About ten days had passed since Father took to his sickbed.
"Ugh, AAAAGH!"
"Quiet, please. You're splattering blood on my clothes."
I had rented a mansion in Amstel to use for torturing prisoners. While Father remained at the estate, spies from every nation had swarmed in to keep watch over the mansion. Among them, the agents of the Habsburg Republic were particularly vicious—crossing every boundary they could in order to extract information.
This batch must have been sent by that woman Consul Elisabeth, too.
She was a woman Father was especially wary of. From what I'd heard through the grapevine, she was quite the beauty.
She was an ill-fated woman from the sound of her name alone. This wasn't prejudice—it was a plain fact. Ever since I was very young, the name Elisabeth had always rubbed me the wrong way for reasons I couldn't explain.
"KUAAAGH!"
"Ah."
In the midst of torture, I'd miscalibrated the intensity. The prisoner passed out. Without realizing it, I'd applied too much force with the skewer and torn through living flesh.
"My apologies."
I bowed my head slightly.
"I only meant to peel off a sliver of skin, but I accidentally grazed the area near his heart. I'll make sure to torture him properly, in proper order, from now on."
"...P...fhhp..."
The prisoner silently foamed at the mouth. This was exactly why it was dangerous to let your mind wander during torture. I'd dumped all the stimulation that should have been administered gradually into one single instant. Had this been an ordinary prisoner, he would have died on the spot. Thank goodness he was a knight with a sturdy body.
"But why does the Habsburg Republic's Consul keep dispatching assassins at every opportunity? Tell me, Knight—does that woman truly believe she can kill Father with people like you? It's truly incomprehensible. Even throwing eggs at a rock has its limits."
"..."
"Perhaps that woman believes she has the right to kill Father."
Tck—my hand slipped slightly. The man who had been unconscious snapped his eyes wide open and let out a scream that nearly tore his throat apart.
"H-hic, ha, kuhhhhhaack!"
"Ah."
I'd made another mistake.
The man had suffered an irreparable wound. There was no helping it. Once the damage reached that point, recovery was difficult no matter how tough a knight might be. I stopped the torture here, as an apology for my careless blunder. In other words, I drew a dagger and drove it into the prisoner's throat.
I bowed my head once more.
"I'm sorry. I never intended to let you live from the very start."
"Kurp, kuhphrek... hkk..."
The knight spat up blood several times, then began to tremble all over. I dipped my hand in a water bucket to wash the blood away. The man's convulsions still hadn't stopped, and finding his life surprisingly tenacious, I twisted the dagger buried in his throat sideways. Only then did the man finally die.
I tidied up the torture tools and stood up. Just then, someone knocked on the door. Instinctively, I seized the dagger in my right hand and glared at the door.
"Who is it."
"It's me, Head Maid. Ivar."
It was a familiar voice. I tucked the dagger away into my clothes. Ivar Lodbrok was my direct subordinate — a bit clumsy in his work, but an eager junior who threw himself into every task. The fact that he sometimes shared Father's bedroom, however, was exceedingly out of line.
So when Ivar had just started working as a maid, I'd played a rather mean-spirited prank on him. I still hadn't forgotten the face he made when I told him "I'm a homosexual." That was quite splendid. Even now, if I recalled that expression, I was confident I could eat dry, hard bread without a single side dish.
"You may come in."
"Yes, pardon the intrusion."
The moment Ivar opened the door and stepped inside, his expression froze. The knight's duodenum lay coiled across the floor. The stench of innards made Ivar shrink back. He really should have been getting used to this by now — what a clumsy kid.
"Head Maid... um, the blood on you..."
"I'm fine. I can just change clothes. More importantly, what brings you here? I specifically told you not to enter the torture room without my permission."
"His Excellency the Lord's condition has taken a turn for the worse."
My heart sank.
Fortunately, I was able to keep my composure in any situation. Apart from my eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, my expression didn't change. But I couldn't help the hint of urgency that crept into my tone.
"When you say his condition is critical—"
"The young lady doesn't have the details either. My apologies. Others have already summoned a mage and a priest in a hurry. The head maid thought she might be of additional help as well, which is why I came to find you."
"Very well."
Whoever made the call, it was the right call. I knew nothing of medicine, but I had mastered all manner of anesthetics and hallucinogens. If Father had to undergo some kind of surgery, I could ensure the environment was perfectly comfortable for the procedure.
I spoke as I stepped out the door.
"This is no time to waste. I'll change clothes and rush straight to the mansion. Ivar, just in case—could you grab the medicine bag from my room? There are anesthetics in there..."
——That was when it happened.
Something struck my head hard.
My vision spun and my knees buckled. A throbbing pain shot through the back of my skull as my sight rapidly whited out. The moment I clenched my teeth and reached for the short blade hidden against my thigh, something came crashing down on the crown of my head once more.
"Ah...?"
Instinctively, I reached out to brace myself against the floor. But my hand slipped, and my body crumpled. My face hit the floorboards and my vision went completely blank. Even the sound of my own breathing felt impossibly distant.
In that last moment, the only thought that crossed my mind was that I had to tell Father about this.
Ivar Lodbrok is a traitor.
I couldn't guess who had put her up to it, but she was a parasite that had burrowed deep into Father's royal castle. I had been foolish. I should have kept a closer watch on Ivar, been more vigilant. Because Father trusted her, I had trusted her without reservation as well.
What if Ivar was a spy cunning enough to deceive Father?
I was the only one who could have suspected her — and yet.
"...Fath...er..."
My vision went dark.
The next time I opened my eyes, I was in the underground prison beneath the Demon Lord's Castle. My limbs were bound to the wall. I tested my arms, but they wouldn't budge. And standing right before me, to my great surprise, was Laura de Farnese, the Secretary of Military Affairs.
"So you're finally awake."
The Secretary of Military Affairs spoke coldly. At a glance, I could tell her pupils were twisted with fury and cursing. A sinister aura shrouded the woman known as Laura de Farnese.
"Despicable traitor."
"Secretary...?"
I exhaled. My mouth was so parched that my tongue wouldn't move properly. My voice came out hoarsely, barely pronounced. Something hard was caked on the back of my head—the smell told me it was dried blood crusted over.
Was the Secretary a traitor too, not just Ivar?
But that made no sense. Laura de Farnese was nothing more or less than Father's pet puppet—though at the very least, her loyalty to Father should have been unwavering. Why...
I asked, laced with confusion.
"What... what is this?"
"I will now interrogate you. Just as you interrogated prisoners every single day. It should be a very familiar process for you."
"Interrogate..."
I repeated it blankly, unable to comprehend. Interrogate? Me? For what reason had they seized and imprisoned me to interrogate me?
Secretary Laura de Farnese smirked—a face she would never wear in Father's presence. This woman's attitude changed by a thousand degrees depending on whether she was dealing with Father or someone else. It was a common trait among detestable women.
"The master was nearly assassinated at the Batavian Governor's residence. Up to that point, things went according to his plan. But then why did it take so long for him to regain consciousness? According to the original script, he should have come to his senses within five days."
"..."
My mouth was wracked with thirst.
How many days had I actually been unconscious? How many days had Father's estate been left completely exposed and defenseless?
I shouldn't be here.
If I wasn't standing guard, someone might break in. It was dangerous. I'd set up traps thorough enough that petty knights wouldn't dare enter, but someone of the Demon Lord's caliber could potentially break through. How many days had passed? My heart burned like a candle flame.
"Demon Lord Paimon has been hostile toward the master for some time. The incident occurred in Amsterdam, Batavia—the very place she rules from behind the scenes—and it was there that the master was placed in a coma for far longer than anticipated."
"What are you talking about... Release me at once, Minister of Military Affairs... The estate's security is compromised..."
"If you plotted with Paimon, then every question is answered."
This blonde imbecile.
She conspired with Ivar just to settle some trivial doubts. Come to think of it, Ivar was blonde too. From this moment on, I vowed to loathe every blonde woman in the world. The reason their hair shimmered was that brain fluid was leaking from their skulls and glistening like a rainbow.
"Cut the nonsense. Release me immediately."
I clenched my teeth. My gums ached from the roots.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to keep me locked up? Someone with a skull filled with nothing but semen wouldn't be able to deduce that. Father is currently exposed to spies from every nation."
"The estate's security is flawless. I have made all the necessary preparations."
"Hah."
I scoffed.
Perfect, because *you* handled security? It seemed the Minister of Military Affairs still hadn't realized that she was the weakest and most useless brick among Father's retainers — the top stone of a crumbling arch. I wished she would finally recognize that outside the battlefield and the bedroom, she wasn't worth the dirt under a fingernail, but this woman always butted in without knowing her place.
If they were going to play it this way, I had plenty to say too. It would be a mistake to think that the only thing Father had taught me was the art of performance. I possessed a god-given talent for mockery — second in the world, or in other words, second only to Father himself.
"How reassuring. Of course Father's sex slave would have handled it well. But Minister of Military Affairs — before tightening security on the estate, wouldn't it be better to first get your lower mouth under control? The semen you've spilled along the corridors of the Demon Lord's Castle alone would be enough to fill two lakes..."
*Crack.* The Minister of Military Affairs slapped my cheek.
Sorry, but it didn't hurt at all. What was that just now? Had a mosquito grazed my face by chance? I tilted my head and merely shifted my eyes to glare at the Minister of Military Affairs. This angle was the most effective for provoking someone.
"My apologies. Your genital must already be a tattered rag, so I'm sure you're feeling down, and here I was speaking so thoughtlessly out of pure curiosity. I happen to know that Father experiences a sensation of thrusting into empty air every time he takes the Minister of Military Affairs."
"Go on, keep talking."
"Well then, you'd have no choice but to satisfy Father with your upper mouth. Just how exceptional are your skills that Father still seeks out the Minister of Military Affairs? I'm truly amazed. They say when you have no teeth, your gums will do — and the Minister of Military Affairs really does compensate for that ragged genital with sheer gumming. I'd love to learn a thing or two from you, if the opportunity ever arose."
The Minister of Military Affairs grabbed a whip. She seemed to think she was being threatening. Unfortunately, it was clear the Minister of Military Affairs had never handled a whip in her life. She was gripping it too short. At this rate, she probably couldn't even swing it properly.
"What I demand is the strict truth."
"Ahaha. What truth would that be?"
"Did you conspire with the Demon Lord Paimon to poison the lord's medicine?"
I gave a broad smile.
"Just one last question, if I may."
"Confess."
"Are the Minister of Military Affairs's gums still healthy?"
Immediately after, the whip tore into my flesh without mercy.