Chapter 8: The Pieces Are in Place
The following two days were some of the most difficult for Gwynnis. To guard against potential assassination, he made it a point to eat with the castle guards every day. He refused to have special meals prepared for him, even helping in the kitchen occasionally to ensure that the ingredients were fresh and the food was safe. It was a way to reminisce about his childhood.
Gwynnis became familiar with the maids, who, thinking he was being sidelined by Sofia or Gideon and hence deprived of proper meals, sometimes secretly brought him better food from the storeroom, which he always politely declined. Some guards joked about Gwynnis being accustomed to rougher living outside, unable to adjust to finer things anymore. Gwynnis just smiled and continued eating in silence.
Apart from preventing covert attacks, Gwynnis also prepared for direct assassination attempts. Since the conflict outside the Baron's room, he made sure to always carry a sword, refusing to be caught defenseless. Moreover, whenever he had free time, he meticulously planned escape routes and imagined every possible attack scenario, considering how he could extricate himself from danger.
However, he realized that escaping the castle was nearly impossible without a horse, and even with one, he would likely be quickly caught and killed. The more he strategized, the more he felt trapped, contemplating whether it was better to leave the castle and return with greater strength.
But leaving would mean losing any chance at the inheritance. Once he stepped out without immediately claiming his succession, Gideon would ascend with the Duke of Inverness as his backing, and Gwynnis would forever lose his claim to the title, possibly spending his life evading assassination.
Staying in the castle was risky, but it was his only chance. So passed another day. Waking up from a light sleep and finding himself still alive filled Gwynnis with both relief and confusion. Why was he still alive? Was Sofia actually a good person, and were his suspicions unfounded?
Gwynnis quickly dismissed such naive thoughts. He knew if roles were reversed, his adversary would have been dead on the first day in the castle. The most plausible explanation seemed to be that Sofia, being of ducal lineage and educated, might have an 'ordered evil' personality – bad, but surprisingly rule-abiding.
Finally, after enduring the hardest night, as the morning sun slowly rose, a troop of men appeared at the end of the road. They bore no banners and their equipment was shabby, looking tired and worn out. Yet, Gwynnis sighed in relief – his reinforcements had finally arrived.
Their arrival caused some commotion in the castle. Gwynnis quickly went out to receive the mercenaries.
As the mercenaries entered the castle, Gwynnis greeted Anselm, their leader. "Anselm, you've come."
"What, you're still alive, Gwynnis?" Anselm responded.
The two embraced, patting each other on the back, a gesture of mutual respect and relief.
Anselm was indeed the leader of the "Boulder" mercenary group and an old acquaintance of Gwynnis. It was with Anselm's support that Gwynnis had risen to the position of deputy leader in the small mercenary band of about twenty people. However, being a deputy leader in such a small group wasn't particularly impressive.
"I've brought everyone, including Rosalind," Anselm announced, stepping aside to reveal a red-haired girl hidden behind him. Rosalind, eighteen, from an urban background, was the daughter of the deputy chairman of the Dumfries City Merchants' Guild. Choosing not to be the obedient daughter at home, she had instead mixed with the mercenaries in taverns, pursuing her lifelong dream of understanding the truth of magic.
Indeed, Rosalind was a bona fide magician, albeit one who could only cast two basic spells. But Gwynnis knew of a little-known secret about her, which she confided in him one night when she was heavily intoxicated. Rosalind wasn't a traditional magician; her magic was fundamentally different from that practiced by the priests in the church. Her magic wasn't borrowed from the goddess but rather 'stolen.'
"Stolen from the goddess?" Gwynnis had asked at the time. Rosalind, however, gave a vague response and then fled. When she sobered up, she never brought it up again, and Gwynnis, respecting her privacy, didn't press further.
These were memories from Gwynnis's original self, from the past. "Shy now? Who was the one urging me to hurry all the way? Why the sudden reluctance?" Anselm teased.
Indeed, the story of a down-and-out nobleman's younger son and a wealthy magician girl was cliché and stomach-churning, a typical young love story filled with unspoken affections and naive understanding. Gwynnis felt a sense of cynicism about such narratives but decided to maintain this relationship for now. A female magician skilled in healing spells would undoubtedly be helpful in the future, and, importantly, Rosalind was also quite beautiful.
"…Long time no see, Gwynnis…" Rosalind said, her eyes darting away.
"Not that long, just a few days," Gwynnis replied.
Anselm, walking past Gwynnis with an exasperated look, patted his shoulder and said without looking back, "Got anything to eat? I'm starving." Then he headed straight into the kitchen, followed by the other mercenaries.
"Hey, tone it down, guys! Gwynnis is a noble now, it's different from before, be respectful!" Anselm chided.
"Eh? Who are you? Golden Tree? I don't care if you're the Golden Tree or the Silver Tree, are you the guard here? If not, stop bossing us around!" one of the mercenaries retorted.
"If it weren't for Gwynnis's sake, I would have thrown you out already, you oaf."
"Ew, did you just spit? That's disgusting!"
The kitchen erupted into chaos. Baldwin hurried to intervene, while the surrounding guards exchanged confused looks, unsure of what to do. The captain glanced at Gwynnis, then Baldwin, and finally towards the Baron's bedroom on the second floor, sighing deeply.
As a scuffle broke out in the kitchen, Gwynnis felt an unusual sense of relief amidst the turmoil.