‘Your Highness doesn’t know what it means to have survived this war.’

At his words, Lars snorted in a way that might have seemed arrogant and said.

‘It means I’m disgustingly lucky. So follow my luck.’

Could there be a more reliable ally? While Lars looked at him with apparent weariness as he burst into tears again, dawn broke. Even now, he could recall the sunrise of that day if he closed his eyes. That sunrise was the support that sustained him whenever his heart weakened.

After taking a deep breath, Pelowic raised his head. With a light but warm white coat draped over his shoulders, he went out to the outdoor garden, where a huge man who had been sitting stood up.

Beitram was wearing a murky red garment. No coat was visible anywhere. Momentarily feeling overwhelmed by his beast-like physique that seemed to have animal blood mixed in, Pelowic straightened his back even more.

“Beitram Balshwin greets Your Highness. May the glory and blessing of that brilliant sun always be with you.”

With a relaxed face, Pelowic waved his hand at the bowing Beitram and sat down.

“You must be busy taking care of your territory, yet you come to pay respects as a subject. Perhaps only good things will happen this year.”

“Only good things will certainly happen to Your Highness. Because there are those who always help Your Highness with one heart.”

Pelowic, who was raising the warmed teacup, paused. It didn’t sound like a passing remark. He slowly looked at Beitram.

“That sounds like you have someone specific in mind.”

Beitram’s tightly closed lips stretched into a long smile. The teacup looked so small compared to his large hands that it almost seemed like a baby’s toy. He abruptly asked.

“Shall I tell you an interesting story?”

“By all means. I’m very curious about a story that you find interesting.”

Pelowic felt his nerves standing on edge but calmly composed his expression. With an expressionless face, Beitram began.

“Recently, a large fox entered the territory I manage. This cunning creature didn’t clean out the farm at once but made a back door in an invisible place. So it could sneak in anytime and take what it wanted.”

Nodding his head, Pelowic listened attentively to his words. Beitram slowly lowered his body and reached for a grape.

“If it had just carried off a chicken or two to fill its belly, I would have left it alone, but when I ignored it, its greed grew. Not chickens but sheep, not sheep but cattle—it bit and tore them, causing increasing damage. So what could I do? I set a trap.”

The word ‘trap’ seemed to emanate killing intent from Beitram. As a cold wind scraped the back of his neck, Pelowic quietly put down his teacup. Beitram’s rough voice ominously cut through the air.

“But the clever creature escaped the trap. Fortunately, I was able to confirm its appearance—it looked like a rare fox with black fur and green eyes.”

For a moment, it felt like his breath stopped. Pelowic swallowed hard as he looked at Beitram. His eyes, seemingly detached from humanity, were flashing cruelly.

“It looked very good for taxidermy or for skinning and using its hide.”

Only then could Pelowic understand what he was talking about. He was talking about Lars. The fact that he was speaking like this meant he had also figured out the connection with him to some extent.

His hands, which had fully received the tension and anxiety, began to tremble. He barely lowered them under the table and interlocked his fingers, but his entire body was becoming rigidly stiff.

“But then, I found someone who saw that creature on the main road recently. If I leave it alone, it might disrupt not only my territory but other places as well, so wouldn’t it be good to take swift action?”

Though it sounded like he was asking for an opinion, Pelowic knew well that wasn’t the case. Beitram was probing the relationship between him and Lars. To find out how much he knew and how involved he was.

Though he was surrounded by scenery that was infinitely familiar to him, the fierce presence of the man before him was distorting it all. It felt as if he had been dragged into his domain in an instant.

He needed to stay calm. If he showed excitement or weakness, it could become even more dangerous than now.

Pelowic spoke with force in his throat to ensure his voice wouldn’t tremble.

“If it’s a matter of your territory, you may do as you wish, but if not, shouldn’t you examine the situation more carefully?”

At his words, Beitram smiled lightly. It was an eerie smile that revealed sharp teeth.

“Well, it’s fine. It’s in the domain ruled by the Bickman family, and since I’m not planning to do anything bad, they will of course cooperate. The Baron and I are on quite good terms.”

Bickman.

This was clearly an intentional choice of words. It was natural that he knew about Bickman. After all, Baron Bickman had recently announced to the Merchant Association that he would trade with Freemont.

Because of this, people anxiously watched Count Balshwin’s reactions while welcoming the Freemont goods they could now freely enjoy.

Lars was in danger. That much was certain. Somehow he had been exposed to the Count, and the Count would not let him live.

He needed to inform him of this fact as quickly as possible and have him hide. Even if it meant going to Freemont alone.

As he was rapidly thinking, someone appeared in the distance. It was a servant Beitram had brought. After asking for permission, Beitram gestured, and the servant approached with hurried steps and whispered something quietly to Beitram.

With an ominous feeling, Pelowic stared intently at them. Seeing a smile gradually spread across Beitram’s face, he felt his heart sink.

“I apologize for the rudeness, Your Highness, but I must leave first. They’ve found him.”

Seeing him rise urgently, Pelowic instinctively jumped up as well. His lips moved automatically.

“People might be alarmed, so why not move after dark? You’ll also need to inform Baron Bickman of the situation.”

“Darkness has always been the time of beasts. I’m merely human, so now is better if I want to catch him with ease. The Baron will understand.”

“But……!”

“Your Highness.”

Beitram stood tall, looking down at him with an arrogant gaze like a monarch. But Pelowic couldn’t budge. Resisting the primal fear was all he could manage.

Casting a deep shadow, Beitram leaned in slightly and whispered.

“Your Highness is clever, so you must have guessed why I came here. If you stay quiet and still, nothing will change. Just like yesterday, today, and in the future, only good things will happen.”

The corners of Beitram’s mouth lifted. Through his thin lips came a gentle tone.

“Do nothing.”

With a seemingly regretful expression, he shifted his gaze to Pelowic’s now trembling shoulders. His eyes reflected a strange contempt as they looked at the spotlessly clean white coat.

“And just watch as I cut off unnecessary branches. For the peace of this Edmus Kingdom. As you always have.”

Pelowic glared at him with clenched fists. After briefly staring at those golden eyes, Beitram turned and said to his servant.

“Gather the men. It’s time for a fox hunt.”

“Yes, master.”

No one moved until he left the garden. Finally free from Beitram’s overwhelming presence, Pelowic clutched his chest and breathed heavily. His entire body was trembling. Servants rushed over when they saw him staggering.

“Your Highness. Are you alright?”

“Send, send someone. The fastest person, quickly!”

As he grabbed the servant’s arm and exclaimed in a low voice, the servant nodded quickly with a confused face. Pelowic hurriedly entered the palace.

Beitram’s threats no longer remained in his mind. Lars had gotten involved in this because of him in the first place. He couldn’t just stand by knowing the danger approaching him.

‘It looked very good for taxidermy or for skinning and using its hide.’

The chilling voice echoed in his ears. Beitram would certainly do that. He was the type who could do even worse things.

First, he needed to write a letter. Sweat ran down Pelowic’s pale cheeks as he scribbled with an ink-dipped pen without even sitting at the desk.

* * *

Quido, who had climbed a tree, spotted a horse rushing out of the palace. As expected. His analysis that the relationship between that man and Pelowic was not a simple lord-servant one had been correct.

The fact that the man risked danger to obstruct the Count’s path to such an extent couldn’t be explained by ordinary loyalty. Since Pelowic lacked the ability to employ someone more capable than himself, it must be assumed that the man had chosen Pelowic. And there must be reasons for that choice that they didn’t know.

Pelowic was certainly weak, but he harbored excessive sentimentality. Threatening him to force a cowardly choice was effective because they understood his character. He wouldn’t overlook the peril faced by someone who had risked their life for him.

It could be said that misplaced sense of justice was hastening his death.

These royals raised in privilege.

He waited until the messenger on horseback came close enough, then threw a throwing star. With a groan, the messenger tumbled from the horse, and the horse continued galloping at the same speed.

Quido jumped down from the tree and stood beside the messenger who was clutching his arm and rolling on the ground. The man, barely managing to raise his upper body, looked up at him with a startled face.

“Are you on your way with orders from His Highness?”

“Who, who are you!”

As the man reflexively covered his front, Quido lightly twirled a dagger he had drawn from behind.

“Hand over the letter, and I won’t cut your throat.”

Taking a rough breath, the man looked around anxiously. He had been so concerned about his front that it was impossible not to know where the letter was. Quido lowered himself to meet the man’s eyes and said.

“Think carefully. His Highness is generous and will spare your life, but I won’t.”

He extended his foot and forcefully stepped on the throwing star embedded in the man’s arm, causing him to fall backward with a painful scream. The five points of the throwing star were sharpened like a whirlwind to tear flesh and muscle sharply as they penetrated deeper.

“Argh!”

“Take your time.”

When he made a gesture of pressing down hard with his raised foot, the man hurriedly took out a letter from his bosom and handed it over. Quido unfolded it on the spot.

The wolf knows where you are. Escape quickly.

Don’t return to Edmus for a while.

It was difficult to read the hastily scrawled writing. Quido clicked his tongue briefly and looked down at the panting man.

“Where were you headed?”

“The, the inn on the street with the fountain of God Haspia.”

“The name?”

“It’s a shabby inn with no name, just told to go to the place with the red tent in the third alley. Re, really!”

The man cried out with a face distorted by pain and fear. After staring into his eyes for a moment, Quido nodded. There seemed to be nothing more to learn.

As he stepped back, the man rose, cradling his injured arm. With faint hope, he moved his lips.