Translator: AnubisTL
"He cloaks himself in the finery of mercy and uses acts of kindness as a deceptive prelude."
"Such methods are more lethal and harder to defend against than the sharpest blade or the hottest dragon breath."
"I have seen the true face beneath Earl Mills' mask of hypocrisy—greed, deceit, and a callous disregard for human life. He is a devil in human skin, and he deserves a thousand deaths!"
Beside them, Flower Knight Charles's gaze was ice-cold, a hint of darkness creeping into his expression.
He had been ruthlessly abandoned and betrayed by the man he once respected, trusted, and was willing to fight for. Any past debts of gratitude were now settled in full.
Now, only a singular, resolute thought remained in his heart: to unmask the Earl's hypocrisy and execute true justice with the sword in his hand.
"Do not be hasty. The sword of vengeance must await the perfect moment to be drawn."
Garos soothed the knight's roiling murderous intent.
He instructed the Flower Knight to remain calm and rest in Creekwood Town to heal his wounds.
Only after the deal with the Albert Family was fully concluded, and the Ironforged Tribe had successfully secured the trade route and the full ransom, would the time for the final settlement arrive.
In this regard, Garos's thinking was surprisingly aligned with Earl Mills's.
The deal was the deal; the settlement was the settlement.
The difference, however, was this:
No matter how Earl Mills might seek revenge on Garos in the future, the dragon's terrifying power and the treacherous terrain of the Sierre Wilderness would make such a feat impossible in the short term.
Yet...
When a Boundary Walker, a master of space, harbors a murderous intent, guards become utterly useless.
An old, pampered earl would have virtually no chance to resist before a knight's blade.
Afterward, the Flower Knight, Charles Haynes, remained in Creekwood Town, quietly healing his physical and spiritual wounds under the care of the Ironforged retinue.
Garos, meanwhile, returned to the depths of Needleleaf Valley, continuing his ceaseless, day-after-day tempering and cultivation.
Time flowed silently, like the never-ending winds over the Sierre Wilderness, and soon, a little over a month had quietly slipped by.
The envoy from the Albert Family arrived in Creekwood Town, crossing into the Sierre Wilderness as promised.
The envoy brought a formal legal deed of cession, stamped with the Albert Family's crest and certified by the Federation Notary Office, along with magic-reinforced chests containing a staggering sum of war reparations and prisoner ransoms.
In the town center's plaza, witnessed by a white-robed priest from the Temple of the Scales and watched by a crowd of curious Creekwood Town residents, representatives of the Albert Family and the Ironforged Tribe signed the contract and exchanged the prisoners and ransom.
The entire process proceeded without incident or complication.
It was worth noting that the Temple of the Scales was a transcendent organization that spanned numerous kingdoms and even existed within the vast empire. They worshipped the deity who presided over the laws of fairness and justice.
A contract signed under the personal witness of a high priest of the Temple of the Scales possessed a divine binding force that far exceeded any ordinary magic contract. Any party daring to violate its oath would face an extremely severe and terrifying punishment, delivered under the direct gaze of the gods.
After successfully redeeming all the captives, the members of the Albert Family remained on high alert, maintaining a vigilant posture as they cautiously withdrew from the Sierre Wilderness.
To their surprise, the return journey proceeded with unusual smoothness. Only a few unwary ferocious beasts and low-level demonic beasts launched sporadic attacks, all of which were swiftly slain and cleared by the guards.
Days passed in the tension of the march.
The party finally stepped onto the relatively safe lands of the south, having crossed the wilderness without further incident.
Subsequently, escorted by a relief team dispatched by the family, they traveled a further distance before the core figures—Rune Knight Rhodes, Alchemist Sienna, and Abjurer Sanchez—were brought back to the heavily guarded depths of the Albert Family's manor.
In the manor's most central study, they once again stood before Earl Mills.
"Lord Earl."
Rhodes, known as the Wolf of Albert, now knelt on one knee, his head bowed low, his expression one of shame and anguish, like a loyal hound.
"We failed to complete the mission you entrusted to us," Rhode said, his voice heavy with shame. "Instead, we brought great dishonor and immeasurable loss upon the family."
"We... have failed you."
Behind him, Sienna, Sanchez, and the others also lowered their proud heads.
"Rise. All of you, rise!"
Earl Mills strode forward, bent down, and personally helped Rhode to his feet. He gently brushed the wilderness dust from the knight's shoulder.
A smile as warm as the spring sun spread across the Earl's face, his eyes filled with genuine heartache and solace.
"This was not your fault," the Earl declared. "I severely underestimated the Ironforged Tribe and the true power hidden within that red-iron dragon. It was my failure in judgment that placed you in such peril and caused you to endure so much suffering."
He gazed warmly at his scarred yet still loyal subordinates.
"You have suffered enough."
"Your priority now is to return to your quarters, rest well, and focus on your recovery."
Earl Mills' voice was firm and earnest. "Do not waste your strength on useless self-reproach, and certainly do not dwell on revenge."
"Remember, only by regaining your health and strength as quickly as possible can you better serve the family in the days to come!"
"The family's future still depends on you!"
More than half an hour later.
Having finally soothed the core members who had survived the disaster, Earl Mills dragged his slightly exhausted body back to his study.
He shut the heavy, carved wooden door behind him, sealing out the noise of the outside world.
He let out a long, deep breath, as if trying to expel all the stale air from his chest. Then, he sank wearily into the soft, high-backed chair, raising his fingers to gently massage his throbbing temples.
"The Ironforged Tribe... those damned dragons," he muttered under his breath, staring at the intricate gilded decorations on the ceiling.
"They are entrenched deep within the Sierre Wilderness, holding absolute geographical advantage. If we send another army deep into their territory, I fear we will only repeat the same disaster."
Earl Mills' brow furrowed as he sank into deep thought.
"With the forces the Albert Family can currently mobilize, completely eliminating the Ironforged Tribe—this critical threat—is simply too difficult."
"Could it be... that the time has come to call upon the precious favors our Marquis ancestor accumulated for the family?"
At this thought, Earl Mills felt a wave of troublesome agitation.
(End of the Chapter)
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