Chapter 16: We Need A Variable (1)
âFerdiumâs side has failed.â
âWhat?â
A man with a splendidly groomed mustache frowned upon hearing the report from his subordinate. His name was Harold Desmond, the lord of Count Desmondâs territory and a man plotting the Northern overthrow under the Delfine Duke.
âYou were trying to pit them against Digaldâs territory in a territorial war. And that failed?â
âYes, sir.â
âEven after winning over their knights? Did the knight commander get in the way?â
Ferdium might have been a territory without wealth or notable figures, but at least Count Ferdium and their Knight Commander, Randolph, were respectable enough.
At Haroldâs question, his lieutenant hesitated awkwardly before replying.
âThe knight commander had left for a military campaign with Count Ferdium. But...â
The lieutenant glanced at Harold, gauging his mood before continuing.
âRumor has it that two of the escort knights tried to kidnap the countâs daughter and got caught. They were killed by Ferdiumâs heir apparent. Frank has gone missing, and no one knows if heâs alive or dead.â
âFerdiumâs heir apparent... that bratty troublemaker? He defeated trained knights? Could Frank have fallen to him, too?â
âGhislain doesnât have that kind of skill. Weâre assuming... the two escort knights fought each other to claim the countâs daughter, and it ended in mutual destruction.â
Harold remained silent momentarily before letting out a derisive chuckle as if the situation were utterly ridiculous.
âIs that what youâre reporting to me? âAssumingâ? âGuessingâ? Are you saying you canât even figure out whatâs happening in that tiny territory?â
The more he spoke, the more Haroldâs body radiated an intimidating aura.
âI-Iâm sorry, sir. The site was completely burned down, so itâs been difficult to get accurate information.â
Harold stared down at his trembling subordinate and spoke slowly.
âThe lord and the knight commander were both away on campaign. Itâs a territory with few knights or soldiers. We sent Frank there and even won over their escort knights. And yet, you couldnât manage to kill a single girl?â
His voice rose in frustration.
âAnd now youâre telling me that the pathetic heir of Ferdium killed those knights? Since when did my lieutenant become so useless he canât even gather proper information?â
The lieutenant threw himself to the ground, groveling.
âI-Iâm sorry! Please, just give me one more chance, and I will surely succeed!â
âYou want another chance after failing at such a simple task?â
Harold scoffed.
The odds that Ferdiumâs heir could be some unexpected variable, as suggested by those ridiculous rumors, were incredibly low. If that were the case, then it was likely the lieutenant was simply incompetent... or he had conducted the mission carelessly.
Either way, Harold had no use for such subordinates.
Jingle, jingle.
Harold reached for the bell on his desk and rang it twice. Two knights entered the room.
Harold looked down at the now-pale lieutenant with an expression devoid of any emotion.
âTake care of him.â
âP-please! Spare me! Just give me one more chance! Please! I beg you! Aaahhh!â
The lieutenant screamed as he was dragged away, but Harold didnât pay any attention and shifted his gaze back to the documents on his desk.
âIâm already burdened with keeping an eye on Raypold, and now Ferdium is becoming an annoyance.â
Right now, Haroldâs greatest focus was on Ameliaâs rebellion plan.
According to the information, Count Raypold had been quietly stockpiling food and increasing his forces.
âBefore he grows stronger, Amelia needs to succeed.â
That didnât mean he could just leave Ferdium as it was.
Suddenly, Harold furrowed his brow, feeling an odd sense of unease.
âGhislain Ferdium...â
It was particularly annoying because Ghislain had been a figure he hadnât even cared about until now. He wouldnât have felt so disgusted if it had been anyone elseâs name.
âIâll have to send more people.â
After much deliberation, Harold decided to deploy more spies to the Ferdium estate.
* * *
âYoung Master, what on earth was that all about?â
âOh, just a loversâ quarrel. Looks like Amelia loves me a bit too much. Damn, Iâm so popular.â
Belinda glared at Ghislain, who was wearing a smug expression.
âAnd why did you ask Lady Amelia for money?â
âI needed some money for something, and Amelia was the only person around with a lot of it.â
âAh, so you squeezed money out of your rich fianceÌe?â
Belinda narrowed her eyes at Ghislain, looking at him like he was insane. He shook his head as if wronged.
âHey, Iâm not that kind of guy. I had a reason.â
âAnd what reason is that?â
âIn my past life, Amelia tormented me a lot. Iâm just collecting on that debt now. You could call it compensation.â
â......â
It was true, but there was no way such a story would be accepted.
But Gillian... Sure, the smell of alcohol was expected, but the atmosphere he exuded was no more imposing than that of a lowly thug from a marketplace.
Belinda scanned Gillian up and down, trying to understand Ghislainâs intentions.
âDoes he just want to use him as a porter? If thatâs the case, wouldnât it be better just to hire a slave or a servant?â
While Gillianâs build and muscles seemed somewhat usable, his exhausted expression and drooping shoulders made her doubt whether he could even carry loads.
As the others wore expressions of doubt and disappointment, only Ghislain smiled.
âGillian, Iâve come to meet you.â
âWhat business do you have with me?â
Gillian, despite Ghislain appearing young, treated him respectfully and courteously. The boyâs attire differed from that of commoners, and with knights and maids accompanying him, it was clear that he was a noble at a glance.
âThis must be quite a difficult situation, right? I can solve your problem for you.â
At Ghislainâs words, Gillian let out a self-deprecating laugh.
âIt seems the young nobleman is bored. You can flaunt your pretensions elsewhere.â
His words dripped with sarcasm and irritation. His sharp change in attitude from just a single sentence caused Belinda and the accompanying knights to frown. However, Ghislain didnât seem to mind.
âI can help you,â he repeated.
âJust leave. My life is already tiring enough, and I have no energy left to play along with a young nobleâs whims.â
With that, Gillian turned away. It was an act of rudeness that a commoner should never show to a noble.
One of the knights gripped his sword and stepped forward.
âThis man is incredibly disrespectful.â
Gillian briefly glanced back at the knightâs sword, then chuckled and pointed to his chest.
âIf you want to kill me, go ahead. Do you have the guts for it? My heart is right hereâstab it properly.â
âYou bastard!â
The knight gritted his teeth and stepped forward again, but he couldnât bring himself to swing his sword. Instead, Gillianâs defianceâhis invitation to kill himâunsettled him.
Smiling as if to calm things down, Ghislain motioned for the knights to step back.
âCome on, itâs our first meeting. Letâs not be so hostile. Gillian, I really can solve your problem.â
Gillian, with hollow eyes, looked back at Ghislain. His bright expression seemed almost cheerful, and in his eyes shone unwavering confidence.
âWhat a strange nobleman.â
He didnât seem to care about the authority or dignity typical of nobles, which reminded Gillian of old acquaintances. After hesitating for a moment, he sighed and spoke.
â...Come inside.â
Following Gillian inside, the group immediately covered their noses. Belinda clicked her tongue as she surveyed the house.
âHah, this is a complete dump.â
The house was a mess, with thick layers of dust everywhere from the lack of cleaning, and mold had even formed in the darker corners. However, the variety of weapons strewn about the house stood out more than the filth.
âIs he a blacksmith?â
Given his large build and the weapons lying around, it seemed a plausible guess. But Belinda couldnât understand why Ghislain had gone out of his way to find a blacksmith in such a situation.
âWhy doesnât he just explain things? Why do I have to guess?â
She pouted, frustrated by Ghislainâs lack of explanation.
âThis way,â Gillian said.
They followed him into a small bedroom. Inside, a young girl about the same age as Elena lay with a gaunt face, fast asleep.
âSheâs my daughter.â
Belinda and the knights stepped back, startled by the sight of Gillianâs daughter. Her once brown hair had faded and become so brittle it seemed like it would crumble at a touch. Her lips were cracked and split, making her look almost like a corpse. The bloodstains on the bed and her missing fingernails hinted at how much pain she was enduring.
But the most alarming thing was the red spots that covered her face and body.
Belinda grabbed Ghislainâs arm without thinking and shouted, âMy lord!â
Ghislain gently took Belindaâs hand off his arm and nodded.
âYes, I know.â
âMy lord, you need to step back. This isnât something you can help with.â
Now, they could understand why Gillian had been acting that way. His daughter, suffering from an incurable disease, and the disdainful or fearful looks of those around themâany hope had already vanished. As his daughter slowly inched toward death, so too did he.
Seeing Belindaâs reaction, Gillian let out a bitter laugh.
âSo, you came here claiming to help without even knowing what disease my daughter has?â
âNo, I know.â
âThen you should understand. My daughter is suffering from an untreatable disease.â
âI know thereâs no known cure,â Ghislain replied, his tone matter-of-fact.
Gillianâs face twisted in a grimace, his voice filled with a growl. âYet you still said you could help me? What is your real intention, coming hereââ
Belinda interrupted, standing in front of Ghislain. âLord Ghislain, please step back!â
Her voice was loud, and the fact that she had called him âLordâ was proof of how angry she was. But Ghislain didnât retreat at all.
âItâs fine. Itâs not contagious. It was already revealed to be a false rumor, remember?â
âEven so, step back! Thereâs no harm in being cautious!â
âIâm telling you, itâs not contagious.â
Belinda frowned. She couldnât understand what made Ghislain so confident. What he said next left her even more astonished.
âI know the cure for this disease. To be exact, Iâm the only one in the world who knows how to treat it.â