Chapter 348: This is Certain (1)
The soldiers, exuding an air of authority, looked at Ghislain and Arel and spoke curtly.
“Identify yourselves.”
Ghislain subtly glanced at Arel. This was the kind of situation where the attendant of a noble was expected to step up.
Ghislain raised his chin arrogantly, adopting the demeanor of a pompous noble, and stared off into the distance.
Though he had learned some basic manners from Claude and Belinda, Arel, still awkward in such situations, stammered nervously.
“I-I’m Baron Duggly from the East? W-We came here because… um… what was this word again?”
Arel, rather comically, was fumbling through a note written by Claude titled,
“How to Introduce Your Lord to Soldiers at the Gate.”
Having grown up in a rural village, Arel was unfamiliar with courtly etiquette. He had only learned to read after arriving at the Fenris Estate, so even reading quickly was a challenge for him.
Naturally, even after being taught proper manners, it was hard for him to act naturally.
When the soldiers, now suspicious, pointed their spears forward, Ghislain clicked his tongue and stepped forward.
“He is Baron Duggly from the East. We are here to see the Count of Mowbray to discuss an important matter.”
“The lord, you say?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask the purpose of your visit?”
“Do I need to explain all my business to a mere soldier? Especially when it’s something to be discussed with the Count himself?”
As Ghislain glared at the soldiers with a commanding attitude, they slowly lowered their spears.
After meticulously inspecting their identification and other documents, the soldiers opened the gates.
One soldier, as Ghislain passed by, warned him,
“The lord has been particularly irritable lately. You should be careful.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ghislain replied nonchalantly as he walked in.
The atmosphere inside the estate was no different from what they had observed outside. Everyone they passed wore somber expressions.
Arel whispered while glancing at the people around them.
“Could something bad have happened to the estate?”
“Not the estate, but the lord himself.”
“Why would everyone here look so down just because of that?”
“Because the lord’s irritation likely means strict punishment, even for small mistakes. Everyone is probably treading carefully to avoid any trouble.”
Having lived in a small village in the North before coming to Fenris, Arel had never experienced living under the scrutiny of a temperamental lord.
Though life in their village was tough due to barren lands and frequent invasions by savages, Ghislain’s father, Zwalter, had never tormented his subjects.
“So, this lord… is he a frightening person?”
Arel avoided directly calling him a tyrant but implied as much. Ghislain shook his head and answered.
“Not exactly. He’s just dealing with a problem he can’t solve, and that frustration is spilling over to everyone else.”
“His frustration is affecting others…?”
“Yes. A person’s emotions are surprisingly fragile. No matter how much you try to control it, suppressing rising anger isn’t easy. It inevitably affects those around you.”
“I see.”
Arel nodded, somewhat understanding. He, too, often felt a surge of anger when he thought about the savages.
Could someone like him, harboring such intense fury, really live without showing it to others?
Anyone with deep-seated anger was bound to let it leak out in subtle ways.
Understanding this, Arel suddenly felt a twinge of worry.
“Will it really be okay to meet such a lord?”
Since they were concealing their identities, it was unlikely they knew this person beforehand. But hearing that the person they were about to meet was highly irritable made him anxious.
Currently, it was just him and Ghislain. And Arel himself hadn’t yet fully mastered using mana.
If a conflict arose, it would undoubtedly be a tough situation. No matter how strong Ghislain was, he couldn’t fight an entire estate alone.
Though Ghislain had always found a way, the gloomy atmosphere of the estate made it hard for Arel to shake his unease.
Ghislain, as if reading Arel’s thoughts, chuckled softly.
“You don’t need to be so scared. We’re not here to fight but to solve the reason behind his anger.”
“The reason behind his anger?”
“Yes. And also to acquire a new power.”
At those words, Arel’s eyes widened.
To him, Ghislain was already an incredibly powerful individual. But he was here to gain even more power? Arel couldn’t even begin to imagine what that might be.
“Why? Curious?”
“…Yes.”
Arel nodded slightly. While he was naturally inclined to follow Ghislain’s lead, he couldn’t help but feel curious.
Ghislain began walking slowly as he explained.
“The 7th-circle mage Elois of the Ducal Family is a practitioner of the Illusionist School of Magic.”
“Illusionist… School?”
Illusionist School mages are sometimes trickier to deal with than those from the School of Destruction. This is because they can manipulate their opponents’ minds.
Of course, such tricks don’t work well on those adept at handling mana. However, ordinary soldiers have no defense against high-circle illusion magic.
In particular, the higher the circle a mage belongs to, the more people they can simultaneously deceive with illusions, guiding them into false perceptions.
What if such large-scale magic unfolded on a battlefield? Allies would attack each other, rendering all commands and strategies meaningless.
For this reason, Illusionist School mages transform into some of the most terrifying figures during wartime.
“But others think he’s a mage from a different school. Since he’s a 7th-circle mage, he’s adept at using other types of magic too.”
“You mean he’s deliberately hiding it?”
“Exactly. He’s saving it for a critical moment. If someone encounters it for the first time on the battlefield without any warning, it’ll be an absolute nightmare.”
“So, the new power you’re after is…”
“No one in our domain can block Elois’s illusion magic. That’s why we’re trying to obtain the power to counter it.”
“And that power is here?”
“Yes. But we won’t acquire it instantly. It’ll take time, so you’ll need to brace yourself.”
Ghislain didn’t elaborate on what that power was. However, the increasingly heavy atmosphere as he spoke made Arel swallow nervously.
He wanted to ask what exactly this power entailed, but he was too afraid. It was a power capable of countering a 7th-circle mage. Surely, it would require a monumental ordeal to obtain it.
‘I must become stronger.’
The lord had undoubtedly brought him here not only to train him but also to give him real experience.
Knowing the lord’s character, this task was bound to be incredibly perilous. It always had been.
Determined, Arel steeled his resolve, his expression hardening.
Sensing the need to lighten the mood, Ghislain changed the subject.
“Oh, and if I resolve this local lord’s problem, there’s another benefit.”
“What benefit is that?”
“This lord refuses to align with any faction. It’d be great if he sided with us, but even if he just stays out of the ducal families’ camp, it’ll mean fewer enemies for us. A win-win in every way.”
Arel nodded in understanding. The lord never acted without purpose, after all.
Others often nitpicked and interfered with Ghislain’s plans, but Arel never did.
‘If the lord says so, then it must be true.’
To him, Ghislain was like a god. Whatever Ghislain said was absolutely right. His devotion, however, differed from Dominic’s in its nature.
Arel had been saved and mentored by Ghislain, and his faith and loyalty to him were unwavering. Besides, as a simple country boy, Arel didn’t have the knowledge to question him even if he wanted to.
The two chatted idly as they made their way toward the lord’s manor. Along the way, the only thing they saw were people cloaked in an oppressive, dreary atmosphere.
When they arrived at the manor gates, they were once again stopped by knights and soldiers.
“Halt! What business do you have here?”
Their tone was a bit more polite than at the castle gates. After all, those who came all the way to the lord’s manor were seldom commoners.
Ghislain flashed a sly smile and replied,
“I’m Baron Duggly from the East. I’ve come to help the lord resolve his troubles.”
“Troubles… you say?”
“Yes. You see, I’m a very famous exorcist.”
* * *
Count Mowbray was perpetually in a foul mood.
Not because of the state of his domain. On the contrary, his domain was quite prosperous.
He’d managed it well without financial troubles, and his territory was strong enough that no neighboring lord would dare recklessly invade. Worrying about external threats wasn’t a pressing concern.
His singular problem was his son.
“How is Edwin’s condition?”
“We discreetly summoned mages to examine him, but there’s been no change.”
“And the confidentiality?”
“We’ve given stern warnings. Should even the slightest rumor spread, I’ve vowed to mobilize our forces and see them silenced permanently.”
“Good. But we can’t keep this secret forever.”
Count Mowbray took a deep breath, trying to calm his rising anger.
Though no rumors had spread yet, his son and heir Edwin’s problem had been ongoing for quite some time.
From a young age, Edwin’s frail and timid disposition had always irked him. He’d tried to raise the boy strictly to toughen him up.
But his strictness only made Edwin avoid him more, to the point that even seeing his face became rare.
In response, the count doubled down on his discipline, micromanaging every little action and reprimanding even the smallest mistake without mercy.
― “You fool! You can’t even handle something this trivial?”
― “Pathetic! Is there anything you can do right?”
― “How can you even call yourself the heir of this domain like this?”
Every time he was scolded, Edwin shrank further into himself. The excessive tension caused him to make even more mistakes.
And the more this happened, the angrier Count Mowbray became. There wasn’t a single thing about Edwin that pleased him.
But starting a year ago, Edwin began behaving increasingly strangely, and now he had gone completely mad.
No, to be precise, it would be more accurate to say he was possessed by something.
With an eerie appearance, he spat out curses while emanating a steady stream of miasma. Could this be called mere madness?
At first, they had only thought he was insane. They summoned a priest and tried various methods, but there was no improvement.
However, after he began openly exuding ominous energy, even calling a priest became impossible.
“Make sure the rumors don’t spread.”
“Yes, sir.”
There were occasional tales of people being possessed by evil spirits. While no one had seen it happen firsthand, there were old texts about similar incidents.
The sinister miasma Edwin emitted resembled the kind of aura that only black magicians could produce. If rumors spread, the son’s death would be inevitable.
If it had been anyone else, Count Mowbray himself would have personally executed them by fire. But this was his heir, his own son he couldn’t bring himself to kill him.
“I’ll go take a look.”
Count Mowbray began to walk slowly.
The lord’s castle was vast, with a small forest and even a lake surrounding it. Thanks to this, the area behind the castle was seldom visited, making it a good place to hide his son from prying eyes.
The only people allowed near the tower where Edwin was confined were the guards stationed there, a few servants who delivered meals, and the Count himself.
Ascending to the top floor of the tower, Count Mowbray addressed the guards.
“Open it.”
At the Count’s command, the thick iron door creaked open.
“Grrrrr…”
As soon as he stepped inside, a beast-like growl greeted him.
Count Mowbray gazed at his son, chained and restrained, with a face full of anguish.
His son, once delicate to the point of frailty, now resembled a withered corpse.
What was even more horrifying were the black veins bulging across his body and his pitch-black eyes.
Who could look at this and not believe he was possessed by an evil spirit?
Moreover, the stabbing, oppressive aura radiating from him was not something an ordinary human could generate.
As soon as Edwin spotted the Count, he smirked with those bloodshot black eyes. His voice, rasping as if clogged with phlegm, was unsettling and repulsive.
His tongue seemed to move improperly, his words halting and broken.
“Grrrr… Isn’t it pitiful… to see your son… living like this? Just set me… free…”
At first, Count Mowbray thought his son was simply pretending to be mad.
He suspected Edwin had caused this uproar out of fear of the harsh discipline and criticism he’d endured.
But as time passed and Edwin’s condition worsened, he truly transformed into something demonic.
Could his son have made a pact with demons like a black magician?
Count Mowbray shook his head. Not just anyone could form a pact with demons. His son had no knowledge of such things.
Even in this dire situation, the Count didn’t stop berating his son.
“Pathetic wretch. How weak-minded must you be to let yourself be devoured by such a vile spirit?”
“It’s your fault. You… didn’t treat your son… like a person. Grrrr… That’s why his mind… broke, and it was… so easy for something to… slip in.”
“My fault?”
“Yes… it’s your fault… This form… is just the rage… inside this boy… I merely helped it… manifest. So it’s all… because of you…”
Edwin repeated the same words over and over, relentlessly striking at his father’s heart.
After taking several deep breaths to steady himself, Count Mowbray spoke with difficulty.
“Don’t you have any intention of leaving my son’s body? If you want, I can find another vessel for you.”
Even if it meant negotiating with a demon, the Count was willing to offer a better host. He could use condemned criminals for such purposes.
But the spirit twisted Edwin’s head grotesquely from side to side several times before replying.
“I… cannot… leave… this body…”