Beguiling the Enemy’s Patriarch - Chapter 107

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 107
“There you are.”
Sergei Lebanon was waiting at the Mountain Pass with impeccable timing. The moment I stepped out of the Temple, my body—suddenly heavy again—dragged itself forward as I weakly raised my hand in greeting.
“It’s been a while.”
“Why do you look so pale? Are you unwell?”
“It’s proof that I’ve been living diligently.”
“Talking nonsense like that tells me something’s definitely wrong.”
Without warning, Sergei Lebanon’s hand pressed against my forehead. I lacked the strength to stop him, so I could only furrow my brow slightly. Sergei Lebanon tilted his head.
“No fever though…”
“Never mind. It’s just something like body aches.”
“What did you do at the Temple to get body aches? You look so frail, like you haven’t eaten a proper meal.”
His persistent questioning annoyed me. I grasped his hand as it touched my forehead and cheek, pulling it away.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m hungry—let’s eat dinner before heading back.”
“Were the Priesthood starving you?”
“Honestly, really.”
Finally, Sergei Lebanon quieted down only after taking a solid hit from me. Though he continued grumbling in discontent.
“You’re violent…”
“Want to taste the reins instead?”
As I threateningly raised the reins, Sergei Lebanon stumbled backward hesitantly. I smiled sweetly at him and secured my travel bag firmly to the saddle.
“And don’t forget to tell Mother and Father about this, understood?”
“Mm.”
“That’s not a satisfactory answer. If you don’t respond properly, I really will hit you with the reins.”
“I understand. I said I understand.”
I glared at Sergei Lebanon before hoisting myself onto the horse.
“I haven’t forgotten your crime.”
It was Sergei Lebanon who had blabbed everything about my condition to Mother, Father, and even my older sister. From that day on, I became the frail youngest daughter marked for an early death, and Belgot transformed into a land so dark that no one dared set foot there—a realm of demons. As for the Emperor of Belgot who had kidnapped me, I suspected he had become something like an evil Demon King in my parents’ minds.
Sergei Lebanon whimpered with an aggrieved expression.
“Hey. How was I supposed to keep my mouth shut and pretend I didn’t know…?”
“Enough. You traitor.”
“Yerenika, put on your hood!”
I ignored Sergei Lebanon’s plaintive call and kicked the horse’s flank. The streets were crowded. Though we were on the outskirts of the Capital, Libne, this was also the town where the Temple was located, and with the Training Ground for Knights nearby, it was bustling enough to be called a thriving district.
Evening had long passed into near nightfall, yet the streets remained lively and chaotic.
“Is it because it’s a holiday?”
“Maybe. Are you going there again today? Arthur’s Barrel?”
“Yes. Why, do you have somewhere else in mind?”
“No. Let’s go there.”
We exchanged a few trivial words. Sergei Lebanon leaned toward me and pulled the hood over my head. Knowing that complaining would be pointless, I simply let him be. Just as Sergei Lebanon finished securing my hood and pulled back, a strange sense of déjà vu enveloped my entire body.
“…Huh?”
I blinked. The hood that had been half-covering my forehead had slipped slightly backward. I pulled the hood back down and turned my head blankly.
The street remained as bustling as before. People heading home after work, Knights coming out for a late dinner, mercenaries passing through town toward the provinces, merchants closing up their shops.
A gentle breeze swept across the mountain slopes. It was the warm wind of a summer night. My robe’s hem and hair fluttered lightly. The earring hanging from my right earlobe chimed softly as it swayed.
The wind… was it the wind?
Sergei Lebanon grumbled and leaned toward me again. His careless hand pulled the hood firmly back over my head.
“I told you to wear the hood properly.”
“Ah… yes.”
“Look straight ahead.”
“…Okay.”
My gaze lingered far into the distance for some time. Yet that strange sense of déjà vu from moments before didn’t return. Sergei Lebanon asked with puzzlement.
“What is it?”
“The wind…”
My senses had inexplicably flared. But it was truly only a moment, so I blinked a few times and turned my head forward again.
“It’s nothing. Just the wind. Let’s go.”
“What wind…”
“Yes, if we’re any later, it’ll get crowded. It’s a weekend evening, after all. Come on.”
People were swarming in front of our usual tavern ahead. I shook off that lingering unease and quickened my pace.
“Welcome!”
As I stepped into the tavern, Arthur’s booming voice rang out to greet us. The interior was even more chaotic than it had appeared from outside. I barely squeezed through the throng of patrons and found an empty table tucked in the corner.
“Huh. Why are there so many mercenaries here…”
Sergei Lebanon muttered as he plopped down across from me.
“The usual, right?”
“Yes.”
While Sergei Lebanon, who knew my tastes better than I did myself, skillfully placed our order, I loosened the neck of my travel bag. Raulus poked his snout out.
[This is suffocating.]
“Just bear with it a little longer. Would you like a carrot?”
[Yes.]
I handed Raulus a raw carrot and a piece of fresh salad that came as a complimentary appetizer. Crunch, crunch. Sergei Lebanon watched Raulus munch on the carrot with an unfamiliar expression.
“A wolf eating vegetables…”
“What’s so strange about it?”
“No matter how many times I see it, I’m amazed. Where on earth did you pick up that wolf?”
[Pick up? How disrespectful.]
Raulus glared at Sergei Lebanon with those sky-blue eyes. I laughed softly.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I found him wandering lost on the road and thought he was adorable, so I brought him along. Look, isn’t he cute?”
“The wolf hasn’t even grown… and those eyes are exactly the same color as yours.”
The sky-blue eyes were proof that Raulus was my summoned creature. It was proof that our souls were bound through my summoning. Why did people say eyes were the windows to the soul? That was what it meant. Sergei Lebanon continued to regard Raulus with suspicious eyes.
“A beast bearing the color of royalty…”
“Here we are! Your meal is served!”
With a forceful clatter that shook the table, the server set down two large bowls in front of Sergei Lebanon and me. His words trailed off there. Steaming hot meat stew, wisps of steam rising from it, instantly captured my eyes and nose.
“Ah, truly Arthur’s Barrel lives up to its name.”
Sergei Lebanon’s eyes gleamed as he gripped his spoon and fork in both hands and exclaimed enthusiastically.
“Let’s dig in— ack.”
However, before Sergei Lebanon could take even a single bite, someone seized him by the scruff of his neck.
“Young Master! I heard you were leaving right away!”
“Ugh. Rix…”
I reflexively snapped my head up, but relaxed when I heard Sergei Lebanon call out the stranger’s name. Now that I looked closer, the burly man wore a cloak bearing the Lebanon Duchy’s insignia. Sergei Lebanon waved his hand dismissively toward the back.
“I’m eating, Rix. Leave me alone while I’m having my meal!”
“Ah, to encounter the Young Master in a tavern like this—I couldn’t simply pass by! But who is this lady beside you?”
“You don’t need to know. Go on… ack.”
I debated whether to introduce myself, but wisely held my tongue. Sergei Lebanon, nearly strangled, apparently decided he’d had enough and abruptly rose from his seat.
“Fine, fine. I’m going. Yerenika, stay right here and don’t move.”
“Don’t worry. Come back safely.”
“Even if someone talks to you, ignore them… ack, I said I’m going!”
That one had grown quite a bit too. I rested my chin on my hand and stirred my stew idly, watching as Sergei Lebanon was dragged away among the knights. Raucous cheers erupted from their table.
For a nobleman raised in such refinement, he certainly got along well with these rough soldiers. I was somewhat surprised to see that even surrounded by them, he didn’t look small—his build was comparable to theirs.
When did he grow so much?
“Children that age really do grow quickly, don’t they?”
[Weren’t you the same age?]
“True enough.”
Raulus snorted derisively.
[Two peas in a pod, and here you are.]
“I suppose that’s your perspective.”
I gently coaxed Raulus out from the travel bag and onto my lap, continuing to watch Sergei Lebanon. He was the sort who needed looking after—like a younger brother I had to keep close. Within me, Sergei Lebanon occupied much the same place as Brizni and Alexio. Of course, I never saw Sergei Lebanon as a child, but somehow I sensed his relationship with Yerenika had always been much like it was now. Still, it was comforting in its own way.
“Even so, sometimes these moments offer their own solace…”
The man called Rix offered Sergei Lebanon a cup as large as his face.
“Come now, don’t be shy, Young Master!”
“No, really. I can’t. I have companions…”
“Drink! Drink!”
Sergei Lebanon grimaced but ultimately accepted the cup. Arthur’s Barrel lived up to its name, being famous for its homemade wine. I watched as he frowned while bringing the cup to his lips.
In any case, men are men. I let out a soft laugh and turned my gaze away.
The tavern remained as boisterous as ever. Clearly, with the holiday approaching, many lingered late into the night drinking. Moreover, since Arthur’s Barrel also served as an inn, this commotion would likely continue until dawn. Raulus, sprawled across my lap with his belly exposed, suddenly asked a question.
[Stone.]
“What do you mean?”
[Don’t you feel anything?]
His voice carried a hint of amusement.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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