The air still held the scent of smoke and roasted meat, but the mood had shifted, and was serious now. In the common room of the inn, Lucen and members of Thornefang had gathered to report to Lucen’s father, the Iron Duke Vardon.
Lucen asked one of the mages to activate the communication orb, and after a few seconds, his father’s image appeared. Vardon was sitting at his desk, which Lucen could see had several piles of papers stacked up.
The members of Thornefang quickly knelt upon seeing Duke Vardon’s image. Vardon, whose image was like a projection, scanned the room and then looked at Lucen.
He noticed that some of their clothes and armor, despite their efforts to clean them, their clothes and armor still bore bloodstains and ash.
"It seems quite a few things have happened to you," he said coolly.
"It is as you say, Sir," Lucen replied, his voice steady. "Many events have taken place since we last spoke."
"Report," Vardon ordered, tone flat.
Lucen then began recounting the events of the previous night. When the fake bandits attacked them. How the fake bandits did not falter, even though they were bleeding and broken.
There were also the people wearing masks who were stronger than the others. Listening to Lucen’s entire story, Vardon frowned.
"Those were no ordinary bandits," Vardon said. "Those were the fangs of the Drenwick family... The bloodhounds."
His tone shifted, lower and rougher. Even through the magical projection, an oppressive pressure filled the room. The air grew heavier, and some of Thornefang swallowed hard, their eyes fixed to the floor.
"Sir, since Viscount Drenwick continues to move against us... Am I allowed to retaliate?" Lucen asked, his voice calm but with an edge to it.
Vardon looked at him, eyes colder than steel. "Despite everything, there is no official proof that the bandits were in the Viscount’s employ."
"The bandits themselves admitted to it?"
"Who will trust the words of a bandit?"
"Then how about the attack of the bloodhounds?"
"They bore nothing that would tie them to House Drenwick. Also, the bloodhounds unit itself is simply a rumor. There is no evidence that they even truly exist. If someone was sent to investigate, they would conclude that all this was just a coincidence and the ones who attacked were truly simple bandits."
Lucen’s hands clenched, but he didn’t let it show, "... So we do nothing?"
"As Thorneharts, we cannot be seen retaliating without proper evidence... I repeat, we cannot be seen doing such things... That’s all I can say."
Vardon looked at Lucen’s eyes as he spoke, and as if he understood something, Lucen nodded his head.
"I understand," Lucen replied.
"Is there anything more?"
"We are in need of some food supplies."
"The men I send beforehand, who should be arriving in two days at the latest, should have enough supplies for the village. So is that all?"
Lucen gave a firm nod. "That is all, Sir."
Vardon’s image remained silent for a moment. Then his eyes, still sharp beneath heavy brows, lingered on his son.
"... Lucen, remember, as my heir, and as a Thornehart, you and your men must not be seen doing something against the Viscount Drenwick."
"I shall remember that, Father," Lucen answered, already understanding the hidden meaning in his father’s words. Vardon nodded his head and ended the communication.
Once the communication orb’s glow faded, the Thornefang members sighed in relief. Harlik, who was standing close to Lucen, asked a question.
"So what are we going to do now, little leader?"
Lucen didn’t answer right away. He looked down at the fading glow of the orb, his fingers drumming on the table. Then he looked up, the corner of his mouth curving into a rather vicious-looking smile.
"We’re going to get back at the Viscount."
"Didn’t the Duke just say we’re not allowed to retaliate?"
"Yes, that is correct, but he also said that we must not be seen doing it. So we just need to not be seen as the ones who did it. We’re going to use the same plan that the Viscount used on us. We’re going to kidnap his citizens as bandits."
’If he wants to play dirty, I’ll bury him in mud.’
In the shade of a silk-draped pavilion within his lavish garden, sipping citrus tea and nibbling on delicate pastries, Viscount Reval Drenwick reclined. Clad in a silk robe embroidered with the rose crest of his house, he exuded lazy arrogance.
Around him, beautiful maids tended to his every whim, one pouring tea, another fanning him, the third standing by with a handkerchief to dab away crumbs. The garden was serene, the air filled with birdsong and the scent of blooming lilies.
Though he lounged in comfort, Drenwick’s gaze was distant and sharp, fixed northward beyond the estate walls. He smiled faintly.
"A fine day," he murmured, voice smooth. "And it will only get finer once the pests are dealt with."
It had been an entire day since he had sent to eliminate the villagers and the token force sent by the Iron Duke.
’Surely they have already finished and will return to report their success.’
Reval was already expecting good news from the Bloodhounds, since they had never failed him before. As he continued relaxing and enjoying his afternoon tea time, someone came.
"Do you know how rude it is to interrupt my tea time?" Reval used a small fireball spell with no chant and tossed it near the person who came.
"I’m sorry, my lord, but there’s something urgent that I need to report."
"What is it, if it turns out that this is not worth my time, you know what’ll happen to you." The person who came to report was visibly shaken, but he continued to give his report.
"Several villages from the north have been raided by bandits, and the villagers have been taken away."
The second Reval heard the report, his eyes opened wide. "What?! Some filthy bandits took my citizens, my coin?! They made me look like a fool!"
"..." The messenger could not respond and lowered his head.
"Where did these bandits come from?"
"I’m sorry, my lord, but it’s still under investigation."
"Damn! What of the bloodhounds have they returned?" Reval shouted at the man.
"There’s no news about the bloodhounds." The messenger answered, his voice slightly trembling.
"F*cking useless!" Reval was becoming even more irritated.
’Who did it?! Obviously, those can’t be bandits, making such a big move like that. It shouldn’t be that arrogant Iron Duke. That man would not stoop to doing such things. Then who could it be... There’s also the fact that the bloodhounds haven’t returned yet... Nothing has been going as I want.’
"Tsk, leave and go find those so-called bandits."
"Yes, my lord." The messenger was happy to be finally able to leave as he bowed and quickly exited the area.
"Pamper me," Reval said as he sat back down. The maids who were frightened moments ago tried their best to serve Reval.
’Once I find those bastards who’ve stolen my coin... I’ll burn their homes, salt their fields... and then make them beg for it.’