‘Expected…’ Mordret sighed inwardly, his breath heavy with disappointment. The atmosphere grew thick with silence, none of the three - Sam, Mordret, or Eliza - uttering a word. Each wore a distinct expression.
Eliza appeared perplexed, while Mordret remained his usual composed self. However, Sam was in shambles, his gaze locked onto the arrows in disbelief. Sweat trickled down his forehead as panic consumed him.
"M-my Lord! Can I try another one? Please? I swear they'll work this time. I must've poured less essence into it," Sam implored his mind in disarray.
"Go ahead," Mordret responded with a voice devoid of emotion.
"Y-yes," Sam stammered, reaching for another arrow from his quiver. ‘That's right... one or two of them might be defective. There must be some issue with my essence,’ he muttered to himself, trying to regain his composure. After all, this was his third attempt.
At the outset, he had been baffled because the bestial arrow hadn't detonated as the blacksmith had described. On his second try, however, Sam's smile faded as the arrow broke while being fired.
Mordret, despite witnessing this, remained unfazed. On the other hand, Eliza braced herself, ready to reprimand Sam for his audacity in taunting Mordret regarding the bestial weaponry.
Regardless, Sam believed he was as good as dead. ‘Don't think about it!’ He controlled his breathing and prepared to release another arrow. Placing the slender projectile on his bow, he calmly drew the string and poured most of his essence into it. He aimed at a distant tree and silently implored, 'Please work this time. Please...'
As he released the arrow, it whooshed through the air. Sam closed his eyes, waiting for the arrow to strike its target. At the very least, the sound of it hitting the tree bark would have provided some satisfaction. However, the expected explosion never occurred.
‘Shit... Why... why is it not working?!’ Sam cursed inwardly. When he opened his eyes, the scene before him shattered his spirit. The arrow hadn't even reached its target, let alone struck it. It lay broken on the cold ground, a reflection of Sam's shattered confidence, all at the mercy of the Lord.
"My Lord..." Eliza's voice finally broke the silence, but Mordret gestured for her to halt.
"Samuel," he called, dropping all honorifics. Sam braced himself for the impending punishment, standing motionless with a pallid face as if he had witnessed the most horrifying spectacle imaginable. On the brink of an emotional breakdown, he gazed at Mordret with guilt-ridden eyes, clueless about why the bestial weapons had failed.
All the confidence he had previously displayed before Mordret had evaporated, leaving him devoid of any pride. Sam felt utterly exposed, his vulnerabilities laid bare.
‘What should I do with him?’ Zephyr pondered. Although he had an inclination to assume the role of the Lord and punish Sam, this situation paralleled his early days in the archaeology department. Back then, he had been a young, aspiring enthusiast who had purchased numerous questionable items from random sources under the guise of historical armaments. His boss had faced challenges dealing with him, but she had never blamed him; instead, she had scolded him to become better.
‘If I punish him now, he might lose his confidence,’ Zephyr mused, ‘but if I let this slide, he might never learn and become a nuisance in the future.’ After a prolonged silence, Mordret made up his mind and exhaled deeply before speaking.
"Samuel, I assume you understand the gravity of this," he continued, "Eliza, please provide him with some water, and let's relocate." Mordret's eyes fell upon the soldiers who were eavesdropping, and they quickly averted their gaze, pretending they hadn't been listening.
"Yes, my lord," Eliza responded, her desire to chastise Sam temporarily quelled by her loyalty to her Lord.
…
[Inside a small tent, moments later]
Eliza stood guard outside a small tent where Sam and Mordret sat. Although there was a seat available, Mordret chose to stand, allowing Sam some time to regain his composure.
"Are you feeling calmer now?" Mordret asked, his voice a blend of concern and firmness.
"Yes, my Lord," Sam replied.
"Is there anything you'd like to share with me? Any information about the individuals who recommended the blacksmith or the blacksmith himself?" Mordret inquired, keeping his questions somewhat vague.
"I'm sorry, my Lord, but I don't recall the blacksmith's face clearly," Sam stammered. "I have nothing to add, my Lord. I've made a grave mistake and have betrayed the trust of both the Chieftess and you. I deserve—"
Mordret interrupted Sam, his focus unwavering. "Tell me, how many of these new weapons are bestial in nature?" He showed little interest in Sam's apology.
"Umm... All of them, my lord. Since I was getting them at a cheap rate, I chose to purchase the entire stock from the blacksmith," Sam admitted, his heart sinking.
"I see," Mordret sighed again.
'He's just like me,' Zephyr couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry about the situation. Sam had unwittingly acquired flawed weaponry, which was now set to be used in an impending beast raid, a calamity that even kings feared. If their comrades were to place their trust in such weaponry on the battlefield, it would amount to mass suicide, and Samuel bore the responsibility for this grave mistake.
'He's drowning in guilt, isn't he?' Mordret couldn't help but notice. The burden of guilt weighed heavily on Sam's heart, exacerbated by the funds he had received, the trust the Chieftess had placed in him, and the camaraderie of their fellowship. His torment was palpable and agonizing.
Suddenly, Sam left his seat and prostrated himself in front of Mordret. "I apologize, my Lord. I don't know why I did such a thing. I deserve to be punished... please... please punish me. Your silence is tormenting me. I'd rather have my hands chopped off than endure this oppressive silence." Sam begged, casting aside his pride as a respected archer and soldier, tears held at bay.
"Haah. Get up, Samuel, there's no time for this," Mordret turned away and sighed. 'This might sound cringe,' he thought. He knew Sam hadn't intentionally caused this problem; someone had likely used him to harm Mordret. However, the young man needed to learn this lesson the hard way. 'I hope this works. Boss, please lend me your strength,' Mordret silently appealed before addressing Sam again.
"Don't apologize, Samuel," Mordret turned back, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Just be better," he advised, leaving Sam with those words.
...
"My Lord, why didn't you punish Samuel? He deserves to be beheaded," Eliza sulked.
'Crazy woman,' Mordret thought, shaking his head. "Ellie, it's not always about punishment," he replied. "A person who learns from their mistakes can be a greater asset than one who is punished."
Eliza seemed about to say more, but Mordret interrupted her with the question that had been on his mind. "Why hasn't the Chieftess arrived yet?"
"I had sent villagers to fetch her, my Lord, but they haven't returned either. I assume she isn't at home," Eliza responded.
Just as Eliza was about to continue, an interruption occurred. A burly man with ragged clothes appeared at the tent's entrance.
"My Lord, you called for me?" he inquired.
"Mr. Jon, come inside," Mordret beckoned him, studying Jon, who was drenched in sweat and noticeably ashamed after his earlier behavior. Jon had sworn not to return until the beast raid was over and had intended to avoid Mordret until he found Karen. However, he had no choice when Mordret summoned him.
"Hmm," Jon responded with a curt bow.
Mordret, however, had no intention of beating around the bush. "Mr. Jon, we need to prepare some items using wood and stone. Can I entrust you with this task?" Mordret asked.
"Pardon?" Jon was taken aback by Mordret's sudden request.
"Is there a problem? I said we need to—" Mordret began, a cunning smile on his face, but he was cut off.
"N-no, my Lord! I heard you. It's just... an unusual request," Jon replied, disbelief in his eyes. Crafting items out of wood and stone when the impending calamity loomed was, in his opinion, absurd.
"What exactly do I need to craft? And how many, my Lord?" Jon inquired after realizing that Mordret had no intention of explaining further.
"As many as you can create, whether spears, arrows, or machetes. Enlist any capable villagers to assist you," Mordret responded, surprising Jon.
"You are renowned as the village's best warrior, so you must know more about weapons than I do, right?" Mordret challenged Jon with a crooked smile.
Although Jon harbored guilt over his previous actions, he didn't appreciate Mordret's words. However, he had no choice. "Yes, my Lord. The first batch of weapons will be ready in two days," Jon accepted the challenge.
"Good to hear your confidence, Jon. If needed, take a few people from the Camp as well. Eliza will accompany you," Mordret continued. "Furthermore, take Samuel. Wages will be provided to anyone interested in this work." Despite Mordret's less-than-favorable relationship with the villagers, the situation was different for Eliza, thanks to her status as the Lord's servant and reputation, villagers might get attracted to the offer faster.
"Lastly, just before you depart, let me know who in the village knows the area best and can read maps proficiently," Mordret inquired.
"It must be my mother, my Lord," Jon replied.
"Other than her?" Mordret inquired.
"Then it must be my little sister, Rebecca. She knows the village well and can read and write," Jon nodded in confirmation.
"Hmm... Very well, send her to the mansion tomorrow at noon. You may leave now," Mordret instructed.
"Yes, my Lord," Jon responded, though he couldn't shake a sense of regret for having revealed his sister's personal information to Mordret.
But it was too late.
...
After dealing with Sam, Mordret had something interesting in mind. For this, he sent Eliza away so that he could have some alone time in the mansion.
"Before I leave, Ellie, keep what transpired here a secret from the Chieftess, and also keep an eye on Samuel and Jon," Mordret instructed.
"Yes, my Lord," Eliza replied with a smile.
As a lord, Mordret had one final request before parting ways with Eliza. His hand slipped under her slender waist, causing a blush to appear on her face as he drew her closer.
"We'll spend some quality time tonight." Mordret held her face with his palm and kissed Eliza passionately. The accumulated stress needed a release.
‘This is my only stress reliever in this game,’ Mordret thought with a smirk as he witnessed Eliza responding to his affection with equal intensity. "I will be there, my Lord." After some intimate moments together, Mordret left for the mansion.[1]
…
[Inside the Mansion.]
Mordret entered his room without ado and stood in front of the peculiar pillar. After devising two plans to deal with the beast raids, he needed someone with an intimate knowledge of the village's every nook and cranny.
However, for this, he had to perform some experiments. Since the old Mordret hadn't informed Eliza about the strange pillar in the room, the current Mordret decided to keep it that way. The black journal held no information about it either, so he had to solve the issue of the beast raid without any hints.
Missing Karen, the Chieftess's strange behavior, the vanishing letter from the Viscount, blurred memories, and the counterfeit bestial weaponry—there were numerous mysteries to unravel, and the answers weren't elusive for one with a keen game sense.
"All you need is a game sense," Mordret chuckled as he stood before the peculiar pillar, also known as the Obelisk of Mirage.
"Hmm… No mimic as usual, now," Mordret approached the opaque pillar, and as he touched it, he poured some of his essence, causing it to glow.
[Activate the Obelisk of Mirage?]
<Yes> <No>
"Yes," Mordret confidently responded.
After the glow subsided the mimic on the other side appeared with the same glow as Mordret’s.
"Whether their weapons are deceitful or they make accusations, as long as I have a means of escape, I know how to handle problems," Mordret remarked, watching his mimic wear the same smile as him. Although Mordret's typically expressionless face seemed out of place when he smiled, it was still handsome, considering it was his smile.
Recalling how his boss used to pass on all the work once it was no longer her responsibility, Zephyr had gained a valuable lesson in his life.
"I'm not bothered by the issues I can't manage. Boss, you've taught me that." After all, this was his second plan.
To Escape.
…
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