, Your Excellency the Regent. I have shown you an unpleasant side of a family dispute.”
“Do not worry about that. I am sorry, but could you leave for a moment? I have something to discuss with Stephan.”
“Of course. I shall withdraw for a while.”
Murchit politely took his leave and departed.
Once Murchit was gone, Stephan shouted, pointing accusingly at the spot where he had been sitting.
“There is nothing left to see. That bastard did it.”
His face was flushed bright red.
“Stephan.”
“We need to seize him and interrogate him right now. Ask him whether killing thirty-three people made him feel better.”
“I wanted to, but after seeing you, I realized it would not do.”
“Seeing me? What is wrong with the way I look?”
Ferda answered after giving him a cool once-over.
“You are no different from a ghost thirsting for blood and revenge.”
“Revenge. Is that not why I am doing this right now?”
“The problem is that this revenge has nothing to do with the present. The revenge you are seeking now is dragging out the grudges from your past as well, is it not?”
“I…”
He wanted to deny it, but Ferda's words helped him regain some composure.
“I suppose you're right. To be honest, my brother tormented me a great deal when I was young.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Whenever I came home after being beaten, he would take up a wooden sword and beat me half to death under the pretense of training me because he didn't like my spirit.”
Ferda could understand, at least in part, how he felt.
After his mother's death, Ferda had been treated as a bastard and had suffered such abuse time and again.
“And I… that is… No. Let's stop this conversation.”
“No. Do not.”
Ferda stopped him from ending the story.
“Let all the anger you hold toward Murchit out.”
“Pardon? Why would I do that?”
“Because it will help.”
“I don't think it will help much….”
“Then let me make it an order. Hurry up and curse him and scream about everything he did.”
Ferda's request left him flustered.
But circumstances demanded it, so Stephan forced the name out.
“Murchit… y-you… you… b-bastard….”
It began haltingly, but that did not matter.
“You….”
Like water bursting through a dam, his emotional outpouring quickly became violent.
“You filthy bastard!!!”
Stephan began shouting incoherently, his eyes rolling back.
“Damn that bastard! You were praying for my downfall, and now you pull something like this!? Did you think I was such an easy mark!? Huh!?”
“……”
“I'll break you just like you broke me! Just as you shattered my bones when we were young, I'll smash yours to pieces!”
He continued rampaging, shouting out all the grudges he had accumulated over the years.
After about ten minutes of this, Stephan could no longer produce a sound.
“Khk! Cough!”
“Have a drink.”
“Cough cough… thank you….”
Stephan sat down and drank tea.
He slumped like a man whose strength had been completely drained.
“Feeling a little better?”
“Yes, Your Excellency… Thanks to you, I think I'll avoid getting sick from pent-up anger.”
“Then your eyes should be clearer now. Let us continue our discussion.”
Stephan straightened his posture again, and Ferda told him,
“To get straight to the conclusion, this does not feel like Murchit Pascal's doing.”
“……What?”
Hadn't he been talking just moments ago as though Murchit were the culprit, after producing the mercenary company's scarf?
Then why was he saying it wasn't him now?
“Then why did you tell me to curse my brother?”
“I meant that you should not be held captive by the grudges you harbor. Were you not keeping things that could cloud your reason bottled up inside your head?”
Ferda's words seemed absurd, but in one respect, they were right.
Had he ever cursed and shouted at the top of his lungs like that before?
As a child, he had often cried with his fist stuffed into his mouth, and as an adult, all he had managed was to sob alone while sipping liquor hidden in a corner of his desk.
This time, he had been able to pour it all out in a roar.
“You said that signing a contract with the Pascal Mercenary Company was no different from making a deal with the devil, did you not?”
“Yes.”
“Did you not know that from the beginning?”
“I did.”
“Then you could have suspected your brother, Murchit Pascal, from the start. But you never showed me that suspicion.”
Ferda asked calmly,
“Why did you not?”
“Because I was out of my mind at the time, and…”
“Is that the end of your reason? You simply failed to think of it?”
At Ferda's question, Stephan shook his head as well.
It was not merely for that reason.
Stephan thought.
Why had he not suspected Murchit first when this happened?
‘Murchit Pascal.’
Family and enemy.
Since childhood, Murchit had never been able to contain his overflowing hot temper.
He had put that temperament to use and become a mercenary captain.
He had charisma and leadership.
To have leadership meant possessing the gravitas of an executive, something street thugs lacked.
Just as a merchant analyzed another business manager, he examined everything about Murchit solely as data and facts.
Then the answer emerged with astonishing clarity.
“……The possibility was low.”
“Why?”
“That he would retaliate if someone refused to contract with him… To be honest, it is practically superstition. They were digging their own graves. Most of the time, they hired cheap mercenaries, entered dangerous areas, and got themselves into trouble. They bought cheap trash and blamed innocent outsiders for it….”
They saw only what they wanted to see and believed only what they wanted to believe.
Swept up in his emotions, Stephan had overlooked even something so basic.
“So my conclusion now is that one scarf alone cannot make that suspicion certain.”
Even after reaching that conclusion himself, Stephan could hardly believe it.
Only a few minutes earlier, he had been certain Murchit was responsible and had resolved to exact a cruel revenge.
He had judged with emotion instead of reason, and that emotion had blinded him.
If Ferda had not helped him shake it off, he would have had to fight Murchit.
As Stephan swallowed his hollow disappointment, Ferda heard his answer and told Ruri,
“Let Murchit Pascal back inside.”
Murchit, who had been waiting, sat down, and the three of them faced one another again.
Unlike before, when emotions had run high and threatened to erupt, a calm atmosphere now prevailed.
“Murchit Pascal. I have finished speaking with Stephan, but I want you to give me a clear answer as a final matter.”
“Please ask, Your Excellency the Regent.”
“Can you swear that you were not involved in the attack on Stephan?”
Ferda asked so coldly that even he felt a chill run down his spine.
Murchit raised his index finger and said,
“I have one principle. Just as my family is precious to me, other people are precious as well. My employees and I take up our swords for money to protect others. If someone takes up a sword and accepts money simply to do harm, would that not make him no different from a third-rate thug or a bandit?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
After hearing him, Ferda nodded toward the scarf on the table and said,
“If this scarf has nothing to do with the mercenary company's involvement, then someone must have tried to drive a wedge between the two of you.”
“Between my younger brother and me?”
Murchit's eyes widened.
His face showed that he was genuinely furious.
“What bastard had the nerve to lay a hand on my family without fear?”
“I think I know who.”
Stephan, now calm, replied.
“Who?”
“My sister, Tilda.”
Another family member's name had come from his mouth.
“On the surface, she acts as if the Dandolo Trading Company is enough, but she's the woman who wants the Pascal Company more than anyone. She's been persistently obstructing us in ways both obvious and subtle. Besides, if my brother and I were driven apart, she would be the only one to benefit.”
“Yes, if it is that bitch, she is certainly capable of this.”
Even Murchit, who was deeply attached to his family, agreed when he heard it was his sister.
It was strange.
“Tilda Pascal is your family, is she not?”
“Do not even mention her. She is no family of mine.”
Though enraged, Murchit suppressed his emotions and answered calmly.
“Do you know what she tried to do when my wife was pregnant with our first child? She sent poison to my wife under the pretense of congratulating her pregnancy. Fortunately, I ate it without knowing what it was and suffered for it, but if my wife had eaten it, she certainly would have miscarried. She was a sister who irritated me because she had not a single endearing quality, but she crossed the line that time.”
Stephan was the one surprised by his words.
“That happened five years ago?”
“I wasn't certain, so I didn't tell anyone. Making a scene would only have pleased her.”
For Stephan, who had assumed Murchit's personality meant he would cause an uproar, curse her viciously, and run wild, this revealed a surprising side of him.
“In any case, that woman had no ability but was full of greed. Since she lacked the ability to make something of herself, she probably ensnared the old bachelor Henri Dandolo, swallowed up the Dandolo Trading Company, and is now trying to devour our father's company as well.”
Murchit clenched his massive, pot-lid-sized hand into a fist.
The veins bulged hideously.
“So what will you do, Your Excellency the Regent?”
Murchit asked.
“We could turn everything upside down and drag that bitch here right now.”
“Would that not damage the mercenary company's reputation even further?”
“You need not worry. If I can send that witch to the stake, I do not care if I become a demon. If she laid a hand on my family, she must pay the corresponding price.”
Blazing fury.
As a mercenary who had rolled around on harsh ground, he knew well how to wield anger as a source of vitality.
“You must not harm her directly.”
It was Stephan who said this.
“What? Stephan, are you an idiot?”
“Think about it. Violence is not the answer. The fact that she has begun something this malicious clearly means her plan is already underway. In the worst case, the entire Pascal family could collapse.”
“Come to think of it….”
Since the two of them knew what Tilda was usually like, Stephan did not need many words to persuade Murchit.
“Malice is a tenacious thing. We must not touch Tilda rashly until we have conclusive proof that this was her doing.”
“Then what should we do?”
Stephan said, forcibly calming his pounding heart.
“For now, we return without clearing up this misunderstanding. We give them exactly what they want. If we do that, the plan will surely proceed as scheduled.”
“So you mean we should use that to catch her by the tail.”
Murchit slapped his knee.
“Good. I agree. Let's drag that bitch out into the open properly.”
“Understood.”
The two brothers, who had nearly become enemies, joined forces against a common enemy.