Chapter : 3
Thump—.
The door slammed shut after leaving those cryptic words behind.
Adrian stared blankly at the closed door.
What did she just say?
Take back her place?
“But, sis.”
“What?”
“You’re really just going to let her go like that?”
“She walked out on her own. What, you want me to stop her?”
“That’s not what I mean…”
The bald mercenary rubbed his shiny head, trailing off before grinning.
“She’s blond with red eyes, you know.”
“So what?”
“You don’t know the rumor? Word is, a direct heir of House Eisenbold survived. Because of that, they’re paying a hefty reward for anyone who brings them a kid with blond hair and red eyes. There aren’t many who look like that. I’ve never seen one before.”
Adrian frowned.
He felt like he’d heard something like that before.
“So you wanna take her there?”
“Either way we’re escorting that merchant caravan west tomorrow, right? Let’s take her with us. Deliver the kid, get paid. Simple.”
“…”
After thinking it over, Adrian realized it didn’t sound bad at all.
We’re heading that way anyway.
What’s so hard about taking one extra brat?
Grinning, Adrian jumped to his feet.
“Jade! Go bring that girl! I’ll take her myself!”
“Yes, sir!”
Heavy footsteps thundered away outside.
Right—do good deeds and fortune follows.
Live kind, and money rolls in on its own.
Adrian was already dreaming up how much Eisenbold would pay.
Just then, Jade came slinking back—empty-handed.
“Where’s the girl?”
“She said no.”
“Huh? Why?”
“She says mercenaries don’t know loyalty and she’d probably get sold off somewhere.”
“…”
Kid’s spooky sharp.
Adrian scowled bitterly.
“She still hasn’t said anything?”
Zephyrus, a young man and the company’s accountant, approached carefully.
Adrian nodded wordlessly.
Their eyes slid over to Cleora.
Brilliant blond hair and crimson eyes.
When she looked like a filthy little beggar they hadn’t noticed, but once she was washed and dressed, her doll-like beauty drew every hardened mercenary’s gaze.
What in the world is she doing here?
She had made such a fuss insisting she had to come here, yet once they passed Rubendel’s great gate, she hadn’t said a word.
Adrian had coaxed Cleora—who had mistaken them for traffickers—saying he’d take her wherever she wanted to go.
She’d eyed him doubtfully, but must have decided she wouldn’t lose anything from it, because she agreed soon enough.
So they joined the long merchant caravan and headed for Rubendel.
It had already been five days since they’d left the south, but Cleora never once spoke up first.
She answered when spoken to, but said nothing more.
She had raised a ruckus about coming here, yet once the gates opened, silence.
“…”
Adrian said he couldn’t understand her, but truly, how could he?
Up until she passed those massive gates, Cleora believed she was returning home.
But once they cleared Rubendel’s outer edge, unease set in.
This… is Rubendel?
It wasn’t the rich and prosperous Rubendel she remembered—the one praised as the best place to live.
The ground was dry and cracked. Trees stood gaunt and withered.
Not a blade of grass to be seen.
Crumbled houses, starving people, vagrants everywhere.
Children orphaned, roaming in gangs, stealing to survive.
Curses and violence filled the streets.
And then the final blow to Cleora’s sanity—
“That’s the Eisenbold family’s castle.”
Eisenbold Castle.
A ragged, unfamiliar ruin being called the seat of House Eisenbold.
Cleora let out an incredulous laugh.
How is THAT the Eisenbold dukedom?
That’s the emergency stronghold!
A fortress built as a last stand in times of war or invasion.
Abandoned for nearly 300 years and badly needing repairs—Adrian now declared it the Eisenbold family seat.
Cleora rubbed her eyes, thinking she must be mistaken… then spotted the banner fluttering from the topmost tower.
“…It’s real.”
That banner meant the family head lived there.
“Is that really it? The castle I knew was much bigger.”
“Bigger? Ah, you mean the main keep? They lost it ages ago.”
“Lost it?”
“When the cadet branches split off, someone claimed ownership of that castle. Heard he took it. Dunno the details. Just what I heard.”
“What kind of lunatic claims ownership of the main castle?!”
Cleora bared her teeth in rage. Adrian stared, stunned.
Was she… angry?
Did she just… curse?
Since meeting her, she had never once shown emotion.
Adrian was so baffled he couldn’t even speak.
Cleora didn’t care.
Her reason had already snapped.
She glared at the shabby fortress, brows tightly knit.
This is the reward?
For the sacrifices the family made—staking everything on that war?
THIS is all they were repaid with?
What of the promise she once believed in?
“May you one day realize how empty and useless your ideals truly are.”
Suddenly, Cleora recalled what Cheleagos had said.
So this was what he meant.
Her lips pressed into a hard line.
The wagon stopped. Adrian hopped down.
He offered a hand, gesturing for her to follow—but Cleora ignored him and jumped down on her own, striding toward the castle.
Adrian scratched his head awkwardly, flustered, and followed.
As Cleora approached, she surveyed her surroundings.
Just as desolate as the rest of Rubendel.
Not a spark of life in anyone’s eyes.
The castle entrance was no better.
Two guards lounged in chairs, staring lazily at the sky—uncertain whether they were guarding or slacking.
Once, Eisenbold guards had been said to rival knights.
“Mm? Who’re you?”
One of them slowly rose, blinking at Cleora and Adrian.
For all the family’s decline, it was still a duke’s castle.
Adrian forced a polite smile.
“I’m Adrian, captain of the Red Hawk Merce—”
“Hey.”
“Huh?”
A sharp, cutting voice sliced his words clean in half.
The guard and Adrian both turned to Cleora.
“Go get the family head.”
Cleora glared coldly enough to freeze bone.
“I need to hear for myself how they managed to ruin the family name this thoroughly.”
“…”
“…”
A sunny sky that didn’t suit the barren land.
Beneath it, the guard and Adrian could only doubt their ears.
The guard scratched at his ear, wiped his face, and cautiously asked:
“…You high?”
The hand that had smoothly been writing across parchment came to an abrupt halt.
The master of the castle—the current head of House Eisenbold, Eanok—lifted his head, having been half-listening to the butler, Reginald, who had just entered and spoken.
