Chapter 5
Ilea
As soon as dawn broke, Gaf urged his horse onward once more.
His destination was the territory directly governed by Myatro. It should have taken an entire day’s ride to reach it, yet he arrived at the lord’s estate before sunset.
Porn Village. It was the settlement closest to the lord’s castle.
Upon entering the marketplace, Gaf surveyed his surroundings.
He paid particularly close attention to the walls of the buildings and the ground, searching for recruitment notices.
But there were none to be found.
Had the demon’s prediction been wrong? Gaf recalled his conversation with Johan.
If you insist on refusing to discuss it until the very end, fine. I’ll at least give you a hint. The lord should be recruiting troops. Even an idiot like you ought to know what to do.
Contrary to what the bastard had said, there was not so much as a scrap of paper lying around the village.
Instead, all he encountered were gloomy faces. A pervasive sense of depression hung over the entire village, and the already dreary weather only deepened the somber mood.
Whatever the case, it seemed the demon had been wrong. Gaf approached the mother and looked down at the bundle she carried.
“You acted like you knew everything, but you’ve already exposed your limits. Still, I have only myself to blame for being taken in by your glib tongue.”
The baby struggled to raise one tiny arm.
“Uuungah. Uuung.”
He seemed to be trying to communicate something, but Gaf could not understand him.
At night, Gaf had wanted to gag him, but now his inability to understand the baby was slightly frustrating.
“Uuung! Aeh!”
Gaf let out a long sigh.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re—”
At that moment, the mother grabbed his arm.
“W-What is it?”
With her other hand, she pointed somewhere.
Gaf turned his head in the direction indicated by her index finger.
There was a smithy. The thunderous clang of hammer striking metal rang through the air.
During the harvest season, blacksmiths normally made farming tools rather than weapons.
But this place was different. Armor, swords, shields, arrowheads, and other weapons were piled high like mountains.
Are they preparing for war? Surely not.
Even wars between lords were generally avoided during the harvest. Taking laborers from the fields and turning them into soldiers would hurt everyone.
Gaf looked down at the bundle again.
The baby was giggling as if to say, See? I told you so.
“I don’t understand.”
Gaf had suspected that the demon possessed some sort of power that allowed him to read the past. Ilea’s whereabouts, the village chief’s corruption, Gaf’s desire for revenge... All the secrets the demon had revealed thus far were things he could have learned if he possessed an ability related to the past.
But now even that theory had fallen apart.
There was no way the demon could have read the pasts of this region’s inhabitants from the mountainside. The source of his information was now a complete mystery.
Gaf murmured,
“I suppose I should verify it.”
Then he headed toward the smithy.
“May I ask you something?”
The bald man tempering a piece of metal raised his head.
“Is a war about to break out?”
“You must be an outsider.”
“I asked you a question.”
No answer came.
Gaf took a few copper coins from his clothes and handed them to the blacksmith.
Only then did the bald man respond. He grinned and said,
“Nothing is certain, but there’s a good chance.”
“What sort of war would break out at a time like this?”
“That’s the thing.”
The blacksmith glanced around before leaning close to Gaf’s ear and whispering,
“The lord’s only son is disabled.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Hear me out. If his one and only son is infirm, what do you think will happen to the position of heir?”
“He must be seriously crippled. Is the position vacant?”
The bald man nodded.
“He’s blind in one eye and walks with a limp.”
Nobles did not usually pass their titles on to someone with disabilities that severe.
“Then the heir will be...”
The blacksmith folded his arms.
“The lord’s younger brother—the young master’s uncle—is claiming the right to succeed him, but the lord is vehemently opposed. The two of them don’t get along at all.”
The lord and his younger brother were bitter enemies.
Rather than hand his position to his brother, the baron would sooner choose a distant cousin.
Gaf nodded in understanding.
“So there’ll be a fierce struggle over the succession.”
“Well, the other side has already gathered around three hundred men.”
“What about this side? I didn’t see any recruitment notices.”
The blacksmith scoffed.
“Do people like us have a choice if war breaks out? We’ll have to put down our plows and swing swords instead. At least I know my way around a blade, given my profession. Hahaha!”
It seemed every able-bodied man in Porn Village would be forced to participate.
Gaf clicked his tongue and muttered,
“Then who will harvest the grain? They would be better off hiring mercenaries.”
“They’ll probably make up for it with the other villages. I hear they aren’t conscripting anyone from Taharan or Geren.”
The villages of Taharan and Geren were located at the southernmost edge of the Myatro territory. At least those two lay within the region’s breadbasket.
“I’m...”
Gaf trailed off. He had nearly revealed without thinking that he came from Taharan. It probably would not have mattered, but he felt the need to remain cautious.
“You’re what?”
“It’s nothing.”
The blacksmith tilted his head.
“You stopped halfway through your sentence. More importantly...”
He looked Gaf up and down.
“To be honest, I thought you were a mercenary.”
“Well, I’m something close to one.”
The bald man burst into hearty laughter as if that confirmed his suspicions.
“I knew I had a good eye for people. It would certainly be reassuring to have a man who knows how to fight on our side. Why don’t you visit the lord’s castle? I’m sure they won’t treat you poorly.”
A single veteran mercenary could easily replace a dozen or more farmers.
Gaf murmured skeptically,
“I don’t know whether they’re hiring mercenaries.”
“Surely the lord can afford the wages of one man.”
In the past, Gaf would have demanded a vast sum, but now he did not care about payment.
Saving Ilea was what mattered most.
“By the way, is this woman your wife?”
The blacksmith was looking at the mother.
“She looks exhausted. Don’t just stand there. Come inside. I can at least offer you a cup of water.”
The bald man held out a wooden cup.
The mother merely stared blankly at him.
Gaf sighed and accepted the cup in her place.
“Drink.”
He placed it in the woman’s hand.
Only then did she cautiously drink the water.
The bald man chuckled.
“She must be terribly shy around strangers. That’s how a proper woman should be.”
His gaze dropped toward the mother’s chest.
“Oh, you have a child as well.”
The bald man stepped closer and peered into the bundle.
“What a pretty little thing. Luckily, he takes after his mother instead of his father. Hahaha!”
Gaf was about to explain that the baby was not his son, but decided against it.
“But carrying a newborn in a sackcloth wrap like that... Tsk. Wait here for a moment.”
He walked over to a shelf and began working on something.
A short while later, the blacksmith returned with a fairly decent baby sling.
“I pieced it together from some leftover leather. Even so, it’ll be far better than that rough cloth. I won’t charge you, so feel free to use it.”
Gaf was about to say they did not need it when the mother swiftly snatched the sling away.
She threw aside the sackcloth and placed Johan into his new resting place.
The baby smiled contentedly.
The blacksmith spoke with a satisfied expression.
“Look at that. He likes it, doesn’t he?”
Johan stared intently at him. He would remember the man’s face and reward him generously someday.
“The little fellow looks as though he’s thanking me with his eyes. What a clever baby. Hahaha!”
“You’d be horrified if you knew whose favor you’d just earned.”
Unable to understand what he meant, the blacksmith tilted his head.
Gaf patted him on the shoulder.
“Anyway, thank you for the information.”
“Are you going to the lord’s castle?”
Gaf turned away and murmured,
“Well... I haven’t decided yet.”
The moment he joined the army, he would be contributing to the demon’s plan.
Gaf found it difficult to decide what he should do.
***
Despite the array of dishes laid out on the table, Baron Grian Myatro could not take his eyes off the seat beside him.
He was gazing at the duke’s daughter.
She was a doll-like girl. Although she was still young—around ten years old—her beauty was perfectly suited to the baron’s perverse tastes.
Her hair and eyes were especially clear and pure.
A strand of platinum-blond hair had fallen across her deep-blue eyes, making them resemble a white-sand beach on a clear day.
“I never tire of looking at you. How can anyone be so beautiful?”
The girl demurely lowered her head.
“You flatter me.”
The woman seated opposite the girl smiled with satisfaction.
“And that isn’t all. I’ve never met a child as clever as Ilea. Hoho, teaching her is truly rewarding.”
The woman who laughed coyly was responsible for training the girls offered to the lord. Her name was Betra, and she was a prostitute.
Ilea spoke with an overwhelmed expression.
“You both praise me so highly that I hardly know what to do with myself. Please, that’s enough.”
The baron stroked Ilea’s cheek admiringly.
“You’re even well-mannered. It’s difficult to believe you’re the child of farmers.”
His clammy hand slid across her snow-white skin.
It should have disgusted her, but Ilea did not lose her smile.
“My mother taught me. She always reminded me that I must never make a mistake while serving you, Baron.”
The baron looked at Betra.
“You’re certainly earning your keep.”
The girls called Betra “Mother.”
Apparently pleased by Ilea’s praise, she smiled with her eyes.
“That’s only because Ilea learns faster than the others. I’ve hardly done anything.”
The baron nodded.
“What a heartwarming bond between mother and daughter. Just looking at the two of you warms my heart.”
Ilea’s expression sank into melancholy.
“And yet your touch grows colder by the day, Baron.”
Ilea gently removed the baron’s hand from her cheek.
“You look unwell too... Are you still feeling ill?”
Grian’s vitality had been declining by the day. He could barely eat, and he could not sleep at night. Even his once-vigorous libido had diminished.
His formerly greasy, glistening skin was now as dry and coarse as stale bread.
It had begun immediately after he took Ilea in as one of his girls.
“...Is it that obvious?”
“How could I fail to notice? I’m always worried about you, Baron.”
The baron heaved a deep sigh.
“The nightmares haven’t stopped either. They’re making my life miserable.”
The corners of Ilea’s lips rose ever so slightly. No one noticed the change.
“Do you mean the imp you mentioned before?”
An imp was a young demon.
“Yes. It simply refuses to disappear.”
“What a persistent creature.”
Ilea paused briefly before giving him a radiant smile.
“But don’t worry. You have me by your side, don’t you? I’ll stay close and protect you.”
The baron’s eyes softened into a foolish smile.
“How do you manage to say such lovely things? What an adorable child you are.”
Having said that, Grian lightly struck the table as though he had reached a decision.
“This won’t do.”
Resolve settled into the baron’s eyes.
“Though my vigor may be depleted, I shall exert myself tonight. I cannot postpone the consummation any longer.”
Ilea tilted her head as though she did not understand.
“What consummation?”
“Your first night with me.”
He meant to take her virginity.
Immediately afterward, Ilea’s expression hardened like wax.
The abrupt change in her demeanor caught the baron off guard.
“W-What is it? Do you not wish to share my bed?”
“That isn’t it.”
Ilea picked up her fork and began pointing at each dish.
There was the sherry the baron enjoyed drinking, a salad tossed with fresh vegetables, and a small pie.
“What do we call these?”
“Why are you suddenly asking...?”
“Please answer me.”
Had she been any other girl, the baron would have thundered at her.
“They’re... appetizers, aren’t they?”
“That’s right.”
Ilea smiled and looked at Betra.
“Mother, why do we eat appetizers before enjoying the main course?”
Betra’s eyes twitched slightly. The girl was behaving disrespectfully toward the baron, and the consequences might fall entirely upon Betra.
She forced a smile.
“Ilea, the baron has asked you to attend him in bed. Stop spouting nonsense and give him an answer.”
“But your answer is my answer, Mother.”
Was the brat challenging her to a battle of wills? Betra clenched her fork tightly. Since her hand was beneath the table, no one could see the veins bulging across its back.
“...To stimulate the appetite and heighten one’s anticipation for the main course.”
She refused to rise to the provocation. She could hardly engage in a war of nerves with a ten-year-old child in front of the baron.
Ilea nodded.
“Exactly.”
Then she pointed her fork straight ahead.
In that direction stood a group of girls with their backs against the wall. They were all girls who had not been given seats at the table.
Ilea looked at them, her lips calmly curving into a smile.
“I want to be your main course, Baron.”
She was telling him to savor those girls first.
Betra stared at Ilea in disbelief.
What kind of child is she...?
Even for a prostitute who had trained countless girls, this was the first time she had encountered a child like Ilea.
Ilea was more cunning than a slum urchin, as audacious as the daughter of a fallen noble house, and as quick-witted as an abandoned illegitimate child.
Worse still, she excelled at everything, making it difficult to find fault with her.
Betra studied the baron’s expression.
Fortunately, he did not appear offended. He merely stared at the other girls with a dejected expression.
“...They do nothing for me. My heart simply isn’t stirred.”
His libido had diminished so severely that ordinary women no longer elicited any response from him.
How did that lecherous man end up like this?
Betra could not understand the reason.
“It breaks my heart. I hope you recover your vitality as soon as possible.”
As she murmured those words, Ilea lifted her teacup.
“Mother will have to take especially good care of you.”
Her expression was clearly somber, yet there was something subtle beneath it. It was almost as though she were calmly enjoying the situation...
Betra’s train of thought was abruptly interrupted.
A knight had entered the dining hall. He approached the baron and said,
“Baron, a mercenary has arrived.”
Grian frowned.
“Those damned hyenas! What are they sniffing around here for? Tell them I don’t need them!”
“W-Well, there’s only one.”
“What? Just one man?”
“Yes, but he claims to have belonged to the Kandeya Mercenary Company.”
A questioning look crossed the baron’s face. Ilea showed no particular reaction.
...Kandeya?
The Kandeya Mercenary Company had been a cavalry unit renowned throughout the east before suddenly disappearing without a trace.
The public believed they had all been wiped out.
“What sort of nonsense is that? Those bastards died long ago.”
“We’ve confirmed his mercenary badge.”
Was he an impostor? The baron remained suspicious, but Ilea was certain.
It was her father.
The knight continued,
“He requests an audience. What shall we do? Will you meet him?”
“You’re certain he’s alone?”
If there were any more of them, the baron had no intention of paying their wages, regardless of who had come.
“Yes. Well, he does have a family with him, but only his wife and a newborn baby.”
Only then did Ilea’s expression change. Interest rippled beneath her composed smile.
She murmured quietly,
“How capable of him.”
They had not been apart for very long, yet he was already bringing her a younger sibling.
“Hmm? Ilea, what did you say?”
Ilea smiled brightly.
“I said to have a pleasant meeting, Baron.”
“I never said I was going... Still, perhaps I should at least take a look at this impostor’s face.”
With that, the lord rose from his seat and headed straight for the reception room.