BGDN 10

Chapter 10

“The young lady is looking for me… how unusual.”

At Sioel’s words, Diasta’s face turned awkward.

It was only natural for Sioel to say that. In her past life, Diasta had not been particularly close to Sioel.

Rather than not being close… I was the one who unilaterally avoided him.

The person Diasta had feared even more than Nontel in her previous life was Sioel. While Nontel sometimes let Diasta’s mistakes slide without a word, Sioel never hesitated to speak plainly even over small errors.

Looking back now, it was all advice meant for my own good. But back then, it was so frightening.

Diasta looked at Sioel. A white wood elf—one who might break but would never bend. As a child, she had been terrified of him, but now she understood.

That in matters like this, no one was more trustworthy than Sioel.

“Shall I bring you a cup of tea?”

At Sioel’s offer, Diasta shook her head.

She was in Sioel’s butler’s office. Having tea with Sioel in an unfamiliar butler’s office would have been pleasant enough, but there was something she needed to do now.

Diasta pulled two small pouches from her bosom. From one pouch, she took out a sugar bowl. And from the other…

“…Isn’t that a dead rat?”

Sioel frowned, and Diasta spoke.

“I’ll get straight to the point. There was an assassination attempt on His Grace the Duke.”

At those words, Sioel’s expression hardened. Silence filled the butler’s office for a while.

“Young lady, could you please explain in more detail?”

His tone was cool, but Diasta felt relieved. It seemed the small signs of favor Sioel had been showing her lately were not her imagination.

If this had been the Diasta of her past life, he would never have taken her seriously the moment she brought it up.

Diasta began explaining calmly. She had used the rotten meat obtained from Marianne to catch rats. Then she had steadily fed those rats food mixed with this sugar.

At first, the rats had seemed fine, but gradually they began to act strangely. In the end… groaning, they engaged in self-harm and died.

When Diasta finished, Sioel let out a deep sigh. He looked back and forth between the sugar bowl on the table and the rat’s corpse.

“This is my fault. To allow such an item to reach the master’s table…”

“It’s not an ordinary poison. At first, it only seems to give a mild euphoria, like coffee. Then, once addicted, the victim becomes violent, and finally, they harm themselves. It’s less a poison and more…”

Sioel continued.

“…a kind of drug, I suppose.”

“Drug?”

“Yes. I’ve heard that such things exist not in the Empire, but in distant foreign lands. A substance that makes people feel good, addicts them, and ultimately destroys them… a thing more vicious than poison.”

Having worked for many years, Sioel was a capable butler. Like an elf, he was also well-versed in herbology. But it was precisely that confidence that had created a blind spot—his undoing.

Sioel firmly closed the lid of the sugar bowl with a stern expression.

“But how did you… become so certain that this is poison?”

At that, Diasta swallowed dryly. After discovering the poisoned sugar, she had agonized for a long time over how to reveal this fact.

After all, the original Diasta would never have known something that even Nontel, let alone the herbology-expert Sioel, had failed to notice.

Diasta pressed her small hands together and answered.

“A butterfly died.”

“Pardon?”

“The day I saw the sugar bowl, a butterfly flew in, didn’t it?”

“Ah, yes. That’s right.”

Diasta slowly added.

“After I brought the bowl into my room, I carelessly left the lid open. And then I found a butterfly dead beside it. Of course, it might have been a coincidence… but a butterfly’s death is an ill omen, isn’t it?”

In the Belum region, where winters were long, the heralds of spring were mostly seen as symbols of good fortune. The first flower to bloom, the Resa blossom; the tiny buds beginning to sprout; the fluttering butterflies—things like that.

Would this be convincing?

Diasta cautiously lifted her head and looked at Sioel. He was stroking his chin, lost in thought, then quickly nodded.

“Courage and caution. Add to that good luck and excellent powers of observation. All fine qualities.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant, but Sioel seemed convinced. Diasta breathed a small sigh of relief inwardly.

“The one who sent the sugar is undoubtedly that family. I must report this to the master immediately…”

Just as Sioel rose from his seat, Diasta grabbed the hem of his butler’s coat.

“Before that, I have a better idea… Would you hear me out?”

Then Diasta began to calmly explain her thoughts. As he listened, Sioel’s expression grew curious.

“That’s not a method Lord Nontel would use.”

“Right. It’s definitely not something His Grace the Duke would ever do.”

So it won’t work after all? Just as Diasta’s head began to droop—

“However, young lady. No, Diasta. I rather like that method.”

Startled by the unexpected words, Diasta jerked her head up, then blinked in surprise. Sioel was smiling brightly.

Sioel bowed his head respectfully toward Diasta.

“I, Sioel, will support your plan. So that you may achieve what you desire.”

That courteous bow resembled the oaths of loyalty vassals swore to their lord. Thinking it an absurd delusion, Diasta struggled to compose her expression.

“I won’t disappoint you, Sioel.”

The day of the meeting of the five vassals of House Belum.

Gideon, Viscount of the North, another aura user representing the northern lands and called the Shield of the North, was gazing out the window.

From the distance, a commotion could be heard—it seemed the last vassal had finally arrived at the ducal estate.

“Looks like that bastard Monsa has finally shown up.”

At Gideon’s words, Nathso nodded.

There were five vassal houses of Belum: Gideon, Nathso, Deca, Leripa, and Monsa. These five had also grown up together with Nontel since childhood, friends as much as vassals.

From their youth, they had shared everything—from monster subjugations to wars against other races. Perhaps that was why their relationship was closer to comrades-in-arms than lord and retainers.

“Why does Monsa keep getting wider every time I see him?”

Nathso frowned, and Gideon chuckled lowly.

Monsa, who had been the smallest and thinnest since childhood, had always had a voracious appetite despite his slender frame. Still, in their younger days, he had been too busy fighting and working to put on weight. Lately, it seemed he had found the leisure to fatten up.

“Still, his movements are as light as ever.”

As Gideon said, the way Monsa dismounted his horse looked still agile. Though he couldn’t stop the horse from looking pitiful.

“I heard he searched the entire western continent to find a horse capable of carrying that bastard Monsa?”

“Haha, I’ll have to ask Monsa himself if that’s true.”

Just as Monsa waddled through the main gate, Gideon turned his gaze away from his old friend, erased his smile, and became serious.

“By the way, Nathso, why do you think Nontel called us?”

Nathso stroked his white beard and replied.

“It won’t be something trivial. This is the first time he’s summoned all of us since the Great Subjugation. Most likely…”

Nathso hesitated for a moment, then continued.

“…the matter of the successor, I suspect.”

Gideon nodded.

The North had roots as tall and solid as a great oak tree. And Nontel, the knight of knights who guarded the North with unwavering constancy, seemed almost like the North itself.

But all five vassals could feel that this solid House Belum was beginning to shake. It was inevitable.

They were all of similar age to Nontel, and as Nontel aged, so did their own time pass.

Thus, they couldn’t help but worry about the fact that this solid House Belum had no official successor.

“Surely… he doesn’t intend to declare that child Diasta as the successor.”

Gideon pressed his brow in frustration. Gideon loved Diasta as he had loved the late young duke, but the succession was a different matter.

“Can that frail child truly become the master of Belusia…”

At Gideon’s sigh-laden words, Nathso fiddled with his beard.

“Well, perhaps it might be the opposite of what you think, Gideon.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Nathso replied.

“Have you heard that the young lady was recently injured by a white-horned boar?”

“I heard it was a serious injury. But I also heard she has recovered…”

“The injury itself isn’t the issue. The problem is that after she healed, her swordsmanship instructor quit.”

“Harm Stillwell?”

“Yes. Nontel, who never stopped the succession lessons despite our advice. And yet he suddenly halted the swordsmanship training? What reason could there be?”

The same thought crossed the minds of Gideon and Nathso.

The successor of Belusia might change!

Their expressions grew meaningful just as Deca strode into the reception room. Tallest and thinnest among the vassal houses, Deca was frowning as usual.

No sooner had he sat on the long reception room chair than Deca declared.

“The successor is going to change.”

At his resolute tone, Gideon and Nathso’s expressions turned uneasy. It wasn’t that they disliked Diasta, but Deca’s tone—as if relieved—irritated them.

But Deca did not stop.

“Why are you making those faces? Wasn’t I not the only one opposed to the young lady becoming the successor from the start? You all said something to Nontel about it as well. Now your wish is coming true—what’s the problem?”

At his grating words, Gideon finally burst out.

“I’ve heard rumors that you, Deca, have been seeking out distant branches of House Belum lately. I thought it was nonsense, but it seems it wasn’t.”

Deca clicked his tongue.

“Still as childish as ever. This is my duty—filling the gaps the lord has missed. Whether Nontel wishes it or not, I’m simply preparing for contingencies. To do that, I need to secure the collateral lines, distant or not. What if the young lady ends up like the young duke? Do you plan to scramble for countermeasures only then?”

“Deca, you!”

Gideon shot to his feet. It wasn’t that Deca was wrong. But he should not speak of the young duke in such a manner.

The young duke, who had died young, was like a painful thorn embedded in their hearts.

A grinding sound came from between his tightly clenched teeth. Killing intent filled the room, ready to explode at any moment, but Deca did not flinch, glaring back at Gideon.

“What, Viscount Gideon? Do you intend to cut me down?”

Just as Gideon’s fingertips reached the hilt of his sword—