Chapter 5 - Ilea

Gaf set off again as soon as dawn broke. His destination was the Miyatro demesne. It should have taken a full day’s riding to reach it, yet he was already on the lord’s estate before sunset.

Forn village. Of all the settlements in the domain, it lay closest to the lord’s castle.

Entering the market, Gaf looked around. He paid particular attention to the walls of buildings and the ground, searching for recruitment notices. But there were none to be seen.

Had the Demon guessed wrong? Gaf recalled their conversation.

["If you insist on refusing to discuss this, fine. I’ll give you a hint. The lord will be recruiting troops. Even an idiot like you should know what to do."]

Contrary to the creature’s words, not so much as a scrap of a notice lay about the village. All Gaf saw were downcast faces. Gloom pervaded the entire village, deepened by the dreary weather.

Whatever the case, the Demon appeared to have been wrong. Gaf approached the baby’s mother and looked down into the cloth sling.

“You acted as though you knew everything, but your limits are already showing. I have no one to blame but myself for letting your tongue lead me around.”

The baby struggled to lift his tiny arm.

“Waaah, mmm.”

He was trying to plead something, but Gaf could not understand him. At night, Gaf had wanted to gag him; now, his inability to speak was rather frustrating.

“Mmm! Waah!”

Gaf let out a long sigh.

“I can’t understand a...”

Just then, the mother caught his arm.

“W-what is it?”

She pointed somewhere with her free hand. Gaf turned to follow her finger.

There stood a smithy. The clang of a hammer striking sheet metal rang out. At harvest time like this, blacksmiths generally made farming tools rather than weapons. This place was different. Armor, swords, shields, arrowheads, and the like lay piled high.

Were they preparing for war? Surely not. Even feuding lords avoided harvest time. Diverting the hands needed to gather crops into an army was a loss for everyone.

Gaf looked down into the sling again. The giggling baby seemed to be saying, See? I told you so.

“I don’t understand.”

Gaf had suspected that the Demon’s ability was some kind of power to read the past. Ilea’s whereabouts, the Village Chief’s corruption, Gaf’s thirst for revenge... All the secrets the Demon had exposed so far were things it could have learned with the appropriate power.

Now even that theory had fallen apart. It could not have read these villagers’ pasts from the foot of the mountain. The source of its information was now a complete mystery.

“I should at least make sure,” Gaf murmured, then headed toward the smithy.

“Might I ask you something?”

A bald man who had been quenching metal raised his head.

“Is there a war brewing?”

“You must be a stranger here.”

“I asked you a question.”

No answer came. Gaf took a few copper coins from inside his clothes and handed them to the blacksmith. Only then did the bald man respond, breaking into a grin.

“Nothing’s certain, but it’s very likely.”

“What sort of war would anyone wage at a time like this?”

“Well, you see...”

The blacksmith glanced around before whispering into Gaf’s ear.

“Our lord’s only son has a disability.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Hear me out. If his only son isn’t sound of body, what does that mean for the succession?”

“He must be badly crippled. There’s no heir, then?”

The bald man nodded.

“He’s missing an eye and walks with a limp, too.”

Nobles generally did not pass their titles to someone with disabilities of that extent.

“Then the succession...”

The blacksmith folded his arms.

“Our lord’s younger brother—the young master’s uncle—is claiming the right to inherit, but our lord won’t hear of it. The two don’t exactly get along.”

The lord and his younger brother were bitter enemies. The Baron would sooner choose a distant cousin than hand his position over to his brother.

Gaf nodded in understanding.

“So there’ll be a fight over it.”

“Well, the other side’s already gathered about three hundred men.”

“What about this side? I haven’t seen any recruitment notices.”

The blacksmith gave a wry chuckle.

“As if we get a choice when war breaks out. We’ll have to trade our plows for swords. At least I’m fairly handy with a blade, given my line of work. Ha ha!”

It seemed every able-bodied man in Forn village would be fighting.

Gaf clicked his tongue and muttered, “Who’s going to bring in the crops? They should hire mercenaries instead.”

“Won’t they make up for it in the other villages? I hear Taharan and Geren won’t be levied.”

Taharan and Geren lay at the southernmost edge of the Miyatro domain. They were among its better grain-producing areas.

“I...”

Gaf trailed off. He had almost let slip that he came from Taharan. It probably would not have mattered, but he felt wary nonetheless.

“You?”

“Nothing.”

The blacksmith tilted his head.

“You stopped halfway through. Anyway...”

He looked Gaf up and down.

“To be honest, I thought you were a mercenary.”

“Well, something like that.”

The bald man said he had known it and laughed heartily.

“My eye never fails me. It’d certainly be reassuring to have someone who knows how to fight on our side. Why not try the lord’s castle? They won’t turn you away.”

One veteran mercenary would more than make up for ten or fifteen peasants.

Gaf murmured skeptically, “I’m not sure they’ll hire a mercenary.”

“Surely our lord can afford to pay for just one of you.”

In the old days, Gaf would have demanded a fortune, but payment did not matter now. Rescuing Ilea came first.

“And this must be your wife.”

The blacksmith was looking at the baby’s mother.

“You look exhausted. Don’t just stand there; come inside. I can at least offer you some water.”

He held out a wooden cup, but the mother merely stared blankly at him. With a sigh, Gaf took it on her behalf.

“Have a drink.”

He pressed it into her hand. Only then did she cautiously drink the water.

The bald man chuckled.

“Quite shy around strangers, isn’t she? As a woman ought to be.”

His gaze dropped to her chest.

“Oh, you’ve got a child as well.”

He came a few steps closer and peered into the sling.

“What a pretty little fellow. Luckily, he takes after his mother rather than his father. Ha ha!”

Gaf started to say the child was not his, then gave up.

“But carrying a newborn around in a rag like that, tsk. Wait a moment.”

The blacksmith went over to a shelf and began tinkering. A short while later, he emerged with a respectable-looking baby sling.

“I cobbled it together from leftover leather. Still, it’ll be much better than that cloth. No charge, so use it without worrying.”

Just as Gaf was about to say they did not need it, the mother snatched up the sling. She discarded the rag and settled Yohan into his new nest. A contented smile spread across the baby’s face.

The blacksmith looked pleased.

“See? He likes it.”

Yohan stared intently at him. He would remember that face and repay him generously.

“Looks like he’s thanking me with his eyes. Clever little baby. Ha ha!”

“You’d be horrified if you knew whose favor you’d just earned.”

The blacksmith tilted his head, not understanding. Gaf gave his shoulder a light pat.

“Anyway, thank you for the information.”

“Are you heading to the castle?”

Turning away, Gaf murmured, “Well... I’m not sure yet.”

The moment he joined the army, he would be helping the Demon’s plan along. Gaf could not decide what to do.

* * *

Despite the array of dishes on the table, Baron Grian Miyatro could not take his eyes off the seat beside him. He was gazing at a girl sent as tribute.

A doll-like girl. She was still young, barely ten or so, but her beauty perfectly suited the Baron’s perverse tastes. Her hair and eyes were especially clear and lovely. A strand of platinum-blond hair fell across her deep-blue eyes, evoking a white-sand beach on a clear day.

“I could look at you forever. How can you be so beautiful?”

The girl demurely lowered her head.

“You flatter me.”

The woman sitting across from her smiled in satisfaction.

“And that’s not all. I’ve never seen a child as bright as Ilea, you know. Ho ho, she makes teaching worthwhile.”

The woman with the lilting laugh was responsible for training the tribute girls. Her name was Betra. She was a whore.

Looking overwhelmed by their favor, Ilea said, “With you both praising me so highly, I hardly know what to do with myself. Please, you must stop.”

The Baron stroked Ilea’s cheek admiringly.

“And so well-mannered, too. I could never imagine you were a farmer’s child.”

His clammy hand slid over her snow-white skin. Though the touch should have been unpleasant, Ilea kept smiling.

“Mother taught me. She always insisted that I must never make a mistake while serving you, my lord.”

The Baron looked at Betra, the whore.

“You’re certainly earning your keep, wench.”

The tribute girls called Betra “Mother.” Pleased by Ilea’s flattery, she smiled, her eyes curving.

“It’s only because Ilea learns faster than the others. I’ve done nothing.”

The Baron nodded.

“Such affection between mother and daughter. Watching you two warms my heart.”

Ilea’s expression grew melancholy.

“Yet your touch only grows colder, my lord.”

She gently lifted his hand from her cheek.

“You look unwell, too... Are you still feeling ill?”

Grian’s strength was ebbing by the day. He could not stomach food or sleep at night. Even his once-vigorous lust had waned. His skin, formerly shiny with grease, was now dry and rough as wheat bread. It had been that way ever since he received Ilea as tribute.

“... It must be quite obvious.”

“How could I fail to notice? I’m always concerned for you, my lord.”

The Baron heaved a deep sigh.

“The nightmares haven’t stopped, either. It’s killing me.”

The corners of Ilea’s lips rose ever so slightly. No one noticed the change.

“You mean the imp you mentioned before?”

An imp was a Demon whelp.

“Yes. It simply won’t go away.”

“What a persistent creature.”

Ilea paused, then gave him a radiant smile.

“But don’t worry. You have me beside you, don’t you? I’ll stay right by your side and protect you.”

The Baron’s eyes softened into a foolish smile.

“How do you always know just what to say? What a good girl.”

With that, Grian lightly struck the table, as if he had made up his mind.

“This won’t do.”

Resolve filled his eyes.

“My strength may be failing, but I shall make an effort tonight. I cannot put off the great occasion any longer.”

Ilea tilted her head as though puzzled.

“The great occasion?”

“Your first night.”

He meant to take her virginity.

At once, Ilea’s expression hardened like wax. The atmosphere changed abruptly. Flustered, the Baron asked, “W-what is it? Do you not wish to share my bed?”

“It isn’t that.”

Ilea raised her fork and began pointing to the dishes one by one: the Baron’s favorite sherry, a salad tossed with fresh vegetables, and a small pie, in that order.

“What do you call these?”

“Why ask that all of a sudden...?”

“Please answer me.”

Had any other tribute girl spoken to him that way, he would have roared at her.

“Well... Appetizers?”

“Exactly.”

Ilea smiled at Betra.

“Mother, why do we have appetizers before enjoying the main course?”

Betra’s eyelids twitched. The tribute girl was being rude to the Baron, and Betra might be the one to suffer all the consequences. Forcing a smile, she said, “Ilea. His lordship has asked you to attend him in bed, hasn’t he? Enough of this nonsense. Give him your answer.”

“But your answer will be mine, Mother.”

Was she challenging her to a contest of wills? Betra gripped her fork tightly. With her hand beneath the table, its bulging veins remained hidden.

“... To whet the appetite and build anticipation for the main course.”

She did not rise to the provocation. She could hardly engage in a battle of nerves with a ten-year-old brat in front of the Baron.

Ilea nodded.

“Precisely.”

Then she pointed her fork straight ahead.

Girls stood in a row with their backs to the wall in the direction she indicated. All were tribute girls who had not been allowed seats at the table. Ilea regarded them with a composed curve to her lips.

“I want to be your main course, my lord.”

Savor them first. That was what she was saying.

Betra stared at Ilea in disbelief.

'How can a little brat...'

Even the whore, who had trained so many girls, had never encountered a child like this. Ilea was shrewder than a slum urchin, more brazen than the daughter of a fallen noble house, and as quick to read a room as an abandoned bastard. Worse, she did everything so well that it was hard to find fault with her.

Betra studied the Baron’s expression. Fortunately, he did not look offended. He was merely staring gloomily at the other tribute girls.

“... They stir nothing in me. Nothing at all.”

His lust, dwindling by the day, now scarcely responded to ordinary women. How had that lecher ended up like this? Betra could not fathom the reason.

“It breaks my heart. You must regain your strength as soon as possible.”

Murmuring those words, Ilea lifted her teacup.

“Mother, you’ll have to take better care of him.”

Her expression was certainly subdued, yet something about it was odd. Almost as though she were quietly enjoying the situation... Betra’s thoughts were abruptly cut short.

A knight had entered the dining room. He approached the Baron and said, “My lord, a mercenary has come to see you.”

Grian scowled.

“Those fucking hyenas! What are they sniffing around here for? Tell them I have no need of them!”

“W-well, there’s only one.”

“What? Just one?”

“Yes. But he claims to have belonged to the Kandeya Mercenary Company.”

A questioning look immediately crossed the Baron’s face. Ilea showed no particular reaction.

'... Kandeya?'

The Kandeya Mercenary Company. A cavalry force once renowned in the east, they had vanished without a trace. People said they had been wiped out.

“What kind of bullshit is that? They all died ages ago.”

“I checked his mercenary badge as well.”

An impostor? The Baron was suspicious, but Ilea was certain. It was her father.

The knight said, “He requests an audience. What would you like to do? Will you see him?”

“You’re certain there’s only one?”

If there were any more, the Baron would not pay them, no matter who had come calling.

“Yes, well. He does have his family with him, but it’s only his wife and a newborn.”

Only then did Ilea’s expression change. Interest flickered across her calm smile. She murmured under her breath, “My, aren’t you capable.”

They had barely been apart, and he was already bringing her a younger sibling.

“Hm, Ilea. What did you say?”

Ilea smiled brightly.

“I said I hope your visit goes well, my lord.”

“I haven’t said I’m going... Still, perhaps I’ll take a look at the impostor’s face.”

With that, the lord rose from his seat and headed straight for the drawing room.