WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

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◈ Whispers of a Scheming Demon ◈

Chapter 5: Ilea

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As soon as dawn broke, Gaf set off on horseback again.

His destination was the Myatro demesne. It was a full day's ride away, yet he reached the lord's estate before sunset.

Forn Village. It was the settlement closest to the lord's castle.

Gaf entered the market and looked around.

He paid particular attention to the walls of buildings and the ground, searching for recruitment notices.

But there were none to be found.

Had the demon's prediction been wrong? Gaf recalled his conversation with Johan.

‘If you refuse to discuss this to the very end, fine. I'll at least give you a hint. The lord will be recruiting soldiers. Even an idiot like you should know what to do.’

Contrary to Johan's words, not a scrap of paper lay anywhere in the village.

Instead, he saw only listless faces. Melancholy hung over the entire village. The already gloomy weather only deepened the bleakness.

It seemed the demon had been wrong after all. Gaf looked down at the bundle held by the new mother.

“You acted like you knew everything, but you've already shown your limits. I only have myself to blame for being played by that tongue of yours.”

The baby struggled to raise a tiny arm.

Waaah, waaah.

The baby seemed to be pleading for something, but Gaf could not understand.

Last night, he had wanted to put a gag in the baby's mouth. Now, though, he found it a little frustrating.

Waaah! Aah!

Gaf let out a long sigh.

“I can't understand a thing you...”

Then the woman grabbed Gaf's arm.

“W-What is it?”

With her free hand, she pointed somewhere.

Gaf turned toward the direction of her finger.

There was a smithy. The ringing sound of hammered metal thundered through the air.

During harvest season, blacksmiths usually made farming tools rather than weapons.

This place was different. Suits of armor, swords, shields, and arrowheads were piled up like mountains.

Were they preparing for war? Surely not. Even wars between lords avoided harvest season. Taking farmers away to serve as soldiers would harm everyone.

Gaf looked down at the bundle again.

See? I told you so. The baby seemed to be saying that as Johan giggled.

“I don't understand.”

Gaf had suspected that the demon possessed some power to read the past. Ilea's whereabouts, the village chief's corruption, Gaf's desire for revenge. Every secret Johan had exposed so far was information that could have been uncovered with such a power.

Now, even that theory had collapsed.

There was no way Johan could have read the pasts of these villagers from the foot of the mountain. The demon's source of information was now a complete mystery.

Gaf muttered,

“I should at least confirm it.”

Then he headed for the smithy.

“May I ask you something?”

The bald man who had been quenching steel raised his head.

“Is there going to be a war?”

“You must be an outsider.”

“I asked you a question.”

No answer came.

Gaf took several copper coins from his pocket and handed them to the blacksmith.

Only then did the bald man react. He grinned.

“I can't say for certain, but it's likely.”

“What kind of war would happen at a time like this?”

“That's exactly it.”

The blacksmith looked around, then leaned close to whisper into Gaf's ear.

“The lord's only son is disabled.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Listen to the end. His only son is not sound of body, so what happens to the succession?”

“He must be severely disabled. Is the position vacant?”

The bald man nodded.

“One eye, and one lame leg besides.”

Ordinary nobles would not pass down a title to someone with that degree of disability.

“Then the heir is...”

The blacksmith folded his arms.

“The lord's younger brother, meaning the young master's uncle, is claiming the position. But the lord fiercely opposes it. Those two can't stand each other.”

The lord and his younger brother were bitter enemies.

Rather than pass his position to his brother, the baron would choose a distant cousin.

Gaf nodded in understanding.

“So there'll be a fight over the succession.”

“Well, around three hundred men have already gathered on that side.”

“What about this side? I don't see any recruitment notices.”

The blacksmith snorted.

“If war comes, do we have a choice? We'll have to swing swords with the hands that used to plow fields. At least I can handle a blade fairly well. Comes with the job. Ha ha!”

It seemed every able-bodied man in Forn Village would take part.

Gaf clicked his tongue.

“Who will harvest the grain? They should hire mercenaries instead.”

“Won't they make up the harvest shortfall with other villages? They say Taharan and Geren won't be drafted.”

Taharan and Geren lay at the southernmost edge of the Myatro territory. They were, at least, grain-producing regions.

“I...”

Gaf trailed off. He had nearly revealed that he was from Taharan. It probably did not matter, but he felt cautious for no particular reason.

“You?”

“Nothing.”

The blacksmith tilted his head.

“You stopped in the middle of a sentence. More importantly...”

He looked Gaf up and down.

“To be honest, I thought you were a mercenary.”

“More or less.”

The bald man burst into hearty laughter as if he had known it all along.

“I knew my eye was sharp. Of course, having a man who can fight on our side would be reassuring. Are you heading to the lord's castle? You won't be treated poorly.”

One veteran mercenary could more than replace fifteen farmers.

Gaf muttered skeptically,

“I don't know whether they'll hire mercenaries.”

“The lord can surely afford the pay for one man like you.”

In the past, Gaf would have demanded a fortune, but compensation did not matter now.

Saving Ilea was what mattered most.

“By the way, is that your wife?”

The blacksmith was looking at the new mother.

“She looks exhausted. Don't just stand there. Come over here. I can at least offer you a cup of water.”

The bald man held out a wooden cup.

The woman only stared blankly at him.

With a sigh, Gaf took the cup for her.

“Drink this.”

He placed it in her hand.

Only then did the woman carefully drink the water.

The bald man smirked.

“She must be quite shy. That's how a woman ought to be.”

His gaze dropped to the woman's chest.

“Oh, you have a child too.”

The bald man stepped closer and looked down at the bundle.

“What a pretty little one. Good thing the baby takes after the mother more than the father. Ha ha!”

Gaf almost said the baby was not his child, but decided against it.

“But carrying a newborn around in a rag like that, tsk. Wait a moment.”

He went to a shelf and got to work.

A short while later, the blacksmith returned with a decent baby sling.

“I roughly put it together from leftover leather. Still, it'll be much better than that cloth. I won't take any money, so use it without worry.”

Just as Gaf was about to say they did not need it, the woman swiftly snatched the sling.

She threw away the rag and placed Johan in the new nest.

The baby wore a pleased smile.

The blacksmith spoke with satisfaction.

“See? The little one likes it.”

Johan stared intently at him. Johan would remember his face and repay him properly someday.

“It looks like the little one is thanking me with those eyes. What a clever baby. Ha ha!”

“If you knew whose goodwill you've earned, you'd be terrified.”

The blacksmith, unable to understand, tilted his head.

Gaf gave his shoulder a light pat.

“Anyway, I appreciate the information.”

“Are you going to the lord's castle?”

Gaf turned away and muttered,

“Well... I still don't know.”

The moment he joined the army, he would be assisting the demon's plan.

Gaf found it difficult to decide what to do.

* * *

Baron Gryan Myatro could not take his eyes off the seat beside him, despite the variety of food spread across the table.

He was looking at a tribute maiden.

She was a doll-like girl. At around ten years old, she was still young, but her beauty was perfect for satisfying the baron's tastes.

Her hair and eyes were especially clear and lovely.

A lock of platinum-blond hair fell over deep blue eyes, resembling a white sandy beach beneath a clear sky.

“I never tire of looking at you. How can you be so beautiful?”

The girl modestly lowered her head.

“You flatter me.”

The woman seated across from the girl smiled with satisfaction.

“And that's not all. I've never seen a child as clever as Ilea. Ho ho, teaching her is truly rewarding.”

The woman laughing sweetly was responsible for training the tribute maidens. Her name was Betra. She was a prostitute.

Ilea spoke with an overwhelmed expression.

“You both praise me so highly that I do not know where to put myself. Please, spare me.”

The baron admired her as he stroked her cheek.

“You even have such fine manners. I can hardly believe you are the child of farmers.”

His clammy hand ran over her pale skin.

Though it should have been unpleasant, Ilea did not lose her smile.

“My mother taught me. She always told me I must never make a mistake when serving you, Baron.”

The baron looked at the prostitute, Betra.

“You bitch are really earning your keep.”

The tribute maidens called Betra “Mother.”

Pleased by Ilea's praise, she smiled with her eyes.

“It is only because Ilea learns faster than the others. I have done nothing.”

The baron nodded.

“What a warm relationship between mother and daughter. Looking at the two of you warms my heart.”

Ilea's expression darkened with concern.

“However, your hand grows colder by the day, Baron.”

Ilea gently removed the baron's hand from her cheek.

“Your complexion is poor as well... Are you still unwell these days?”

Gryan's vitality had been weakening day by day. Food would not go down, and he could not sleep at night. Even his once-vigorous libido had faded.

His skin, once shiny with grease, was now as dry and rough as wheat bread.

It had begun just after he took Ilea as a tribute maiden.

“...I suppose it shows.”

“How could I not know? I am always worried about you, Baron.”

The baron let out a deep sigh.

“The nightmares still plague me. It feels like I am dying.”

The corner of Ilea's mouth rose faintly. No one noticed the change.

“Do you mean the imp you mentioned before?”

An imp was a young demon.

“Yes. It simply will not go away.”

“What a vicious little thing.”

Ilea paused, then gave him a radiant smile.

“But do not worry. I am beside you, Baron. I will stay close and watch over you.”

The baron's eyes softened into a foolish smile.

“How can you speak so sweetly? You truly are admirable.”

Having said that, Gryan lightly struck the table as if making up his mind.

“This will not do.”

Resolve filled the baron's eyes.

“Though my vitality is weak, I will exert myself today. I cannot postpone this important matter any longer.”

Ilea tilted her head as if she did not understand.

“What important matter?”

“Your first night.”

He meant to take her virginity.

Ilea's face stiffened like wax.

It was a sudden change in mood. The baron asked with a flustered expression.

“W-What is it? Do you not wish to share a bed with me?”

“It is not that.”

Ilea lifted her fork. She began pointing to each dish.

In order, there was the sherry the baron enjoyed drinking, a salad made with fresh vegetables, and a small pie.

“What are these called?”

“Why bring that up all of a sudden...?”

“Please answer me.”

If she had been another tribute maiden, she would have been harshly rebuked.

“They are... appetizers?”

“That's right.”

Ilea smiled and looked at Betra.

“Mother, why do people eat appetizers before enjoying the main dish?”

Betra's eyes trembled slightly. The tribute maiden was being disrespectful to the baron. The consequences might fall entirely upon Betra.

Forcing a smile, she said,

“Ilea. The baron has told you to serve him in bed. Stop talking nonsense and answer him quickly.”

“Your answer will be mine as well, Mother.”

Was she asking for a battle of wills? Betra gripped her fork tightly. Since her hand was beneath the table, no one could see the veins standing out on the back of it.

“...To stimulate the appetite and increase anticipation for the main dish.”

She did not rise to the provocation. She could not have a confrontation with a ten-year-old child in front of the baron.

Ilea nodded.

“That is correct.”

Then she pointed straight ahead with her fork.

In the direction she indicated, girls stood lined up with their backs against the wall. They were all tribute maidens who had not been permitted to sit at the table.

Ilea looked at them and formed a calm smile.

“I want to be your main dish, Baron.”

She was telling him to savor those girls first.

Betra stared at Ilea in disbelief.

‘What kind of child...’

Even for a prostitute who had taught many girls, this was the first child of such a kind.

Ilea was more cunning than a street brat from the slums, more brazen than the daughter of a fallen noble family, and as quick to read the room as an abandoned bastard.

On top of that, she was good at everything, making it difficult to find fault with her.

Betra checked the baron's expression.

Fortunately, he was not displeased. He was merely staring at the other tribute maidens with a gloomy expression.

“...Nothing stirs me. My heart does not stir.”

His steadily fading libido no longer reacted even to ordinary women.

How had that lecherous man become like this? Betra could not understand it.

“My heart aches for you. You must regain your vitality as soon as possible.”

As she said that, Ilea raised her teacup.

“Mother should take better care of him.”

Her expression was clearly subdued, yet there was something strange about it. As though she were calmly enjoying the situation...

Betra's thoughts were abruptly cut off.

A knight entered the dining room. He approached the baron and said,

“Baron, a mercenary has arrived.”

Gryan frowned.

“Those hyena bastards, where are they sniffing around? Tell them I don't need them!”

“W-Well, there is only one.”

“What? Only one?”

“Yes, but he claims to be from the Kandea Mercenary Company.”

At once, confusion crossed the baron's face. Ilea, however, did not seem shaken.

‘...Kandea?’

The Kandea Mercenary Company. They were a cavalry force that had once earned renown in the east before vanishing without a trace.

People said they had all been wiped out.

“What bullshit? Those bastards died ages ago.”

“We confirmed his mercenary badge.”

Was he an impostor? The baron was suspicious, but Ilea was certain.

It was her father.

The knight said,

“He asks to see you. Will you meet him?”

“There is definitely only one man?”

If there were more than that, no matter who had come to visit, the baron would not pay them.

“Yes. Though he has family with him, it is only his wife and a newborn.”

Only then did Ilea's expression change. Interest rippled beneath her calm smile.

She murmured softly,

“You are quite capable.”

How long had they been apart for him to bring her a younger sibling already?

“Hmm, Ilea. What did you say?”

Ilea gave him a bright smile.

“I said I hope you have a pleasant visit, Baron.”

“I never said I was going... Still, perhaps I should see the face of this impostor.”

With that, the lord rose from his seat. He headed straight for the reception room.

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