The carriage rumbled along the smooth road, the wheels making a soft clattering sound. Kaster lifted his head, staring with a confused frown at the pitch-black carriage ahead of them. Ever since striking the deal with Blake, those men had finally let out a sigh of relief, resuming their identities as royal guards and discarding their shoddy merchant disguises to openly escort their young master on the journey. And Kaster was no fool—he'd seen through the charade long ago, realizing with a sinking heart that he'd truly caught the wrong fish this time. But what else could he do now? He had no choice but to follow them obediently.
Inside the carriage, however, the atmosphere was fraught with tension.
"What exactly do you mean by this, Mr. Blake?"
The man tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his voice laced with obvious displeasure.
"I mean exactly what I said," Blake replied, lounging comfortably on the soft cushion and lifting his eyelids to gaze at the man before him.
"Until I have safely delivered you to your destination, I require you to obey my every command without question. Otherwise, I will tear up our agreement. Is that not clear enough?"
"Why!?"
"Because you are incompetent."
The words came out sharp and unhesitating, barely two seconds after the man had finished his question.
"I think you know better than anyone how crucial this escort mission is. But after hearing about your so-called 'performance' so far, I have absolutely no confidence in your ability to see it through."
"We are the personal guards of the Elder Patriarch!"
The man clenched his fists tightly, growling under his breath, feeling deeply insulted. He had served the Elder Patriarch loyally for years, and never once had anyone dared to call him incompetent!
"So what?"
Faced with the man's simmering hostility, Blake remained unperturbed. He knew that from the moment the carriage had set off, the situation was already firmly in his grasp—which was why he dared to make such an audacious demand. What could they do if they turned hostile now? The young master they were sworn to protect was sitting in the carriage right behind them, surrounded by Blake's soldiers (or at least, men flying Blake's banners). Did they really think they could turn tail and run? Though come to think of it, the fact that these fools hadn't even considered this question from the moment they'd set out was proof enough of his "incompetent" assessment.
"Let me guess—you are the kind of men who follow the Elder Patriarch's every word blindly, right? You have no will of your own, no ability to think independently. Do you even know how to deal with other nobles?"
"The Elder Patriarch's will is our will," the man replied stiffly, his knuckles white with the force of his clenched fists.
"We have dedicated everything to him. We only act on his orders. As for other nobles—they are nothing to us."
Foolishly loyal idiots.
"So what? If you're so powerful, then why are you in such a sorry state, forced to flee all the way here? Given your current predicament, do you really think you have the right to look down your noses at other nobles?"
"Well... but you're not—"
The man's face flushed bright red, his voice trailing off awkwardly.
"Do not forget—my reason for helping you is because we have a deal. As both parties to this transaction, we are obligated to safeguard each other's interests. I have no intention of letting all our efforts go to waste because of your recklessness. And based on my observations so far, you simply do not possess the competence to make me feel at ease. Therefore, I demand that you follow my orders to the letter. If you refuse, then we can go our separate ways right now."
This time, Blake made no use of his usual subtle hints and innuendos. These men's heads were filled with nothing but muscle, and as the saying went—when dealing with humans, speak human language; when dealing with ghosts, speak ghostly words. With these brain-dead fools, it was far more efficient to be blunt and straightforward. If he tried to beat around the bush, there was no telling what absurd conclusions their pea-sized brains might come up with. The last thing he needed was to end up tripping over his own feet and becoming a laughingstock to Ophelia.
After listening to Blake's unflinchingly harsh words, the man's face turned a kaleidoscope of red and green, and he was left tongue-tied, unsure of what to say. Finally, he hesitated before speaking again.
"And what exactly do you expect us to do?"
"Other than protecting that young master of yours, you are to do absolutely nothing," Blake replied, waving a dismissive hand at the man's question.
"Your only mission is to ensure his safety. I do not want you meddling in anything else."
"..."
It was an undeniably harsh condition. Even the densest person in the world could hear the uncompromising edge to it. The man frowned, opening his mouth as if he wanted to argue against the terms of the deal. After all, despite their lack of common sense, they had still remembered the Elder Patriarch's instructions—to protect the young master from those with ill intentions. To be honest, they had encountered no shortage of "people with ill intentions" along the way. But in their experience, those schemers always hid their true motives behind a mask of kindness and courtesy. This young lord, however, had laid his cards on the table from the very start, refusing to mince words. While his bluntness was certainly hurtful, for a group of men who had been fed nothing but sugar-coated lies and empty flattery this entire journey, his forthrightness was actually somewhat reassuring. After all, if he really intended to betray them, he would never have been so open about his demands, would he?
"Very well. I understand."
"You are not to go anywhere without my explicit permission—not even wandering around aimlessly when we stop at inns."
"This..."
The man's expression darkened once more, his face creased with hesitation. It would be easy enough for them to obey, but he worried that the young master might refuse. But thinking of the Elder Patriarch's trust, he finally nodded his head firmly.
"No problem."
"Then you may leave."
Having said his piece, Blake said nothing further, merely gesturing for the man to depart. With a resigned sigh, the man nodded and climbed down from the carriage. By right, men of their station had no business sharing a carriage with a noble—Blake would never have invited him aboard if he hadn't needed to discuss matters privately.
"My Lord—are these men actually very powerful?"
Watching the man's retreating figure until it vanished from sight, Ophelia—who had been sitting silently beside Blake this entire time—suddenly spoke up.
"Oh?"
Hearing Ophelia's question, Blake turned to look at her in surprise. He clearly remembered that just a few days ago, this princess couldn't even tell the difference between a low-ranked, mid-ranked, and high-ranked knight. Had she suddenly learned how to judge a person's strength?
"How did you come to that conclusion?"
"I guessed," Ophelia replied, a faint flush creeping up her cheeks as she met his questioning gaze. She had never actually participated in a real battle, after all, so her assessment was nothing more than a shot in the dark. Feeling Blake's curious stare on her, the young woman cleared her throat softly, raising her head again and resuming her usual calm and serious expression.
"Based on my observations, these men are completely lacking in political acumen. But putting aside whether all members of the Zachary family are like this, the Byrd family would never have let such a golden opportunity to suppress a rival slip through their fingers. Thanks to Viscount Wynn Byrd, we already have some understanding of the Byrd family's power and cunning. If they had truly wanted to use underhanded schemes to detain these men, they would have been more than capable of doing so. And yet, these men still managed to escape. Given the Byrd family's ruthless efficiency and these men's... well, lack of intelligence, it's highly unlikely that they could have outwitted the Byrds before their plans were set in motion. Therefore, there is only one possible explanation—the Byrd family had already put their plan into action, laying all their traps and making full preparations before finally turning on them. And yet, these men still managed to escape their clutches. Which means they must possess extremely formidable strength."
Against absolute power, all schemes and plots are meaningless. And against absolute cunning, even the greatest strength is rendered useless. It was an eternal paradox—for in this world, there was no such thing as absolute power or absolute cunning. Everything was relative.
"A very good guess," Blake said with a smile, nodding in approval before turning to gaze out the window, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"That man is a mid-tier high-ranked swordsman."
"Mid-tier high-ranked...?"
Hearing this, Ophelia's eyes widened in shock, and she clapped a hand over her mouth in surprise. She had suspected that these men were powerful, but when it came to classifying their exact ranks, it was still a rather difficult task for a princess who had grown up in times of peace and never witnessed a real battle. After Blake gave her the answer, she immediately began sifting through all the information she had stored in her mind, quickly making a comparison.
"That's the same rank as Darros..."
Although Darros had never truly displayed the terrifying power one would expect from a high-ranked swordsman during his fight with Blake (after all, the gap between a knight and a swordsman was vast indeed), he had still managed to exert an immense amount of pressure on Ophelia. She was, at the end of the day, a princess who had grown up in a time of peace and had never seen real combat. Even though Darros hadn't actually attacked her, his sheer aura had left a deep impression on her. So it was no wonder she was so shocked to hear Blake say that there was a high-ranked swordsman in their midst. But her surprise quickly gave way to confusion.
"If he possesses such great strength, then why did he willingly let us lock him up in the dungeon? With his power, escaping from here should have been a piece of cake, shouldn't it?"
It was a valid question. The garrison soldiers, while not entirely incompetent, were still worlds apart from a high-ranked swordsman in terms of skill. When they had intercepted the men's carriage, why hadn't this high-ranked swordsman simply disposed of them with a flick of his wrist? Why had he allowed himself to be taken captive so meekly?
"His soul power is not very prominent, and it seems rather weak. I suspect he suffered a serious hidden injury while escaping from the Byrd family. At his current level, his strength is probably closer to a peak-tier mid-ranked swordsman. Furthermore, his current condition makes him extremely vulnerable to physical exertion. If he were to force himself to use his soul power recklessly, it could cause permanent damage to his soul. At best, it would severely weaken his strength, knocking him down to mid-ranked status. At worst... he could end up a mindless idiot. Though I have to say, I don't think there's much difference between his current state and that of an idiot anyway."
Blake quickly explained the situation to Ophelia. From the moment he had first laid eyes on these men, he had detected an abnormal fluctuation in their soul power. Now that he knew their full story, he could easily piece together exactly what had happened to them.
"Besides, with such a young burden in their care, they could never have run very far even if they had tried. We would have caught up to them sooner or later."
Hearing this, Ophelia finally let out a sigh of relief, all her doubts vanishing into thin air. She had been somewhat confused earlier—how could a man with such a glaring lack of common sense have been chosen as the personal guard of a noble family's patriarch? After all, anyone who could rise to the position of patriarch must have possessed some degree of competence. Hiring a fool like this as his right-hand man seemed like an extremely questionable decision. But now, after hearing Blake's explanation, everything made sense. It seemed that this man was nothing more than a highly skilled enforcer—after all, it was not easy to find someone who was simultaneously so loyal, so obedient (or rather, so stupid), and so incredibly powerful. If he had been nothing more than an ordinary swordsman, his lack of intelligence would have never allowed him to climb to such a position.
But still...
"You must be careful, my Lord. Don't let yourself get dragged down by them, alright?"
If the patriarch who had entrusted them with his life could see what his "loyal, honest, and reliable" guards had gotten themselves into, he would probably be so furious that he would cough up blood and drop dead on the spot. Perhaps he would even be forced to reflect on his own poor judgment in choosing his subordinates. But now, it was too late for regrets. It was not only scheming and treacherous people who could pose a threat—sometimes, those who appeared honest and upright could be just as dangerous.
"Do not worry. I know exactly what I'm doing."
With that, the two of them turned to look at each other, sharing an amused smile.
But what Blake never could have predicted was that before those Zachary guards could cause him any real trouble, it was the princess sitting right beside him who would end up stirring up a minor storm for him.