The ones who spotted Luke from the rear were Dantalion's royal guard.
Luke was drenched head to toe in blood. It was the blood of the Sword Masters and agents he'd cut down while escaping from the Intelligence Bureau. The moment he walked out of the forest, he was spotted instantly by a sentry. The sentry, wisely, did not shout things like "Who goes there?" or "Halt!" at Luke.
—Whoosh!
Instead, the sentry pulled out a whistle and blew a sharp signal.
A young man appeared, his entire body coated in blood. And in the rear, no less—close to the Empire's general command post. There was no need to ask who he was, nor any reason to ask him to stop. Soldiers who had heard their comrade's signal quickly gathered.
Thirty dwarf soldiers assembled in the blink of an eye.
"…."
Luke squinted at the soldiers with a weary frown.
The angle at which they gripped their spear shafts, how sharply the spearheads had been honed, how needlessly neat their uniforms were, and the complete absence of fear on their faces. Luke took in every detail of the soldiers at a glance.
*Elite soldiers.*
What should I do? Luke considered.
*I could kill them all and push through.*
Luke wanted to meet Dantalion himself, if possible.
He couldn't bring himself to ask Dantalion, "What were Daisy's last words when she died?" He didn't expect the Great Lord to answer kindly either. But if he couldn't hear Daisy's dying words, then he at least wanted to see the expression on Dantalion's face—the face of the man who had killed her.
What good would seeing that do?
Even Luke didn't know. But there was one thing he absolutely refused—to be captured by someone without ever having laid eyes on Dantalion, then executed without a word of explanation. He intended to resist with everything he had.
"Mmm. Hey there."
Luke spoke carefully. In response, the royal guard leveled their spears even more fiercely.
"Oh."
Luke was a bit flustered.
He lacked the gift of words. The Duke and Daisy were both silver-tongued speakers, but for some reason, he was nearly the opposite. If Daisy were here, she might have talked her way past the soldiers with clever, eloquent persuasion and led them comfortably to where the Duke was. Luke managed a wry smile at the thought.
'Even if I died and came back to life, I could never pull off something like magic like that.'
Luke spoke in a gloomy but calm voice.
"Would it be possible for me to, well, have a conversation with you all?"
"What kind of trick is this?"
"I'm just asking for a chance to explain who I am and why I've come here. If a rational conversation is possible, I'd appreciate it……."
The dwarf royal guards glanced at each other for a moment. Every one of them had a face as stony and expressionless as a statue. They communicated with their eyes. The content of their silent exchange was a discussion over whether the human youth before them was insane or not, and the consensus settled on hearing him out for now.
"Talk."
"Thank you. Well, I'm a nobleman from the Habsburg Empire. It looked like the Republic was going to fall, so I came seeking asylum in the Empire."
"A nobleman?"
The dwarf soldier narrowed his eyes.
Historically, there were two kinds of nobles to mercenaries. One was the noble lord who hired them, and the other was prey to be stripped clean. The soldiers weighed in their minds whether it would be more profitable to escort the youth before them to headquarters, or to quietly dispose of him right here and now.
"Well, you do have the look of noble blood, I'll give you that. What's your rank?"
"Excuse me?"
"Your rank, your rank. Not all nobles are created equal. There's the kind who inherited the bloodline but eats dirt for a living, and there's the kind strutting around in palaces. What level of noble are you, so we know how to treat you?"
"Ah……."
Luke scratched his cheek.
It genuinely felt like being thrown into the world for the first time. The way the mercenaries looked at him, their tone of voice — everything was unfamiliar. Luke realized anew just how safely he had been living under the shade of Dantalion all this time.
"For starters, I am the son of a duke."
"A duke?"
The dwarf soldier's expression grew a touch sterner.
"That's the highest rank, isn't it?"
"I suppose so, short of royalty?"
"Like, a bastard son or a third or fourth son... something like that? Just making sure."
Luke fell into thought.
The head of the Custos duchy was Dantalion, and the designated heir was unmistakably his eldest daughter, Daisy. With Daisy's death all but confirmed, the only person who could reasonably be called the Custos heir was Luke himself — who was, at best, half-adopted.
"No. I'm most likely the heir."
"I'll escort you safely to headquarters, young master."
The dwarf soldier bowed his head respectfully.
Luke felt a wave of relief, having apparently managed to convince the other party. However, with the sole exception of that one soldier, the rest still had their spear tips leveled at him. As Luke tilted his head in confusion, the soldier who had stepped forward as their representative flashed a friendly smile.
"We still can't guarantee you aren't a spy, so we'll need you to hand over your weapons. Please cooperate."
"Ah, yes."
Luke sheathed the longsword he had been holding and handed it over to the soldier.
The soldier broke into a broad smile.
"Thank you. One more question — are you carrying any dangerous concealed weapons or something similar on your person?"
"Yes. A little."
"That's also a problem, so I'm sorry, but would you mind removing your upper and lower garments? I don't mean we'll drag you around naked — you can just take them off briefly, try them back on, and we'll be on our way."
"Understood."
Luke cooperated without protest.
Luke carefully undid the straps and set Barbatos down. Then he removed the butler's uniform—the one he'd received when working as Dantalion's butler at the Demon Lord's Castle—now thoroughly stained with blood. Beneath it, Luke's body was covered in fine, well-defined muscles that belied his refined appearance.
"Oh."
One of the soldiers let out an involuntary exclamation. Even by a veteran mercenary's standards, it was an impressive, well-built body.
"So the young master knows how to use sword energy."
"Oh? You can tell?"
"The muscles are exactly those of a swordsman who uses sword energy. I'm jealous. Guys like us have to bulk up just to fight properly. High rank, good-looking face, and on top of that, a great body. You must have had women falling all over themselves for you."
"……."
Luke offered a faint, weary smile.
Just then, a soldier who had been watching the scene from behind nudged his companion in the ribs. He pointed at Barbatos, whom Luke had set down. Barbatos's entire body was also caked in blood, but at least he still maintained a roughly human shape.
"What the hell is that?"
"……Isn't that a guy with his arms and legs cut off?"
"Why would an asylum nobleman be carrying around a limbless cripple?"
More and more soldiers began murmuring among themselves.
The lead soldier, having heard the murmuring, spoke to Luke.
"Oh, but young master—that thing you set down over there, or should I say that person—what is that?"
"That is the Demon Lord Barbatos."
"Excuse me?"
Luke removed his shirt entirely.
"Barbatos. Surely you've heard of him? He's the Duke's lover."
Luke's blue eyes fixed on the soldier. They seemed to be smiling amicably. But the soldier only now realized that Luke's eyes themselves were never smiling. Deep within them, there was nothing but a gaze as black and bottomless as a well.
"The Duke's lover, you say..."
The dwarf soldier flinched. Looking those pupils dead in the eye, a sudden chill ran down the back of his skull.
That one was dangerous. The gaze of a dangerous man. Sometimes on the battlefield, a killer who had resigned himself to death would carry that kind of look in his eyes. The dwarf soldier slowly began backing away, intending to rejoin the ranks of his comrades. But the moment the soldier shifted his heels, Luke addressed him.
"Soldier. What is your rank?"
"...Sergeant of the Royal Guard."
"How convenient."
Luke let the short swords hanging at his waist clatter to the ground in a heap.
"I am the adopted son of Lord Dantalion, and one who has the right to borrow the name of the House of Custos. Please relay to your sovereign, Lord Dantalion, that Luke has come to see him. And also, that his lover, Barbatos, has arrived with me."
The soldier swallowed hard.
"Understood. Just a moment. Please wait just a moment."
He whispered something to his fellow soldiers, then dashed off toward the camp at a dead run.
Shortly after, the soldier returned with roughly a hundred royal guards. The guards silently formed ranks and surrounded Luke. It was a flawless encirclement with not a single gap. Throughout all of this, Luke sat perfectly still, shirtless.
The soldier approached.
"Shall we go, my lord? His Excellency is waiting."
Luke nodded. He stood up, hoisting Barbatos onto his back.
With every step Luke took, a hundred royal guards moved with him. The soldiers' vigilance, far from relaxing, only grew stricter. A hundred became a hundred and fifty, a hundred and fifty swelled to two hundred. But Luke felt no unease.
If anything, he was happy.
*'I really am heading toward the Duke.'*
The fact that security was tightening meant he was drawing closer to a place of immense importance.
Sure enough, Luke arrived safely at the command camp of the Habsburg Empire's forces. Rows of tents stretched endlessly in every direction. Banners bearing the black eagle of the empire fluttered in the wind. Surrounded by infantry, archers, and even cavalry, Luke made his way toward the center of the camp.
Before long.
"Young master, please kneel here."
The most elaborate tent came into Luke's view.
Luke knelt down without any resistance, docilely. Only before doing so, he unhooked Barbatos from the leash and gently laid him down beside him. Due to the excessive drugs, Barbatos had not regained consciousness.
"……."
Luke pressed his forehead to the ground. He looked every bit the criminal.
Some amount of time passed.
A familiar voice sounded above Luke's head.
"Raise your head, head butler."
"……Lady Lodbrok."
When Luke cautiously raised his head, Ivar Lodbrok was standing there.
The blonde girl in her maid's uniform wore her usual distant expression. The corners of her mouth were taut, as though displeased about something—or perhaps saddened. Her red eyes gazed down at Luke coldly.
"His Highness has lost consciousness at present. I will be handling your interrogation."
"Consciousness…… D-Did something happen to the Grand Duke?"
"He overexerted himself somewhat when he executed the head maid."
Executed.
The word reverberated with a desolation far too stark to simply mean one person's death, and Luke shuddered. Tears threatened to well up again. But Luke reminded himself that he was a criminal—that in a place like this, he had no standing to shed tears freely.
"So……the Grand Duke is……all right……?"
"I could show you His Highness's condition in person. It all depends on how faithfully you answer."
"I will talk."
Luke slammed his forehead down to the floor with a heavy thud.
"I will talk. I'll tell you anything. Whatever punishment you hand down, I'll accept it willingly. B-but please, let me see the Grand Duke one last time. That is my only wish. Lady Lodbrok, please……."
"……."
Ivar shut his eyes tight.
When he opened them again, Ivar's gaze had settled with an iron resolve.
"Very well. I'll ask you this first, then. Luke, is it true that the Consul of the Habsburg Republic commissioned you to kidnap the Demon Lord Barbatos?"