Chapter 88 - You Are Truly Shameless

As the sun set completely to the west, night fell.

Leaving behind the group of refugees led by William, Ferda returned to the castle.

Sitting on the drawing room sofa, Ferda looked at the man opposite him.

Stephan was there.

The haggardness typical of someone backed into a corner had faded somewhat, but his eyes still looked hollow.

Ferda looked at him and said.

"I have good news."

"W-What good news?"

Stephan asked with an anxious face.

Ferda slowly told him the information he had pieced together.

"Stephan, the mercenaries you hired harbored far more malicious intentions than expected."

They were not third-rate mercenaries, but assassins organized specifically to openly cause chaos.

They murdered all the merchants and laborers at the rendezvous point.

They made a mess of all the cargo and pulled out some of the contents to make it look like a robbery.

"But trying to stage it as a robbery carried too great a risk."

"That must be due to the anti-theft magic."

Having been the branch manager, Stephan also knew it well.

The anti-theft magic placed on the valuables.

The moment they laid hands on them, they would be branded as criminals, which was the worst-case scenario for assassins.

For it to be a robbery, valuables had to go missing, but the ironic situation of valuables not disappearing would only make it more obvious that it was an assassination.

"So two of the mercenaries laid the groundwork."

"How did they do that?"

"They probably forcefully tore apart and smashed the boxes of valuables to take them out."

"But that would trigger the tracking magic, so why would they do something so stupid..."

"They probably fell into a trap themselves. Whether they weren't given the information, or were naturally greedy, they must have been purged while they were at it."

Stephan was convinced by those words and gave a small nod.

"Taking out the valuables seems to be the groundwork, but what exactly was that groundwork for?"

Ferda then brought up something else.

It was a pawn.

"Groundwork to drag the refugees into the robbery."

Refugees moving while shivering in the early winter cold.

Since they were mercenaries who set out from the Empire, they must have known that the refugees were heading to the far east in search of hope.

They spotted the refugees led by William.

As planned, they lured the refugees with the promise of food, giving them a sliver of hope.

"The refugees had no choice but to head there. Whatever the case, they needed something to eat right away."

Even if it was a lie, it was a risk worth taking for starving people, so they moved in desperation.

What they arrived at was not a generous soup kitchen, but a gruesome scene of slaughter.

"All the refugees had to do was rummage around the table that had already been set for them."

Ferda tapped the refugee piece with his index finger and said.

"What would they see? Food, weapons, and precious treasures made of gold that they might only see once in their lives. Things they needed right now, things they wanted, and things they wanted but could never have in a lifetime were all laid out in one place."

It was essentially like entering a temple of desires.

Stephan could guess how the board was being played.

Like that, the assassination would be transformed into a robbery through the inclusion of the refugees.

Since the refugees committed most of the looting, they would naturally be considered the ringleaders and all be massacred.

There would be no need to track down any bothersome remnants.

Because a sufficient example would have already been made of them.

However, one strange point was the main subject of the story.

The story laid out so far was that it was an assassination disguised as a robbery.

That meant everything they had intended to do up to this point had failed.

"So the refugees didn't touch those gems, then?"

"There was an unexpected variable."

Ferda nodded.

"No one could have predicted it. No, it was too slim and absurd a chance to even put in the realm of prediction. It was like a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky."

Ferda placed a knight piece next to the pawn he had been tilting.

"A knight who stuck to his convictions was the leader of that group."

William.

That man, who could have become a knight, knew what duty and obligation meant.

He treated the gold before his eyes like mere stones, recovered the corpses, and prayed for them.

Although he did touch the goods, he only made the best choices for survival, keeping it within the range of a single Golden.

It was something that could be generously overlooked.

"With that, we could definitively confirm it was an assassination."

This was the story of the events they had figured out so far.

Their story naturally led to the next question.

"Then, who on earth ordered the assassination?"

"The most likely suspect is this man."

Ferda handed over a Pascal company personnel file.

"It's the only missing person among the 12 merchants, a man named Frank Fontaine."

"Frank Fontaine."

Hearing that name, Stephan reflexively scowled.

"It seems he's not a man you're particularly fond of."

"He's worked here for ten years, and he was always whining about never becoming a branch manager and only doing carriage work like this."

"So what was the reason?"

"There's no grand reason. It was just poor performance. He simply lacked the aptitude of a merchant."

Stephan gritted his teeth looking at the face on the file.

"He acted like an arrogant old geezer a few times, so we clashed quite a bit over this and that. I thought he was a lost cause and considered firing him, but I let it go."

"Why?"

"He had five children to support."

"You were too soft."

"Tell me about it."

CRUMPLE!

The personnel file was crumpled.

"Are you saying... this bastard ordered the murder of 11 of my merchants...?"

A bit of compassion.

Did this disaster of killing other families happen all because of that overly soft compassion?

"That's not it."

Ferda shook his head.

"I'm certain this Frank Fontaine is involved, but he can't be the mastermind."

"Could you tell me the reason you're so certain?"

He thought it might be overstepping his bounds to ask, but Stephan needed something to convince him.

"It's reported that the footprints of 12 people came and went, excluding the footprints of the refugees. That means 32 mercenaries participated in this assassination, right?"

"That is correct."

"The looted amount is 200 Golden at most. If 32 people split it evenly, it'd be about 3 Golden and 25 Shillings each."

3 Golden and 25 Shillings was a fairly large amount of money.

But it was small for money earned by getting blood on one's hands.

"If they were cheap labor, maybe they would accept it, but these were guys highly skilled at erasing their tracks. Do you know how much scumbags like that get paid?"

"I don't know."

"They start at a minimum of 50 Golden per person. Even if you lowball it, combined, it's a job that costs over 1,000 Golden."

"If it's 1,000... with Frank's financial state, it's an amount he couldn't afford even if he scraped together his very soul."

Stephan set down Frank's personnel file.

"If there's a separate mastermind trying to shake me, who the hell are those bastards..."

"That is the good news."

Ferda reached into the inner pocket of his coat.

"I was able to identify the mastermind."

Ferda pulled something out and placed it on the table.

It was a green scarf.

The item that had been in the hands of the young refugee boy.

"This is..."

Stephan recognized it the moment he saw it.

"This belongs to my older brother's company employees... why is it in your hands, Regent?"

"One of the refugee kids said he saw one of the conspirators drop it and picked it up."

"Don't tell me the mastermind is... the mastermind is..."

Stephan couldn't continue his words.

But both Ferda and Stephan knew whose name was about to come up in this conversation.

Overwhelmed by shock, Stephan ultimately dropped the glass he was holding.

SHATTER!

It shattered and the contents spilled, but he didn't care.

And Ferda also ignored such a trivial matter.

Stephan covered his face with both hands.

He didn't even know what kind of expression he was making right now.

"... Are you certain?"

"So they say."

Stephan reached out and took the scarf.

His pupils, shrunken in shock, slowly scanned the embroidery on the scarf.

What his gaze fixed on was the crest of House Pascal.

Behind it, two swords were crossed.

He checked multiple times, but there was no mistake.

It was not a fake; it belonged to the Pascal mercenary company.

"My older brother's company is..."

Stephan said as he looked down at it.

"There's a saying that contracting with the Pascal mercenary company is like making a pact with a demon. Do you know what that means?"

"I don't."

"It means that... once you sign a contract, you can never escape."

A hollow smile appeared on Stephan's face.

But it soon distorted.

It was as if every emotion swirling in his head was bursting out through his expressions.

"They say that once a contract with the Pascal mercenary company ends, the bandit groups that had been quiet suddenly target the carriages. As if someone deliberately tipped them off."

Stephan's voice trembled slightly.

"It was certainly strange. Because the merchants' first dispatch after a contract expires always goes wrong. Whether they get robbed, the mercenaries become robbers, or they run away... eight out of ten always suffer a disaster like that, and seven of those eight come back to sign a contract with my brother again."

"Do you think that's Muchit's own doing?"

"There's a saying that necessity creates demand. In the security business, you have to appeal that necessity to the other party."

Stephan recalled the recent friction he had with Muchit.

He had said it.

Let's see how well you eat and live without me.

This was a far more malicious act than the mere ambushes in the rumors.

They were practically family to Stephan.

They were seniors and fathers, juniors and little brothers, colleagues and friends.

Muchit had taken them away.

For the sole reason of having gone against him.

The scarf in Stephan's hand crumpled.

He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip.

He was in agony.

He wanted to cry, but no tears came, and he wanted to scream, but his throat choked up.

It was agonizing, maddeningly agonizing, and not knowing what to do with this agony only made it more suffocating.

It was then.

Luri entered the room and stood next to Ferda.

"Lord Ferda. We have a guest."

"In the middle of the night?"

Her eyes glanced toward Stephan, who was holding his head.

"Yes. Specifically, someone who wishes to see both you and Lord Stephan."

"Me, you say?"

"Who is it?"

The name that came out of Luri's mouth astonished the two of them.

"He asked me to tell you he is Muchit Pascal."

* * *

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Regent."

Muchit Pascal greeted Ferda as he sat on the opposite side of the drawing room.

Looking at the two brothers side by side, Ferda thought this.

'Do they really share the same blood?'

Stephan, who looked slick and maintained flawless, jade-like skin.

He exuded a wealthy merchant aura, a model-student type who looked like he would leave behind the imprint of two large peaches on his chair.

But Muchit had copper skin and a short, rough-looking pompadour haircut.

With his thick neck and broad shoulders, even though he was wearing a uniform, the threatening lines of his muscles made him feel like a gang boss.

If their hair and eye colors had been different, they would undoubtedly have been seen as complete strangers unless they personally introduced themselves as brothers.

"Welcome. Sir Muchit."

"Sir, you say. I'm just a nobody on the level of a decurion leading a bunch of grunts."

Muchit feigned modesty with a bashful face.

Far from the entrance of a heinous villain, he gave off a hearty, cheerful vibe.

Ferda could distinctly feel it.

This man currently did not know that he had been singled out as a suspect.

No, he was acting as if it were obvious that this side couldn't even suspect him.

"I heard my little brother is in a very difficult situation right now, and while looking for him, I ended up finding my way to the castle like this. Thank you for such hospitality late at night."

"Not at all. It is a good thing to look for family when times are hard."

After finishing the light small talk, Muchit rolled his eyes to look at Stephan.

Stephan's eyes were cold.

Whether he knew his feelings or not, Muchit consoled Stephan.

"Stephan. I heard the news. They say your eastern caravan was annihilated?"

"..."

"It is truly a tragic thing. I know how loyal those guys were to you, so the void they left must be incredibly large."

"..."

"For now, I've had our people deliver the tragic news to their families. We'll handle preparing the funerals on our end too. Just focus on pulling yourself together."

His words were those of the best older brother in the world.

But that was only to those who didn't know the inside story.

Stephan was neither a blind man nor a deaf one.

Because he was a human who saw, heard, and thought about everything, he knew what was hidden behind that thick skin.

"You are truly... shameless."

"Huh?"

Amidst his boiling resentment, Stephan calmly spoke up again.

"You were the one who sent people and ordered them all killed, so why are you sitting here pretending to be a good person?"

"... What?"

One of Muchit's eyebrows shot up.

The embers in Stephan's heart blazed fiercely.