Chapter 3 : Chapter 3
Chapter 3. The Lingering Clout of the Playboy
Morning light streamed through the towering windows of the marquess’s residence, scattering fine flecks of gold across the cold stone corridor.
Early the next morning, Eli’s door was pounded on with a loud bang bang bang.
Before Eli could respond, the door was shoved violently open, and the thoroughly displeased face of his second brother, Royce Black, appeared in the doorway.
“Hey!”
Royce’s voice was sharp and abrasive, as though he had swallowed gunpowder.
Without even really looking, he casually hurled a bulging leather coin pouch at Eli.
“Take it!”
Eli caught it instinctively. The moment it landed in his hand, he felt the weight, and a clear, pleasing clink of gold coins rang out from inside.
Judging by the heft alone, Eli instinctively knew there were definitely more than fifty coins in it—possibly even a hundred.
“This is...?” Eli weighed the pouch in his hand and looked at his brother in confusion.
“That bastard Kaelus told me to bring it to you!” Royce said sourly.
“One hundred gold coins! He said... it ‘counts as compensation’!”
He spat heavily to the side.
“Compensation? Hah! He’s the one sending you off to die! What kind of good man is he pretending to be?”
Eli held the heavy bag of gold, feeling the cold touch of the metal in his palm, and for a moment said nothing.
Seeing Eli standing there in silence, Royce irritably raked a hand through his hair and spoke even faster.
“I’m talking to you, Eli! Have you been scared stupid? Or did a door crush your brain?
The Western Wasteland! Do you even know what kind of place that is? It’s a dining hall for magical beasts! A private garden for sand bandits!
You’re an idiot who’s only just brushed the threshold of Black Iron, and all you ever do is drink, play with birds, and stare at pretty girls. What the hell are you going there for?
To serve as an extra course for the monsters? Kaelus is simply—”
He broke off halfway, then suddenly changed tack.
“Fine. I can find a few people... have them go in your place. You can head south or run off wherever you want. Just don’t come back.”
“Royce, this is my choice. I’ll bear the responsibility myself,” Eli said, now speaking with real confidence.
“Hah!?”
A giant question mark practically appeared over Royce’s head.
He stared fixedly at Eli, as though for the first time he was truly seeing the younger brother he had always instinctively looked down on.
The Eli before him seemed completely different from the wastrel he remembered, the one who only ever grinned foolishly and drifted through life without a care.
“Oh, right, my dear brother. There’s also my other five hundred gold coins...”
Right. This was the real Eli.
Looking at the ingratiating smile on Eli’s face, Royce could not help wondering whether he had just hallucinated everything from a moment ago.
“The old steward will bring you the rest,” Royce said, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“And one last piece of intelligence for you. There’s a young man among the family knights named Aika. I’ve had dealings with him before. He’s decent enough.”
He paused for a moment.
“And Eli... come back alive.”
With that, he turned sharply, strode out of the room without another glance, and disappeared.
His footsteps thudded down the corridor, quickly fading into the distance.
Eli let out a soft laugh and tossed the heavy pouch in his hand.
It was time for him to get moving too.
He then crossed the courtyard with brisk steps and headed straight for the row of broad, slightly timeworn stone stables on the western side.
The stable hands were busy at work, brushing horses and cleaning stalls.
In a relatively secluded corner near a stack of hay bales, Eli found the man he was looking for.
A middle-aged man with graying hair and an unkempt beard.
He was leaning against an empty feed cart, slowly shaving at a piece of wood with a small knife.
“Brandon?” Eli stopped in front of him, his voice not loud, but perfectly clear.
The middle-aged man’s carving hand paused for a moment, and then he slowly lifted his head.
Those were eyes that had weathered hardship and stored away countless stories—clouded, yet far from dull.
At that moment, they calmly measured the well-dressed young marquess’s son before him, someone who looked thoroughly out of place in a stable.
“That’s me, Young Master Eli,” Brandon said in a somewhat hoarse voice.
“What are your orders? Does one of the horses require special care?”
“No. Not the horses.” Eli shook his head and looked straight into those calm eyes.
“I came for you, Brandon.”
“For me?” A trace of surprise flickered through Brandon’s eyes.
“Young Master, I’m only an old cripple who looks after horses. I’m afraid I won’t be of much use to you.”
“Looks after horses?” Eli let out a light laugh and stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“Brandon, former elite scout of the kingdom. I heard you once followed my father through campaigns across north and south.
And now they have you brushing horses here? This is the greatest waste of talent in the entire kingdom.”
Brandon’s lean body shuddered violently.
He stared at Eli in silence, as if trying to see through him.
These dust-covered old stories, these honors that had nearly been forgotten... how could a pampered young wastrel possibly know any of this?
“Wh-Where did you hear that?” Brandon’s voice had taken on a dry, guarded edge.
“Well... naturally, from my dear brother.”
Eli waved a hand, his face wearing a sincere expression that all but said, I understand you.
“What matters is that I know your worth has been buried! Brandon, you shouldn’t be left to mildew beside a pile of fodder.
You should be using your talents in a far broader world.”
He paused and watched the old soldier’s reaction.
When he saw the man’s tightly pressed lips and the faint rise and fall of his chest, he knew he had struck the mark.
So he pressed on.
“You know, Royce said this to me personally!
He said the family had a real treasure hidden away, only to be treated like scrap iron. It was a downright disgrace.
If he were in charge, he’d have reassigned you to something far more important long ago.”
Brandon remained silent, his rough fingers unconsciously rubbing the half-carved piece of wood.
Only after a long while did he slowly speak, his voice returning to its earlier calm.
It even carried the faintest trace of... an odd, indescribable smile.
“Young Master, what you’ve said... truly stirs the blood.
At my age, to still have someone think so highly of me...”
He raised his head and looked at Eli. A smile so honest it was almost simple appeared on his face, and he pointed at his ear.
“But... Young Master, I’m old now. My hearing isn’t so good anymore.
Those nice things you just said about me... could you perhaps say them again? I didn’t quite catch them.”
Eli: “...”
The sincere smile on his face froze instantly, and the corners of his mouth twitched twice beyond his control.
This old fox was pretending to be deaf, was he?!
Taking a deep breath, Eli decided to stop pretending as well.
The earnest expression vanished from his face in an instant, replaced by the commanding tone unique to a spoiled young noble. His voice turned crisp and decisive.
“Brandon, pack your things. From this moment on, you are no longer a stable hand.
You have been requisitioned as the accompanying staff adviser to Frontier Knight Eli Black.
You will be responsible for route planning, wilderness survival guidance, and field security for the entire party.
This takes effect immediately. As for whether your ears work or not...”
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have no right to refuse.” Eli stepped closer and stared straight into the old soldier’s eyes.
The simple smile on Brandon’s face slowly faded, replaced by a deep, unreadable gaze.
“As you command, Lord Eli.”
His voice was quiet, but exceptionally clear.
Done.
Reassured, Eli turned and strode out of the stable, leaving Brandon where he stood.
The old man’s rough fingers brushed across the cold blade of the knife, and a faint curve slowly lifted the corners of his mouth.
After leaving the stable, Eli did not pause for even a moment. His next target was the smithy within the family castle grounds.
Before he even reached it, he heard the dense, rhythmic clang-clang-clang of metal being hammered, along with the hiss of red-hot iron plunging into cold water.
The forge was blazing with fire, and bare-chested men were drenched in sweat as they worked.
The apprentices bustled back and forth, pumping the bellows and passing tools.
The overseer, Huck, was a thickset middle-aged man with a fleshy face.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he was making his rounds with a frown, occasionally barking out dissatisfied rebukes.
Eli’s arrival was like a block of ice crashing into a boiling furnace.
The noisy clamor in the shop dropped several degrees in an instant.
Huck froze for a moment. Then he hurried forward, piling a professional smile onto his face, with just a trace of fawning underneath it.
“Young Master Eli! What wind has blown you into a filthy place like ours?
What can I do for you? Are you looking to have a weapon forged, or perhaps a new set of tack made?”
Eli did not even glance at the smiling face Huck had put on. His sharp eyes swept across the apprentices who had stopped working.
“Leon.”
Eli’s clear voice rang through the room.
“Which one is Leon? Step forward.”
Among the crowd, a young man who was not especially tall but solidly built suddenly lifted his head. A flicker of panic and disbelief flashed through his eyes.
Subconsciously, he looked toward Huck.
The smile on Huck’s face stiffened.
Of course he knew who Leon was—an apprentice with good talent, but a foul temper and a stubborn streak.
He quickly forced out a laugh.
“Young Master, you’re looking for Leon?
He’s just a clumsy apprentice. His skills are still far from good enough. Why don’t I arrange for our best master craftsman instead—”
“Shut up.”
Eli cut him off impatiently.
“I asked for Leon. Where is he? Point him out to me.”
Huck choked on his words. His expression turned ugly, but he still forced himself to point toward the pale-faced young man in the corner.
“Uh... that’s him, Young Master.”
Eli followed the direction of his finger. It was indeed the same young man who had looked up just now.
He walked straight over, ignoring the fearful and curious stares of the apprentices around him, and stopped in front of Leon.
Leon was so nervous that he did not know where to put his hands. His soot-stained fingers clutched tightly at the corner of his clothes.
“You’re Leon?” Eli looked him up and down, his tone flat.
“Y-Yes, Young Master,” Leon replied, his voice trembling.
“Good.” Eli nodded. Then he spun around and lifted his chin toward Huck.
“He belongs to me now! From this moment on, he is no longer an apprentice in the forge.
He is my personal blacksmith, and he leaves with me immediately!”
“Wh-What?!” Huck’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
“Young Master! Th-This isn’t according to the rules!
Leon is... he’s still in his apprenticeship! His skills aren’t there yet! And our forge is already short-handed as it is—”
“Rules?” Eli let out a scornful laugh and shot Huck a sidelong glance.
“My rules are the rules. Short-handed?”
He swept his gaze around the room, and his voice rose sharply.
“That’s your concern as overseer.
Why should I care whether you’re short-handed or not? I want him, so he goes with me. Do you have a problem with that?”
Huck’s face instantly flushed the color of pig liver, and the veins at his temples began to throb.
Naturally, he did not dare provoke this notoriously debauched young master. And when he thought of how Eli was about to be exiled to the Western Wasteland, that hellish place where survival was all but impossible, a malicious thought rose in his heart.
You won’t be alive much longer anyway.
Suppressing his anger, he forced a smile uglier than a grimace.
“N-No problem! It’s Leon’s good fortune that you’ve taken a liking to him, Young Master. Please, take him with you. I wouldn’t dare delay you.”
As soon as he finished speaking, he hurriedly stepped back and waved a hand, signaling Leon to get lost at once.
The arrogant look of a wastrel young noble still sat plainly on Eli’s face.
He could not be bothered to waste another moment on a petty man like Huck. Turning to Leon, who was still lost in shock and confusion, he jerked his chin at him.
“Gather your tools. From now on, I’m your boss.”
Leon snapped out of it as if waking from a dream.
He gritted his teeth, hesitated not at all, and ran swiftly to the corner.
He picked up an old wooden box containing several crude tools, lowered his head, and silently took his place behind Eli.
“Let’s go.”
Satisfied, Eli turned and swaggered out under the complicated gazes of everyone in the forge.
From behind him, he could still vaguely hear Huck’s suppressed roar of fury and his shouted reprimands at the other apprentices.
Once outside the forge, the scorching air gave way to coolness.
Two key cards in hand right from the start.
And what came next was the real main event.