Clop, clop.
Clang.
The rhythmic beat of hooves and the rumble of wheels echoed throughout the forest road.
The escorting knights rode in tense silence, faces grim. Even Joseph, usually relaxed while driving the carriage, was tight-lipped.
Inside the carriage, Veronica stole occasional glances at Ron.
Earlier, she had dared to lift the curtain and witness everything with her own eyes. Now, the image of Ron standing atop the carriage, cold and commanding, lingered in her mind like an indelible painting—a god who decided life and death with a gesture.
Thump. Thump.
Her heart pounded uncontrollably. Inspirations sparked in her mind like fireworks. She ached to seize a brush and capture that scene immediately.
But Ron remained deep in thought, unaware of Veronica's dazed expression.
The enemy's leader had said they had "waited two months" for Ron.
Two months… right after the previous Baron died.
Meaning:
The moment Ron inevitably left for the Royal Capital to inherit his title, the assassins would strike. A perfectly predictable opportunity.
If he assumed further—
Was the previous Baron's death also connected?
Kill the father.
Wait for the son to leave the territory.
Then kill the heir.
Arnold Territory becomes "ownerless" and is reclaimed by the Carlo royal family to grant to some other noble.
At first glance, the royal family looked suspicious.
But Ron shook his head and dismissed this idea almost immediately.
Arnold Territory was mostly forest, located on the border facing the Alexander Empire—a troublesome and unprofitable fief. The royal family would never risk being caught orchestrating an assassination for such a worthless territory.
If exposed, the loyalty of nobles across the kingdom would crumble overnight. The resulting chaos could destroy the Carlo Kingdom.
So who would the reclaimed territory most likely go to?
His first instinct had been Viscount Gordon. But he discarded that.
Viscount Gordon's territory wasn't strong or wealthy enough to govern two fiefs at once. Among high-ranking nobles, he was merely a minor viscount in a remote region.
If Gordon wanted Arnold Territory, the correct method would've been to fake an illegitimate son—just like before—get him recognized as heir, eliminate Ron afterward, then control the puppet.
Assassinating Ron now yielded nothing but chaos.
No gain. Only risk.
The logic didn't add up.
Ron exhaled slightly.
The web behind this assassination was more complicated than expected.
Whoever the mastermind was, they didn't seem desperate or foolish. Which meant—
They must have reason to believe they'd still profit even if Ron died.
Are there such nobles…?
His brows narrowed, but then he relaxed. It no longer mattered.
He now possessed a trump card so overwhelming that unless a real monster appeared, he feared nothing.
Light Energy Laser Eye.
The purple-tier offensive trait embedded in his ring.
He opened the item card again mentally:
Ring (White)
Trait: Light Energy Laser Eye (Purple)
Effect: Absorbs light to unleash a devastating beam. Can activate as long as light exists.
Simple. Brutal. Absolute.
Daytime? Sunlight.
Nighttime? Moonlight.
Pitch black? He could light a torch.
And if the enemy dared blow out his torch…
He'd just ignite another.
With this ring, Ron truly had the qualifications to stand tall.
But he did not grow arrogant. He remained cautious.
He pushed aside these thoughts and finally noticed something odd about Veronica.
"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
Veronica jolted and shook her head quickly. "Th-thank you for your concern, Lord. I'm fine."
Ron narrowed his eyes and touched her forehead.
She didn't dare dodge.
Her character card appeared before him.
Affection: 75 (Admiration)
Her favorability had risen from under 65 to 75—over ten points—in half a day.
The fastest increase he'd ever seen.
And her relationship changed from "Confidant" to "Admiration."
Ron withdrew his hand calmly. "Good. As long as you're not injured."
The carriage continued forward. With knights vigilant and the forest behind them, danger gradually lessened.
Soon, they crossed into Viscount Gordon's territory, entering a safer region.
Passing through a village, Harvey asked Thomas:
"Are we heading straight to Viscount Gordon?"
"That's the plan," Thomas replied. "He respects the kingdom's laws, so he'd send assassins rather than act openly. Even if we can't punish him, he owes us an explanation."
"We have no evidence," Harvey muttered. "He'll deny it."
Thomas fell silent.
Malcolm leaned closer and whispered, "Do you think the Lord will kill Viscount Gordon on sight?"
Because of his swordsmanship talent, Malcolm had been selected for the escort.
The knights exchanged uncertain looks.
No noble would casually kill another noble. Even if there was an irreconcilable conflict, they'd petition the king and wait for approval of a territorial war.
Directly killing a fellow noble upon meeting?
Unheard of.
"Sig, why are you silent?" Thomas frowned. Sig had been strange since the Black Crow encounter—quiet, withdrawn, expression unreadable.
Sig forced a smile. "Nothing. Just listening."
The others sensed something, but said nothing.
They continued forward quietly.
Soon, they arrived at the gates of Viscount Gordon's mansion and were promptly stopped by gate guards.
Thomas was ready to intimidate them—
But Ron's calm voice came from inside the carriage:
"Be polite. We are guests."
Everyone froze.
Guests?
Thomas's face visibly transformed—rage suppressed into a stiff and frighteningly fake smile.
"Please inform Viscount Gordon that Baron Arnold requests an audience."
The guard eyed him warily but nodded. His companion watched the group while he went inside.
He soon returned.
"The Viscount welcomes Baron Arnold. Please enter."
Ron stepped down from the carriage and glanced at the large residence. It was noticeably bigger than his own manor.
"Lead the way."
They entered the reception hall, where a tall, energetic middle-aged man strode forward with open arms.
Viscount Gordon—Aserick Gordon.
"Nephew Ron! Shouldn't you be on your way to the Royal Capital? How do you still have time to visit your uncle? Has the ceremony concluded?"
His enthusiasm stunned everyone—including Ron.
"No. I'm just setting out. My visit is abrupt, and I didn't send word in advance. Please forgive me, Viscount."
Nobles were strict about etiquette: letters of intention must be sent in advance. Sudden visits were frowned upon.
But Viscount Gordon laughed heartily.
"No need for such stiffness! Your father and I were old friends. Call me uncle—as you should. Out here on the border, we don't cling to such formalities. Come whenever you like."
Then he asked, "The deadline is near, isn't it? You must hurry. The investiture is crucial."
Ron watched his expression closely—nothing seemed off.
Affectionate. Genuine. Relaxed.
He extended his hand. "Thank you for your concern, Uncle. I didn't prepare a gift due to an incident on the way, so please excuse the discourtesy."
Viscount Gordon blinked, then smiled and shook his hand warmly.
"No gifts needed. But what incident?"
Ron glanced at his character card.
Silver Two-Star
Aserick Gordon
Affection: 67 → (Concern)
Entry 1: Water Magic Affinity (White)
Entry 2: Many Children, Many Blessings (Green)
Affection 67.
Concern.
Ron nearly cursed out loud.
Good thing he hadn't acted recklessly.
He withdrew his hand and said, "Nothing serious. Just a group of people who tried to kill me."
"What?!" Viscount Gordon roared. "Who has such audacity?! I'll send my knights immediately!"
As he shouted, Ron saw his affection jump another 2 points.
Ron quickly calmed him. "Uncle, don't be angry. It's already handled."
Only then did Viscount Gordon notice the escorting knights—bruised and bandaged.
Seeing Ron completely unharmed, he nodded approvingly at Sig and the others.
"Well done."
Sig and the knights exchanged bewildered looks.
What… were they even doing here?
"Nephew, since you're here, stay the night. Last time during your parents' funeral, I didn't have the chance to talk properly."
Ron nodded. "I'll trouble Uncle, then."
"Hahaha, good! Someone inform the kitchen—prepare the finest banquet!"
Because Sig and the knights had "protected Ron beautifully," Viscount Gordon even summoned his best physician to treat them.
Marvin whispered, "What is happening? Weren't we here demanding justice?"
Thomas glared. "Don't look at me! How would I know?"
Even he was lost.
Anthony spoke with a serious face, "I believe… this matter carries deep significance."
Everyone: "…"
Malcolm clicked his tongue. "No kidding. Even Joseph could see that."
Harvey snapped, "Don't insult Joseph. He's an excellent coachman."
Thomas sighed, "Enough. If you can't speak sense, stay quiet."
Anthony shut his mouth immediately.
Silence fell—until Sig spoke.
"Perhaps we were wrong. Viscount Gordon isn't the culprit."
Thomas stiffened. "Egbert and Captain Abel both said he was the most suspicious. If not him, then who?"
Sig shook his head. "I don't know. But I know the Lord believes he isn't the one."
"Reason?" Thomas pressed.
Sig slowly answered:
"Because the Lord would never call someone who wants him dead… 'uncle.'"
Everyone fell silent.
Indeed—Ron had initially called him "Viscount."
Only after observing him did he switch to "uncle."
"Perhaps it was at that moment the Lord made his judgment," Sig finished, then stood up.
"Sig, where are you going?"
"Training."
Malcolm blinked. "Now? But his wounds haven't healed…"
Thomas sighed. "He's shaken. Let him be. Everyone grows through setbacks… just as I once did."
The others finally understood.
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