Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 19 - Chapter Pr

Prologue

Morning mist clung to the city of Sirius as the sun began to peek over the eastern horizon, heralding the start of a new day. It was just past six in the morning, a time when no one wanted to leave the warm embrace of the covers, but they were forced to get out of bed and get prepared.

Some people didn’t live by this schedule, however. Police officers, firefighters, doctors, and even IT engineers worked the night shift. A developed society blessed with the convenience of modernity didn’t always see much difference between day and night. The price of progress was that some people had to live outside their natural routine.

This was true, in a sense, even in this world. While there were no police officers or firefighters, the maids and attendants to the nobility had to work throughout the night to keep up with their duties, as did soldiers and guards out patrolling.

Soldiers walked in groups of five, holding up torches or lamps to guide their way as they patrolled the streets of Sirius. In a way, they functioned similarly to modern society’s police force or even the army. There was little regard for public safety in this world, and even with the barrier pillars protecting the city, vicious monsters still prowled nearby. For the people living in the dangerous Wortenia Peninsula, these guards were very much a lifeline.

Even so, their job was merely to react in case of an emergency. Strictly speaking, unless something happened, they were relatively free. What’s more, Ryoma Mikoshiba paid the soldiers on night duty extra, so it wasn’t an undesirable job. It did disrupt one’s daily rhythm, but in exchange for losing the meager happiness of a daily routine, they were compensated monetarily.

Some people, on the other hand, engaged in work even more detached from a daytime schedule than those who guarded the city.

At the heart of Sirius was Baron Ryoma Mikoshiba’s estate, and its kitchen was, despite the early hour, abuzz with activity.

“Are you done boiling the potatoes?! If you are, peel and crush them right away!”

“Is the oven clear? Then please handle this bread next.”

“Are you finished roasting the pork? Get it to the dining hall while it’s still hot!”

“The maid preparing the dining hall just said she doesn’t have enough soup bowls! What are they doing?! Hurry up and wash those dishes!”

Aggressive shouts filled the kitchen, along with the loud clanging of pots and cooking utensils. The cooks continued to stir while the children hired as their apprentices swiftly handed down instructions to the servants.

The kitchen was a veritable battlefield. After all, they were charged with feeding the hundreds of soldiers who guarded the city with their lives. Moreover, this was breakfast, the most important meal of the day. Breakfast provided the brain with the glucose it needed to function—a fact of biology just as true in this world.

For that reason, they couldn’t just serve them soup and bread and be done with it. An average noble might have approved of this to save on costs, but that certainly wasn’t the case for Baron Mikoshiba. He managed not only how much food was provided, but also its quality. He took into account the nutritional balance of their meals, in order to better satisfy the hungry soldiers.

Additionally, he ordered the cooks to prioritize flavor. Between that and the quality of the ingredients, these meals were quite expensive, even before accounting for all the hard work the cooks put into them.

Among the cooks working desperately over the pots, one person stood out—the woman who managed this kitchen. She was wearing a white, unblemished cook’s coat and calmly stirring a pot in her dedicated corner of the kitchen, where none of the other cooks were permitted to intrude.

That said, she wasn’t slacking off. Compared to the tumult around her, she seemed to be moving slowly, but she was gazing into the pot with the earnest eyes of a soldier marching into combat. Whenever scum floated up in the pot, she swiftly scooped it out. It was as if she were fighting a duel with her ingredients.

After some time, the woman dipped her personal ladle into the pot, scooped up a bit of the soup, and placed it on a platter. She then brought the platter to her shapely lips to check the aroma.

It smells...good. Kikuna nodded, confirming that the aroma matched what she had in mind. She’d gotten through the first phase.

Kikuna was using the flesh of a monster called a great horn, which was similar to a sheep. The dark elf tribes provided it to the Mikoshiba barony through trading. With this and the vegetables also provided by the dark elves, she was employing her mastery of French cuisine to prepare a long-simmered soup.

While the monster was similar to a sheep, it wasn’t anything like the domesticated goats with which modern people were familiar. It was closer to the wild breeds of sheep, like the mouflon or the argali, except much larger. As its name applied, the great horn had a large horn protruding from its head and was both omnivorous and extremely combative. The massive beast charged with terrifying force, and its horn could easily pierce the plate armor that knights wore, to say nothing of the leather armor adventurers donned. Once the great horn dispatched its target with this dangerous charge, it would immediately devour its victim.

Be that as it may, even this fearsome monster was occasionally hunted down by humans. In modern society, it was akin to a hunting club shooting a dangerous bear or wild boar.

“Now to taste it...”

Kikuna Samejima brought the platter to her rosy lips, but then her hand froze. Her expression clouded over with hesitation, confusion, and anxiety. She had polished her skills as a chef for many years, so pausing like this was highly unusual for her. Her reaction was justified, however.

I’ve never cooked with a monster like this before. Well, it’s not unlike cooking gibier, but I need to check the balance of the meat’s flavor.

In French cuisine—Kikuna’s speciality—gibier was any wild game hunted with traps or guns. Monsters weren’t entirely the same as rabbits or ducks, but they weren’t entirely unlike them either. Besides, when it came to a chef of her experience and skill, cooking monster meat wasn’t that big of a hurdle.

Even so, Kikuna couldn’t help but feel uneasy about working with completely unknown ingredients. Her task wasn’t simply to create a dish that tasted okay; she needed to create a delicacy. After all, the person she was cooking for placed importance on taste.

Of course, unlike a potter and gourmet from a certain cooking manga, she wasn’t going to throw away the pot and start all over if the tasting didn’t go well. In the manga, he made his wife start from scratch over and over again. If one did that in modern society, it might come across as workplace harassment or lead to divorce in a family setting.

Even so, the manga was beloved as a symbol of the manga culture of Japan’s Showa period, and it did spark an interest in cooking for many of its readers. Actually, it had inspired Kikuna to pursue a career as a chef when she read it in elementary school.

If I ran into a man like that in real life, I’d be disgusted. Personally, I’d kick him out of my store.

Kikuna’s line of thought was an attempt to distract herself from reality. Thinking back to the manga that had been her personal bible, she cracked a self-deprecating smile. Offering delicious food was a chef’s duty, but taste differed by the individual and could be swayed by factors like temperature and one’s physical condition. Tastes could even change by country. Dishes that were sloppily made or ones that contained something they shouldn’t were out of the question, but in the end, whether something was delicious depended on the person. Even if the dish she presented didn’t suit someone’s palate, that didn’t necessarily say anything about her skill as a cook.

I suppose since it’s a character from a manga, they’re an exaggerated caricature of real life.

By comparison, the person who was about to taste this dish was much less stern and peculiar. He wouldn’t throw the soup away if he didn’t like how it tasted, nor would he hurl insults, but he would give accurate criticism. His criticism had been spot-on ever since the day Kikuna had started cooking for him too.

He’s surprisingly knowledgeable.

The person in question didn’t like being called a gourmet or an epicure, but he did, in fact, act like a model example of those words. He must have been raised in an affluent home.

Despite his age, he must have dined in different restaurants all across Japan. Or maybe he cooked every day with carefully picked ingredients. Either way, it’s clear he understands the intricacies of taste.

This was a happy coincidence for Kikuna, who had been ordered by Akitake Sudou to spy on the Mikoshiba barony. Chefs loved nothing more than cooking for people with discerning palates. Anyone could say if a dish was delicious or not, but few people could read the intent and originality behind the way a chef prepared it.

Cultivating those traits required an innately unique sense of taste as well as a wealth of experience in enjoying cuisine. Even many of this world’s wealthiest nobles lacked these valuable attributes. They might have dined on fine cuisine, as one would expect of their wealth and high social status, yet their meals were made in fixed ways for fear of poisoning. Their chefs were forced into predetermined templates.

In other words, though they were nobles and royals, the higher classes didn’t enjoy fine cuisine as much as they might have believed. To someone living in Tokyo, a city full of fine cuisine, this level of cooking would come across as sorely lacking.

In the days since Kikuna had been called into this world, she had extended her services to nobles, who’d praised her unique and novel dishes, but most of them couldn’t recognize the intention and originality she put into her cooking. This was why she appreciated the fact that fate had brought her to an employer who could truly appreciate her talents, and she felt driven to present him with results she could take pride in—even if her employment under him was only a sham.

When Kikuna finally tried the soup in her platter, her concerns were completely forgotten.

“Mm, yes... It tastes good,” she whispered as she put the platter down. It was then that she heard a man speak to her from behind.

“Now that’s an appetizing smell. I’m looking forward to breakfast already.”

Kikuna turned around to see a large, built man clad in a tuxedo. Despite the early hour, he wore a red butterfly necktie. For formalwear, he was immaculately dressed, but he was in a kitchen, the realm of cooks. Outsiders like him were not welcome here.

Normally, she would have driven the man out of her kitchen at once, but all she did was glance at him and wordlessly return to her business. She then took a basket full of freshly baked rolls left by one of her assistants and placed it on a wagon, alongside soup plates and other dishes.

“Thank you for waiting, Mr. Zheng,” she said in a flat, businesslike manner. “Here is Master Koichiro’s breakfast. Feel free to take it away.”

Kikuna’s attitude was perfectly acceptable on a surface level; both she and the man were just doing their jobs. At the same time, she was acting very distant toward Zheng. He didn’t respond to her with confusion or displeasure, however. He simply nodded with a serene smile and pushed the wagon out of the kitchen.

She threw a glance at him over her shoulder, watching him leave, and resumed her cooking. 

Some time passed after that. The needles of the mechanical clock on the wall nearly pointed at nine in the morning. With the warlike tumult of breakfast behind them, the kitchen staff had a thirty minute break before beginning lunch preparations. A few workers still moved hurriedly about the kitchen, but it was essentially the calm before the storm.

Kikuna remained in the kitchen, polishing and sharpening her trusty knife while lost in thought.

Should I find the chance to speak to them?

This question had been on her mind ever since she’d escaped Epirus along with the rest of the workers at Count Salzberg’s estate and made her way to Pireas. The faces of two people filled her thoughts. One was the Chinese man she saw earlier, Zheng Motoku, and the other was a Russian beauty with snow-white skin, Veronica Kozlova.

The two of them were currently acting as personal attendants to Koichiro Mikoshiba, grandfather of the Wortenia Peninsula’s governor, Ryoma Mikoshiba. They served as Koichiro’s butler and secretary respectively, but they were effectively his bodyguards.

That in and of itself wasn’t strange. As the master of this estate, Ryoma, acknowledged them. The problem was that they were both high-ranking members of the Organization. Zheng Motoku was set to inherit Liu Daijin’s position as one of the elders, and Veronica was the supreme commander of its operative unit, the Hunting Dogs. She was also the military commander over the Organization’s operations in the western continent’s eastern regions.

To Kikuna, who was a mere fringe operative of the Organization, their stations were vastly out of reach, and they were far superior to her. So what were two major figures like them doing in this barely inhabited frontier land? Why were they acting so subservient to Koichiro Mikoshiba? She honestly didn’t know. The preliminary materials her contact in the Organization had given her when she was assigned this task didn’t mention anything about this situation.

Am I just misunderstanding things? No, that can’t be true.

For a moment, she considered that she might have mistaken someone else for Zheng and Veronica, but they looked exactly as described and introduced themselves with the same names. Their ethnicities matched too. It had to be them.

They probably don’t know my name, but they must know I’m from the Organization.

The Organization was like an international conglomerate in modern society. It was impossible to know the names and faces of every single member. Nonetheless, Zheng and Veronica were major figures in the Organization, second only to the elders. They were akin to a company’s board members, while Kikuna was an ordinary employee. While she would recognize them and know their names, they wouldn’t know hers. She was unsure of how to act because of that.

Honestly, I wish I could consult Sir Sudou right now.

She knew that was impossible. Sudou had assigned her this mission, but he was occupied with overseeing operations in the Organization and acting as an operative for the O’ltormea Empire, meaning he had to travel all around the continent. It was difficult for her to get in touch with him. Plus, she couldn’t go out of her way to contact him because it would blow his cover.

This was also why she couldn’t approach Zheng. Spying focused on gathering intelligence, and subterfuge required total secrecy.

I doubt those two would be handling that sort of job, though.

Still, she couldn’t fully discredit the possibility either, so she didn’t take the risk.

Who is Koichiro Mikoshiba, anyway?

As far as she could see, Zheng and Veronica treated Koichiro with the utmost respect, and they were doing so far too earnestly for them to be acting. This made Kikuna doubt herself all the more. She felt like she was lost in a maze with no way out.

Fortunately, someone who could erase those doubts called out to her.

“Sharpening a kitchen knife on your time off, are you? If you don’t mind, may I have a word?”

Kikuna shuddered at this unexpected voice, but her surprise was only momentary. She turned around and found it was exactly who she thought it would be.

He really is...

Kikuna Samejima was a chef. During her life on Rearth, she was neither a soldier nor a warrior, yet since being called into this world, she’d had to fight on the battlefield, giving her combat experience and skill. She wasn’t so careless as to let someone sneak up on her unawares, so the fact that someone had just done that alarmed her greatly. She had to admit that this man was more skilled than she was.

Kikuna remained silent and nodded to Zheng, her eyes fixed on him questioningly. “If you have something to discuss, can we take this conversation elsewhere?”

The two of them were alone right now, but many cooks were still going in and out of the kitchen, preparing to get back to work. Considering the nature of the conversation they were about to have, it would make sense that he’d want to avoid any prying eyes and ears.

Zheng, however, shook his head in denial. “No, that won’t be necessary. Nika is keeping watch outside the kitchen. If anyone tries to come in, she’ll let us know.”

Kikuna nodded.

I see. In that case...

Given Zheng and Veronica’s relationship, it made sense that the two of them were here together, and Kikuna had wondered why Veronica wasn’t here for this conversation. The fact that she was acting as a lookout explained her absence.

Kikuna sat on an empty crate that had once contained vegetables while Zheng brought a chair from the kitchen’s corner and sat as well. They faced each other.

“What did you want to talk to me about, then?” she asked, the first to speak.

“I think you already know, Ms. Samejima,” Zheng replied, implicitly asking her to stop beating around the bush.

His words were quite vague and open to interpretation, but she understood his intent perfectly. This soothed the doubt in her heart ever so slightly. With this, she knew the man before her was exactly who she thought he was.

“I see. So you two really are...”

“Yes. It’s as you suspect.”

This was what she’d expected to hear, perhaps the obvious answer to her doubts. They matched their names and descriptions, and they gave off a certain air of power and might that couldn’t be fully masked. At the same time, this revelation created more questions.

Who is that old man, Koichiro Mikoshiba? Why do they treat him with so much respect?

Zheng must have picked up on her doubts, because his lips curved into a smile. His eyes, on the other hand, glinted sharply.

“Are you curious about Lord Koichiro?”

“Lord...Koichiro. Is he part of the Organization?” Kikuna asked.

She’d arrived at the natural conclusion. Zheng was a top-ranking member of the Organization, and despite being out of earshot of everyone else, he still treated Koichiro with the utmost respect. His reverence for the older man must have been genuine, which meant that Koichiro Mikoshiba ranked even higher than a potential future elder.

To Kikuna’s surprise, Zheng shook his head in denial. “He is deeply involved with the Organization, yes, but his status is probably not what you think it is.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.

Zheng held out his hand and cut her off. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t elaborate on that. At least not until I confirm the reason you’re here.”

“My reason?”

“Surely you won’t say you were hired by the Mikoshiba barony by coincidence.”

Kikuna was at a loss.

It wasn’t a coincidence, no. He knows that much. But I’m not sure if I should tell the truth.

Kikuna and Zheng were part of the same Organization, but whether they were on the same side was questionable. The Organization was, in truth, a congregation of several smaller companies, mercenary groups, and guilds, all led by the elders. It wasn’t a monolith, but more a corporate group or a collection of associated companies. Two people could be members of the Organization, but that didn’t mean they necessarily cooperated with each other. In fact, it was very likely they competed over the same prey. Even if Zheng was a top-ranking member and a future elder, she couldn’t carelessly answer his question.

But...

As far as Kikuna knew, Sudou eyed Ryoma with caution, but he didn’t want him eliminated. If nothing else, he hadn’t ordered Ryoma’s assassination yet. That much was clear, because Sudou had ordered her to go undercover as a chef and gather information for him.

Based on his tone and attitude, if I mean Ryoma no harm, going out of my way to deny it would be a bad play.

This was Kikuna’s intuition speaking, but based on Zheng’s attitude, this was the only conclusion she could have arrived at. Therefore, she decided to answer truthfully.

“I was ordered by my superior, Akitake Sudou, to serve the Mikoshiba barony and gather information. That is all.”

“That is all, you say... Hm.”

Zheng’s response was difficult to read. It was too vague for her to tell if there was any hostility in it. Nevertheless, he didn’t question her any further. He merely crossed his arms and patted his chin with his right hand in pensive silence.

“I see... Well, from what I understand, Mr. Sudou doesn’t wish to eliminate Ryoma Mikoshiba, yes?”

This was Kikuna’s impression of the situation, and it appeared this third-party onlooker came to the same conclusion.

“You think so too?” she asked.

“Yes. The northern subjugation army is about to march on the peninsula. If he wanted to eliminate Ryoma, now would be the opportune moment to do so. If that were his plan, he wouldn’t have sent you to sniff out information.”

Being a chef, Kikuna could easily poison a meal, and with Lupis Rhoadserian’s army of two hundred thousand men on the way, the Mikoshiba barony’s security forces would have its sights set on the approaching external threat. That would make it easier for a mole to act. If Akitake Sudou had let this golden chance slip by, the only conclusion was that he must not want Ryoma dead.

Lord Zheng doesn’t seem displeased with that either. That must mean that the Organization as a whole doesn’t see the Mikoshiba barony as an enemy.

Kikuna had no way of knowing what kinds of plots the Organization’s top brass was working on, but learning that it didn’t have any intention of crushing the Mikoshiba barony relieved some corner of her heart.

Lord Zheng is a future elder, and Veronica is commander of the Hunting Dogs. If they decide to do so, the Organization could even extend its support to the barony.

That kind of support could be essential for the Mikoshiba barony to repel the northern subjugation army. Of course, given the Organization’s nature, it would be difficult to openly deploy its operative units, but it could use the guild to encourage mercenaries to join and provide war funds and supplies through the companies under its ownership. Even that little would go a long way at lightening the barony’s burdens.

All kinds of possibilities arose in Kikuna’s mind, and she couldn’t help but chide herself for feeling this way.

I guess I shouldn’t let this concern me, but... 

She was in a peculiar position. She was only at the Mikoshiba barony because her superior, Sudou, had ordered her to spy on them. In this regard, she had no attachment or loyalty to Ryoma or his domain. Or rather, she had no attachment to them initially. However, though she was a bit conflicted, she was satisfied overall.

I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, though.

Since she was both a chef and a mole, she wasn’t supposed to grow attached to the people and the group she was infiltrating. She shouldn’t have felt this way, but she did grow to feel more or less at home in the Mikoshiba barony. Maybe it was simply because its governor, Ryoma Mikoshiba, had been summoned from Japan like her. She couldn’t remain entirely unbiased because of that. His actions often conflicted themselves; he had the kindness typical of the Japanese, but he also had the adaptability needed to adjust to this world and the makings of a conqueror. Looking at him reminded her of her homeland, but it also filled her with expectation for the future.

Besides, I feel surprisingly at home in this kitchen.

She realized that Ryoma was likely taking measures to protect himself all the while, but the fact that the governor was willingly eating the dishes she prepared, despite her being relatively new to the barony, struck her as very daring. All of that made Kikuna feel like working in this barony wasn’t that bad—even if she knew it was only a dream that was bound to end sooner or later.

Zheng rose from his seat, though she couldn’t tell if he had any inkling of what was going through her mind.

“Are we done?” she asked.

“Yes, for today, at least.” He nodded briefly. “Miss Samejima, conduct yourself as you have until now. If anything comes up, I will come speak to you again.”

She’d probably given him the answers he wanted to hear.

Kikuna watched Zheng leave the kitchen, a mixture of hope and unease hidden in her heart.

Veronica, who’d been leaning against the wall with her arms crossed as she stood watch, called out to Zheng. He had just left the kitchen after talking with Kikuna Samejima. Once she confirmed no one was around, she walked over to his side.

“The talk ended well, from the looks of it?” she asked. She already had an idea of the outcome, but her curiosity was natural.

Zheng nodded briefly. “Yes, for the time being...” he replied, trailing off.

“Did she say something to concern you? Don’t tell me an assassination order was issued...”

Zheng shook his head. “There wasn’t anything suspicious about her. She really was sent by the Organization to spy on the Mikoshiba barony, but she hasn’t been ordered to do anything else. The Organization is probably desperate to get information on the Mikoshiba barony, so this isn’t a surprise.”

“But there’s something else troubling you, isn’t there?” Veronica asked.

“Yes...” Zheng replied. “I get the distinct feeling that someone is moving against the Organization’s will.”

Most people summoned into this cutthroat world from Rearth were overwhelmed by fate’s whimsy, so it made sense that Ryoma, who’d clawed his way up to nobility without any help from the Organization and was about to wage war with one of the three kingdoms of the east, would draw the group’s attention.

The Organization would have to decide whether to eliminate him or to bring him to their side, and that decision required knowing what kind of man Ryoma was. To that end, it was neither unusual nor suspicious that Akitake Sudou sent Kikuna to gather information on the Mikoshiba barony.

But is that really all he’s after?

Zheng had heard about the Organization’s past internal strife from Liu Daijin and Koichiro. He knew that quite a few of its members would stop at nothing if it would get them back to their old lives. Zheng didn’t know if Sudou had those proclivities, but since there was no way of knowing what secrets the human heart held, Zheng had to be cautious around Sudou.

“You think someone in the Organization is acting of their own accord?” Veronica asked.

“Yes. Just like when the homecoming faction, which sought to return to Rearth no matter what the cost or the sacrifice, clashed with its opposition.”

Veronica’s neutral expression turned into a scowl. This topic was taboo, and no one in the Organization wished to or was allowed to touch on it, but Veronica didn’t argue back because she had her own suspicions.

“There was that sniping incident in the Cannat Plains too,” Zheng continued.

“Did she have anything to say about that? You did ask her about it, right?”

“No. Samejima is just a chef, so it’s unlikely she had anything to do with that. I doubt she’d ever be able to lie convincingly to me. But the man giving her orders, Akitake Sudou... I’m not so sure about him...”

“You think Sudou’s pulling the strings behind the scenes? It’s certainly possible, but why would he do that? There has to be a reason.”

“I wouldn’t know about that either. In the end, the Organization is a gathering of independent groups. I’m not privy as to what other groups are up to.”

“Right. If you start suspecting people, there’s no end of things to question...” Veronica muttered.

She didn’t want to suspect her fellow Organization members, but at the same time, she couldn’t write off Zheng’s misgivings either.

That sniper attack was probably a warning from the Organization. If they really wanted the Baron Mikoshiba dead, they’d have aimed for his head.

The existence of firearms was a well-kept secret, so the fact that a sniper rifle had been used implied that someone from the Organization had to have been involved. However, the fact that the sniper hadn’t aimed for Ryoma’s head implied they weren’t ordered to outright assassinate him.

This world’s technology and sciences were far behind Rearth’s standard. The closest it came was alchemy compared to that of the Middle Ages. Synthetic fibers, like the aramid fiber, and things like plastics were nowhere to be found.

But just because this world’s technology was primitive, it didn’t mean that firearms had an overwhelming advantage over all other weapons. Scales and skins gathered from powerful monsters could replicate the defensive properties of synthetic fibers. Martial thaumaturgy could be used to not only reinforce the body’s muscles, but also to heal injuries. While it couldn’t restore wounds in the blink of an eye, like in many fictional stories, thaumaturgy could—assuming one didn’t instantly die and was given proper time to rest—heal wounds that would be impossible to recover from in modern society.

With those factors in mind, if one sought to snipe someone in this world, their only option would be to shoot their target in the head to ensure the kill. That way, the shot would either instantly kill the target or, if it failed to do so, knock them unconscious when the shock waves of the bullet penetrated their skull. This would prevent them from using martial thaumaturgy to save themselves. If one’s brain didn’t function, there was no way they could activate or control any spells.

But anyone in the Organization knows that.

The real issue wasn’t the shot itself, but the meaning behind this presumed warning.

Akitake Sudou’s superior is Akimitsu Kuze, an old friend of Liu Daijin and Lord Koichiro. Was this his plan?

Zheng knew of Kuze, but he had no idea what kind of person he was. All he knew was that, in the past, Kuze, Koichiro Mikoshiba, and Liu Daijin had a falling-out. Moreover, no one in the Organization back then really knew it as it was in the present day. Kuze had become a recluse who rarely showed himself in public, and in a recent Organization assembly, he’d announced that he would be absent due to illness.

It wasn’t clear if he was truly ill or if he feigned illness for some other reason. Of course, there was no way to confirm that suspicion, and it was possible that Zheng’s concerns were unfounded. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder. His warrior’s intuition, born of a soldier’s training and tempered in countless battles, alerted him that something was off.

“Akitake Sudou and Akimitsu Kuze... What are those two thinking?” he whispered.

The moment those names left Zheng’s lips, Veronica’s expression clouded over. She instantly understood what Zheng was worried about.

“Yes, I understand,” she said. “If you’re going to say that much, I’ll use my connections to look into things. This Akitake Sudou is too strange, and Lord Kuze doesn’t show himself. It’s possible Sudou did this of his own accord.”

If that was true, the way to handle it was obvious. If Sudou were to refuse Veronica and Zheng’s orders, they would forcibly crush him. At worst, Veronica would use her authority to order the Hunting Dogs to eliminate Sudou. If Sudou was moving on Kuze’s orders, Zheng and Veronica would have no choice but to ask Liu Daijin to use his authority as a fellow elder to put things in order. Either way, they’d have to figure out more about this situation before making a decision.

Veronica’s idea demonstrated that she properly understood the situation, but Zheng looked at her with concern.

“Are you sure? I can’t promise you that you won’t be biting off more than you can chew.”

It wasn’t likely that this would be a dangerous venture, but it wasn’t impossible either, so Zheng’s concern was justified.

Veronica gave her lover a composed smile. “Don’t worry. I don’t hate those two either.”

Zheng soon realized who she was referring to, and it made her resolve apparent.

“I see... But do be careful. I don’t want to lose you either, Nica...”

Veronica nodded gently—not knowing that this choice would become the spark that triggered new strife.