“Poopy? No, buddy. Poopy and Dungface mean nearly the same thing. No, we need a new name for you, one that reflects your strength. One that is fit for a knight who shall protect me.”
Dungface got excited. “I protect Big Lord?”
“Yes, but only after you get stronger. One more thing, you should stop calling me Big Lord. Instead, call me Lord Bard.” Sylvester corrected him. But he didn’t tell him to use his clergy rank to call him because he reckoned the man would keep calling him Archpriest even when he becomes the Pope someday. 𝙚𝙙𝙤𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝒎
“I will work very hard.”
“Good. Now let’s get back to your name. Are you comfortable if I give you a new name?” He inquired.
“I am blessed.” The simple man, too easy to make happy, answered.
‘Good. What should I name him now? It must be something simple and easy to remember, or too much time will be spent just remembering it. Hmm, something meaningful as well, for he will be in the public eye as time goes on.’ Sylvester fell into deep thought.
He could not come up with a name, so he left it to discuss with others later.
Changing the topic, Sylvester just asked him about his life, what he liked and what his life was like. He tried to see if the man ever lied and was promptly proven wrong. Dungface was too honest, no matter what was asked.
For the first time, Sylvester felt troubled by someone’s honesty. ‘I need to teach him how to lie tactically. Or else he’d spill all the beans about me if he ever learned something he shouldn’t.’
Thinking, he steered the carriage the whole way until the sun finally started to hide. He had to make the horses go faster to reach the Barony of Strongarm so he could at least sleep in peace. The threat of Shadow Knight was always looming on his head, and he tried to plan things accordingly since then.
But every night, he does wonder why the Shadow Knight was even after him. He had killed no innocent just for sheer fun. He did his duty as the church asked, so he wondered where he went wrong. He didn’t believe just killing Romel was enough to earn the ire of the Shadow Knight. So there was something he had missed, he believed.
Amidst his thoughts, they arrived at the barony’s capital and reached the castle. Baron Strongarm had deeply impacted Sylvester’s memory due to the man’s past of being kidnapped by Mountain Tribes and living with them for a good while.
It was late at night, and dinner was likely served already. Still, when they arrived, the Baron came to greet them at the castle’s gate in the middle of the small town that had spawned around the castle.
“Welcome back, Lord Bard. I heard the news of what transpired in the North. I believe the times will be tough on all of us now.” Barom Strongarm, the tall, mighty, black-haired absolute unit of a caveman, greeted Sylvester with a warm hug for some reason.
‘Strange, I feel more worship in him towards me than the last time. What changed?’ Sylvester wondered as he knew he had not done anything significant for the man.
“Greetings, my lord. I suppose you don’t have to worry about it. Your economy is based around timber and hunting in your substantially large forest grounds. As long as you manage the money well, you will likely be the least affected noble of the Duchy.” Sylvester said, giving veiled advice.
“I will, Lord Bard. Please, join me inside. When the guards informed me of your arrival, I woke up the cooks. A hot meal shall be served as soon as we talk.”
“Thank you.” Sylvester and the rest went to the medium-sized castle.
“Lord’s house is very big,” Dungface commented, getting the attention of the burly lord.
Sylvester introduced them. “He’s… well… his name is Dungface, an inauspicious lad in the intellect but blessed by the lord with high knight’s talents. I emancipated him from Pitfall Town.”
Sylvester used particularly complex words not to make Dungface ask a dozen questions about what was wrong with his head.
Of course, Baron Strongarm may have grown up with Mountain tribes, but he was still a noble with substantial education. He understood Sylvester’s meaning and felt pity for Dungface. “He shall make quite the best man of faith, I believe–with his pure mind and heart.”
“Indeed.”
“Do you still go on hunting, my lord?” Felix blurted as they reached the dining hall.
Baron glanced at Sylvester and smiled. “I stopped after being bested by Lord Bard. What he said echoed in my mind time and time again. I need not put my life at risk, as too many depend on me. Besides… I am going to be a f…”
“Your wife’s pregnant?” Lady Aurora noticed the Baroness sitting in the dining hall, looking happy–a bit too much. How did Lady Aurora realise the Baroness was pregnant? Nobody knew.
“Indeed, and I thank Lord Bard for that,” Baron commented. But he soon felt his words could be taken the wrong way, so he added. “Because of you, I decided to start a family and further the bloodline.”
“Thank you, Lord Bard.” The Baroness chirped. “You finally nailed some rationality in my lord husband’s head.”
‘Haha, japing about your husband, but gracefully.’ Sylvester thought and chuckled while taking a seat.
“Who is that?” Baron suddenly pointed at Bishop Lazark in the furthest seat of all.
Sylvester didn’t introduce this time and let the Bishop be on his own. He wanted the man to get used to talking and bringing out a likeable persona.
“Greetings, Baron. I am Bishop Lazark Kul Mizar. Forgive me if you feel strange due to me. It’s the fault of my natural magic inclination towards darkness.” Bishop Lazark greeted with a straight face under the hood of his robes. “And this undead cat is Harpy.”
Baron suddenly jumped up and walked to Bishop. That instantly made many nervous in the room, but Sylvester only smelled excitement, surprise and admiration from him.
“My goodness! This is my first time seeing an undead cat. Can I touch your cat, my lord?” Baron asked, addressing Lazark with complete respect.
“You may, but she’s slightly shy.” Bishop Lazark let his little cat jump on the Baron’s shoulder and meow to her heart’s content.
“Haha, such a strange world we live in. You are so close to the darkness and yet serve the light.”
Bishop Lazark nodded. “Because there is only one true creator, the supreme Lord, the Solis.”
“May the light enlighten all our paths?” Baron happily chirped and played with the undead cat. “I once saw an undead deep in the North when I lived among the Mountain Tribes. It was weak and died by simply hitting it with a boulder and burning its scattered bones. But this is much different–too animated.”
“Because she’s not controlled by my will. Such necromancy is tough to cast but, in the end, it was worth it.” Bishop replied, looking at the undead cat lovingly.
Sylvester silently nodded, seeing Bishop Lazark coming out of his cocoon and talking to the Baron. But he was certain the Baron’s open-mindedness was at play too.
‘If all had such a mindset, Bishop Lazark wouldn’t have been cursed to live alone forever. Well, now he’s my cultist, so all is well when the end’s well.’
Soon, dinner was served, and most proceeded to sleep after that. But Sylvester, Felix and Bishop Lazark stayed behind as they were Sanctum Inspectors and had some things to talk about.
“Have you heard of a Sir Kenworth?” Sylvester asked instantly.
Baron rubbed his beard and tried to remember. “Hmm… the name does sound familiar. Is he a knight from the Green City?”
“That’s it!” Felix exclaimed. “What can you tell us about him?”
“He was here without invitation or declaration. My guards caught him snooping around my chief blacksmith’s warehouse. He said he was on an official mission to assess war preparedness for the Royal Family. But the man was too low ranked to be any such thing. I kept him locked in the dungeons for a week with only water and then let him go.”
“When did it happen?” Sylvester asked.
“More than a year ago, I believe. Why? Is he a part of the conspiracy?”
“Yes and no.” Sylvester prepared to drop the bomb. “But he’s likely behind the murder of Countess Marcella and the attempted murder of Countess Melinda.”
“What?!” Baron stood up in utter shock. “And I kept him so close to my wife!”
“Do you remember anything out of the ordinary about him?” Bishop Lazark asked, always straight to business.
Baron nodded, now far more serious. “He seemed paranoid and out of his mind most of the time. That’s it! He seemed just like any other drunkard my soldiers arrest every other day. I only remember him due to his absurd claims.”
Clank!
Sylvester placed the Chakram on the table he had taken from Count Jartel’s castle. He didn’t have many high hopes, but since he was in the Northern region, this was the best place to start looking for clues against that spy, Sir Walder. “Can you tell me anything about this?”
“Chakram? It’s rare around these parts. What do you wish to know?”
Sylvester elaborated. “Where was it manufactured? Most master blacksmiths have their own trademark, sometimes in the shape of a mark on the product, or sometimes as the specific composition of the material.”
“Hmm… I can’t, but my chief blacksmith sure can. There’s a reason why he’s paid more than my Prima.”
“Why?”
“Oh, you will know when you see him. He’s one exotic fella.” Baron responded, with some pride flaring up in him that Sylvester could smell.
“When can I meet him?”
“Early morning! I will inform the guards. You can go there directly.”
“That will be appreciated, my lord.” Sylvester then decided to call it a day and headed to sleep in the assigned room.
“Maxy, I’ll sleep with you again.” Miraj, feeling cold due to the northern winter, jumped into his blanket and happily tucked himself beside his chest.
Sylvester caressed the furry boy’s head. “Chonky, do you remember my lessons?”
Miraj nodded fervently while blinking his big eyes cutely. “Yes! Never use the word Pussy again.”
“…”
“No! Not that one… but yes, you should never use that word. But here I was talking about not climbing to sleep on my face at night. I get nightmares of drowning from suffocation.”
“Aye, Aye, Maxy! I hug you and sleep here.” Miraj snuggled his head near Sylvester’s chest and fell asleep quickly.
‘I’m raising a baby.’ Sylvester muttered and aimed his hand at the lantern to extinguish it.
…
The following day, Sylvester woke up early and went to find the blacksmith the Baron had spoken about the previous night. He did not know the man’s name but only the place to find him.
The workshop was adjacent to the boundary wall of the Baron’s castle, and it was at all times guarded by two men. And at the moment, the chimney on top of the workshop was intensely spewing fumes.
‘He seems to be at work.’
“Morning, lord bard!” The two guards at the gate saluted Sylvester.
“Likewise.” He replied and walked into the workshop. “Greetings, I am Sylvester Maximilian and the Baron sena���”
He stopped in the middle of his speech as soon as the blacksmith turned to him. The man appeared clad in a heavy leather apron, sweating profusely and looked.
“Exotic indeed.”
‘This is new… What ethnicity is he? I’ve never seen people with this feature in my entire life in this world.’
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