Would he really come back so easily after being driven out under a false accusation of embezzlement? If it were her, she would be too fed up to ever set foot here again.
Besides, what reason would he have to return to a family already on the verge of ruin?
“Would it be alright for me to return?”
But Colin agreed far more readily than she had expected.
“Then I will be in your care once again.”
Colin came from a family that had served the Drow barony for generations. Perhaps this household meant more to him than she had initially assumed.
It really is different.
It hadn’t been long since his return, but the atmosphere of the house had clearly changed.
Didn’t he reorganize what few servants remained according to their skills? The household, once slightly out of sync in every corner, was now running smoothly enough to see at a glance.
Even the garden has changed.
It wasn’t exactly a garden full of blooming flowers, but the jungle of overgrown weeds she had first seen was gone.
“This is this month’s income and expense report.”
Ceres read through it with little interest, her eyes passing over the densely written entries in the expense column compared to the income column.
As expected, most of it went to loan interest, and the little that remained barely sustained their daily lives.
...Huh?
The strange thing was that since Colin returned, that already pitiful living budget...
“There is money left?”
“We have to leave some.”
That was surprising. Agne had always complained about never having enough for living expenses. Even during the short time they lived together before she was thrown out, she had often pushed for taking loans.
She used to say that while covering Julia’s treatment costs was impossible, they could at least manage enough to get by for the moment.
I had a feeling Agne wasn’t managing things properly, but...
Could the difference really be this big? Ceres looked at Colin with genuine admiration.
Fwoosh.
“.....?”
Just then, Colin strode forward and blew out the candle on the table.
At Ceres’s questioning look, he simply smiled, his eyes creasing kindly.
“It’s still early. There is daylight left.”
The sun is almost down though. It’s already getting dark.
“We need to conserve if we want to survive.”
“......”
Not even living well, just surviving?
It wasn’t her imagination, was it? There was a sharp glint in Colin’s eyes when he spoke about conserving.
I heard he was a very gentle man.
Has his personality changed?
Watching him carefully tuck away the report, saying he’d reuse it as scrap paper, Ceres let out a quiet sigh.
***
“Guild Master.”
“What is it?”
Slurp.
“I told you, we received a summons from the Imperial Palace.”
“So?”
Gulp. Slurp, slurp.
“They said you’re required to attend the meeting in a few days, Guild Master.”
“What do you expect me to do about it?”
Slurp. Aaah.
“I’m saying this isn’t the time for you to be sitting around eating something like stew!”
“...Something like stew?”
The number one mercenary guild in the empire—Black.
Skal, the guild master of Black, was a devoted regular at the stew shop “Where Your Steps Come to Rest.” It was a place famous as the soul food spot for mercenaries. No matter how busy he was, he made sure to have at least one meal there each day.
He was also the one who had formally warned his guild about the new rule Ceres introduced: if anyone caused a disturbance, not only that person but their entire guild would be banned for a week.
“If you’re going to cause trouble at the stew shop, then you might as well leave the guild!”
It wasn’t a joke. At his sincere declaration, every mercenary in the guild had no choice but to nod. There was no one who didn’t know just how much Guild Master Skal loved his stew.
“Did you just say ‘something like stew’?”
“No. When did I ever say that?”
“......”
“You must have misheard, Guild Master.”
Skal stared at his shameless vice guild master for a moment before bringing the stew back to his lips.
He was already on his third bowl, yet the flavor hadn’t dulled in the slightest. If anything, the more he ate, the richer it seemed to become.
“Guild Master! What are you going to do about it?!”
“About what?”
“You will attend, right?”
“No.”
“Why not?!”
“...Did you just drop honorifics with me?”
“No. You heard wrong.”
Vice Guild Master, Lot, felt like he was about to explode.
The Imperial Council was just around the corner, yet how could their guild master be this carefree? Other guild masters had been busy for a month already, preparing outfits for the meeting and selecting who would accompany them.
Above all, what worried him most right now was—
“Are you really not going to attend? You are joking, right?”
“No, I’m serious.”
“Seriously, why?!”
“Oi.”
“I don’t care anymore! If you skip it again, I’m handing in my resignation!”
“You say that every time.”
“And why are you refusing to attend this time?”
Black was the most famous mercenary guild in the Devrica Empire. Because of that, Skal was constantly summoned by the higher-ups whether he liked it or not. Requests for him to attend imperial events and important meetings came in often.
However, the number of times he had actually shown up himself could be counted on one hand. More often than not, he would toss out some excuse and send Lot in his place.
Naturally, it was always Lot who had to endure the sharp gazes from other guild masters, all of them wondering if Black was flaunting its number one rank.
“Not this time! They stressed that there are too many important matters on the agenda and that you must attend!”
“They say the same thing every time. Aren’t they just telling us to handle all the dangerous work ourselves?”
They were already overwhelmed with how frequently Black Forests had been appearing lately. What kind of meeting is this in such a busy situation?
Skal emptied his bowl down to the last drop, then pushed it aside with a quiet click of his tongue.
“Besides...”
Has he ever once gotten anything worthwhile out of those noble meetings?
All they ever did was shout about their own interests with veins popping in their necks. It was hard to even call it a meeting. After dragging on for hours, the conclusions were always the same.
All the dangerous work fell to the mercenaries. If the nobles suffered the slightest loss, they would threaten to revoke every benefit granted to the guilds.
“It’s obvious how it’ll end. Do I really need to go just to listen to that nonsense?”
“Yes. Everyone else still shows up just to listen to that nonsense.”
“You can go again this time.”
“Are you serious?!”
He was too old to be acting like this. What on earth was wrong with him?
Thunk.
Lot knocked his forehead against the table like he had a headache.
“But you know...”
“...Yes?”
Did he finally change his mind?
“Doesn’t the stew taste better than usual today?”
“Dammit! What are you suddenly talking about?!”
Thunk. Thunk.
“I mean it.”
Ignoring his vice guild master banging his head against the table again, Skal stared down at his empty bowl.
The flavor felt deeper than usual. After eating, even the sluggishness that had weighed on him since morning seemed to have disappeared.
“What kind of nonsense is that?! You say that every time you eat!”
“No. Today feels different somehow... Though speaking of which, you’re acting more out of line than usual today.”
“I don’t care anymore! I’m resigning!”
Thunk. Thunk.
“Hm.”
If he wanted to be sure, he would have to try one more bowl...
“Oi.”
At Skal’s call, the person serving the other customers approached with a smile. °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° It was Jay, a maid of the Drow household.
“Is there anything else you need?”
“One more bowl.”
“Of course.”
“By the way, are you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
“Ah, Mr. Mark was injured a bit last night.”
“Injured? Mark?”
“Yes. So my lady and I are handling the shop in his place for now.”
Early that morning, an urgent message arrived from Mark. He had apparently fallen down the stairs the night before.
When Skal heard that his right arm had snapped clean and that he wouldn’t be able to hold a ladle for some time, his jaw dropped.
“The cook got injured...”
It wasn’t just Skal. The other mercenaries eating nearby also looked at Jay in surprise. They found it strange that Mark didn’t show his face at all, but only assumed he was busy in the kitchen.
But he wasn’t at the shop?
“Then who made the food?”
If Mark wasn’t here, who made the stew they were eating right now? Has it been prepared in advance?