Ileil couldn’t understand what Gro was hinting at anyway.
She looked at Gro’s calm and composed appearance, not knowing where he got the confidence to speak in riddles in front of Prinshitt.
“From the moment I learned of Your Highness’s arrival in Renn Town last night, I’ve been observing…” Gro’s gaze swept over every corner of the dining room, finally landing on the empty spot behind Prinshitt.
“I noticed that the number of Your Highness’s guards is less than one-third of the normal complement. The forces at your side seem a bit weak… If we are to confront a full-fledged witch, relying solely on the powerful saint by your side might still fall short.”
“You’ve been monitoring my movements all along?” Prinshitt’s expression darkened, and she said warily.
“Your Highness is the future hope of Aressto… and also the only surviving heir of His Majesty the King. I would never harbor any ill intentions toward you.”
Prinshitt stared into Gro’s deep blue eyes, cold sweat involuntarily breaking out on her forehead.
‘Aressto… future hope?’
That’s how Gro referred to Prinshitt, but to her ears, those words sounded so grating.
Prinshitt couldn’t help but recall the words her father king had left in her ear before she departed from the royal capital:
‘Aressto does not need an incompetent heir, Prinshitt.’
‘Do not let your brother sacrifice in vain for you; you must prove your worth.’
Just recalling her father’s words made Prinshitt feel short of breath, her chest tight.
She couldn’t forgive the self she once was, pampered from childhood, evading responsibilities…
“Your Highness, please compose yourself.” Dorias said softly, the saint’s concerned voice pulling her back to reality.
Prinshitt lifted her head to look again at Gro sitting across from her; his gaze had softened a bit:
“I’ve seen many noble young ladies. Most of them are unambitious, living off the power and prestige brought by their parents…” At this point, Gro said meaningfully:
“Limited by my perspective as a mercenary—the people I’ve encountered are mostly unfortunate. A single mishap is enough to destroy their affluent and carefree lives.”
“Watch your words, Mr. Gro.” Dorias’s hand heavily knocked on the table, his eyes sharp:
“Don’t use what you think are profound metaphors to make offensive remarks. I hope you can speak with fewer twists and turns.”
But Gro didn’t take Dorias seriously at all; he stared at the princess lost in thought and continued:
“To be honest, when I first heard the news of Your Highness coming to Renn Town yesterday, I superficially lumped you with the stereotypical young ladies in my mind. But after hearing about your arduous experiences from Duke Lokas, and witnessing your determination to become stronger this morning… I realized I was wrong.”
“I admire your resolve. If you can place your trust in me during this time—I will provide you with unreserved assistance in eliminating the evil.”
…….
Ileil’s gaze jumped back and forth between the two; she finally understood Gro’s intention—it turned out he was indirectly flattering that princess.
Although Ileil roughly understood Gro’s meaning, she still couldn’t grasp what exactly he was hinting at.
In contrast, Dorias with his complex expression, the silent Prinshitt, the thoughtful Duke Lokas… and Gro pretending to be profound, not knowing what he was acting.
They all seemed to know what Gro was really saying, and only she felt like an outsider who understood nothing.
‘At this point, let’s eat first.’
Ileil thought so.
She didn’t want to know about the princess’s dark and heavy past anyway; since Gro had already started on the venison ahead of her, she should take the opportunity to eat something good too.
……
“How should I trust you—’Black Edge’ Gro de Morant?” The wariness in Prinshitt’s eyes hadn’t diminished much because of Gro’s words:
“You know my past, and I know yours. If our roles were reversed—would you trust an executioner from Kastit?”
“Your Highness…” The young duke, Lokas, who had remained silent until now, spoke up: “Although Mr. Gro is a bit crude in etiquette, I can assure you—he is a trustworthy collaborator.”
“What do you mean by that, Duke?”
Lokas’s words shook the princess’s attitude a bit.
Even with the duke’s guarantee, Prinshitt couldn’t bring herself to believe Gro.
“It’s simple: because I owe Mr. Gro my life.” Lokas lowered his eyes and said calmly: “Eight years ago—on the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, I encountered an assassination orchestrated by people from the north, and Gro saved me.”
Eight years ago, that is, Dawn Era K408—this time point was very sensitive for Ileil; her father had been killed by Gro in that very year.
Ileil stopped her eating motions and began to listen seriously to their conversation.
“Mr. Gro helped me a lot when I was most isolated and helpless. After the northern rebellion eight years ago, many scattered rebel troops and opportunistic bandits roamed the borders of Aressto. At that time, I had just inherited the title, and various factions in the territory were fighting fiercely—even some secretly colluded with the northern remnants, wanting to take the opportunity to eliminate the surviving me.”
Lokas paused, then continued:
“At that time… I didn’t even dare trust the servants in my mansion—it was Mr. Gro who taught me how to identify poisons, how to stay alert in sleep, and what methods to use to consolidate order in the territory. He assisted me in finding the mastermind behind that assassination.”
“You’re too kind, Duke.” Gro’s tone was flat, as if he were just talking about a trivial matter. “I’m just a mercenary who takes money to do jobs. Since Mr. Lokas has paid me enough gold coins, then I will certainly fully assist Your Highness in your upcoming actions.”
Prinshitt was silent for a moment, her fingertips lightly tapping the table.
Her gaze wandered between Gro and Lokas, finally stopping on Ileil—the silver-haired girl who had been burying her head in eating just now, but was now tense as a bowstring.
“…Mr. Gro.” The princess finally spoke, her voice low and cautious. “I can temporarily trust you, but on one condition.”
Gro raised an eyebrow, showing a half-smile expression. “I’m all ears, Your Highness.”
“I need an insurance.” Prinshitt’s gaze sharpened. “Since you’re so confident in assisting me to subjugate the witch, then your adopted daughter—Miss Ileil—must temporarily serve as my personal guard. In this morning’s spar, I’ve personally recognized her powerful strength.”
“Wha—?”
Ileil suddenly looked up, a flash of astonishment in her eyes.
Clearly, last night this princess had despised her to the extreme; how come now she was making such a request?
Gro almost laughed out loud; he had been thinking about how to send Ileil to Prinshitt’s side, but unexpectedly, this princess took the initiative to propose it.
“Oh? Your Highness doesn’t trust me, so you want to hold a hostage?”
But no matter what, Gro still had to act a bit in front of Prinshitt.
He couldn’t expose his true intentions.
Dorias stood behind the princess, frowning slightly but not objecting.
Obviously, this proposal also aligned with the saint’s considerations.
In Dorias’s eyes, Gro’s nature had changed greatly compared to twenty years ago—if Gro really had ulterior motives, holding Ileil would give them an extra bargaining chip.
“Not a hostage.” Prinshitt corrected, her tone calm but unquestionable. “It’s cooperation. Since you claim to provide assistance, then having Miss Ileil as the ‘liaison’ between us is reasonable.”
Gro made a show of being very concerned about Ileil’s feelings; he turned his head and pretended to ask Ileil:
“What do you think? Ileil… If it’s really too much, we can think of other ways.”
But Ileil had no choice at all.
She knew Prinshitt’s words played right into Gro’s hands, and she roughly guessed Prinshitt’s purpose in keeping her—to monitor her, whom she suspected of being a witch, at all times.
“I have no objections.” Ileil took a deep breath; what could she say?