Chapter 28: 28. The Preparation Montage [1]: Rumors that are Confirmed.
Time was of the essence, and Mordret had no intention of squandering it. He had perused enough records to grasp the overall geography, topography, the army's strength, the hotspots of beast raids, and the beasts' breeding grounds.
Inside the village, among the two thousand residents, over a hundred had awakened, possessing aspects and abilities vital for the village's survival.
During his time delving into the records, Mordret familiarized himself with the village's rules. Since one's aspect could be both a blessing and a curse, it was essential to disclose it, but revealing its full potential was unnecessary.
Three crucial facets defined each villager: their aspect, ability, and flaw. The flaw, an inherent challenge bestowed by this world, was a part of everyone's existence.
In Maria's case, her aspect was linked to space, and she confessed her flaw was distrust. She perpetually maintained vigilance over her surroundings, rendering trust a rarity. 'That explains her immediate wariness toward Eliza, who kept a watchful eye,' Mordret mused. Her ability lay in assessing danger levels.
"In essence, aspect, ability, and flaw are intricately interconnected," Mordret realized, enabling him to spot falsehoods while recording strengths.
One's aspect and flaw could potentially be their Achilles' heel. However, the villagers had always fought collectively, preventing such vulnerabilities from being exploited.
This information gained significance after the Viscount's letter vanished, hinting at a misuse of abilities and a breach of trust within the village.
"Someone has betrayed the villagers' trust. Rebecca is the primary suspect," Mordret silently noted, his curiosity piqued about the girl's background.
With his schedule tightly packed, Mordret also approached Eliza to inquire about her Aspect, Ability, and Flaw.
"I hail from the Silverstone clan, a branch of the Children of Shadows, my Lord," Eliza replied. "Shadows near me bend to my will, allowing my daggers to hit their mark with uncanny precision." Eliza's power seemed tailor-made for an assassin.
"These daggers traverse through shadows, not air, making their trajectory incomprehensible to novices."
"Although I have yet to fully master it, with significant soul strength consumption, I can travel short distances through shadows." Eliza's bashfulness became apparent as Mordret scrutinized her. She concealed herself beneath the sheets, her gaze bashful.
"As for my flaw, it's extreme anger, my Lord." Eliza's embarrassment grew.
"If something dear to me is harmed, my anger surges exponentially, sometimes damaging muscles, veins, and even boiling my blood..." Eliza fell silent, retreating under the sheets.
Relaxing in his bed, she fixed him with mischievous eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and her gaze roamed around the room.
"So that's why... I understand. Is that all you have to tell me?" Mordret inquired.
Eliza nodded, her body immobile. It was Mordret who bathed her with a wet cloth and changed her worn clothes to fresh ones. With deliberate care, he attended to every inch of her body, intensifying her embarrassment. His hands, in particular, teased her abdomen, causing her discomfort.
"You are aware that I can easily arrange another bed in your room, right? I am the Lord here, after all. Why insist on sleeping with me every night?" Mordret questioned, leading Eliza to pretend not to hear him.
'Who knows, my Lord? If I don't serve you well every night, you might invite another woman. I won't allow any other woman into your room, my Lord.' Eliza's words were barely audible, intended solely for herself.
"Did you say anything?" Eliza pretended to be asleep at his question.
Although her condition improved, Eliza was still recovering from the grave damage inflicted by her flaw.
'The only connection I can draw between her Aspect and Flaw is the shadows' silence and calmness. As someone connected to shadows, having anger issues might be problematic. No wonder she isn't an assassin yet.' Eliza had ruptured many veins and lost substantial blood during her fits of rage. An ever-burning fire smoldered in her eyes, a detail Mordret regretted not noticing earlier.
"Rest well, I'll return with some food." Ever since Mordret had previously prepared meals for her, Eliza now frequently requested his culinary skills.
Her pleading puppy-dog eyes made refusal impossible, compelling Mordret to cook for her. "We seem more like newlyweds than master and servant, haah! What have you done, Satoru Zephyr? Now, even your servant puts you to work!" Mordret sighed but harbored no objections. In fact, he found fulfillment in seeing the spark of excitement in Eliza's eyes whenever he cooked.
Mordret took pleasure in nourishing her. After years of solitude, he had honed his culinary skills, deriving satisfaction from the art. Additionally, Mordret's kitchen was equipped to prepare almost any dish.
"I appreciate how this game provides everything I need except the peaceful life it promised. Jokes on you; at least I have a charming patient to care for!" Mordret's complaints fell on deaf ears.
Once Eliza was well-fed, Mordret set out for a special journey. He had a list of places that required his physical presence, and the first on that list was the camp, which would serve as his only beacon of hope during the impending calamity.
Mordret rode a white horse, a steed he had acquired from the viscount's town, and he had named it Gunther. The rhythmic sound of Gunther's hooves echoed as they traveled swiftly.
"I never knew I could ride a horse. Whoa! Hahaha! You're so fast, come on, Gunther, faster!" Mordret exclaimed, his excitement evident.
Hiieeeek~
Getting accustomed to Gunther was not difficult; the horse proved to be understanding. Although Mordret wasn't very familiar with the paths in the village, the horse knew the way to Maria's house.
Maria had agreed to show him around the camp, and the Chieftess had readily accepted his request to enter the camp together. However, as she had some chores to attend to in the village, she called him a little later.
Given this delay, Mordret decided to explore the village with Gunther and a map given by Eliza.
Contrary to his expectations, the village was remarkably well-maintained and clean. Similar to what a slightly better old European village would be.
The inhabitants adhered to unspoken rules and showed respect by bowing when they saw Mordret on his steed. As Mordret made his visits, he learned a great deal about the villagers and their way of life without even speaking with any of them.
The houses were primarily single-story structures, built from a combination of wood, rocks, and mud. While there were residents of varying affluence, the distinctions in their dwellings were not notably significant.
Mordret found it surprising that those with a family member in the military not only enjoyed better living conditions but also dressed more lavishly and had access to servants.
In the vicinity of wells, manual water pumps were set up to facilitate the retrieval of water. Women formed orderly lines, waiting their turn without causing any commotion. Among them, a tall and muscular woman was responsible for operating the water pump. These individuals, who possessed utility aspects related to physical strength, earned their livelihood through such laborious tasks.
The roads, though unpaved, possessed a rustic beauty, complete with drainage systems guiding water toward the river. As much as Mordret wanted to explore further, he found himself running out of time when he spotted Maria near a house where a woman wept in her arms as she offered consolation.
This piqued Mordret's curiosity, and he waited patiently until Maria finished. After a while, Maria emerged from the house.
…
Onlookers were surprised to see the Baron waiting for Maria.
"My Lord, you are here?" Maria greeted Mordret with respect, her surprise evident due to his early arrival.
"Hmm. Get on, Chieftess, we are running late," Mordret stated, growing weary of the villagers who hesitated to approach him. However, they didn't leave either. Whenever Mordret's eyes locked onto someone, the reaction was almost unanimous: they either knelt before him or grew visibly flustered. This was particularly evident among the women, who seemed entranced by his very presence. A few were so overwhelmed that they accidentally dropped their water buckets when his gaze settled upon them.
'I need to get out of here, otherwise, this handsome bastard might make some fuss.' Mordret thought as he patted Gunther to remain calm.
Meanwhile, Maria blushed. "My Lord... I–I," she stuttered but couldn't muster the courage to continue.
Mordret looked at her and inquired, "What happened?"
Maria grew even more flustered, her eyes darting around as she fidgeted nervously. She hoped that Mordret would pick up on her discomfort and come to her aid.
Her long, raven-black hair was neatly tied in a single braid, and she wore an elegant pale blue gown that accentuated her mature beauty. Despite her striking appearance, Mordret appeared oblivious to both her charms and indications.
"My Lord, I cannot ride a horse," Maria confessed, her defeat palpable.
'That's it? Why did she take so long to say that?' Mordret fell silent for a moment before dismounting.
"What are you doing, My Lord?" Maria asked.
Without further ado, Mordret picked her up like a bag of potatoes and placed her on Gunther's back. After confirming her and Gunther's comfort, he gracefully climbed over and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Are you ready?" Mordret inquired, not waiting for Maria's response. With a final glance at the villagers, he urged Gunther forward.
The onlookers, including Maria, remained dazed by Mordret's unexpected actions.
After some time, "Did you see what I saw?" someone among the dazed villagers murmured.
"Yeah... The Lord... Took the Chieftess and left," another person responded.
"Yeah... Wasn't that romantic? Or was it kidnapping?" Whispers and rumors swirled in the wake of Mordret's actions, as those who witnessed Maria's flushed face misconstrued it as a sign of romance.
That day, the villagers firmly believed that Mordret had made his intentions abundantly clear with his actions.
When the villagers discussed his last glance at everyone, another rumor claiming that 'The Chieftess belonged to the Lord,' began to circulate among the villagers.
…
[The Camp]
The camp appeared well-maintained, with numerous tents crafted from beast skins clustered together. Dominating the center was a watchtower, serving both as a lookout post and an emergency military depot. It stored all the necessary weapons and equipment for the village's defense, located to the west of the village.
'So the camp was the first to fall, huh? I've carried that black journal just in case,' Mordret pondered as Gunther halted at the camp's entrance.
...
[Inside a tent]
Within one of the tents, a group of soldiers were taking a break, engaged in conversation. "I have a bad feeling about this upcoming beast raid," one soldier, sharpening his spear, remarked with a somber expression. "Why? Aren't we capable of taking down those beasts? We've faced them before. Feeling a bit down, are you?" another villager chimed in. "Haah! Sam, you're not thinking clearly. This won't be the same as before. The Lord has called for reinforcements from the Viscount, but where are they? It's been over a week since I last heard from the Chieftess about the army. The beasts can strike at any time, day or night. What are we supposed to do when that happens? Wouldn't it be easier to flee while we still can? We're just a bit over two thousand people, after all. Leaving before it's too late shouldn't be too hard," he concluded.
"You mean we should abandon the land our Lord fought so hard to earn for us, even in the face of the beast hordes? Isn't that sheer selfishness?" Sam challenged.
"Can you say the same when our village is razed by the beasts? You haven't witnessed the worst of it. Serena's father was the last person from the Chieftess's escorts who knew the whole story of the last extreme beast raid. Now, apart from her, no one knows the full truth of how our Lord became the Lord," everyone in the room grumbled at his words. Adding a final blow, the man continued, "How are we going to face the beasts? We lack sufficient weaponry and manpower, and our Lord is occupied flirting with the Chieftess. How are we supposed to fight?" When the others in the room had no response to his question, he smirked, pleased with his speech.
"Hey... Can you guys keep it down?" Sam suddenly interjected.
"Huh? Why should we? Am I wrong?" the grumpy soldier retorted.
"Well, aren't you aware of it?" Sam pointed solemnly at a mirror in the camp. "I've heard that the Lord can see us through those mirrors. He appears among us when there are mirrors around. And if someone speaks ill of him, he suddenly pops up." A shiver ran down everyone's spine upon hearing Sam's revelation.
"H-haha! Sam! Y-you're joking…right?" Even the outspoken soldier paled.
"Well—" However, before Sam could provide further explanation, the room fell into a deathly silence upon hearing the sound of approaching hooves.
"Don't let us interrupt. Continue your duty," a commanding voice resonated outside and through the tent. Every head turned toward the entrance.
Before them stood a tall young man with short lustrous white hair, radiating an aura of frigid indifference. His stoic expression and chilling voice sent shivers down their spines.
And by his side, stood a woman of mesmerizing beauty adorned in a pale blue gown.
It was Mordret, accompanied by Maria.
"My Lord?!" Sam exclaimed, stumbling over his words. The soldier who had criticized Mordret earlier felt as if his very soul had departed from his body.
After that day, another rumor among the villagers was confirmed: 'If anyone speaks ill of the Lord near a mirror, he arrives.'
***
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