The dim, dark interior of the manor was already growing a bit lively.
It wasn’t just the murmurs echoing from place to place; people were bustling up and down the hallways, quickly trying to grasp the situation.
The kitchen had erupted into chaos earlier, which was enough to alarm the servants who had been sleeping peacefully in nearby rooms.
Amid the distant sound of hurried footsteps, Keldric strolled through the shadows, sword drawn.
He was deep in thought.
“Was it really necessary to kill him?”
Upon reflection, Keldric realized there was no particular need to go as far as killing Lucas.
He held no strong attachment or lingering affection for his family.
Even if his foolish second brother had been trying to be cunning, as long as it didn’t inconvenience him, Keldric had no reason to intervene.
So, when Keldric subdued the mercenaries, it wasn’t out of anger for the Bellaf family being attacked.
They had simply invaded, and this was his current home—even if he planned to leave in a few days.
But Lucas was a different matter.
Lucas had already lost the will to fight and had shown every intention to surrender.
Yet Keldric had drained him for information and killed him afterward.
There was no need to kill him, but there wasn’t much reason to keep him alive either.
That’s why he did it.
Keldric quietly looked down at his hands.
In the darkness, the leather interior of his gauntlet had a faint, dark outline.
As he rubbed his fingers together, he felt a sticky thickness, something different from water.
It was unmistakably blood, and probably a lot of it.
“… I did the right thing.”
Keldric steadied his mind, which had started to feel uneasy.
After all, this was his temporary home, and if so, defending it from intruders was something he had to do.
More than that, he found it unsettling to think about Hilmor and Madam Bellaf, who would have been mercilessly killed if he hadn’t acted.
Otherwise, his dreams would likely be restless for a while.
He wasn’t sure the mercenaries would have killed Hilmor right away; they might have tried something insane like taking him hostage for ransom from Baron Volpen.
But at the very least, they wouldn’t have let him go peacefully.
And Lady Bellaf, with her elegant appearance that had caught Lord Volpen’s eye, would have likely suffered even worse.
As he considered this, Keldric felt a strange sense of peace. “There can be no hesitation.”
Resolving himself, Keldric continued walking, his steps echoing firmly.
There was no need to hide his footsteps.
“Who’s there? Over there… Ah!”
“W-what!”
Several servants in the hall who noticed Keldric initially panicked, but quickly calmed down once he removed his helmet.
“Are you saying, Sir Keldric, that you’ve dealt with all the intruders?”
“Yes. I captured five in the front yard, and you’ll find the bodies of the other five in the kitchen. I directly confirmed there were ten of them, so we should be fine.”
Even though Lucas had been half-crazed, the information he had spilled was probably reliable.
In a life-or-death situation, telling wild lies would require nerve, something Lucas didn’t have.
That’s why Keldric simply chose to believe him—the mercenaries numbered ten, and six mounted light cavalry waited outside.
“I’m dead tired.”
To be honest, he was just feeling weary.
People of this time usually went to bed when night fell, and after years of such a routine, Keldric was no exception—this was his usual bedtime.
“You two, wake the rest of the servants. And you, tie up those men in the yard properly. Don’t wander too far from the manor, just in case.”
“Understood, Sir Keldric.”
“And don’t forget to clean up the kitchen. Move the bodies to the front yard. Make sure someone stays by my mother’s quarters.”
Following Keldric’s clear instructions, the servants, holding oil candles in hand, nodded quickly and dispersed.
Keldric, holding a blood-stained sword, left an imposing impression on them, though he was unaware of this and instead felt a small sense of pride in his calm demeanor.
“Who… who’s there…? Aahhh!”
A maid who had been approaching Keldric slowly let out a shrill scream.
Keldric quickly grabbed her wrist to steady her.
“Are you alright?”
“Oh, I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you…”
It was Mariam.
Her disheveled, dark-colored hair was tumbling down.
Keldric examined her carefully.
Being Jacob’s daughter, Mariam caught his attention more than others, and her tendency to be clumsy only added to his concern.
“Sir Keldric, are you hurt? Y-you’re covered in blood…” Mariam stared at him with wide eyes, her gaze fixed on the blood-splattered surcoat and helmet.
“I’m fine, so don’t worry. You should go with the other maids to see to my mother. She must be confused by all of this as well.”
“Yes, yes sir. Understood.”
Mariam, bowing her head, hurried away. Keldric adjusted the helmet tucked under his arm, his expression hardening. “Then, now I should…”
The mercenaries had been dealt with, but the mounted soldiers outside remained unaccounted for.
Therefore, Keldric decided to seek out Joseph, who was likely in his quarters.
He wasn’t sure if Joseph was still in the guest room, but it was worth checking.
Just as he was about to continue on his way, Keldric abruptly halted as he remembered something he had forgotten.
“Where is Fritz?”
Fritz wasn’t an outsider.
He was undoubtedly somewhere within the manor, not in a distant guest room, but closer, near Lady Bellaf and Hilmor’s quarters.
Given that Fritz had colluded with Joseph, Keldric also had to be mindful of his actions.
If Fritz moved to harm Hilmor on his own…
“Damn it!” Keldric cursed, taking off in a furious sprint, his heavy steps echoing dangerously as if the floor might crack beneath him.
Fritz was the most skilled fighter in the Bellaf family, second only to Keldric himself.
The noise hadn’t only woken up the servants.
Hilmor, a light sleeper, furrowed his brow as he quietly sat up.
The bedroom, untouched by the blue dawn light, was filled only with the silence, darkness, and the faint crackling of the fireplace casting its glow.
After wiping his face a few times, Hilmor listened carefully, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound that had woken him.
The faint noises had started to quiet down.
Though this was because Keldric had taken care of the mercenaries, Hilmor wasn’t aware of that.
But the shouts and cries that he had heard earlier had been real.
With a sudden jolt of awareness, Hilmor swiftly got out of bed.
Fumbling through the dark, his hand found a well-sharpened dagger—one he always kept close.
Although it would be useless if the intruders were heavily armed or numerous, it was better than nothing.
“Jacob,” he muttered quietly as he reached the bedroom door.
His room wasn’t designed for direct access from the hallway; instead, there was an additional room, both a bedroom and a multipurpose area, where a few servants could sleep.
Jacob, who had earned Hilmor’s trust, was staying there.
However, there was no response from him.
Could he be in a deep sleep? Or had someone put him into an even deeper sleep? Hilmor couldn’t tell. He cautiously checked the lock on the door and raised his voice slightly.
“Jacob. Jacob! Can you hear me?”
A rustling sound came from behind the door, followed by a familiar voice.
“Lord Hilmor?”
Hilmor’s face visibly relaxed.
The voice was groggy, no doubt Jacob’s, weighed down by sleep.
He sensed movement behind the door and heard footsteps, slightly irregular, approaching.
“Lord Hilmor. Did you call for me?”
“There was some noise outside. Do you know if anything’s going on?”
“A loud noise? I’m sorry, I’m afraid my age might be catching up with me; I didn’t hear a th–”
Bang!
Suddenly, a harsh noise echoed from beyond the door.
Hilmor’s eyes widened involuntarily.
“What’s going on?! Jacob! What’s happening?!”
“Oh, wh-who are you?! Do you have any idea where you are? Ahh…!”
“Jacob! Damn it, Jacob!”
There was the sound of a struggle, crashing bodies, followed by a chilling slicing noise.
Jacob’s voice faded almost instantly.
In that split second, Hilmor agonized over a series of questions.
‘Should I go out there?’
Jacob was a loyal servant who had served the family faithfully for generations.
Should he try to save him? But how many intruders were out there?
After a brief hesitation, Hilmor reached for the bedroom door.
“Don’t come out, sir! There are, more than on– Guh…!”
Hilmor’s hand froze on the doorknob.
Faint sounds of gurgling and labored breaths reached his ears.
Feeling his mind turn cold, Hilmor sensed multiple people outside the door.
He wasn’t facing just one or two people.
If he had gone out, he would’ve surely died.
‘At least… three.’
A faint rattling began outside the door, the sound of a lock pick working at the keyhole.
Among the three Bellaf brothers, Keldric was known for his strength, while Fritz handled physical matters; Hilmor, on the other hand, was known for his intellect.
However, he wasn’t particularly skilled in combat.
If there was only one intruder, he might stand a chance, but with more than two…
‘Damn it.’
Hilmor pressed his lips tightly together and gripped the dagger firmly in his hand.
Yet, he didn’t end up using it.
“Huh… Who the hell are you?!”
More sounds of rough grappling filled the air.
Hilmor, still standing by the door in tense anticipation, crept closer.
There were three voices in total, each distinct, and one of them seemed familiar to Hilmor.
“112″
“Ahhhhh!”
“Wait! Wait a second! Just hear me out! I can explain… Gahhhh!”
Three men’s shouts soon turned into screams, and finally, only the sickening thuds of someone being mercilessly beaten echoed from beyond the door.
Hilmor’s face grew pale. Who could these new intruders possibly be?
After a while, things quieted down outside.
Only the occasional groans of pain and someone gasping for breath faintly filtered through.
‘Is it over?’
No sooner had Hilmor thought this than—
Bang!
“What was that?”
Bang!
A loud crash sounded twice, and another figure entered Hilmor’s bedroom.
The door was no longer intact; it flew open with a bang, thrown clear across the room.
Hilmor, in disbelief, turned his head to follow the direction of the flying door.
The door, which had barreled into the room, was split in half, with a blood-soaked man slumped on top of it.
“Brother.”
Hilmor, trembling slightly, turned his head slowly.
In the doorway stood a large, armored figure, holding an oil lamp.
“W-who are you?! If you’re a knight, reveal your name and fight honorably!”
The reason Hilmor guessed the intruder might be a knight was the heavy armor he wore.
Chainmail, a well-dyed surcoat, and a proper helmet.
However, on closer inspection, Hilmor noticed that the emblem on the surcoat was that of the Bellaf family.
As soon as he realized this, a low voice sounded again from beneath the helmet.
“It’s me, brother.”
“Who… could it be… is that Keldric?”
There was no answer.
The armored figure merely removed his helmet in silence.
“Brother, are you unharmed?”
The large, armored figure was indeed Keldric.
Hilmor felt his legs almost give out beneath him.
“Keldric, what happened?”
Keldric turned his head to look at Hilmor and let out a small sigh.
“I don’t know the full details myself. I can’t even be sure of what I do know.”
“What do you mean…?”
“That’s why it’s best we hear directly from the source.”
Keldric strode over to the corner of the room where the shattered door had landed.
His expression was cold, and he looked genuinely angry—something Hilmor had never seen before.
Unnerved by his brother’s unusual demeanor, Hilmor swallowed dryly.
When Keldric returned to stand before Hilmor, he was holding an unconscious man by the collar.
He tossed the bloodied figure at Hilmor’s feet.
Hilmor’s stared at the battered man’s face in silence.
Emerald-green eyes, ash-gray hair, a scar beneath the chin…
“This is… isn’t this Fritz?”
“Yes, it’s our second brother.”
At this point, Hilmor was left speechless.
Fritz’s presence was one thing, but the state he was in was almost unrecognizable.
His nose was completely flattened, his right eye and cheek were so swollen they looked ready to burst.
His lips were bruised to the point of turning black, and the space where his front teeth should have been was an empty gap.
It looked as if he had been beaten to within an inch of his life.
Hilmor’s gaze fell to Keldric’s hands.
Droplets of blood clung to the ends of his gauntleted fists.
Hilmor quietly lowered his eyes, feeling as though it was the only thing he could do right now.
His room wasn’t designed for direct access from the hallway; instead, there was an additional room, both a bedroom and a multipurpose area, where a few servants could sleep.
Jacob, who had earned Hilmor’s trust, was staying there.
However, there was no response from him.
Could he be in a deep sleep? Or had someone put him into an even deeper sleep? Hilmor couldn’t tell.
He cautiously checked the lock on the door and raised his voice slightly.
“Huh… Who the hell are you?!”
More sounds of rough grappling filled the air.
Hilmor, still standing by the door in tense anticipation, crept closer.
There were three voices in total, each distinct, and one of them seemed familiar to Hilmor.
“Jacob. Jacob! Can you hear me?”
A rustling sound came from behind the door, followed by a familiar voice.
“Lord Hilmor?”
Hilmor’s face visibly relaxed.
The voice was groggy, no doubt Jacob’s, weighed down by sleep.
He sensed movement behind the door and heard footsteps, slightly irregular, approaching.
“Lord Hilmor. Did you call for me?”
“There was some noise outside. Do you know if anything’s going on?”
“A loud noise? I’m sorry, I’m afraid my age might be catching up with me; I didn’t hear a th–”
Bang!
Suddenly, a harsh noise echoed from beyond the door.
Hilmor’s eyes widened involuntarily.
“What’s going on?! Jacob! What’s happening?!”
“Oh, wh-who are you?! Do you have any idea where you are? Ahh…!”
“Jacob! Damn it, Jacob!”
There was the sound of a struggle, crashing bodies, followed by a chilling slicing noise.
Jacob’s voice faded almost instantly.
In that split second, Hilmor agonized over a series of questions.
‘Should I go out there?’
Jacob was a loyal servant who had served the family faithfully for generations.
Should he try to save him? But how many intruders were out there?
After a brief hesitation, Hilmor reached for the bedroom door.
“Don’t come out, sir! There are, more than on– Guh…!”
Hilmor’s hand froze on the doorknob.
Faint sounds of gurgling and labored breaths reached his ears.
Feeling his mind turn cold, Hilmor sensed multiple people outside the door.
He wasn’t facing just one or two people.
If he had gone out, he would’ve surely died.
‘At least… three.’
A faint rattling began outside the door, the sound of a lock pick working at the keyhole.
Among the three Bellaf brothers, Keldric was known for his strength, while Fritz handled physical matters; Hilmor, on the other hand, was known for his intellect.
However, he wasn’t particularly skilled in combat.
If there was only one intruder, he might stand a chance, but with more than two…
‘Damn it.’
Hilmor pressed his lips tightly together and gripped the dagger firmly in his hand.
Yet, he didn’t end up using it.
“Huh… Who the hell are you?!”
More sounds of rough grappling filled the air.
Hilmor, still standing by the door in tense anticipation, crept closer.
There were three voices in total, each distinct, and one of them seemed familiar to Hilmor.
“112…!”
“Ahhhhh!”
“Wait! Wait a second! Just hear me out! I can explain… Gahhhh!”
Three men’s shouts soon turned into screams, and finally, only the sickening thuds of someone being mercilessly beaten echoed from beyond the door.
Hilmor’s face grew pale.
Who could these new intruders possibly be?
After a while, things quieted down outside.
Only the occasional groans of pain and someone gasping for breath faintly filtered through.
‘Is it over?’
No sooner had Hilmor thought this than—
Bang!
“What was that?”
Bang!
A loud crash sounded twice, and another figure entered Hilmor’s bedroom.
The door was no longer intact; it flew open with a bang, thrown clear across the room.
Hilmor, in disbelief, turned his head to follow the direction of the flying door.
The door, which had barreled into the room, was split in half, with a blood-soaked man slumped on top of it.
“Brother.”
Hilmor, trembling slightly, turned his head slowly.
In the doorway stood a large, armored figure, holding an oil lamp.
“W-who are you?! If you’re a knight, reveal your name and fight honorably!”
The reason Hilmor guessed the intruder might be a knight was the heavy armor he wore.
Chainmail, a well-dyed surcoat, and a proper helmet.
However, on closer inspection, Hilmor noticed that the emblem on the surcoat was that of the Bellaf family.
As soon as he realized this, a low voice sounded again from beneath the helmet.
“It’s me, brother.”
“Who… could it be… is that Keldric?”
There was no answer.
The armored figure merely removed his helmet in silence.
“Brother, are you unharmed?”
The large, armored figure was indeed Keldric.
Hilmor felt his legs almost give out beneath him.
“Keldric, what happened?”
Keldric turned his head to look at Hilmor and let out a small sigh.
“I don’t know the full details myself. I can’t even be sure of what I do know.”
“What do you mean…?”
“That’s why it’s best we hear directly from the source.”
Keldric strode over to the corner of the room where the shattered door had landed.
His expression was cold, and he looked genuinely angry—something Hilmor had never seen before. Unnerved by his brother’s unusual demeanor, Hilmor swallowed dryly.
When Keldric returned to stand before Hilmor, he was holding an unconscious man by the collar.
He tossed the bloodied figure at Hilmor’s feet.
Hilmor stared at the battered man’s face in silence.
Emerald-green eyes, ash-gray hair, a scar beneath the chin…
“This is… isn’t this Fritz?”
“Yes, it’s our second brother.”
At this point, Hilmor was left speechless.
Fritz’s presence was one thing, but the state he was in was almost unrecognizable.
His nose was completely flattened, his right eye and cheek were so swollen they looked ready to burst.
His lips were bruised to the point of turning black, and the space where his front teeth should have been was an empty gap.
It looked as if he had been beaten to within an inch of his life.
Hilmor’s gaze fell to Keldric’s hands.
Droplets of blood clung to the ends of his gauntleted fists.
Hilmor quietly lowered his eyes, feeling as though it was the only thing he could do right now.