༺ 𓆩 Chapter 15 — Death Row Inmate Carlson 𓆪 ༻
「Translator — Creator」
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
“I heard you treated the children in Black Goose village. Is this true?”
The question ca only after the knights had taken their leave.
So that was why his father had summoned him.
Isaac had already guessed as much.
"Did you hear it from Schiller?"
“Yes. When I first received the letter, I thought I’d misread it.”
“I was lucky, that’s all,” Isaac replied calmly.
“Lucky?”
A flicker of doubt crossed the Margrave’s otherwise impassive face.
Luck?
Was pneumonia sothing one overca with luck?
In Goethe's territory alone, dozens died of pneumonia each year.
The majority among them were young children or the elderly.
The Margrave's eldest son had cured pneumonia sweeping through an entire village as if by so miracle.
Could such a thing be accomplished by fortune?
"I happened to read about peculiar pneumonia symptoms in a book. Then I heard from Hans about the wet nurse's village and realized the symptoms matched."
It was as if Isaac had read his father’s thoughts.
"Have you decided to stop being petulant, then?"
“.............”
Petulant.
That was the term his father used to describe the months following the mana outburst; months when Isaac lashed out in frustration and self-pity, snapping at the servants, sullen and erratic.
"I'm working on it."
After a brief silence, Isaac answered.
"On what?"
"On becoming better."
The Margrave opened a drawer and retrieved a pipe.
It was just as Isaac rembered.
There were always pipes within arm’s reach of his father — on desks, on shelves, even tucked into hidden pockets sewn inside his old coats.
Only when he smoked did the burden he carried seem to ease, if only a little.
Hiss—!!!
Grey-white smoke coiled from the stem, curling into the air with a sharp, acrid scent. The magic behind the ignition was subtle, so natural it seed the fla had always been there.
“How’s your body?”
Tack—!!! Tack—!!!
The Margrave tapped the edge of his pipe against the desk, a slow, rhythmic sound. He hadn’t said well done, not aloud, but Isaac could tell he was at least quietly satisfied.
He hadn't punished Isaac for breaking his confinent, nor had there been any roaring or interrogation about what might have happened if he'd suffered a mana explosion there.
“I’m not sure, but I haven’t had any outbursts. And the sensations that ca before… they’re not as strong anymore.”
“I see. So the physician from Othon is as competent as the rumors claid.”
That quack of a doctor?
The words nearly made it out of Isaac’s throat, but he swallowed them back down.
The old man's foul temper needed to be suppressed for now.
"However, you must not let your guard down. Your constitution is... unpredictable."
The Margrave chose his words with care.
“Yes. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“............”
“............”
According to Isaac’s mory, it had been a month and a half since the Margrave last returned ho.
And now, barely a few exchanges in, he had already run out of things to say.
He sat there silently, puffing on his pipe.
“By the way… when you returned from Winterband, did you stop by Berns?”
“Hmm?”
At Isaac’s question, Margrave removed the pipe from his lips. It was an unexpected line of inquiry.
“And why are you curious about that?”
“Because soday, I’ll have to travel to Winterband as a Goethe myself. Of course, I’ll have a guide but I ought to know the route, at least.”
“…Usually, one doesn’t pass through Bern. The road is level, but it's a much longer detour. However, when supplies are needed or there's business to discuss with the mayor, we do go through the city. This ti, on the way back, I did stop by Bern.”
The Margrave studied Isaac for a mont before answering.
“Sir Randolph and Sir Pyke as well?”
“Yes.”
“Do you normally travel with them?”
“You're curious about all manner of things today."
“Now that my body is sowhat better, I've beco quite curious about many things."
Though Margrave found Isaac’s string of questions sowhat odd, the boy deflected it with a believable excuse, curiosity, the natural kind a young heir to a noble house might feel.
Questions about the life of a domain lord, about the people of Winterband and how they lived — none of it was inappropriate.
In fact, for a father, it was a welco change. For so long, his eldest had been consud by illness and misery, showing little interest in anything beyond his own suffering. But now, he seed… different.
“Is there anything else you want to ask?”
Having answered all of Isaac’s questions, Margrave now posed one of his own.
“Just one last thing, if I may.”
“Go on.”
“Do you trust Sir Pyke and Sir Randolph?”
“…Trust them, you say. That’s a difficult question. They were both born and raised among the commonfolk of Winterband. I don’t trust their judgnt or their character, not entirely. But I do know this much, they truly wish to protect Winterband.”
“I see.”
Isaac nodded thoughtfully.
“This talk went on longer than I expected. You should go now.”
“Because of the military tribunal?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll be passing judgnt on the insubordination case, then.”
“Most likely.”
A flicker of sothing passed through the Margrave’s eyes.
Twelve years old.
Not quite grown, but no longer just a child. He was reaching the age where one began to prepare for adulthood. And yet, the way Isaac understood the discussion, grasped the unspoken implications, was remarkable.
The Margrave had never once said the word insubordination.
But Isaac had deduced the charge from his father’s words alone, understanding the context, the stakes, the gravity of military discipline.
“I’ll take my leave, then.”
After Isaac bowed and left the room, the chamberlain Schiller entered, as if he had been waiting just outside.
“Well?” he asked.
The normally unflappable Schiller was pressing for an answer, an unusual display of impatience.
“Has sothing happened to Isaac while I was away?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Ever since he regained consciousness after the mana outburst, he’s been like this.”
“I see what you ant now, when you said he’d changed. Looks like he’s made up his mind about sothing. Adele will be pleased.”
As he spoke, the Margrave tapped the desk with his index finger.
Tap—!!! Tap—!!!
‘If anything, it’s you who seems pleased, my lord,’ Schiller thought to himself.
He knew full well; that was Margrave's unconscious gesture when he was in a good mood. Even if Margrave himself didn’t realize it.
𝄞 𝄢 𝄞 𝄢 𝄞 𝄢
‘Company commanders, huh.’
According to the Margrave, Randolph and Pyke were company commanders in Winterband; they each led an infantry company of about twenty to thirty soldiers.
Normally, they would have no reason to visit the mansion, but they were here as officials related to the military trial.
The trial was about insubordination.
One of Pyke’s infantryn, while assigned to Randolph’s company on a mission, had disobeyed Randolph’s orders and even drawn a sword.
That alone would warrant a heavy punishnt, but he went so far as to swing his sword and cut off Randolph’s ear. It would have been fine to execute him on the spot, but strangely, Randolph requested a formal military trial from Margrave.
“Tsk.”
Isaac clicked his tongue.
It was a ss, plain and simple.
He didn’t know when the knights of Winterband had started getting involved in the filthy affairs of Bern’s underworld.
But one thing was certain: the person who had killed Nias’s subordinate and cut off nine fingers was most likely Randolph.
The timing and the description matched.
‘Unbelievable.’
Human trafficking, failure to command his troops, and now insubordination.
It was pathetic.
Isaac was planning to visit Winterband soon to recruit a reliable vanguard.
He could easily handle opponents who didn’t know how to deal with mages on his own, but experienced ones wouldn’t even give him a chance to cast spells.
There was still so ti, but it was inevitable that such enemies would appear eventually.
Thus, he needed a vanguard he could coordinate with.
However, if Winterband’s discipline was collapsing and the soldiers’ values were crumbling, it would be better to look elsewhere.
‘If that’s the case, they’re not a shield for Goethe, but a disease that must be purged from it.’
“Young master? What brings you here…?”
Isaac approached the entrance to the underground prison located on the west side of the mansion.
Normally, since there were no prisoners, guards were rarely stationed there.
But today was different.
There was a death row inmate awaiting execution.
“I ca to see who’s been imprisoned.”
Isaac answered the guard’s question.
“Did the Margrave grant you permission?”
“Yes. As Goethe’s heir, he told to see with my own eyes which prisoner was held and how they would be executed.”
Isaac lied without hesitation.
There was no way for the guard to verify it anyway.
“Here it is. Please be careful. I’ve heard he’s extrely quick.”
Following the guard’s lead, Isaac arrived at the prison where the death row inmate was kept.
“If you need anything, just call.”
Leaving only those words, the guard quickly returned to the prison entrance.
Isaac didn’t need anyone to tell him.
The guard had heard the rumors about Isaac’s mana explosion and was too frightened to stay near him for even a mont.
“Are you the death row prisoner?”
Isaac asked, but the prisoner didn’t answer.
It was hard to see the prisoner’s face under the dim torchlight.
ssy hair covered half his face, and what was visible was swollen and bruised.
It was a case of serious insubordination.
Whether comrades or superiors, he wouldn’t have been treated lightly.
The journey from Winterband to the mansion must not have been easy either.
And even here, surviving until the execution wouldn’t be simple.
He had handcuffs on both wrists, shackles on one ankle, and wore nothing but a tattered undershirt in the freezing weather.
If the execution was delayed, he would suffer from influenza or pneumonia.
“Why did you cut off Randolph’s ear?”
Isaac continued questioning, but the prisoner remained silent.
‘I’ll only waste ti with shallow questions.’
There was only one reason Isaac had co to see the prisoner.
To confirm whether Randolph and Pyke had any connection to Nias’s organization.
Coincidentally, there was a man whose life was hanging by a thread after committing insubordination against them.
At this point, whether it was Randolph or Pyke, resentnt against their superiors was inevitable, and he would likely have no qualms about giving testimony unfavorable to them.
“Do you know an organization called Nias?”
“.............”
“I heard they were involved in human trafficking.”
Clink—!!!
The prisoner shifted his position, making the chains rattle.
A gleam flashed from behind the hair that covered his eyes, reflecting the torchlight.
He still didn’t answer, but for the first ti, he reacted to Isaac’s words.
‘I’ve seen that face sowhere before.’
Isaac felt a sense of déjà vu as he looked at the prisoner’s face.
“Then, you must also know that your company commander was quite close to that criminal organization?”
Clink—!!!
Clink—!!!
The prisoner stood up; though gaunt and ragged, his fra was sturdy and well-built.
Clang—!!!
As he grabbed the iron bars, his handcuffs clashed loudly with them.
“I’ll say it just once.”
His lips were chapped, his face a ss from beatings, and his voice cracked with a tallic rasp, as if he hadn’t even had a sip of water.
Even so, his pronunciation was clear.
“I don’t know anything. That is all.”
The prisoner stared at Isaac as he said this, then returned to his seat.
He had firmly declared that he knew nothing, yet Isaac gained a crucial piece of the puzzle at that very mont.
Underneath the torchlight near the bars, the prisoner’s face beca clear — and Isaac recognized it.
“What’s your na?”
“…Carlson.”
“Is the only thing you answered a lie, Kyle?”
“...........!”
Clink—!!!
At the sound of his na, the prisoner flinched.
END σϝ CHAPTER
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