As the date of Ron's departure to the Royal Capital drew near, the Baron's Manor grew increasingly busy. Servants hurried about, knights prepared equipment, and everyone quietly contributed to the lord's upcoming journey.
A few days before the trip, Abel sought Ron privately, worry clear in his expression.
"My Lord… are you certain you do not require my escort?"
For this journey, Ron had selected six knights, the coachman, and one accompanying maid. Abel had not been chosen.
"Sig and the others are enough," Ron replied calmly. "You are the strongest knight in the manor. Guarding the territory is entrusted to you."
Hidden threats at home concerned him far more than dangers on the road.
Abel realized his intent, bowed, and said with determination, "Understood, My Lord."
Ron nodded, then added meaningfully, "If the worst truly happens… you may use the sword in the Training Ground."
Abel froze for a moment before understanding—Ron meant the massive two-handed sword forged by Master Hadley. It had been placed on a reinforced iron stand ever since, untouched due to its weight. Only Abel, Brolofen, and recently Sig could lift it.
Rumor had spread that the lord occasionally stood before it for long stretches, quietly observing.
"Yes, My Lord."
Abel did not fully understand the purpose, but if the lord instructed it, that was enough.
—
Originally, Eileen had been excited for this rare chance to visit the Royal Capital—perhaps the only chance in her life. But Ron denied her request and ordered her to stay behind to care for Mellitoria.
Eileen collapsed into despair, sobbing as though the sky were falling. Only after Ron promised to bring her gifts did she reluctantly accept.
Thus, a replacement maid needed to be chosen. Diana, responsible for the manor's maids, prepared to select one—when a maid came seeking her late that night.
—
Time passed quickly.
Soon, the day of departure arrived.
In front of the manor gate, the entire household gathered. The crisp morning air carried a sense of solemnity.
Ron stood before the carriage, his gaze sweeping over everyone as he spoke steadily:
"This journey to the Royal Capital for the investiture ceremony will take ten to fifteen days. While I'm away, continue your duties. Egbert will manage all arrangements."
"Yes, My Lord!"
Everyone responded loudly.
Among the crowd, Joyce stood quietly, her head lowered. Outwardly, Egbert was still the one in charge—but secretly, the entire territory had already been entrusted to Joyce.
Ron had also told her privately: when necessary, she could mobilize Abel and Egbert directly.
In their time working together, Ron had grown to understand her mindset well. Calm, rational, measured—she would not disappoint.
"Older Brother…"
Mellitoria stood at the front, eyes red, voice trembling.
Ron looked down. She was obediently wearing the red bow hairpin he had given her. He gently patted her head.
"Stay home and behave. I'll check your lessons when I return."
He gave only one sentence of instruction; more would only make her cry.
"Alright. Let's go."
Ron entered the carriage, followed by an orange-haired maid.
Sig and the six knights mounted their horses and surrounded the carriage in formation.
As they departed, Abel hurried forward and seized Thomas's reins.
"Thomas," he whispered urgently, "I'm not there to protect the lord. Sig is strong but inexperienced. Watch everything carefully. Do not let anything happen."
Thomas straightened his posture. "I understand."
Under the manor's watchful eyes, the carriage rolled away, shrinking into the distance until it vanished.
—
The Royal Capital lay northwest of the Arnold Territory. They would cross seven or eight territories along the way. The old coachman Joseph estimated ten days of travel.
There was still ample time before the three-month deadline.
After half an hour on the road, the scenery was monotonous. The path didn't pass the reclaimed fields, so there were no laborers to see. Ron lowered the curtain with little enthusiasm.
His gaze settled on the only other person inside the carriage—the accompanying maid.
She appeared around twenty-two, petite, with clean, delicate features. Her long orange hair was tied neatly, revealing expressive dark-green eyes that seemed to hold many unspoken thoughts.
She was the opposite of Joyce.
Joyce was calm and rational; the girl before him emanated emotion, instinct, and artistic sensitivity.
Ron had seen her name on Diana's list.
Veronica.
"Your drawings were impressive—vivid and expressive. They were invaluable for Mellitoria's textbooks." He recalled reviewing Veronica's character card long ago, though at the time he had paid little attention to her personality.
Hearing his praise, Veronica's heart surged with excitement, but her smile remained composed.
"Thank you for your praise, My Lord. I still have much to improve."
"With talent and effort, your future will be bright."
"Thank you for your blessing, My Lord." She sat poised, every movement proper.
Ron wondered if he had misread her.
"What kind of paintings do you normally draw? Landscapes? Portraits?"
He couldn't spend the long journey sitting in silence. It was good to learn more about her.
Veronica stiffened slightly and stammered, "P-portraits… I draw people more often…"
Ron chuckled softly. "Portraits are difficult. To capture both spirit and form requires skill. Show me your paintings when you have the chance."
"O-okay…"
Their conversation gradually deepened. Ron wasn't a painter, but his insights struck chords in Veronica's artistic mind. Inspiration sparked.
As they spoke, Ron noticed her favorability rising—easily surpassing 70.
[Favorability: 70 (Confidant)]
Confidant?
Ron shot her a discreet glance. Among everyone around him… this tag felt strangely out of place.
Before long, the carriage exited the Arnold Territory.
Thomas approached from the rear, riding alongside the window.
"My Lord, we've left Arnold Territory. Ahead lies Viscount Faste's land, but we must pass through a forest. It's also not far from Viscount Gordon's border."
Ron acknowledged him briefly.
Thomas returned to formation.
They continued for several minutes until a small forest appeared ahead. The moment they entered, Thomas frowned. His experience screamed danger.
He lifted his hand.
"Be alert!"
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Crossbow bolts suddenly shot out from the trees.
"Protect the Lord!" Thomas roared.
Sig leapt from his horse, blade flashing, deflecting multiple bolts. Even so, two managed to pierce the carriage's wooden walls.
The knights closed ranks around the carriage, tense and ready.
"My Lord, are you alright?!" Thomas shouted anxiously.
Inside the carriage, Ron had shielded Veronica in his arms. Without the brooch's automatic defense, she would already be dead.
Two leaf veins on the brooch dimmed—two of the 24 defensive charges gone.
Ron's expression turned cold. His fingers brushed the red diamond ring on his index finger.
Someone would pay for this.
"Who's there?! Come out!" Sig roared toward the forest.
A dozen black-cloaked figures emerged. They dripped with the stench of blood. One held a hand crossbow—the shooter.
"Twelve…" Thomas muttered grimly. "And the leader is a Second-Order Knight—same as Sig."
The massive leader slammed his saber into the earth.
"We've waited two months. Finally caught you."
Thomas immediately asked, "Black Crow?"
A sneer came from one of them. "Heh, Boss, even border folk know our name."
The tall leader snorted. "Enough talk. The client is waiting for results."
The three strongest remained behind while the other nine closed in to slaughter.
"Sig," Thomas whispered, "I'll create an opening. Protect the Lord and escape."
But his expression darkened.
The aura from the three behind matched Abel's strength.
Three Second-Order enemies. Nine First-Order.
Their side: one Second-Order (Sig). Five First-Order.
A crushing disparity.
"Charge!"
Thomas roared and launched himself first. His reckless momentum forced the assassins to hesitate. Sig and the knights fought fiercely behind him. They managed to push the attackers back—but were soon covered in wounds.
Then the leader stepped forward, aura surging—second-order transcendent.
The battlefield shifted instantly.
A hammer-wielding Second-Order enemy suddenly ambushed Thomas.
Boom!
Thomas crashed into the carriage wheel, bones cracking. Blood spilled from his lips.
"Three… Second-Order…! Run!" he screamed.
Sig, drenched in blood, refused to retreat. "I, Sig, am a Guardian Knight! I will never retreat!"
Then—
Clack.
Ron stepped out of the carriage.
"Lord, why did you come—" Thomas began desperately.
"If I didn't come out, you would already be dead," Ron said calmly.
"You missed," the Black Crow leader muttered to the crossbowman.
The man raised his crossbow again.
The knights scrambled to shield Ron—
But then everything dimmed.
For a heartbeat, all vision vanished.
A red, finger-thin beam flashed.
Thud.
The crossbowman collapsed with a hole through his forehead.
Panic swept the assassins. Even the Black Crow leader's heart trembled.
"What… what was that?!"
The leader spoke through clenched teeth. "Some kind of powerful magic item…"
Ron ignored him.
"Tell me who hired you," Ron said coldly. "And you can die quickly."
The leader barked a laugh. "I don't believe you can use that again!"
Ron pointed at him.
Light dimmed.
Another beam pierced both the leader and his massive saber.
Their strongest fell instantly.
Terror swept through the assassins.
"Fight to the death!" the last Second-Order man screamed.
All ten rushed forward.
Ron exhaled softly. "A mantis blocking a chariot."
The world went dark again.
When the knights regained sight—
Bodies covered the ground.
Not one assassin had reached five meters from the carriage.
Sig swallowed hard. "Lord… that was…"
"A magic tool passed down in my family," Ron replied lightly. "Strong, but its consumption is immense."
The excuse was enough.
The knights treated their wounds and cremated the bodies. Thomas reported afterward:
"Lord, they seem to be battlefield mercenaries—men who sell their lives for coin."
Mercenaries. A clean method. Ron understood.
"Change course," Ron said. "We head to Viscount Gordon's Territory."
And the carriage rolled forward once more.
_____________________
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