🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter – 08
When they were almost at the castle—
“Master.”
“Speak.”
“Then, shall we at least hint to His Grace the Grand Duke…?”
“Don’t.”
Carlyle shook his head.
“Why not, sir? His Grace must also be greatly troubled by all this…”
“Because we can’t be sure yet.”
“Sure about what, sir?”
“If you recall their conversation carefully, the answer’s there. Why do you think Alberto was being chased by them?”
“There are indeed several suspicious parts.”
“There’s something behind all this. I have a feeling they’re like rats hiding in the dark. What do you think, Maranello?”
“Judging by how they tampered with the crime scene and used drugs that erased memories, I think you’re right, young master.”
“If word about this leaks, those bastards will find out first and run. Maybe even cut off their own tails.”
“You’re worried there might be spies inside the territory.”
“Not just the territory.”
“Pardon?”
“How can you be sure there are no spies inside our family?”
“That’s too much of a stretch. I can assure you, there are no spies in the Sigmund family—”
Carlyle barely stopped himself from saying, Why wouldn’t there be?
“That’s why I said, we can’t be sure.”
“I understand.”
“So stay quiet. Everything will be revealed at the trial anyway. Let’s not stir up unnecessary trouble.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“You have a few knights who can move independently, right?”
“Yes.”
“Jeffrey has to appear as a witness anyway. Keep a close eye on the other two. If Father gets directly involved, information might leak.”
“Understood.”
“And make sure the summoner is discreetly protected. If anything happens and they can’t attend the trial, I’ll be the one in trouble.”
“Please don’t worry, my lord.”
“Good.”
Maranello silently followed behind Carlyle, deep in thought.
He’s changed so much. The young master I knew was never capable of this kind of logical thinking. Could it really just be because he survived death? Or… no way…
Suspicion gleamed in Maranello’s eyes as he looked at Carlyle’s back.
Has the young master… been pretending to be a wastrel all this time?
It was, in its own way, a reasonable guess.
Even during their earlier conversation, Carlyle had suggested that Jeffrey’s group might be spies.
He had even gone so far as to warn against telling the Grand Duke himself — his own father — about the truth, fearing a leak.
That meant Carlyle might have known of the spies’ existence long before.
If that were true…
If he truly knew… then did he act like a fool on purpose, aware there were enemies even within the family? Because he sensed a greater threat?
Maranello thought, perhaps so.
Otherwise, how could a man who had spent years indulging in every vice — drink, gambling, women — suddenly show such sharp intellect?
“Um, my lord,” Maranello carefully began.
“Can this old man ask just one question?”
“No.”
“…”
“If you’re a butler, act like one. Stop poking your nose into everything. I don’t feel like answering.”
Carlyle’s tone drew a firm line.
He still sounded like the same spoiled noble, but the nuance beneath his words was completely different.
In the past, his speech dripped with irritation and arrogance; now, it felt more like he was deliberately shutting down needless talk before it could start.
Because of that, his words didn’t sound nearly as offensive.
Maybe that was just because Maranello knew him well… but still, it only deepened his suspicions.
My lord… why have you chosen to bear such disgrace willingly?
Just as Maranello’s misunderstanding grew deeper—
“Search everywhere!”
“Find the criminal! He couldn’t have gone far!”
“Woof! Woof! Woof!”
A group of soldiers appeared in the distance, searching the area with hounds.
“Hmph. Looks like they’ve found us.”
“Seems that way, haha.”
Soon, the soldiers rushed over, surrounding Carlyle and Maranello with their spears raised.
Carlyle and Maranello, however, were completely calm.
They had already finished what they came to do outside the castle. Getting caught now didn’t change a thing.
“Tie up the criminals.”
The middle-aged knight commanding them was Revesque von Sigmund, Carlyle’s uncle by marriage.
Though his surname was Sigmund, it was because he was a son-in-law from a fallen noble family — a man who had married into the house.
Thus, he used his wife Medea’s family name instead of his own.
“What are you waiting for? I said tie them up!”
Revesque repeated his order, but the soldiers hesitated, unsure what to do.
Why?
Because of who they were dealing with.
Carlyle might be a criminal awaiting trial, but Maranello was another story.
No soldier dared to lay hands on the legendary knight once known as The Death God of the North.
“To think you lot truly have a death wish.”
Revesque snarled, raising his signature weapon — a massive war hammer.
“Defying your superior’s orders will be punished by military law with—”
“Sir Revesque.”
Maranello stepped forward.
“Please, calm yourself and hear out this old man.”
“…Sir Maranello.”
“Sir? Hardly. I’m nothing but an old butler now, haha.”
“….”
Revesque couldn’t stay angry. Like most, he deeply respected Maranello.
“You must believe the young master has fled before his trial.”
“A criminal under house arrest has left his quarters without permission. By law, that’s an attempted escape, is it not?”
“Yes, you’re absolutely right. However, the young master did not run away. He merely went out for a walk — I accompanied him myself because he looked so restless being confined indoors.”
“A walk? Do you expect me to believe that, Sir Maranello?”
Revesque scowled, as if insulted.
“If the young master truly meant to flee, would he be standing here now? Ask the guards at his door — it’s been over two hours, Sir Revesque.”
“…Is that true?”
“Of course. Would I lie to you, sir?”
“Hmm…”
“Of course, breaking house arrest is still disobeying His Grace’s command. I’ll go to him personally to beg forgiveness. So please, lower your weapon — this old heart can’t handle the sight of cold steel anymore.”
Carlyle almost smirked at how smoothly Maranello coaxed his uncle.
Heart can’t handle it, my ass. He could knock that old man out cold in one hit.
Revesque was indeed a skilled knight — but nowhere near Maranello’s level.
“If you say so, Sir Maranello, then so be it. Everyone, lower your weapons.”
“Yes, Captain!”
“And…”
Revesque turned a cold gaze toward his men.
“When we return, I’ll have every one of you punished under military law for disobedience. Understood?”
“…”
The soldiers’ faces turned pale. Revesque was infamous for his rigid discipline — punishment would not be light.
“I’ll personally escort Carlyle back to his room, Sir Maranello.”
“As you should. Click-click,” Maranello chuckled.
And so, surrounded—escorted—by Revesque and his men, Carlyle returned to the castle.
Once inside his room—
“My lord, I’ll go report to His Grace.”
“Go ahead.”
After Maranello left—
“You never learn, do you,” Revesque said coldly.
“You think laws and rules don’t apply to you, boy?”
“…”
Carlyle didn’t bother answering.
Revesque was notorious for his inferiority complex — over his origins, and for being a son-in-law.
He also happened to be one of the people who’d clashed most often with the old Carlyle.
They had more than enough bad blood between them.
Carlyle had no interest in reigniting that fire.
“Cat got your tongue? Why don’t you talk back like you used to?”
“…”
“What’s this?!” Revesque’s eyes flared as Carlyle just looked at him calmly.
“So you’re openly disrespecting me now? Because I come from a lowly family? Because I’m just a son-in-law?”
“That’s not it.”
“Oh really? Then why don’t you respond when I speak to you?”
“I just said it’s not that.”
“Not that, my ass—!”
“I said it’s not that. But if you want to believe otherwise, that’s your choice.”
“You insolent—!”
Revesque exploded.
“Still so arrogant! Fine then. Two days. In two days, you’ll pay the full price for your insolence—”
“It’s late. You should get some sleep.”
SLAM!
Carlyle shut the door in his face.
“You disrespectful brat! If this isn’t mockery of your uncle, then what—!”
Blah blah blah.
Revesque’s shouting continued outside the door, but Carlyle ignored him.
He’d tire himself out soon enough — no need to waste energy arguing.
And indeed, about five minutes later—
“Fine! Just you wait! You’ll cry blood when I’m done with you!”
With that furious shout, Revesque stomped away.
Ugh. Tiring.
Carlyle rolled himself into his blanket.
But where’s that woman? She’s making me nervous, not showing up.
He thought of his aunt, Medea — Revesque’s wife.
Strangely enough, though the trial was imminent, she hadn’t shown herself once.
Aunt Medea, Revesque, and their children — they were all hostile not only toward Carlyle but also toward Selena and Frey.
Medea especially was a woman of ruthless ambition, desperate to seize control of the Sigmund family.
And yet she was quiet now?
Normally, she’d have come running to gloat, mock, and sneer at his downfall.
Maybe she’s not in the territory right now.
Carlyle closed his eyes, thinking that might be the case.
Two days later.
The day of the trial.
“This collar’s too tight.”
“Please endure it, my lord. You can’t attend in just a shirt.”
Maranello was helping Carlyle dress in formal attire when—
“My lord, your aunt has arrived,” a knight announced from outside.
“Tell her to go away.”
“Pardon?”
“Are you deaf? I said I’m not seeing her.”
“B-but…”
The knight hesitated awkwardly.
“Such disrespect.”
Medea shoved the door open, her sharp eyes gleaming with venom.
