〈 Episode 39 〉Wild West 3

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"All preparations for departure have been made."

"The knights of the household have also concluded their bargain to go to the field of battle."

The report of the domestic servants. They seemed to be reporting now to Eliza Deckard, and to Samuel Deckard, who sat helpless, but they were really reporting to the men who were to be their heads, namely, Sir Millian, chamberlain to the first Earl of Deckard, who was butler, and Noel Deckard, his lordship.

"I'm glad the negotiations ended quickly."

If there was to be war, the knights were to have a down payment, to be paid either on merit or on death, which they had done uniformly under Sir Million's orders. At present, neither Samuel Deckard nor Eliza Deckard had any real power. Samuel, who had killed his first wife with his own hands, Samuel, who never wore a free expression, and Eliza, who feared Millian and Noel, merely glanced at Millian and Noel for a moment.

"Mr. Kirtle Deckard, since you will be leading Deckard in the future, do you have anything else to say?"

Kirtle is a young man with a timid demeanor. He bore a striking resemblance to Eliza Deckard, with blond hair and blue eyes, unlike Noel.

"No."

Not forgetting her manners, Millian turns to the earls of the other houses for their opinions. Noel nods in silence, and Eliza says nothing. Finally, he looks to Samuel Deckard.

"Do as your lordship wishes."

"Yes."

As the butler prepares for war, he works under the earl's watchful eye, handling all manner of administrative and logistical matters. As if he's used to it, Million goes through the motions as if he's used to serving Northwell Deckard. Samuel's muffled, withered voice calls out.

"Noel."

He calls Noel once. Tir, who hasn't emerged from the chugger since his death, has been still, her nature entering into Millian's war preparations.

"Are you all right?"

Noel could only nod, his face as expressionless as a shadow in a veil, and he could tell by feeling that the Tir was gone. He was a failed lore magician, a powerless, dying man, but he was also a swordsman. The faint scent of power emanating from Noel sent goosebumps down his spine.

"Million."

"Yes. My Lord."

"Now, I ask you this not as I, the Earl of Deckard, but as a father, and as a man who has lived his life thinking of you as a second father."

"..."

Samuel Deckard looked much older than he was, but the sincerity of his question was enough to overwhelm the room. He glared at Million without dignity, as if he didn't mind being seen.

"At your service."

"Is Noel okay?"

To ask this one question, I have to endure the smoldering coldness I feel from Million, and the chilling, knife-like aura of Noel's presence that could snap at any moment. But is he asking in the face of death, or is he asking out of genuine paternal love?

"You, Noel, have inherited half of Northwell Deckard's power."

"Half?"

There had been reports of the success of the heirloom magic, so that meant he hadn't inherited Northwell Deckard's full power.

"Of course, all of the previous iterations of the Inheritance Magic have been successful, but inherited power, as opposed to self-made power, is only a fraction of the power of the original, which is why this war is so important."

In Million's eyes, there was nothing but ambition to make the Earl of Deckard the strongest sword in the land once again. When asked if Noel was okay, he could only list his plans for the future, along with his disappointment at the unfinished work, but nothing about Noel's current mental state or whether or not he was okay. Bowing low and being polite, he speaks again.

"You, Noel, will destroy Count Sirtus, the man who has so far oppressed our Earl Deckard, and you will rise to the rank of Samuel Deckard. This is not an assumption, but a certainty."

"I'm not asking you that..."

"Count Deckard."

His eyes were cold as flies.

"You look tired, and I hope you don't mind if I dismiss this meeting."

It took him a long time to muster up the courage to ask, but all that came out was a question that now forced silence. Samuel didn't get angry, didn't accuse him of anything, but simply held up a finger like a dry twig as he said, "I'm leaving the meeting.

"I'm adjourning this meeting. I'm tired of this."

The council of administrators, knight negotiators, and vassals leave in unison.

"Millions."

The butler starts to leave, but his order to stop the meeting is honored. As if in a final act, Samuel calls for Million.

"Yes."

"What will happen if we don't go to war?"

The men backed off. The Earl's words had great power, which is why his private conversations with Million were the kind of one-on-one conversations that could only be had without such power.

"It is only that I shall not be familiar with the face of Mr. Northwell Deckard."

The father, Samuel Deckard, is speechless at Million's mention of the great name Northwell Deckard.

"So, is this Noel you've been hearing about, the one with the inherited magic?"

The fact that she is being used has been brought directly into their conversation, and yet she merely nods, her mouth closed, and stands beside Millian, neither asking nor caring.

"Count."

Millian looked up.

"You are currently akin to an animal in a large cage that wants to break free. The cascade of emotions that occurs with the forced escalation of arousal is something we can't control, and if he goes on a rampage here, there's no stopping him."

There's no one else here with Noel's level of intensity. Million says that if the war doesn't happen, there's no way to contain her, and if she herself turns into an animal and doesn't turn her attention to the war, she's doomed.

"...."

"I'll leave you to it, is there anything else you'd like me to do?"

His wrinkled brow narrows, and his white eyebrows arc downward in a frown, but he seems to have no further questions.

"No, sir. Just, for the Deckards."

"To the Deckards."

"For the Deckard family," Northwell said, and Million stepped away. In the silence, there was no Eliza Deckard, no Kurtle Deckard, no Kurtle Deckard. She only misses the only love she has ever hoped for, wished for, and even dreamed of. And Noel, who looks like her. The thought of her impending transformation hits her heart like an even more disastrous impending rainstorm.

"Why...why...father..."

He remained silent, seated in his great chair, uselessly large in the great hall of his nature for long meetings, unable to ask the question, Was the honor of the Deckard family so important to you?

.

"Mr. Noel. I see you have not yet removed your ring?"

Endless Companion, the witch's cursed artifact that allowed the caster to remove the ring himself. Wondering if there was anything else wrong, Millian turned to Noel.

"Don't touch it."

"...."

Tyr is dead. There's no doubt that some witch took his body, but with his heart pierced, he's unlikely to survive, and judging by the way he's been drawn, Noelle's lore has been successful. And yet, she hasn't removed the ring.

"Changes of heart are unpredictable.

A magical ring that promised to bring back the object of her affection. She never took it off, waiting for Tyr, who was supposed to be dead.

"Hey, Noelle."

Million calls out to Noel as he walks ahead.

"Tir is dead."

"...."

"By Noel's hand."

It's just a statement of fact. By reminding her of it, Million hopes to make her even more rabid in the war.

"Any more, and I'll tear your mouth out if you talk about it."

Noel's cold words made Million take a step back.

"Yeah."

She would go to war, to fill the gap that was still missing. Not to complete the relationship, but to oxidize that thirsty love into brutal, beautiful violence that would make her a legend in the Empire.

"Northwell Deckard.

White hair, purple eyes. That figure and the Deckard sword at his side. That was all it took for Million to realize that whatever Noel had in mind, she was going to make him walk that path.

.

"You're here."

Sergen looks at me, his voice high and strong.

"Yes..."

"Forgive me for my imprudence in suspecting that you would not come, thinking it to be a drinking party."

"No! I am rather late...it is my fault."

Another day passed, and I went to see Sergen. I entered Count Sirtus's house, and told him that I had become his private soldier, and the gatekeeper asked my name. I explain that I'm Tir, and I'm immediately shown to her private residence. Of course, it wasn't the kind of building that a normal young lady would live in, but rather a training center with a training ground instead of a garden of flowers.

"Hmm, so you're staying with Elisa, the witch?"

"Yes."

"Well, I can't stop you from living with your lover. I was going to offer you a place in my cottage if you had nowhere else to go."

I scratched my head, grateful for her consideration, unsure of what to do.

"You're dressed differently, by the way."

"Yes. Do you by any chance have a uniform that you wear as a private soldier?"

"No, I prefer my private soldiers to dress autonomously. They are soldiers, of course, and wear the uniforms issued to them by the Count, but since you are merely an escort, there is nothing wrong with that. In fact, your brown suit matches your hair quite nicely. I don't even recognize you."

"...But what am I going to be doing?"

"Well, I haven't explained it to you yet, so you'll have to forgive me for scouting you out of the blue."

"Tsk!

She handed me a heavy pouch of money.

"Here, what is this?"

"Well, it's a down payment. Since you're a proven sword user, I'm assuming you're at least as good as a chamberlain or a rookie knight, so I'm paying you."

I wasn't brave enough to blurt out how much it was in front of Sergen.

"And, since you won the battle against Arwell last time, we must go to contract with the upper echelons to get supplies for the war."

"I see."

"And to stabilize civil unrest and gain experience for the soldiers before the war, I'll assign you a mission to hunt down bandits in the neighborhood. Of course, you'll be escorting me, not leading, but it'll be good practice for you."

"...."

Sergen's words were warlike.

"Now, will you follow me?"

"If you're escorting me, I'll follow."

"Today we're only dealing with contractual matters with the top, so you'll be able to leave in peacetime."

She smiles and starts walking away.

"Hey, hey. You're not taking any other escorts with you?"

"In case you didn't know, I've only hired you as my chamberlain and escort so far."

"What?!"

"Ah, those forest rangers I told you about at the beginning were merely private soldiers, hired for convenience, but you are my first private soldier. Do you recall that bald bodyguard Arwell hired?"

I nodded slowly, remembering my confrontation with him.

"You're well suited to the role, and I look forward to serving you."

She smiled brightly, and I had an ominous feeling that things weren't going to be easy.

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