Volume One: Forest Knight Chapter 87: Plotting Muira’s Elimination, Part Three

It was already very late that night, so Bellion told the two of them to stay here first. There were plenty of empty rooms in the manor, he said, and Bran and Broad should arrange accommodations for them both.

After giving those instructions, Bellion turned to Jennifer and said, “Sister Jennifer, stay here tonight. Tomorrow Broad will bring a carriage and take you home to gather your things, and you can come live with us. In a few days, once I have finished handling matters on my side, we will return to Nolanburg.”

Jennifer said gratefully, “Thank you, Sir Bellion. May the God of Fire bless you.”

“Oh, there is no need for such politeness. By the way, Sister Jennifer, please go with Bran and Broad to look at the rooms first. I need to speak with Hack alone for a moment. He is my squire now, and I should explain a few of the rules here to him first,” Bellion said with a smile to Hack’s mother.

“My goodness, now that Hack is with you, everything is under your care. If he needs a beating, beat him; if he needs scolding, scold him. Just do as you see fit,” Jennifer replied, much like the sort of parent Bellion had often seen in his former life.

After his mother left, only Bellion and Hack remained. Hack let out a long breath, plopped down, grabbed the cup of honeyed water his mother had not finished, and drained it in one gulp.

After drinking, he wiped his mouth with his dirty sleeve and said with a cheeky grin, “Heh heh, sir, are you trying to teach me manners, or are you sending my mother away so you can set me to work?”

Bellion gave him a light kick and laughed, “You little rascal. Since you already guessed that much, why not guess what I want you to do next?”

Hack’s eyes rolled a few times, and a smile crept onto his lips. “Is it still about the trial by combat? The losing side does not want to let it rest?”

Bellion looked at him in surprise. He had to admit the boy was truly clever; his wit was several levels above Bran and Tool.

Since Hack had guessed it, Bellion nodded and explained the whole matter in detail, then laid out his plan.

After listening, Hack nodded as well, just like Bellion, to show his agreement. “Sir, that Sister Myra is truly hateful. If she is not dealt with, she will only bring endless trouble to you and Lady Jessica.

Your plan is perfect, and I have no objections. As long as Lady Jessica is willing to cooperate, I will put everything in place exactly as you require.”

“Good. Time is short, so tomorrow you must do it. Sister Myra has powerful backing, people I cannot afford to offend, so we must strike quickly,” Bellion said with feeling.

“No problem, sir. By day after tomorrow, that Sister Myra will be sent to the stake,” Hack said with easy calm.

To speak of burning a person to death so lightly made Bellion find the young man somewhat inscrutable. He asked tentatively, “Hack, have you ever killed anyone?”

Hack, who had been pouring himself some water, nearly dropped the painted pottery pitcher in fright at the question. He stared at Bellion with wide eyes. “Sir, I have never killed anyone. I’ve only seen plenty of people die horribly.”

As he spoke, and still very thirsty, he drank another cup of water. Then he added, “Those of us who live in the slums, what kind of dead have we not seen since childhood? Frozen to death, starved to death, diseased to death, beaten to death, burned to death...

My master once told me that people who live at the bottom seem as though they are cursed. It is as if they can only live such lives in this world, and their children as well. There is almost no hope of rising.”

When he finished, Hack looked at Bellion and, summoning his courage, said, “My master said this world should never have been like this. No one is born deserving to be a slum-dweller. This is not a curse at all. It is the mistake of those powerful nobles.”

Hearing these words, Bellion felt as if struck by lightning. He could not believe that such a statement had come from a gifted thief.

At this point, Bellion was almost certain that Hack’s teacher must have been, like himself, someone who had crossed over from the modern world. If that person were still alive, Bellion would certainly want to meet him and join hands with him to accomplish something great.

Seeing Bellion frozen after hearing his words, Hack became a little frightened. He thought he had said something wrong and called out softly, “Sir, are you all right?”

Only then did Bellion recover. He smiled and said, “I’m fine. Can you tell me more, what else your master said? I want to hear it.”

Hack spread his hands helplessly. “Actually, Master did not say much to me. Only sometimes, when he had had too much to drink, he would drag me along and ramble about all sorts of muddled things.”

“Well...” Bellion sighed. “In that case, when we leave, we should tell your neighbors and the tavern people that your master has returned, so he will know where you have gone.”

Hack nodded. “No problem, sir. I’ll leave word for Master so when he comes back, he’ll know where to find me.”

“All right. Go back and rest early. Tomorrow’s task will depend on you,” Bellion said, patting Hack on the shoulder.

“Rest easy, sir. Didn’t you call me a master thief? How could a master thief ever fail? Just wait and watch the burning tomorrow,” Hack promised, thumping his chest with confidence.

By the next morning, outside the dining hall of Count Gril’s estate, a maid carrying a beef pie in puff pastry to the dining room suddenly screamed. In panic, she flung the plate to the floor and cried for help.

At once, the three members of Count Gril’s family who were eating inside the dining hall grew alert at the commotion. Sir Sandiman and four guards standing outside the door immediately rushed in. Seeing their master’s family safe and sound, Sir Sandiman left three guards to protect them in the hall, then took one guard and went back out to see what had happened.

In the corridor outside the dining room, Sir Sandiman saw the maid huddled to one side, trembling all over, and on the floor a black snake was coiled up, carelessly flicking its tongue as it crawled along at a languid pace.

The approach of Sir Sandiman and the guard made the snake sense danger. In a flash, it tried to slither toward the garden, but Sir Sandiman was not about to let it escape.

Holding his longsword, he strode forward, swung hard, and cut the three-foot black snake in two. Once severed, the snake writhed on the floor, bleeding as it twisted about, a gruesome sight indeed.

Sir Sandiman ordered the guard to watch it there and not allow the still-writhing snake to crawl elsewhere, while he took the maid to report to Count Gril.

After entering the dining room and briefly explaining what had happened, the maid, now somewhat recovered from her fright, stammered out the whole story of how she had seen the snake.

After hearing it, Count Gril frowned deeply. He muttered to himself, “How strange. It must have been decades since we last saw a snake in this manor, right? Ever since I was a child, I don’t think I have seen one at all.”

At that moment, Jessica, hearing her father speak like that, took a bite of her fried egg and said quietly, “Father, could it be people from the Serpent Worship Cult? When I was little, you told me stories about them. They were heretics who fed people to snakes.”

After hearing Jessica’s words, Count Gril thought for a moment, then shook his head. “It should not be them. The Serpent Worship Cult has been gone for a very long time. They only dare to hide in the deep mountains and cling to life. How could they stir trouble in the city, much less in my own estate?”

“I was only saying it,” Jessica replied to her father’s question. “How could there be people from the Serpent Worship Cult here?”

Yet her reply made Count Gril waver all the more about the matter. He was no longer sure whether this truly had anything to do with the Serpent Worship Cult, especially after Sister Myra had recently stirred up that heresy case.

Watching his father sink into thought, Jessica knew Bellion’s plan had already achieved its first success: Count Gril was beginning to believe that there might indeed be people from the Serpent Worship Cult in the city.

Just as the count was mulling it over, a household knight hurried in, anxiously saying, “My lord count, two small snakes have been found in the stables.”

As he spoke, he produced a cloth bag stained with blood, within which something was still writhing. No need to say, those were the two snakes.

The countess looked at the bag and felt sick to her stomach. She gagged a few times and told the household knight to take it out and not bring such things into the dining room.

Count Gril slammed his fist on the table in fury. “Is this a challenge to me? You beasts of the Serpent Worship Cult!”

The blow startled Jessica, who was drinking soup, but when she looked at her furious father, she knew Bellion’s scheme had begun to take effect.

Count Gril barked orders in a rage. “Sandiman, summon a hundred heavy infantry and guard every part of the estate. Not even a fly is to get out.”

Sir Sandiman took the order and withdrew. The count then instructed the remaining household knight, “Go and gather the other household knights now. In groups of three, search the entire count’s estate thoroughly.

Remember, do not let any place go unchecked. Search every corner carefully. I want to see who has the audacity to make trouble on my land.”

The household knight accepted the order and hurried off to summon the others and conduct a thorough search of the entire estate.

For a time, the count’s estate was filled with noise and commotion, but once everyone learned it was Count Gril’s command, they quieted down. After all, no one dared defy the will of the most powerful man in the province.

The household knights searched swiftly. Working in teams of three alongside the guards, they inspected every place and every room with care, leaving no corner untouched.

When Sir Sandiman’s group searched Sister Myra’s room, the nun, who had drunk a little too much the previous night because she had been in a bad mood, had only just awakened and had not yet gotten out of bed.

Annoyed by the pounding at the door, she got up, opened it angrily, and upon seeing Sir Sandiman and the others, she flew into a vile rage. Having long been used to acting like a tyrant, she cursed them out. “You damned dogs, who gave you the nerve to pound on my door?”

Seeing that Sister Myra was in one of her foul waking moods, Sir Sandiman and the others could only explain Count Gril’s orders once more. But Myra would have none of it. She snarled, “I do not care who it is! Even if the sovereign himself came, I would not let him in!”

With that, she forcefully shoved Sir Sandiman out, slammed the door shut, and even cursed through the closed door, “A bunch of ungrateful curs.”

Sir Sandiman had been rebuffed and was deeply vexed. In the count’s estate, even Count Gril himself was courteous to him, for he came from a knightly family and was loyal and reasonably skilled.

But Sister Myra had never treated them like nobles at all. She usually barked orders at them as though they were servants. Today, having been entrusted with Count Gril’s command, he had still been treated in such a way. Sir Sandiman and the other two household knights all burned with anger.

They did not dare directly offend Sister Myra, but later, before Count Gril, they certainly would not hesitate to speak viciously against that wicked old woman.

So after searching the other places, Sir Sandiman and the others regrouped with the remaining household knights and returned to the dining room to report to Count Gril. None of them had found anything.

Yet for Sir Sandiman and the others, though they had found nothing, there was still one place left unsearched: Sister Myra’s room.