Chapter 3

Chapter 3 : Baron Lenke (1)

Tyron gave in to his desire to recover the sword. Soon, he swallowed hard and cautiously asked Aslaf,

“Wh-what do I have to do?”

Aslaf brought his index finger to his lips.

“Do not tell anyone, no matter what. Come to the well tonight. If word leaks out, the thief may notice.”

Only then did Tyron nod with a tense expression. At Aslaf’s words that he would find the famous sword, he looked ready to do whatever he asked.

“Got it.”

After exchanging a look with him, Aslaf silently lowered his head, closed the door, and left the room.

‘Juan, you bastard. I’ll show you that if you ever frame me again, you won’t get away unharmed.’

Aslaf returned to his room and waited for time to pass.

The sun set, and the night deepened.

Around the time owls began to cry and flocks of bats took flight,

the lights went out in every window of the mansion, and everyone fell into a deep sleep.

Beside the mansion’s yard, in front of the well, a man with his face covered appeared.

“Heave-ho.”

Groaning as he pushed open the heavy well cover, the man drew a large sword from his coat.

He lowered the sword into the well and turned it this way and that beneath the pouring moonlight.

“Where is the name?”

He grumbled as he stuck his head forward and bent his body into the dark well.

“Is this thing really genuine? Isn’t it fake?”

He flipped the blade over and searched for the name in the moonlight.

“Damn it. I went through all that trouble to steal it, and it’s fake?”

Part of the blade that received the moonlight shone unusually brightly, and a fine line appeared.

“Huh? Is this it?”

Juan joyfully raised the sword. Near the hilt, graceful letters appeared brightly on the blade, giving off a clear glow.

“There it is! There are letters! It’s genuine.”

At that moment, a hand suddenly shot out of the darkness, grabbed the nape of his neck, and dragged him out.

“You bastard!”

Juan lost his balance, dropped the sword, and fell hard onto his backside.

“Y-Young master?”

When he came face-to-face with Tyron, Juan jumped in shock as if he had seen a ghost, then fell to his knees.

“H-how are you here......?”

Trembling, he crawled across the ground and kissed Tyron’s foot.

“How dare you steal my sword? Do you know how much this is worth?”

Tyron lashed out with his foot and kicked Juan squarely in the face.

“Ugh!”

Juan clutched his face and rolled away in pain.

“I-I was wrong. P-please forgive me.”

With blood running from his nose, Juan clasped his hands and begged desperately.

“How dare you deceive me? You stole from me and accused someone else of being the thief?”

Furious at being stabbed in the back by Juan, whom he had trusted, Tyron stomped on him over and over.

“Here it is.”

Aslaf picked up the sword that had fallen to the ground and held it out to Tyron.

“Y-you?”

Only after seeing Aslaf did Juan realize that Aslaf had known everything. He trembled and opened his mouth.

The moonlit blade in Aslaf’s hand was still shining with silver letters, even outside the well.

“You can see the letters even outside the well, can’t you? Didn’t you say you had to shine it inside the well to see them?”

Aslaf spoke to the confused Juan.

“I had to say that so you’d bring the sword to the well.”

Batangkara’s sword revealed his name when held in moonlight, but Aslaf had lied and said it had to be held in moonlight inside a well. It had been a scheme to lure Juan to the well. That way, Juan would bring the sword out himself from the secret place where he had hidden it, a place only he knew.

“How could this......?”

Juan looked as if he might cry, not knowing what to do, and tore at his own hair.

It was as if he had taken out the sword he had hidden with his own hands and presented it to Aslaf.

“You stole my ring too, didn’t you? I can’t believe I’ve trusted a thief like this until now!”

Tyron beat Juan until his anger cooled, then grabbed him by the collar and dragged him away.

“I-I was wrong, young master.”

Juan begged on his hands and knees, but Tyron opened the storage room door and threw him inside.

“Please forgive me, young master.”

The door slammed shut with a bang, and Juan knocked on it with a sorrowful sob. Tyron only grew angrier, saying he would fix Juan’s habits once and for all.

“Don’t give that bastard anything but water for three days.”

Tyron gave Aslaf the order, dusted off the sword he had recovered, held it preciously, and returned to his room.

Aslaf remained where he was, not moving until Tyron had gone far away. When he was about to leave, Juan urgently called him in a small voice.

“Aslaf. You aren’t really going to bring me only water, are you? I can’t survive three days on water alone.”

Juan pleaded in a servile voice.

“I even gave you precious milk. You can at least bring me some porridge instead of water, can’t you?”

Aslaf looked back at him and spoke coldly.

“I heard you told the young master I stole the sword.”

“Th-that was...”

Juan hesitated and sighed.

“I don’t even want to give you water.”

When Aslaf turned to leave, Juan hurriedly stretched his arm through the window and waved it around.

“W-wait. I-I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Sweating profusely, he lowered his head to Aslaf.

“I was wrong. I won’t say bad things to you or treat you cruelly ever again. Please bring me water, at least. Please.”

Juan, who had always looked down on Aslaf because he was younger and hated by Tyron, seemed to feel for the first time that Aslaf was not a boy he could belittle.

“If I can’t even drink water, I really might die. Save me, Aslaf.”

Aslaf clasped his hands behind his back the way Tyron did to him, lifted his chin, and looked down at Juan.

“Really? Then, Juan. Let’s behave from now on. Understood?”

“Yes? Yes. Understood. I’ll behave.”

Flustered, Juan answered and bowed as if he were speaking to Tyron.

Aslaf grinned, left him behind, and turned to walk away.

Now Juan would never again dare to frame him as a thief.

Lying on the bed in his room and staring at the dark ceiling, Aslaf thought deeply.

‘Do I have to keep living like this, treated as some rootless servant?’

Now that he had realized his past life as a king, he could not keep living while being despised as a gypsy who lived under someone else’s roof. He did not feel inclined to do so at all.

‘I just have to make Father acknowledge me as his son, don’t I?’

Even if he was not entered into the family registry, if he was at least acknowledged as an illegitimate son, his treatment within the house would change. The servants would not dare frame him carelessly when they had to be mindful of the baron’s eyes.

However, his father, Baron Oleg Lenke, was a man who rigidly followed the rules. There was no way he would acknowledge Aslaf, who was not the son of his lawful wife, as his child.

‘Let’s at least try asking. I’ve got nothing to lose.’

Aslaf decided to have the baron acknowledge him as his son, and the next day, he went to meet Baron Lenke.

He climbed the stairs of the mansion and went to the study that also served as the baron’s office.

Knock, knock.

He knocked on the door.

“Who is it?”

Baron Lenke looked back at him as he entered the room.

Baron Oleg Lenke was his father, but it was difficult even to see his face.

Aslaf was the illegitimate son of a gypsy mother who wandered without any proper lineage, so he held the status of a servant.

Just as he could not call Tyron his older brother, Baron Lenke, the lord of Beden Castle, was a lofty existence Aslaf could not approach unless summoned first.

Other than a few permitted servants, no one could enter the baron’s room, so Aslaf had almost never been inside. Though the baron was his father, if he were caught knocking on the door and entering without the baron’s summons, he would have to prepare himself to be severely scolded by the butler.

“Have you been well?”

At Baron Lenke’s gentle voice, Aslaf felt his chest grow tight without realizing it. Though the baron kept him at a distance out of consideration for his wife and Tyron, it seemed he did not have any affection for him in his heart.

Before, Aslaf had felt hurt by his father’s somewhat blunt attitude, but now he understood why the baron had acted that way. After awakening to his past life, he had also come to know Baron Lenke’s background when he had been young.

Oleg Lenke had married Anne, the daughter of the lord of Beden Castle, and inherited both the baronial title and Beden Castle, along with its small domain. Naturally, he could not avoid paying attention to his wife’s feelings.

‘Oleg. You’ve grown old, my loyal vassal.’

Aslaf muttered inwardly without realizing it.

The one who had arranged Baron Lenke’s marriage was none other than Alexei I.

Oleg Lenke had been born a commoner and had been one of Alexei I’s subordinates. He had not possessed outstanding ability, but he was diligent and honest.

Though he was of common birth and his martial prowess was only ordinary, he was strong and devoted himself wholeheartedly to anyone he had sworn loyalty to. Alexei I had taken note of him, married him to Anne, the daughter of the lord of Beden Castle, granted him a title, and entrusted him with the defense of Beden Castle, an unimportant borderland.

Because it was poor and remote, and because Baron Lenke guarded it like an iron wall, the region had maintained peace for decades without any major trouble, despite being a borderland adjacent to the barbarians.

Baron Lenke had once served Alexei I, but after Alexei’s death, he had sworn fealty to Marquis Sigrid, who had absorbed Alexei’s territory and influence.

Rigid Baron Lenke regarded fulfilling his duty of protecting the domain where he stood as his highest priority, no matter how the outside situation flowed.

“I hear you found Tyron’s sword for him. You’re rather clever.”

At Baron Lenke’s question, Aslaf lowered his head. The baron said nothing more, but inwardly, he seemed proud that Aslaf had grown up healthy and wise despite the lack of his care and the absence of his mother.

“You are fifteen now. Is there anything you want to do?”

Aslaf could continue living as a servant in Baron Lenke’s mansion, but he intended to seek a new opportunity and go out into the wider world.

“I will go to the city.”

Aslaf did not want to spend his entire life in this small Beden Castle. Since he had traveled with the Gypsy tribe and visited large cities and even the imperial capital, this place was unbearably dull to him.

However, there was something he had to make certain before he left. Aslaf raised his head, looked into the baron’s eyes, and said,

“Please acknowledge me as your son, Father.”

Aslaf had purple eyes, the kind that allowed anyone to recognize him as a gypsy wherever he went. Therefore, if he did not want to be despised in the Empire and wanted to do anything smoothly, he had to be acknowledged as the baron’s son. Even if he was an illegitimate son, the difference between being a noble’s son and a wandering gypsy was as vast as heaven and earth.

“How dare you. Impudent!”

The rigid Baron Lenke bristled, raising his eyebrows as he scolded him.

“You are not my son. That is something that can never happen.”

Aslaf had expected the baron to refuse. Without the permission of Anne, the wife who had made Baron Lenke a noble, even being acknowledged as an illegitimate son was impossible.

Still, seeing his father deny him with all his might, insisting that he was not his son, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

With his prominent nose, broad forehead, and thick eyebrows, Aslaf looked exactly like Baron Lenke to anyone’s eyes. In fact, Aslaf resembled the baron even more than Tyron, his legitimate son, but the baron did not acknowledge him as his child.

“I took in a wandering gypsy, and now you dare call yourself the son of a noble? Do not keep such pointless thoughts in your heart.”

Even aside from his wife’s permission, the baron himself did not seem to have any intention of acknowledging Aslaf as his son. Though he felt affection for Aslaf, because he himself had once been a commoner, he seemed to try even harder not to show any trace of commonness and to behave like a noble.

The baron’s own birth as a commoner was, rather, what made him refuse to acknowledge Aslaf as his son.

There was no point in arguing, Weren’t you a commoner before too? Doing so would only provoke Baron Lenke’s inferiority complex over his status and make him angry. If Aslaf said such a thing, the baron might immediately drive him out and tell him to leave, and he might never be able to see his father again.

“Choose a profession that suits your station. Look around the blacksmithy or the mill and find work to do.”

Aslaf stood upright where he was, his calm gaze seeming to see through the baron’s true thoughts.

‘I cannot do that, Oleg.’

In the past, he might have obeyed his father’s words.

But not now.

Now that he had realized his past life, he had not the slightest intention of obeying the words of Baron Lenke, who had once been his lowest subordinate.