Early the next morning, Blake had the captives brought before him again. Perhaps it was because of Charlotte that these men no longer remained tight-lipped as they had before. Under Blake's questioning, they quickly confessed their origins.
As Blake had suspected, their destination was another territory bordering the Twilight Forest—a land that had once belonged to Blake's enemies but now formed part of the Kingdom of Wester. They were members of the Zachary family, the powerful nobles who ruled over that domain. Their mission on this journey was to escort the Zachary heir, a boy not yet ten years old, back to his homeland. The whole affair was not overly complicated. Several months prior, the elderly Patriarch of the Zachary family had fallen from his horse while hunting and sustained a head injury, after which he had remained in a coma. As time wore on, disquieting murmurs began to spread within the family. By all rights, the heir should have stepped forward to stabilize the situation, but both of the patriarch's children were still minors. His youngest son, the first in line to inherit, was barely ten and utterly incapable of leading a great noble house. His daughter, Chris, though already fifteen, was nothing more than an ordinary noble young lady with no aptitude for managing a family's affairs. After all, "strong-willed women" like Ophelia were a rare breed in the noble circles. Most young ladies her age spent their days engaged in pastimes like dancing and little else.
The Zachary family was a martial lineage that had always governed through strength of arms. Even if the young lady had wished to take the reins of power, the vassals beneath her would never have submitted to her rule. Meanwhile, the patriarch's condition continued to deteriorate with no sign of awakening. As the days turned into weeks, the whispers of unrest grew louder and louder until finally, open conflict erupted.
Although the elderly patriarch commanded immense prestige within the family, his current comatose state left a power vacuum. Many of his retainers had pledged their loyalty solely to him, and thus they chose to remain silent and wait on the sidelines amid the infighting. In the chaos that followed, a faction within the family abducted the patriarch's young son, intending to use the boy as a pawn to seize control of the Zachary domain. After all, at less than ten years old, the child would be easily manipulated—whoever held him in their grasp would hold the future of the family.
Yet the conspirators' carefully laid plans had overlooked one crucial detail: the elderly patriarch had loyal followers who remained steadfast in their duty to protect his bloodline. The men before Blake, disguised as merchants, were among those loyal retainers—once the patriarch's personal bodyguards. Outnumbered in the factional clashes, they had been forced to flee the Zachary lands with the young heir in tow. Their original plan had been to seek refuge with the Byrd family, hoping to secure their support. But they had gravely miscalculated—the Byrds had proven just as treacherous as their enemies back home, harboring designs to imprison the young lord and manipulate the Zachary family from the shadows. With no other options left, the guards had been forced to flee once more, this time escaping the Byrd territories with the boy. Their new plan was to return to the Zachary lands, find a hidden sanctuary, and then rally the patriarch's loyal supporters to launch a counterattack.
Fearful of being discovered by the Byrd family's agents, they had chosen to take an obscure path through the Twilight Forest—a fateful decision that would lead to further disaster. For not only had they been tracked down, but to their utter astonishment, they had encountered someone they never expected to see outside the patriarch's chambers: the young lady of the Zachary family herself. It was no wonder the guards had been overcome with a mixture of excitement and disbelief.
Having listened to their tale, Blake and Ophelia exchanged a helpless glance, each able to read the bitter amusement in the other's eyes. These guards were utterly lacking in political acumen to even think of seeking aid from another noble house. While the Byrd and Zachary families had never been overtly hostile, both were rivals competing for control over the lucrative Golden Trade Route. Given such a golden opportunity to strike a blow against a competitor, the Byrds would never have let it slip through their fingers. Any man with even a modicum of political sense could have seen the danger in that course of action.
"My Lord, we—"
"I already know everything about your situation," Blake cut the man off with a wave of his hand. He fixed the speaker with an unwavering gaze as he spoke.
"But I must tell you this about Charlotte. The truth is, I found her unconscious in the forest a short while ago and brought her back with me. When she woke up, she had no memory of her past—none whatsoever. She couldn't even recall her own name or lineage. That is why I named her Charlotte and took her into my service."
"But my Lord, I swear to you that she is indeed Lady Chris of the Zachary family! We—"
"You have no proof to substantiate that claim," Blake interjected, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he fixed the man with a cold stare.
"Charlotte is a valued member of my household. And as it stands, you have no evidence to prove your assertions beyond a shadow of a doubt."
"This—" The man's mouth opened and closed, his face contorted with anxiety as he struggled to find the right words. Though the young lord before him was barely twenty years of age, he spoke with a composure and authority that left the guard with no room to argue. He had never been skilled at persuasion, and now, faced with Blake's unyielding demeanor, he found himself tongue-tied, his heart heavy with frustration.
"Even if we were to concede, for the sake of argument, that she was once your family's young lady," Blake continued relentlessly, "the fact remains that she has no memory of that life. Returning her to you would serve no purpose whatsoever."
"But—But—" The man's brow furrowed in desperation. He glanced at his companions, then gritted his teeth and turned back to Blake.
"Please, my Lord—allow me to speak with the young lady alone."
"By all means," Blake replied, one eyebrow arching upward as he offered the man a graceful smile.
Watching the man's retreating figure disappear through the door, Ophelia let out a long, weary sigh.
"To be honest, I feel quite sorry for that elderly patriarch," she remarked.
"Oh?" Blake turned to look at her, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Why do you say that?"
"His retainers are loyal, but they lack even the most basic common sense. If what they say is true, then they are in a most perilous predicament. They truly believe they are doing the right thing, yet they have not the faintest idea how to go about it properly. Their loyalty is unquestionable, I will grant them that—but their methods are doomed to failure from the very start."
Ophelia frowned as she spoke, her tone laced with a hint of resignation. Then she turned to Blake, her gaze sharp with caution.
"My Lord—you are not seriously considering helping them, are you?"
"You always know what I'm thinking, my dear adjutant," Blake replied, lifting his teacup in a mock toast, the corners of his lips curling into a faint smile.
"But if we do this, we will be declaring outright war on the Byrd family," Ophelia pointed out bluntly, laying bare the crux of the matter.
"You must remember, my Lord—our current territory is a noble fief, granted to us by the Byrd family themselves. If you openly throw your support behind their enemies, the Byrds will have every reason to turn against you. At worst, they could even move to revoke your fiefdom."
Ophelia's words were not without merit. The Byrd family had long been aware that Blake harbored no great affection for them, but thus far, neither side had been foolish enough to break the fragile truce between them. The recent visit of Viscount Wynn, and the subsequent deployment of Byrd guards in the region, had been little more than petty provocations—subtle warnings, nothing more. After all, Blake posed no real threat to their power, and for a great noble house like the Byrds, it would have been both undignified and excessive to launch a full-scale campaign against a minor lord over mere suspicions of disloyalty. But if Blake were to openly aid their rivals, the Byrds would have all the justification they needed to crush him. In the worst-case scenario, they could even move to reclaim the fief they had granted him. For while their agreement was legally binding, there was a world of difference between a noble fief and a royal one. To put it plainly—even a lord holding a royal fief could have his lands seized if he were caught colluding with foreign powers. If news of Blake's involvement with the Zachary family were to leak, he would find himself standing on shaky ground, both legally and morally.
"Furthermore—to be perfectly honest—I have no high hopes for our potential allies," Ophelia added, a faint flush tingeing her cheeks as she voiced her true concerns.
Blake chuckled softly at her words. This, he knew, was her real objection. As a former princess, Ophelia was a master at navigating the treacherous waters of noble politics—but she was also a pragmatist who chose her allies wisely. If the men before them had been ambitious, capable, and intelligent, she would have wholeheartedly endorsed his plan to ally with them. But the current situation was painfully clear: these men were utterly lacking in political savvy. They possessed nothing but blind loyalty to their liege, with none of the cunning or foresight needed to achieve their goals. Such men were more of a liability than an asset—a danger not only to themselves but to anyone foolish enough to align with them.
As the old saying went—one fears not a foe as formidable as a god, but an ally as incompetent as a fool.
And when that fool genuinely believed he was acting with the best of intentions? That made him all the more dangerous.
"Still," Blake said, setting his teacup down on the table and deliberately changing the subject, "what kind of family is this Zachary clan, exactly?" After all, he had been away from this world for many long years. When he had last walked these lands, houses like the Byrds had been nothing more than upstart upstarts, and the political landscape of the Kingdom of Wester had been far less settled than it was now. Ophelia, however, had only passed from this world more recently—she would undoubtedly be far more familiar with the kingdom's noble houses than he was.
"The Zacharys are a relatively new noble family, risen to prominence through military merit," Ophelia replied, momentarily surprised by the sudden shift in topic before quickly gathering her thoughts to answer his question.
"They began as nothing more than minor local lords, but they earned their current status through their valiant deeds in the wars against the Kingdom of Celt. The Zachary family has always been renowned for its strict discipline—every head of the house has been a distinguished military commander. However, about thirty years ago, I heard rumors that the family fell out of favor with the royal court over some undisclosed incident. Since then, their fortunes have been in a steady decline. And judging by the current state of affairs, it seems their downward spiral has yet to come to an end."
Blake nodded slowly as he listened. A noble house in decline was always vulnerable to opportunistic vultures circling overhead—this came as no surprise to him.
Just then, the door swung open once more, and Charlotte stepped into the room, her usual calm and gentle smile playing on her lips. Behind her, the group of men followed, their faces etched with dejection. Even the young boy they had been protecting had red-rimmed eyes, his cheeks still damp with tears. Blake needed no explanation to know what had transpired during their private conversation. The men had no doubt done everything in their power to jog Charlotte's memory, to make her remember her supposed identity as the Zachary family's young lady. But what they failed to realize was that the young lady they had once known was already gone—dead and buried. The soul now inhabiting that body was an entirely different person. No matter what they said or did, they would never be able to make Charlotte "remember" a life that was not her own.
"My Lord—I'm afraid I still cannot recall anything," Charlotte said, bowing respectfully to Blake before offering him her answer. At her words, the leader of the guards felt his heart sink. He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it, letting out a deep, defeated sigh instead.
The time had come.
"Now that we have established the facts of the matter," Blake said, steepling his fingers together once more as he fixed the men with an elegant smile, "it is time we discuss business."
"Business?"
One had to hand it to these guards—their political naivety was truly staggering. At Blake's words, they all stared at him in blank confusion. Business? What business could there possibly be left to discuss? Had they not come here solely to reclaim their young lady? And now, it was abundantly clear that the young lady had no intention of acknowledging her identity as Chris Zachary. The guards had tried every trick in the book to make her remember—even bringing the boy, her supposed beloved younger brother, to weep before her—but nothing had managed to stir so much as a flicker of recognition in her eyes. At long last, the guards were forced to accept Blake's words as the truth: the young lady had truly lost all memory of her past life.
"I beg your pardon, my Lord—but what business could you possibly be referring to?" one of the men ventured to ask.
At the sound of his question, Ophelia closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead, letting out another long, suffering sigh. Truly—she had never met anyone so utterly incapable of seeing the bigger picture.
Blake, however, seemed entirely unfazed by the man's obtuseness. He merely shrugged his shoulders before fixing the group with a pleasant smile and asking:
"Tell me—what are your plans now?"
"If your Lordship would be so kind as to release us," the leader replied, "we intend to return to the Zachary lands and reconsider our next move from there."
"Reconsider your next move?" Blake repeated, one eyebrow arching upward as his gaze fell upon the young boy standing beside the guards, his expression one of mild amusement.
"I wonder—have you given any thought at all to what awaits you when you return?"
"I— I do not understand what you mean, my Lord," the man stammered, genuine confusion clouding his features.
He truly had no idea.
Watching the man's bewildered face, Ophelia opened her mouth to speak, then promptly shut it again, unable to find the words to express her exasperation. She had never met anyone quite so foolish. Dealing with Viscount Wynn had been a far more pleasant experience by comparison.
"If you return to your homeland in your current circumstances, you will be immediately branded as kidnappers who abducted the family heir," Blake explained patiently, his tone sharp with irony. "Are you truly planning to march back into the Zachary lands with the young lord in tow—only to be thrown into prison for your troubles?"
"That's impossible!" the leader exploded, his face flushing crimson with anger as he slammed a fist into his palm.
"We are the loyal retainers who risked our lives to protect the young lord! How dare anyone call us kidnappers? We fled with him to keep him safe from those traitors who seek to seize control of our family!"
Idiots. Every last one of them.
Ophelia rolled her eyes heavenward as she glanced at Blake. If she had harbored even the slightest shred of doubt about the wisdom of allying with these men before, that doubt had now vanished entirely. They were completely oblivious to the consequences of their actions, yet they had the audacity to believe they were in the right. It would be far better to let them fend for themselves and face the consequences of their own stupidity. The Twilight Forest was just beginning to flourish—why should they risk destroying everything they had built to aid such fools?
"But the men who now control your family do not see it that way," Blake countered calmly, leaning back comfortably in his chair, his tone conversational despite the gravity of his words.
"As things stand, you are fugitives who have fled the Zachary lands with the heir in your custody. Meanwhile, your enemies remain firmly in control of the family seat. So even though you know the truth of the matter—you are the only ones who do. To everyone else in the kingdom, the heir has vanished without a trace—and you are the ones who took him. Regardless of your motives, that is the undeniable truth of the situation as far as the rest of the world is concerned."
"This—" The man's mouth fell open in shock, and he found himself suddenly lost for words. For all his lack of political acumen, he was not entirely stupid. Blake had laid out the cold, hard facts with brutal clarity—and he could no longer deny the truth of what the young lord was saying.
"However," Blake continued, rising to his feet and walking over to stand before the group of men, extending a hand toward them in a gesture of goodwill, "I happen to have a proposal that could help you achieve your goals."
"A proposal that is fraught with danger," Ophelia muttered under her breath once the men had departed, taking the young heir with them.
"My Lord—are you truly prepared to go through with this? You must not forget that the Byrd family has spies watching our every move. If we proceed with this plan, it will only be a matter of days before word reaches the Byrds' ears."
"You have no need to worry about that, Lady Ophelia," Blake replied, returning to the room with a confident smile playing on his lips.
"Fools are far easier to manipulate than clever men. And while there is no formal agreement between us and these Zachary retainers—frankly, I never intended to sign one in the first place. As for your other concern—that is not a problem at all."
Blake paused for a moment, then his smile faded, his expression hardening as he turned to face Ophelia, his voice ringing with authority.
"Lady Ophelia—go and deliver this message to Kaster. In my capacity as Lord of the Twilight Forest, I hereby order him and his men to mobilize for the upcoming operation."