The Northern Grand Duke's Mad Son-in-Law - Chapter 10

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Ceaseless

◈ The Northern Grand Duke’s Mad Son-in-Law ◈

Chapter 10: Ordinary Tom

──────

“Food is important. Especially when you’re still growing. Eat as much as you can and grow big and strong.”

Galahad soon regretted saying that.

Damian went through five tables’ worth of food without leaving his seat. Captain Hook, who had been cowering before, was now smiling brightly whenever he dealt with Galahad.

“Have you never eaten a meal before?”

“I haven’t eaten in a long time.”

“Right, eat your fill. No, only half your fill.”

Galahad clicked his tongue and looked around the crowded tavern.

“Put him in there. Ah! Can’t you put him down properly, you son of a bitch!”

“I told you, the head’s heavier! Switch places, fuck!”

The men Captain Hook had called over carried away the unconscious and the dead as though they were clearing out luggage. From what Galahad had heard, they had all been troublemakers. The corpse cleanup cost one silver coin.

At that moment, the tavern door burst open. Gilbert entered, brushing snow from his shoulders.

His brows furrowed as he took in the tavern stained red. His face was full of irritation.

The people carrying the bodies immediately tensed at the sudden appearance of a knight. No matter how much of a mess the place was, they still seemed to know better than to ignore a knight.

Captain Hook ran toward Gilbert.

“Sir Knight! Those bastards did this! They butchered people and ate without paying! They’re terrible scum!”

“Didn’t I pay?”

“Shut up, you filthy mage bastard!”

Galahad clicked his tongue in disbelief. Captain Hook had taken payment for both the food and the corpse cleanup, then tattled to Gilbert.

“What kind of trouble have you caused this time?”

Gilbert asked, pressing his temples.

“Trouble? We were sitting quietly when those bastards came at us with swords. We nearly died. It’s a good thing Damian saved us. Right, Damian?”

“Yeah! It’s delicious!”

“Chew what’s in your mouth before you speak. You’re spraying it everywhere.”

Damian nodded vigorously.

“...Sir Knight?”

Captain Hook blinked. Gilbert deliberately avoided his gaze.

“So you’re saying I didn’t pay?”

“...What? What?!”

“Then that silver coin in your pocket must be one you stole from me! Sir Gilbert, arrest that bastard!”

“Eek! I was wrong! My lord, I was wrong!”

Captain Hook immediately threw himself onto the floor. Red blood that had yet to be cleaned splashed beneath him.

“Sir Gilbert, search his pockets. He stole my silver coin! Cut off one more arm and balance him out!”

Captain Hook panicked at Gilbert’s sigh and hurriedly took out the silver coin. Gilbert accepted it with a deeply reluctant expression.

“So where’s the other one you said you’d bring?”

“He caught a cold and died.”

“Hmm. That’s unfortunate. We need to find one more. Captain Hook, is there anyone useful around here?”

“There was, but...”

“Why the past tense? Did that one die of a cold too?”

Instead of answering, Captain Hook pointed at the floor with his eyes.

The men dragging away the one-eyed corpse smiled awkwardly.

Ah. He had just died.

“That one wasn’t much good. He was missing an eye. Eyes are the windows to the soul, so they’re very important. Captain Hook, have you ever caught a Demonkin?”

“No, sir!”

Startled, Captain Hook fled inside as though running for his life.

Then a rough cough sounded. In the farthest corner, a man was curled into a ball like a pill bug.

If Galahad had not been so observant, he might not have noticed him.

‘Both arms are attached, both legs are there, and his face is fine...’

Pass.

Galahad slowly rose from his seat.

* * *

As his name suggested, Tom was an utterly ordinary northern man. He was of ordinary height and ordinary appearance, so ordinary that people said he was hard to remember even after seeing him several times.

His nickname was Ordinary Tom.

Recently, trouble had broken out in Tom’s platoon, and he had to be transferred. That was why he was waiting at the castle.

Tom sat in the tavern, worrying about the assignment order due tomorrow. He wondered where he would be sent and whether the people there would be decent.

Then a man who was clearly a noble and a boy slightly smaller than the man entered the tavern, and trouble began.

A fight broke out, and the boy jumped to his feet. A man’s head rose into the air.

Tom slammed his head onto the table.

When he opened his eyes again, the tavern had become a red stew full of chunks.

Tom curled himself into as small a ball as possible. It was his special skill. He had survived several times on the battlefield using that method...

“Nice to meet you. I’m Galahad, commander of the Special Operations Unit.”

The man had somehow come right up to him and held out a hand.

Tom hastily took it. The man’s hand was as cold as ice, enough to make him flinch.

“Private First Class Tom!”

“Why are you waiting here? Are you injured?”

There was a strange force in the man’s voice. Listening to him made Tom feel oddly ticklish and at ease.

“No, sir! I’m only waiting because my platoon changed. I’ll receive my assignment tomorrow!”

“Oh, you’re waiting. Can you fight?”

“No, sir!”

“I see. Congratulations. Starting today, you’re in the Special Operations Unit.”

“...What?”

Tom blinked several times. Had he heard correctly? The conversation had taken such a strange turn that he could not keep up.

“Pack your things. The Demonkin are calling for us.”

“No... I think there’s been some misunderstanding. I’m just an ordinary private first class.”

“I know. Your mana is utterly ordinary too.”

“What? What do you mean...? Then why...?”

“After choosing everyone, I realized they all had far too much character. I needed another ordinary person like me.”

Tom blinked at the man who called himself ordinary.

The boy covered in blood and eating meat was frightening, but Tom found this man even more unsettling. There was a distance between them that felt impossible to close.

“We’re one person short, too.”

For some reason, that sounded like the real reason.

“Welcome, Tom.”

Tom had no choice.

“Private First Class Tom! Thank you, sir!”

Tom swallowed back a tear.

“Now, go talk with your unit members.”

As though he were being dragged along, Tom sat at the table and gulped.

He was sitting at the same table as Sir Gilbert, the hero of the front line. Beside him was a boy covered in blood, tearing into raw meat.

At the center sat the Grand Duke’s son-in-law, the man who had become the most famous person in the castle lately.

It was a combination that did not suit Ordinary Tom at all.

“This is Tom. Tom, since you joined last, you’re the youngest.”

“Why recruit an ordinary soldier? He’ll die soon.”

“...Am I going to die?”

“Tom, humans die someday. What matters is how valuable that death is, isn’t it?”

“...I’m going to die?!”

“Don’t worry. Now that you’ve joined the Special Operations Unit, your death will be very splendid and valuable.”

Tom let out a small scream. He was going to die. Tom wanted to live a long life.

“I think there’s been some misunderstanding. I really am an ordinary private first class. I’m not suited for the Special Operations Unit.”

“I told you not to worry. There’s even a former maid in our Special Operations Unit.”

“...A maid?”

“A maid who’s damned terrible at cleaning and washing dishes. She’s your senior.”

Tom was left speechless. He could not communicate with this man, yet he was strangely persuaded. If there was a maid, maybe it would be all right?

“So what mission does the Special Operations Unit handle?”

“I’ll tell you because you’re members now. Keep this to yourselves.”

Galahad suddenly turned serious, and Tom gulped.

The Grand Duke himself had created this unit. It was obviously no ordinary force. Even its name marked it as a special missions unit.

What kind of incredible mission could they possibly...

“Our mission is to prevent the destruction of the continent.”

‘...That’s too incredible!’

Tom’s eyes widened as though they would tear apart.

A moment of silence fell at Galahad’s calm words. Even Damian stopped eating.

“Are you joking again?”

Gilbert complained belatedly.

Tom could not laugh.

For the first time, Galahad’s eyes were serious when he said it.

“Ah, I’m going to use the bathroom. Gilbert, why are you getting up? I’m a man with a woman to marry. Stay seated.”

Gilbert, who had been about to rise and follow Galahad, twisted his face and sat back down.

“Go ahead and order as much as you want! We have plenty of money!”

Galahad declared boldly before leaving the tavern.

“Order more. Let’s bleed that bastard dry.”

Gilbert waved a hand. Damian immediately raised his hand again.

The table was filled once more.

‘He’s going to eat all this too?’

Damian ate like he had gone mad. It was amazing that so much food could fit inside that small body.

Gilbert sipped wine while watching the door, and Tom, caught between them, sat still without knowing what to do.

Only the sound of Damian tearing into meat could be heard at the table. Tom tried making a few jokes while watching their reactions, but neither of them answered.

When Tom closed his mouth as well, only silence remained.

The table had become like this just because Galahad was gone.

Tom desperately waited for Galahad to return.

The problem was...

No matter how much time passed, Galahad did not come back.

“About the bill...”

The tavern owner approached hesitantly, carefully watching them.

“That fucking bastard...”

Gilbert’s face twisted viciously.

Tom desperately curled himself into as small a ball as possible.

* * *

‘It should be around here.’

Galahad narrowed his eyes and stared ahead.

The Empire’s Intelligence Bureau had spread across the entire continent. There was a reason people said it moved the continent.

Galahad knew the location of every Intelligence Bureau safehouse scattered throughout the continent. He had worked hard for a long time to obtain that information.

The Intelligence Bureau rarely changed the locations of its safehouses. It came from the confidence that they had no equals, as well as laziness rusted through to the core.

‘Here it is.’

Galahad took a deep drag from his Mana Cigarette.

The safehouse was at the very edge of the castle’s outskirts. The wind was especially fierce there, as though there were a hole open right beside it.

There were traces of houses nearby, but all of them had collapsed. It did not look like a place where anyone lived.

Among them stood a small house. The houses on either side had collapsed over it, leaving it in such an exquisite position that one would not notice it without looking closely.

Snow had piled thickly in front of the door. Galahad examined it.

The door looked so shabby that it seemed ready to fall apart if shaken. At its center was a small groove. It looked like nothing more than a dent, but it was actually a high-grade security device.

An Intelligence Bureau safehouse could only be opened by pressing the magical device corresponding to that door against it.

It used the difference in mana flow speed caused by differences in mana concentration.

If the door was forced open, an alarm would sound inside, and everything would be burned.

Since it was practically impossible to calculate the mana required for the magical device, it was the most advanced security method available.

‘It’s still the same.’

It was the very method Galahad had proposed during the Intelligence Bureau entrance examination.

He had only presented the basic theory, and the Intelligence Bureau had taken it and developed it further. Of course, Galahad’s name had received none of the credit.

‘Bastards like corrupt professors.’

Galahad quietly cursed as he flexed his fingers.

There was one tiny problem with this security method.

If a mage knew the mana concentration in the magical device and could match it, it could be bypassed easily.

Yet mana concentration was top secret. It was not something one could memorize and carry around, and even if someone knew it, mages capable of matching mana concentration without a magical device were even rarer.

Of course, Galahad was one of those very rare mages.

‘The mana here is...’

Galahad placed his hand over the groove and concentrated for a moment. Mana flowed through his hand.

If Galahad’s memory was wrong, or if the Empire had changed the magical device for this safehouse, something serious could happen.

The Intelligence Bureau would send the Inspectorate. They were truly dreadful people. The situation would definitely become a huge nuisance.

Still, there was no chance Galahad’s memory was wrong, nor any chance the Empire had suddenly become industrious enough to change its safehouses.

‘As expected.’

Click.

With that pleasant sound, the door slowly opened.

“Wh... Who are you?”

A stupid-looking man blinked and asked.

Galahad hardened his expression as though he were out inspecting a safehouse.

“Who are you?”

“...Pardon?”

“Did you just ask who I am?”

“Th...”

At Galahad’s harsh question, the man trailed off. He was probably confused. There had been no scheduled visitor, yet Galahad had opened the door and entered.

“Did you not receive the report? Surely it was sent at dawn?”

Galahad narrowed his eyes and reprimanded him.

He presented the man with a possibility. Maybe he had not received the report because he had failed to do his work.

The man would be uncertain. Few people trusted themselves so firmly that they would not waver.

“Ah... No! I completely forgot! There’s been so much work lately! No! Rose must have received it. There’s been so much to do lately! Please come inside. She’ll be waiting.”

“Rose?”

“Ah, she’s my superior. I was assigned here not long ago myself. There has been so much to organize lately that I’ve been overwhelmed. Ha ha...”

The man rambled through excuses as he headed inside. Galahad casually looked around before following him.

Knock, knock.

“Rose, a guest has arrived from headquarters.”

Somehow, Galahad had become a guest. The door opened with a creak.

It was a room like a study, filled with books and documents on every side. A woman sat at its center.

She had striking dark red hair and red eyes.

‘Rose... How interesting.’

The corner of Galahad’s mouth twitched faintly.

“A guest?”

The woman raised her brows as she looked at Galahad.

Galahad examined her slowly. Her long hands had no calluses. There were no dark circles beneath her eyes. Her hair shone with a healthy gloss.

She had taken very good care of herself. Like an aristocrat from the capital.

“You’re Galahad?”

The woman spoke in a voice with a nasal quality.

“That’s right, I’m Galahad. But Rose... Is that your real name? It’s as pretty as your face.”

Galahad smiled as he sat across from her.

“Oh my, thank you, but it’s an agent name.”

The woman coiled a finger around her hair and gave him a slow smile.

Galahad chuckled quietly and searched his pocket.

“Ah, do you mind if I smoke?”

“Of course. Please, go ahead.”

“Is that so? Thank you.”

Galahad swallowed the dry taste in his mouth and put a Mana Cigarette between his lips. Snap. Fire rose on his finger. Beyond it, he could see the woman smiling broadly.

Galahad adjusted his mana while looking at her. The flame on his finger grew, then shrank. It settled at its original size.

The cigarette lit.

‘That should do.’

He took a deep drag. His lungs filled. His mana rotated in response, and his mind cleared. Like a beating heart, his mana swelled greatly before settling again.

It was as sacred as a knight putting on armor.

“Could you throw this away for me?”

“Pardon? Yes!”

Tap, tap.

Galahad handed the finished cigarette to the man and put a fresh Mana Cigarette between his lips.

‘This should be enough.’

Galahad exhaled a deep cloud of smoke.

“How long have you been here?”

“About a year now, I suppose?”

“Not long. It must be hard, living in such a cold and uncivilized place after being in the capital.”

“It’s all for the Empire.”

“Really? Did you marry the Empire too?”

“Marriage doesn’t suit me.”

“I see. Recently, I found myself thinking much like you.”

The woman burst into laughter. The way she covered her mouth was teasingly alluring.

“Oh dear.”

Galahad muttered quietly.

Silence continued for a moment. The woman hummed softly, apparently in a good mood, while the man put the cigarette butt he had received into his pocket.

Galahad tapped the cigarette. The unpleasant smell was pushed aside by a lemon scent.

“All right.”

Having finished his calculations, Galahad spoke calmly.

The woman and the man looked at him at the same time.

“Where is the real Rose?”

The man tilted his head at Galahad’s question.

“Isn’t she right in front of you?”

“This is a secret, but agent names are assigned to be as unlike the agent as possible. It makes them harder to remember.”

Galahad pointed at the woman’s red hair and red eyes. Her smile froze.

Snap.

Fire flared from his finger again. Its warmth drew in mana.

“Second, the northern safehouse is rarely anyone’s first assignment. They usually pass through another region before coming here. Yet you came straight from the capital. That’s very strange. Still, it could happen.”

The woman opened her mouth to answer, but Galahad raised a hand to stop her.

“Could you listen a little longer? Thank you. Third, you knew that I belonged to the Intelligence Bureau. If you only knew me as Galahad, Adrianna’s future husband, you would not be reacting so calmly to a civilian discovering a safehouse.”

A small wisp of smoke drifted from Galahad’s mouth. The woman’s brows furrowed.

“You know me as an Intelligence Bureau agent. The higher-ups would never tell you that. I may not look it, but I’m a fairly useful agent. I receive special treatment.”

“You’re remarkably confident.”

“That’s not confidence. It’s an objective assessment. Please close that mouth. This is an important part. Fine, the Intelligence Bureau has been operating like fools lately, so it is possible that you know who I am. The problem comes next.”

The woman rotated a finger as though telling him to continue. The mana concentration grew much denser. Interest appeared in Galahad’s eyes.

“You know who I am, yet you smile when you encounter me in a safehouse. That makes the least sense. The usual response is to cry and beg for your life. Or attack first. Yet you?”

Galahad coughed lightly. Smoke escaped in a broken stream.

“Interesting.”

The woman’s smile deepened again.

“I don’t find it interesting. This is unpaid overtime. Now I’ll ask again. Who are you?”

At his calm question, the woman snickered.

In an instant, her face split apart as though a mask had broken. A sharp spike shot from within.

‘The worst.’

Galahad clicked his tongue and crossed his fingers.

Bang!

A sharp sound rang through the air, scattering sparks. Crackle! The woman’s hideous split face flashed orange.

A long, snake-like tongue flicked between her vertically divided lips.

“You were Demonkin.”