Getting rid of the city watch soldiers was child's play for Blake and Ophelia. After all, one was a noble and the other was of royal blood—how could mere common-born soldiers dare to lay a finger on them? As for the innkeeper, he was truly out of luck. Not only was he stuck with disposing of the bodies that had appeared out of nowhere and had no known next of kin, but he also couldn't demand a single copper coin in compensation from Blake. He had already stated the previous day that the payment was more than enough to cover the entire top floor; going back on his word now would only invite disaster. Besides, the young nobleman looked like he was not one to be trifled with. In the end, the poor innkeeper had no choice but to swallow his grievances—merchants aimed to make money, but they valued their lives even more. What good was all the gold in the world if you were dead to spend it?
News traveled fast in Roya. By dawn the next day, practically every powerful noble in the city had heard about Blake's assassination attempt the night before. Previously, they might have wondered why anyone would be foolish enough to attack a High Swordsman. But once word got out that the heir to House Zachary—the young master—was under Blake's protection, they all immediately understood.
*So that's it!*
This news was a matter of grave concern for both factions within House Zachary. The cadet branches vying for the patriarch's seat grew increasingly anxious, dreading the return of the rightful heir. During the young master's disappearance, they had made extensive preparations and rallied a great many supporters. Some had allied with them out of resentment over being marginalized by the main branch; others had joined forces to maintain the stability of House Zachary now that the old patriarch's child was missing. These neutral factions wielded significant power—they had chosen to side with the opposition not out of malice, but to ensure the family's continued survival, with the added benefit of securing more power for themselves. After all, aligning with the faction that defended the legitimate heir would never yield them greater benefits.
But if the old patriarch's heir returned safely to the family, these neutral factions would immediately abandon the opposition. On this continent, nobles placed immense value on bloodline. If all direct heirs were to perish, installing a cadet branch heir would be a somewhat absurd but acceptable solution to preserve the family. No one would raise a serious objection. However, if a direct heir still lived and the nobles chose to enthrone a cadet branch heir instead, it would be an unforgivable betrayal of noble tradition. Not only would the internal members of House Zachary oppose it, but other great noble houses would also ostracize them for violating the sacred rules of nobility.
In stark contrast to the opposition's panic, the loyalist faction was ecstatic. In their eyes, the young master's imminent return meant the family's honor and legitimacy would be preserved! Unlike the opposition, they wasted no time in dispatching a large contingent of men to the inn where Blake was staying, eager to bring their young master back to the family estate.
Unfortunately, they were far too naive.
"Honored Mr. Blake," an elderly man with a head of white hair and a straight, dignified posture bowed respectfully to Blake before raising his eyes to look at the young noble with a mixture of pride and gratitude.
"On behalf of House Zachary, I wish to thank you for all you have done for us. Without your assistance, House Zachary would have lost its glory forever... please accept our deepest gratitude."
"I have done nothing to deserve the thanks of House Zachary," Blake replied coolly, narrowing his eyes as he folded his arms across his chest and studied the old man.
"So, tell me—what brings you here today?"
"This..."
Blake's indifferent attitude caught the old man off guard. Had he not assumed the young noble had come to Roya specifically to protect the young master and return him to the family? Now it seemed his assumptions might have been misplaced.
"We are profoundly grateful for your protection of the young master, sir. In truth, the entire family has been consumed with worry for his safety. If you would be so kind... I wish to take the young master back to the family estate, where we can ensure his safety and protect him properly," the old man explained earnestly.
"Is that truly the case?"
A faint, meaningful smile tugged at the corner of Blake's lips as he spoke.
"Frankly, I do not trust your promises."
"Sir?"
The old man's expression darkened slightly at Blake's blunt words. Though the remark was deeply discourteous, he forced himself to remain calm and asked in a low voice,
"May I ask what you mean by that?"
"Ensure his safety? Protect him properly?"
Blake chuckled and shook his head.
"Honestly, I do not believe you possess the strength to do so. You failed to protect him before—so why do you think you can succeed now?"
"This..."
The old man's face turned ashen with embarrassment. Blake's words were harsh and unyielding, and he had no valid counterargument to offer. For it was the unvarnished truth. Ever since the old patriarch had fallen gravely ill, they had increased security to protect the young master and his elder sister, but their efforts had been in vain. As the old saying went, "It is easy to dodge an arrow shot in broad daylight, but hard to guard against a stab in the dark." Shortly after the old patriarch's death, the young master's elder sister had "fallen gravely ill," taken to her bed, and soon followed her father to the grave. The young master himself had vanished without a trace. Though they had mobilized all their forces within the domain to search for him, the damned opposition had constantly obstructed their efforts—and they had been powerless to stop them. As time passed, more and more people defected to the opposition's side. If they had insisted on confronting the opposition head-on, it would have caused irreparable damage to the family, leaving them vulnerable to exploitation by other great noble houses—a scenario House Zachary could never afford to let happen.
Thus, a silent war raged within House Zachary, its outcome hinging entirely on whether the young master was alive or dead. If he lived, their faction would prevail; if he died, House Zachary would inevitably fall into the hands of the cadet branches. After all, the majority of people would always choose to pursue their own self-interest above all else.
But now, victory was within their grasp—yet Blake's words had exposed their fatal flaw. Even if they succeeded in bringing the young master back to the estate, could they truly protect him? Could they do a better job than a High Swordsman?
The answer was obvious: of course not. If they possessed power comparable to a High Swordsman, they would never have been pushed to the brink by those damned cadet branches.
With a heavy sigh, the old man turned and departed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
Watching the old man's retreating figure, Blake's lips curled into a cold, mocking smile.
"How did it go?"
Shortly after the old man left, Ophelia appeared at Blake's side. She had been tasked with staying close to the young master and his attendants, comforting them and ensuring they did not leave her sight and do anything foolish. Though the young master and his men had been deeply shaken by the events of the previous night, Ophelia had managed to persuade them to remain quietly in the inn.
"Those fools are just as impatient as I expected. It seems their situation has grown quite desperate lately," Blake commented, a sardonic grin playing on his lips.
"This is perfect. It appears our client has more than enough strength and capital to purchase our goods."
"Do you not think we could demand an even higher price if our client were truly backed into a corner, my lord?" Ophelia asked, shaking her head with a faint smile.
"Between a desperate gamble and holding the key to victory in my own hands, I much prefer the latter. And I am certain our client is no fool," Blake replied, shrugging his shoulders before turning to look at Ophelia with a curious glint in his eyes.
"Though I must admit, I find myself somewhat puzzled."
"Hmm?"
"Surely with your intelligence, you must have guessed what we intend to do with our young master in the end."
Ophelia's expression flickered slightly at Blake's words. She lowered her eyes and fell silent. In truth, she had known all along that despite Blake's pretense of playing both sides against each other, he was actually more inclined to ally with the opposition. The reason was simple: if he chose to support the loyalist faction, he would have to spend a great deal of time and effort protecting the young master. As the loyalists had naively assumed, simply returning the young master to their care would leave him vulnerable to another assassination attempt. If the opposition were to seize power in House Zachary in the future, Blake would have made a powerful enemy for no reason—a scenario he would never allow. In contrast, the opposition's demands were far easier to fulfill: their only threat was currently in Blake's hands. If Blake eliminated that threat, the opposition would have no trouble taking full control of House Zachary. In terms of both time and effort invested, allying with the opposition was by far the more convenient option.
Thus, Blake was keeping the young master alive merely as a bargaining chip to extract maximum compensation from the opposition. Once his goals were achieved, the young master would have no further use—and his fate would be sealed. The opposition would never allow such a dangerous threat to live, and Blake had no intention of leaving a loose end to haunt him.
But this kind of deal was inherently unethical and could never be openly acknowledged. Ophelia was still young, and Blake had been uncertain whether she would be able to accept such a ruthless plan. Yet much to his surprise, she had not expressed any overt opposition or despair. On the contrary, while she had not shown any signs of approval, her actions and behavior indicated that she supported his plan.
This was highly unusual for someone he knew so well. Admittedly, Ophelia was no sheltered flower raised in a greenhouse, but she was far more accustomed to formulating strategies that maximized benefits within existing rules and systems, rather than resorting to underhanded tactics that broke or circumvented those rules.
"I understand perfectly well," Ophelia said softly, letting out a deep sigh before shaking her head.
"Frankly, I still harbor some reservations about your plan, my lord. I acknowledge it will buy us the most time and maximize our benefits and results. But sacrificing a child to achieve those ends... I cannot say I fully approve of such an outcome. However..."
"However?"
"That child... he frightens me a little."
Ophelia lifted her head, and as she glanced toward the door, Blake noticed a flicker of fear and... sorrow in her eyes.
"On the surface, he appears so innocent and naive. But in truth, he is using us—using us to create the most favorable situation for himself. His methods are still clumsy, of course, but for those who trust him, this kind of deception is more than enough to exert a considerable influence and achieve his desired effects."
As she spoke, Ophelia wrapped her arms around herself, as if lost in painful memories.
"I have seen that same look in someone's eyes before—those eyes that seem bright and sunny on the surface, but are actually cold and calculating beneath. I do not know what kind of upbringing that child has had, but I understand that he..."
Ophelia suddenly clamped her mouth shut, as if she had said something she should not have.
*Is that all?*
Blake frowned slightly to himself. Ophelia was by no means a neurotic woman who made decisions based on vague premonitions. Of course, he had seen through the young master's little schemes as well—the boy thought he could elicit their sympathy by playing the role of a helpless victim, especially from someone like Ophelia, who he probably assumed would be soft-hearted toward children. But he had not expected Ophelia to see through the act so easily. After all, she had once been hailed as a prodigy princess, with a keen intuition for politics and intrigue far beyond that of ordinary people. So what had truly prompted her to support this ruthless plan? Could it be related to the circumstances of her own death?
Naturally, Blake kept these questions to himself. Ophelia had always been reluctant to talk about how she had died, let alone explain why a beloved and celebrated princess of the realm had ended up dead in an abandoned well in the remote backwater of Twilight Forest.
"I think I understand," Blake said quietly.
"Hmm?"
Ophelia looked up in surprise at his unexpected words, her eyes widening in confusion.
"Understand? Understand what?"
"Where I come from, there is a saying: *Human nature is inherently evil*," Blake explained, standing up and walking over to Ophelia, his gaze locking onto her bright blue eyes.
"What it means is that every person is born with an inherent capacity for evil. It is only as we grow older that these dark impulses are gradually suppressed and controlled."
"That is a most peculiar notion..."
Ophelia stared at him in astonishment. Blake had made many strange remarks before, but she had never heard anyone openly declare that all humans were born evil.
"What is so strange about it?" Blake shrugged indifferently.
"When a child is first born, they only know how to act in ways that are most beneficial to their own survival. They smile and show kindness to others to gain their favor and ensure they are cared for properly. As they grow older, they learn to choose and exploit the methods that best serve their own interests. They will grab everything they see and claim it as their own. In the eyes of mature adults, this kind of behavior—willful, reckless, greedy—is a form of evil. Of course, these impulses are restrained through later education. As children grow up, they gradually learn to overcome their selfishness, to share with others, and to make sound judgments about their actions. A child might tear off a butterfly's wings and drop it into an ant nest just to amuse themselves, watching the spectacle with delight. Is that behavior innocent... or is it cruel?"
"This..."
Ophelia opened her mouth to speak, but found herself at a loss for words. It was true—even she had been a willful child once, causing her mother no small amount of worry. It was only through years of hardships and her mother's patient guidance that she had developed her current temperament. But what would she have become if she had never faced those setbacks, never received her mother's admonishments and teachings?
"The same principle applies here," Blake said, placing a hand on Ophelia's shoulder.
"Do not worry—leave this matter to me... but as my adjutant, I expect you to remember your place."
Would you like me to continue refining the subsequent chapters of this Western fantasy novel to maintain the consistent style and plot momentum?