Do You Think We Still Have a Choice?

"Thank you so much! Thank you so much, my lord!"

Gareth watched the scene, finally breathing a sigh of relief. At the same time, the doubts he had regarding the identity of Leon—who could so easily command official imperial personnel—dissipated a bit more.

With that word from the imperial envoy, the Hawthorne family was saved!

At that moment, Ovind returned, leading three horses and carrying a heavy small bundle.

"Father... I really couldn't get a carriage out. I had to go to the stables and pick a few nags that could still run..."

Leon glanced at the three horses. Though they were a bit startled, they were sturdy and well-fed warhorses. His mouth twitched slightly.

You call these nags?

These are clearly warhorses, aren't they?

"Oh, look at how this turned out. Such poor hospitality..."

Gareth took the small bundle and handed it to Leon with a beaming smile. He lowered his voice specifically, adding weight to his tone:

"My lord, this is a little... local specialty from our Kent Town."

He placed heavy emphasis on the words "local specialty," his eyes full of meaning.

Leon froze for a moment as the bundle clinked in his hand.

Good heavens, this isn't light...

As he spoke, the baron also gave him a meaningful "you know what I mean" look.

Leon took the bundle, still somewhat puzzled.

A local specialty? Does Kent Town produce stones? Why is it so heavy?

But when he saw Gareth's winking and gesturing expression, he instantly realized.

Oh... so this is the legendary... that thing?

Although Leon had been a guild leader in a game in his past life on Blue Star, this was his first time experiencing this kind of real-world "social etiquette."

It took him a second to react before he calmly handed the bundle to Lucrezia behind him.

"Since it is your kind intention, Baron, we shall not refuse."

Leon turned and instructed Vespa:

"Put in a few good words for the baron in the report later."

"Yes! My lord!"

Vespa responded almost reflexively, throwing her shoulders back and pulling in her stomach, her heels nearly clicking together in a military salute.

Watching Vespa act more like a secret agent than an actual one, Leon couldn't help but give her a mental thumbs-up, secretly marvelling:

Tsk, tsk, tsk. This acting is superb!

Look at that determined gaze, look at that professional posture, and that perfectly tuned "subordinate vibe."

If I didn't know this girl was an assassin from the Thieves' Guild, even I would have almost believed she was a real ace agent from Imperial Military Intelligence Section 7.

It seems this little cat is a natural-born actress in addition to being a guide. Bringing her along was definitely a wise choice.

Leon nodded with satisfaction, giving Vespa an appreciative look that said "good job acting."

Receiving this look, Vespa was so excited that the hand holding her pen trembled:

It's set! The lord nodded at me! He's acknowledging my professional competence!

Vespa! Keep up the good work! A permanent position is in sight!

"Thank you, my lord! Thank you, my lord!"

Gareth was moved to tears of gratitude.

Even though this was a major financial blow, what did this bit of money matter as long as he could save the family?

However, his family's future in the Solaris Duchy was likely at an end. After all, who would accept a noble who had ties with another country?

After a few simple pleasantries, the three of them mounted their horses.

Lucrezia and Vespa—one having received courtly equestrian training and the other being a veteran of the world—mounted their horses in one fluid motion.

It was just that Leon, after all, was a man of Blue Star...

He grabbed the saddle and stepped on the stirrup, but after trying twice, he still couldn't swing himself up, looking rather clumsy.

"My lord! Careful!"

Fortunately, Ovind was quick-witted. He caught Leon and then, in an extremely sycophantic manner, half-knelt on the ground to support Leon's foot, essentially boosting him onto the horse's back.

"My lord, your stirrup is a bit slippery. Let me adjust it for you."

Sitting on the horse, Leon looked down at Ovind and gave him an appreciative expression that said, "You've got a bright future ahead of you."

Gareth also nodded repeatedly from the side, looking like a relieved father whose son was finally showing promise.

Before leaving,

Leon seemed to remember some trivial matter. He pulled the reins and turned back to Gareth:

"Oh, there's one more thing I almost forgot."

"My identity is quite sensitive, as you know. If it weren't for a stroke of luck, I wouldn't have shown myself to get involved in this business."

Leon's voice dropped a few notches, carrying a hint of mystery:

"Regarding the whereabouts of myself and her, as well as any traces left here... I'll need the baron's help to sweep them away. I don't wish to see a single word about us in any investigation reports. Understand?"

"I understand! I understand everything!"

Gareth nodded his head like a chick pecking at grain:

"Rest assured, my lord! Only my son and I know about tonight's events! Absolutely no third person will ever know!"

What's left to sweep away anyway!

Gareth laughed bitterly in his heart.

Leon's wave of indiscriminate sacrifice had already seized and instantly refined all the witnesses...

"With that assurance, we can be at ease."

Leon nodded with satisfaction.

"We won't delay your cleanup then. Until we meet again."

"Yah!"

The three of them kicked their horses' flanks and galloped out of the city under the cover of night.

It wasn't until their silhouettes had completely disappeared into the darkness that Ovind spoke up hesitantly:

"Father... do you really not think there's something wrong with that guy? Especially that little girl... no matter how I look at her, she seems like..."

"Shut your mouth! You fool!"

Gareth whipped his head around and scolded him sharply, making Ovind flinch.

Gareth took a deep breath and looked at the pitch-black night sky. His eyes were deep and filled with fear, as if he were talking to himself or warning his son:

"So what if there's something wrong? So what if there isn't?"

"Do you think we still have a choice? We're just a small baron's family in a border town..."

...

In the wilderness outside Kent Town.

The night wind was slightly cool.

A tall figure was perched on the branch of a withered tree like a dazed owl.

A-Ling tilted her head, her smooth, long black hair hanging beside her face.

She looked at the emerald-green fel light pillar soaring into the sky from the Lord's Manor in the distance, then listened to the explosions and demonic roars that could be heard even from kilometers away, falling into deep thought.

Um... what's the situation here?

A-Ling blinked. A rare hint of hesitation appeared on her expressionless, icy face.

Should I go back and take a look?

But in the next second, she remembered what the "handler" who had recruited her—the old geezer who often docked her pay and took credit for her work—had said before she left:

"A-Ling, you just focus on killing. Don't worry about anything else. There will be specialized personnel for the cleanup. For us outsourced personnel, doing more leads to more mistakes, doing less leads to fewer mistakes. Understand?"

"Specialized personnel..."

Right. Mission complete. Clocking out.

A-Ling stood up straight, stretching her enviable tall curves. Her slender fingers casually brushed along the lines of her legs wrapped in black silk, flicking away the dust that had settled on her high-top boots.

Then her figure flashed, turning into an afterimage that vanished into the vast night, speeding toward the direction of Worcester City.