Chapter 7 — Star Brigade
Egbert had not told Ron about Elva's death; he and Abel had chosen to conceal it.
For a few days, the entire territory buzzed with the Baron's Manor's announcement. People were shocked that a noble's servant had been harmed by criminals. But after a short period of chatter, the topic faded into mere after-dinner gossip, soon drowned out by the rhythms of everyday life.
Ron continued managing the territory's affairs as usual. Three meters away, Irene stood by his side, but her attention was clearly elsewhere.
"What's wrong?" Ron asked. His hand moved skillfully across documents, annotating one before picking up the next. He didn't even look up.
Irene hesitated, taking a few small steps toward the desk.
"This isn't like you," Ron said, his tone relaxed. "Just say what you need."
Perhaps reassured, Irene finally spoke.
"Young Master… I'd like to request a day off. No—even half a day is enough. I'll return before afternoon."
"You may." Ron nodded. "But tell me the reason."
"Sister Joyce told me the Star Troupe has arrived in town, and I want to go shopping with her."
"Star Troupe? What's that?"
Irene 's eyes brightened as she explained, "They're a traveling merchant group specializing in books for commoners. They visit different countries, record local cultures and stories, and bring knowledge to people who'd never see the outside world otherwise."
Ron felt a rare sense of admiration. In a world without convenient communication—where even magical means were expensive and inaccessible to commoners—the Star Troupe served as a bridge, allowing ordinary people to glimpse distant lands and ideas.
"Stars that bring beauty to people… A fitting name."
With interest rising, Ron set down his pen and smiled.
"Have someone prepare the carriage. I'll go with you."
—
Ten minutes later, a carriage stood waiting at the manor gates, surrounded by several servants.
"Thank you, Lord."
A maid—eighteen or nineteen, brown-haired, graceful, and strikingly composed—bowed. Beside her, Irene winked mischievously.
Ron regarded the girl, Joyce. Like most of the mansion's maids, she was exceptionally pretty, but what stood out most were her calm, rational eyes.
"No need to thank me, Joyce. On the way, the two of you can tell me more about the Star Troupe."
"Yes, Lord," she replied.
Egbert hurried over, worry etched on his face.
"Lord, you should bring guards. The town is not like the manor. The commoners may offend you without meaning to."
He had already arranged several knights, including Abel, but Ron refused. Knights in armor would reveal his identity instantly. He wanted to observe the town and the Star Troupe through ordinary eyes.
"Don't worry, Egbert."
Ron was confident. After all, he wasn't going out empty-handed—he finally possessed an item with a blue attribute, a primary defensive charm, and that alone had improved his mood for days.
His fingers brushed the leaf-shaped brooch on his chest, a quiet reassurance.
Egbert still looked uneasy, so Ron sighed.
"Sig, you'll come along. Dress casually."
Egbert relaxed slightly.
Sig, on the other hand, lit up with pride. To be chosen personally—this was a sign of great trust.
"Yes, Lord!"
Abel grabbed him by the shoulder.
"Sig, keep your eyes wide open. If anything happens to the Lord, you'll be finished."
"Yes, Captain!" Sig straightened, suppressing his excitement.
Ron stepped into the carriage. Irene tried pulling Joyce inside, but Joyce politely declined, choosing to sit next to the coachman. She knew her place—Irene was the Baron's personal maid; she was not.
With Sig riding escort, the carriage set off toward Cott Town.
—
Inside, Ron admired the luxury nobles enjoyed. Soft cushions prevented any discomfort, and the walls were decorated with gemstones and scented sachets. The carriage had three layers—metal on the outside, wood on the inside, and some unknown material sandwiched between—ensuring both safety and comfort.
Joseph, the seasoned coachman, drove swiftly and steadily. Through the window, Ron watched stretches of barren land pass by.
"How long until we arrive?" he asked.
"Normally an hour," Irene said. "But Mr. Joseph's skills are excellent. We'll reach town in half an hour."
Ron mentally calculated the distance—about ten kilometers. Impressive speed for a passenger carriage.
To pass time, Ron asked, "What books do you want to buy?"
Irene brightened. "Cookbooks! I want to try making foreign dishes. Mr. Sig, will you be my taste-tester?"
"Why me?" Sig blinked.
"You're a knight. Even if something goes wrong, you'll recover quickly," she said innocently.
"Hey—are you trying to poison me?" he groaned.
Joseph laughed.
"Little Irene , make some for me too when you're done."
"No problem!"
Irene then turned to Joyce. "What about you, Sister Joyce? What type of books do you want?"
"I'm interested in the rise of the Alexander Empire," Joyce replied calmly. "If the Star Troupe has such books this time."
Ron perked up.
"You like history, Joyce?"
"Yes, Lord. Is… that strange?"
"No, it suits you," Ron said, thinking of her composed eyes—and of the character card he'd secretly checked earlier.
She had almost formed an attribute, but not quite. A pity.
He leaned back, closed his eyes, and let Irene 's lively chatter fill the carriage.
—
In Cott Town.
A carriage stopped on a bustling street. Ron and Irene stepped down, followed by Joyce and Sig.
"Lord—" Sig began, but Ron cut him off.
"Call me Young Master. Today I'm a wealthy merchant's son. All of you are the same. Don't slip."
"Yes, Young Master."
"Good. Joyce, you know the streets—lead the way."
Joseph stayed behind with the carriage. The others accompanied Ron toward the Star Troupe's market.
Irene and Joyce wore simple dresses instead of maid uniforms. Sig dressed plainly as well. Ron alone appeared slightly extravagant—befitting a rich young master.
After passing several streets, they arrived at a lively market filled with men, women, and children. People browsed stalls, bargained, and laughed. Their expressions made it clear—they adored the Star Troupe.
"You don't need to follow me," Ron said. "Go buy what you want."
Sig opened his mouth, but Ron's sharp glance silenced him.
Left with no choice, Sig watched anxiously as Ron walked off alone.
"What do I do? If anything happens, Captain Abel will kill me," Sig muttered, sweating.
Irene sympathized. The Young Master's decisions were rarely negotiable. Only Egbert could ever sway him slightly.
Joyce suddenly said, "Mr. Sig, I have an idea."
Both turned to her.
"You can follow the Young Master from a distance, pretending to be an ordinary shopper. He won't notice easily, and even if he does, you can say you happened to be passing by."
Sig's eyes lit up.
"That's brilliant!"
Irene stared in admiration.
"Sister Joyce, you're amazing!"
Joyce blushed. "I read it in a book… The autobiography of King Olivia II, Chronicles of the Throne."
Irene & Sig: "…"
"Alright, I'll go protect the Lord. Thank you!" Sig hurried after Ron.
Irene tugged Joyce's sleeve.
"Sister Joyce, let's go buy books too."
"Mm. Let's go."
—
Meanwhile.
Ron leisurely browsed the stalls, flipping through books and chatting with merchants. His elegant clothes drew respectful smiles and patient explanations.
The outer stalls mostly sold children's books—cheap and simple. As he moved inward, he found illustrated storybooks, compilations of folk tales and fables like The Tortoise and the Hare or The Wolf and the Scholar, mixed with strange metaphorical stories from different lands.
Interesting, but not what he desired.
Ron ventured deeper, hoping to find something truly worthwhile.
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