Chapter 19: The Confessions of a Foolish and Cowardly Conman

To the east of the central nobility domains, on the outskirts of the imperial capital, was the domain of Duke Yellowmoon. His manor was situated in a secluded corner of his lands. For the residence of one of the Four Dukes, it was a little on the small side, but the structure nevertheless dwarfed the mansions of lesser nobles. Its courtyard was home to a flowering garden and, standing in the center, amidst the abundant flora, was a man. He looked to be in his mid-fifties and had the waist circumference to match. His mildly rotund form resembled what might have become of a certain princess who failed to stave off her encroaching F.A.T. There were dark bags under his eyes, which darted about with the anxious energy of a small animal.

“No, but... Not like that... Still, the poisonous mushrooms... Augh...”

Duke Lorenz Etoile Yellowmoon paced nervously around his garden, muttering to himself. Suddenly, there came the sound of approaching footsteps. They rang with a steady rhythm, though he didn’t seem to notice. An old butler appeared, who walked up to his master with the stately posture of a career attendant and respectfully bowed his head.

“Pardon the intrusion, milord.”

The deferential greeting nonetheless caught Lorenz off guard, and he flinched before glancing in its direction.

“O-Oh, it’s you, Bisset,” he said with relief upon determining the identity of the speaker. “You surprised me. I was...absorbed in my thoughts.”

The old butler was unmoved by his embarrassed smile.

“I apologize for disturbing your contemplation, milord. I have, however, urgent news that requires your ear... Pardon my curiosity, but have you been here since last night?”

“H-Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose I have. It’s...a crucial matter, after all. I can’t afford to sleep,” Lorenz answered timidly before yawning.

“Then allow me to prepare some tea to help you ward off the drowsiness. The report can wait until after that...”

“Ah, very well. That would be good. Thank you, Bisset...”

As he watched Bisset turn and go, Lorenz let out a deep sigh.

“But please, milord, you must sleep. Even if only for a few hours. Your strength will not last like this.”

Upon returning, Bisset promptly admonished his sleep-deprived master. Lorenz, however, only grimaced in response.

“I’d love to, Bisset. I really would... But I’m a conman, you see, and not a particularly good one at that. It takes every ounce of my wit for me to obtain the things I want,” he lamented as he pressed his fists into his face and gave his weary eyes a rub. “The Holy Eve Festival draws near. There’s not much time left for me to wring what few ideas I have out of this cursed head of mine.”

“That is, in fact, the subject of this report.”

Lorenz’s shoulders twitched uneasily.

“Th-The Holy Eve Festival? What’s the matter? Has the situation changed?”

“Yes. The poisonous mushrooms in the forest... The salamandrakes. They’ve been discovered by Her Highness.”

“Aaah...”

Lorenz leaned backward, his face tilting toward the sky. What little strength remained seemed to ebb as his arms fell helplessly to his side.

“So she has... Ha ha... How unfortunate. The Great Sage of the Empire indeed. Her Highness does not bear the title in vain...” Slowly, a smile spread across his lips. It was a resigned smile, the kind produced when all other emotions had been exhausted. “That girl really is something. It took every last drop of my wisdom to do what I did, and I still only managed to delay things a little... And I had to get my daughter to clean up after me... I had to do the demons’ bidding, Bisset, to accomplish this much. Meanwhile, she just goes and... A marvel of a girl, truly... But I digress. Did any other information come in? Do we know what happened afterward? And what does Barbara intend to do?”

“Unfortunately, we know none of these things. Her Highness’s retinue is proving exceptionally capable. The purging of Wind Crows from the empire has dealt us a heavy blow. Our eyes are limited.”

“A-Ah, right. Of course. That was Her Highness’s doing as well, wasn’t it? Remarkable. Truly remarkable,” mumbled Lorenz, who shook his head as he breathed out a long sigh.

“I have received word, however,” said Bisset, “that the wolfmaster has failed.”

“Moons, we’re on a fine losing streak, aren’t we? Then again, I suppose this particular piece of news isn’t too surprising. We already knew Her Highness is accompanied by an exceptional sword. I must say though, the Serpents are supposed to be quite proud of this wolfmaster of theirs. For him to have failed... Well, I can’t imagine they’re taking this news very well either.”

“They seem quite flustered, yes. Apparently, he almost lost his own life in the process... I’ve been informed that they wish to recall him for the time being.”

“I...see.”

Eyes still nervously darting about, Lorenz let out a sigh, but this time in relief.

“So be it then. It’s certainly not something we have any say in. Offer them whatever aid they require in getting him out—” His expression abruptly sobered. “Recall... Which means the direction is... From Saint-Noel, through Belluga...”

His muttering resumed. Bisset made no attempt to stop him, choosing only to watch in silence. After a while, Lorenz paused as if noticing his butler’s patient gaze and reverted to his timid smile.

“Ah, look at me. Lost in my thoughts again... Apologies, Bisset. I must be no end of trouble for you. Which reminds me, you’ve been here a while. Don’t you miss home? You could have gone back with them.”

“Your consideration is deeply appreciated, milord, but I do not see myself returning until I’ve repaid your kindness. Moreover...” Bisset paused. Then, as if changing his mind, his expression softened. “Rather, I ask that I am allowed to remain. It is an honor to serve you, milord.”

“Come, man. Enough with the flattery. I am foolish, cowardly, and a liar. That’s why, even if it’s to obtain the most trivial thing, I need to wring my brain dry of its limited wisdom.”

Lorenz fell into another bout of thought. After some time, he spoke again.

“Alas, my mind is proving insufficient... The streams are too many, their flow too complex. I can’t read the state of affairs. But...something might happen at Saint-Noel. Let us do what we can to prepare...”