"Well…"
Upon hearing Black's words, the two men's expressions instantly turned awkward. They exchanged glances, neither quite daring to speak up first. In the end, Viscount Wen cleared his throat and spoke.
"Mr. Black, I imagine you witnessed our dispute in front of General Celt earlier."
"I did," Black nodded, then looked at the viscount before him, waiting for him to elaborate.
"It's like this… I'm sure you must have some impression of that plainly dressed nobleman. I can tell you frankly—he is Cherton, the third-in-line heir to the Mobius family. You may not be aware, but within the Kingdom of Westerland, the Mobius family and our Byrd family lead the two major noble factions that dominate the western and southern regions respectively. That is why, when my father learned that the Mobius family had sent men to the Crimson Fortress, he ordered me to bring a detachment here to assess the situation. After all, the movements of the Mobius family are a matter of the utmost importance to the Byrd family."
"The Zachary family feels the same way," Della cut in, her words few but hitting the nail on the head.
"Our clan leader has no desire to see the Mobius family gain any advantage from this campaign. That is why he dispatched me to ally with the Byrd family, in the hopes of keeping the Mobius family in check."
Black's smile remained unchanged as he listened, but Ophelia frowned deeply, clearly displeased. Though she was no longer a princess, she had once been part of the Westerland royal family—and she had long been familiar with the sordid power plays between nobles. Still, she had not expected that even in the face of a national crisis, these nobles would cling so stubbornly to their petty feuds, scheming against each other while their homeland faced imminent danger. In her past life, she would have exploded with anger at the sight.
But now, she knew her status was different; she had no right to lecture these nobles. Even so, she let out a soft, dissatisfied huff to voice her annoyance.
Ophelia's sigh was quiet, but it only served to make Viscount Wen and Della more embarrassed. They had no idea the young lady was upset by their inter-family squabbling—they thought she had seen through their true motives and was expressing her disapproval. Though, for all they knew, that might well have been the case.
"So… when we heard that you, Lord Black, had come to the Crimson Fortress, we… uh… came here hoping to enlist your aid," Viscount Wen said awkwardly, but his meaning was crystal clear. It was obvious that the Byrd family did not believe they had the strength to take on the Mobius family alone. But with Black in the picture, they had turned to him for help. After all, Black's power was there for all to see—and regardless of their past minor disagreements, their two families were technically allies. If they could rope this young man into their scheme to outmaneuver the Mobius family, it would be the perfect solution.
Originally, Viscount Wen and Della had planned to arrive as reinforcements and place themselves under Black's command. They were confident that if Black accepted their troops, their mission would be halfway to success. Even if they did not actively provoke the Mobius family, the long-standing animosity between the two factions would ensure that conflict erupted sooner or later.
But their carefully laid plans had been turned upside down by Black's sharp observation. They had never expected him to see through their ruse so easily and force them to speak their true intentions aloud. It was deeply embarrassing for Viscount Wen and Della. After all, while they called it an "alliance," both sides knew it was nothing more than exploitation. As long as the truth remained unspoken, they could all maintain the pretense—but now that it was out in the open, the situation had become rather awkward.
"I understand what you're asking," Black nodded, his expression still unreadable.
"But this hardly seems to concern me."
"Of course not! We only hope to seek your assistance, Lord Black. You may not be aware, but unlike our Byrd family, the Mobius family built their fortune on magic. In fact, they are responsible for supplying the royal court with its mages. That gives them enormous influence within the royal family. While the Byrd family controls the Golden Trade Route—enough to strangle the Mobius family's livelihood if we resorted to underhanded tactics—we are at a severe disadvantage in open confrontation. As I'm sure you know, the Byrd family has never been known for its military might. We have few skilled swordsmen, and even fewer mages…" Viscount Wen's voice trailed off, tinged with helplessness.
The Byrd family had never relied on brute force to thrive; their power lay in their vast wealth and extensive connections. That was the only reason they had been able to stand toe-to-toe with an ancient noble house like the Mobius family for so long.
Money could solve most problems, of course—but there were times when it was useless. Like now.
That was why they were so desperate for military support—and Black was their best bet.
Viscount Wen had never wanted to come here in the first place. Though he had confidence in his own abilities, he knew this lord was not an easy man to deal with. Every time they made a deal, Black demanded a steep price. Earlier, to secure him as an ally, the Byrd family had been forced to cede three towns and a portion of the Golden Trade Route—concessions that had sparked widespread discontent within the family. But Viscount Wen had had no choice; he understood the stakes. Now, he was once again representing his family in negotiations—and heaven only knew what exorbitant demands this lord would make this time. Before arriving, he and Della had racked their brains trying to anticipate Black's price, but they had come up empty-handed. Once, Black had been a lord with little money, few men, and a tiny domain. But now, he had a steady source of income, a magnificent city under his rule, and a retinue of beautiful young women at his side. For a man, he had already achieved just about everything one could wish for. The only exception, perhaps, was status—but Viscount Wen could not imagine that a high-ranking swordsman would care much about whether his title was viscount or marquis.
The worst part of any negotiation was not knowing what the other party wanted—and Black was the perfect example of that.
"Of course I'll help," Black said, nodding without hesitation—completely taking Viscount Wen by surprise.
"After all, your family and mine are allies. It's only natural to help a friend in need. If you require my assistance, I will not turn you away."
He's being this easygoing?
Viscount Wen and Della exchanged stunned glances. They had never expected things to go this smoothly. Wasn't this lord supposed to be the type to squeeze every last drop of profit out of a deal?
"T-Thank you, Lord Black. Are you truly willing to…"
"Absolutely," Black nodded again, breaking into a warm, sincere smile.
"I always keep my promises. Your families and I have a good relationship. It's my duty to help my allies resolve their troubles. Besides, the Mobius family is hardly worth my concern. Rest assured—no matter what schemes they hatch, I guarantee they will not succeed."
"We are deeply grateful for your assistance, Lord Black," Viscount Wen and Della said, still a little bewildered. But with Black having spoken so plainly, they had no choice but to accept his offer. Regardless of their lingering doubts, the fact that things were progressing smoothly was a huge weight off their shoulders—and their moods lifted considerably.
"By the way, Lord Black, I have a small piece of advice for you. Please be careful of that fat nobleman—his name is Clark. He's from a high-ranking noble family, and rumor has it that he's extremely cunning and lecherous. I don't think he can cause much trouble within the fortress walls, but he commands a band of ruthless underlings that make him quite dangerous. As I'm sure you've heard from General Celt, many of the nobles here were sent to the fortress to be cannon fodder. Clark is the ringleader of that group. We don't know exactly why he was exiled… but it's best to keep your guard up around him."
"I see," Black nodded, the image of the portly nobleman lounging on the sofa earlier popping into his mind. On the surface, Clark had looked like nothing more than an arrogant upstart, flaunting his wealth with his gaudy attire. But now it seemed there was more to him than met the eye.
But for the moment, this was not a matter Black needed to concern himself with—because at that very instant, a knock sounded at the door. Charlotte's expression remained calm as she gave the room a slight bow, then turned and walked to answer it. Della watched her leave, his expression complex. As a member of the Zachary family, he had immediately recognized Charlotte as the long-dead Zachary heiress. What was more, he had been the one to personally administer the poison that had supposedly killed her. Now, seeing her standing here alive and well, it was all he could do to keep his emotions in check. He glanced at Black out of the corner of his eye, then shook his head silently. In truth, Della had never told his clan leader about Charlotte's resurrection—he simply did not know how to put it into words. But what puzzled him most was that no matter how closely he observed her, Charlotte gave no sign of recognizing him. Was it possible that she really was not the Zachary heiress he had once known?
While Della was lost in his thoughts, Charlotte returned to the room—this time accompanied by two men dressed as stewards. They wore immaculate uniforms, their hair slicked back to a glossy sheen, and their skin had an unnaturally pale hue. Their demeanor was haughty in the extreme as they strode into the room, their backs ramrod straight. When their eyes fell on Ophelia and the other young ladies, they lit up with a greedy glint—but they quickly masked their expressions, restoring their air of arrogant indifference.
"Master, these two are envoys from the Mobius family," Charlotte announced.
Speak of the devil.
At Charlotte's words, Viscount Wen and Della instantly straightened their backs, their expressions turning serious. They stared at the two stewards with thinly veiled mockery, thinking that their timing could not have been more perfect. No sooner had they finalized their agreement with Black than the Mobius family had sent their lackeys to their door. But they were also curious—what could the Mobius family possibly want with Black? They had no prior dealings, as far as they knew. Could it be that they were trying to poach him as an ally? If so, this was a rather brazen way to go about it.
"Greetings," the lead steward said, giving Black a perfunctory nod—his version of a bow. The gesture was peculiar, to say the least: he tilted his chin upward first, then gave a slight jerk of his head, as if deigning to acknowledge Black's presence. It was a greeting that conveyed not an ounce of respect.
"We are stewards of the Mobius family, sent here by order of Lord Cherton," he said coldly, then held out a sealed letter.
Fool!
Viscount Wen and Della thought in unison. They knew all too well that despite Black's outwardly gentle and harmless demeanor, he was a man who could turn the tables on anyone foolish enough to cross him. Viscount Wen, in particular, had learned this lesson the hard way—and the experience had left him with a lingering sense of unease, so much so that he overanalyzed every word Black spoke. For this steward to dare act so arrogantly in front of Black was nothing short of suicidal.
Sure enough, Black seemed utterly unfazed by the steward's rude behavior. He simply gestured for Charlotte to take the letter, which she did, passing it to him. Black broke the seal and scanned the contents—and raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Assaulting a member of the family?
Like Viscount Wen, Black had been completely baffled by the Mobius family's sudden visit. He had assumed that his prominent appearance in front of General Celt had piqued their curiosity, and that they had come to sound him out as a potential ally. But that theory was now out the window. The letter in his hand made a shocking accusation: the Mobius family claimed that someone in Black's retinue had assaulted one of their members, and they demanded that Black hand over the culprit to them for trial and punishment.
Leaving aside the arrogant, condescending tone of the letter, the content itself was enough to leave Black utterly confused.
"Did any of you do this?" he asked, looking up after reading the letter aloud in a concise tone.
"I know nothing of this, Master. I have never even heard of this family," Charlotte replied first.
"Nor I, my lord. I give you my word," Judy said, pausing for a moment to think before answering. She had been standing guard at the door.
So…
"Messiah doesn't know anything," one of the twin sisters said.
"Semira has no idea either," the other added in unison, shaking their heads to confirm their ignorance.
"Denial is futile," the Mobius envoys said flatly, clearly unconvinced. They kept their heads held high, their expressions cold and unyielding.
"We have witnesses who can prove that one of your people attacked a member of the Mobius family. This is an indisputable fact—you cannot deny it!"
In contrast to Charlotte and the others' bewilderment, Black noticed that Viscount Wen, Della, and Ophelia were all looking at him with hesitant expressions, as if they knew something he did not.
"I will look into this matter thoroughly," Black said, gesturing for the envoys to leave. "You may return to your master now."
"My lord gives you three days to hand over the culprit," the lead steward said, his expression unchanged despite Black's dismissal. His voice was icy as he dropped the ultimatum, then turned on his heel and strode out of the room with his companion—completely ignoring Black's authority.