Chapter 7: Duplein (4)
"Still, I can understand why you behave like that. Certainly, excessive talent tends to gnaw at its own master."
The Duke of Duplein did not speak at length. He was merely scratching away with his quill again, propping his chin with one arm.
It felt as though he was roughly gauging the reason Derrick was hiding his abilities.
'At least a 4-Star or higher Search-type magic.'
Derrick furrowed his brow. In any case, he did not feel any particular hostility from the Duke of Duplein.
Each noble treats commoners differently, so there seemed to be no reason to act proactively at this point.
Still, the sense of caution blooming in one corner of his heart could not be helped. Derrick did not yet know what kind of person the Duke of Duplein truly was.
"If I have been rude, I apologize."
"No. It is enough that I know you are not some nobody. However, judging by your age and attire, you do not seem like someone who usually teaches magic."
"I am a mercenary."
"I see. So now we have even brought in a tavern mercenary into the Duplein Ducal House."
There was less emotion in the Duke of Duplein's cutting tone than one might expect.
Derrick realized that the duke had been measuring his vessel.
He was a man who commanded countless vassals and made use of them without number.
The ability to read the size of one's vessel in an instant was more important than anything else.
"Since Aiselin chose you, I will not say anything more. I will permit you to stay in the annex where young lady Delia resides. Have a maid guide you."
"Thank you."
"You may go."
After waving his hand at Derrick once, the Duke of Duplein turned his gaze back to the pile of documents covering his desk.
He was the master of this vast duchy. There were far too many things piled up that he had to think about and deal with.
However, Derrick remained standing there with his hands clasped behind his back instead of leaving the office.
The Duke of Duplein examined the documents a few times, then raised his head again and said,
"What are you doing? I told you to leave."
"Your Grace, there is something I must ask."
"What?"
"Your Grace. I am a mercenary. Mercenaries take pride in always accomplishing the requests they accept."
With his gaze lowered, Derrick spoke quietly, almost in a whisper.
"Young lady Aiselin entrusted me with a request. She asked me to make it so that young lady Delia can learn magic, and so that she can proudly become a member of High Society as a noble."
"Why are you stating the obvious?"
"That is why, Your Grace, there is something I must earnestly ask."
The Duke of Duplein frowned and looked at Derrick.
It was not common for a mere commoner to air such personal opinions before a duke of a nation.
If the content were frivolous, that alone could be grounds for punishment. Such was the difference in status.
However, Derrick's expression was firm.
*
After greeting the duke, young lady Aiselin entered the private reception room and served tea to Jayden.
Aiselin's personal maid carefully brewed fine tea and set it before Jayden, but such a dainty teacup did not suit a rough mercenary at all.
Jayden let out an awkward smile, lifted the teacup with his sinewy hand, and took a sip.
"It seems there won't be much for me to do with this request. I will accompany young lady Aiselin when she finishes her business at the mansion and returns to Ebelstein."
"Is that so? I felt very reassured when the Captain of the Veldern Mercenary Corps came in person."
"Haha. There is no need to show such courtesy to such a small mercenary corps. Young lady Aiselin truly has a generous heart."
Young lady Aiselin, sitting in one corner of the reception room, looked like a single flower.
The hem of her dress, exuding a neat and refined aura, was clearly everyday wear, yet her appearance was so lovely it seemed splendid. However, the worry filling her face greatly marred that dignified beauty.
"Brother Valerian didn't look very happy, did he? If he was offended, I apologize."
"No. Bringing a mercenary into such a grand ducal mansion wouldn't be very welcome. I understand. Derrick will probably have a harder time than I will."
"I decided to bring him myself, but I'm worried whether Mr. Derrick can handle Delia."
"Since I don't really know what kind of person young lady Delia is ... I can't really say anything either."
After returning to the ducal mansion, young lady Aiselin looked quite anxious.
It must have been quite some time since she had been placing requests with various mercenary corps to find a usable mage. She must have spent quite a bit of time and money, and yet she also seemed not to have neglected her own studies of High Society.
Jayden looked at Aiselin for a moment, then let out a sympathetic smile.
"Why did you bring Derrick?"
"... Was it too hasty a judgment?"
"No. That's not what I mean. I've worked with that guy for a long time, and he's definitely calm beyond his years and handles things well."
Jayden smiled as if he felt more at ease and continued, partly to ease Aiselin's worries.
"I was just curious whether young lady Aiselin had thought the same."
"Well... Mr. Derrick is from a mercenary background, but I felt he strangely seemed to know a bit about the conduct and culture of nobles."
"That would be because of his master's influence. I heard his master used to be a fallen noble who was quite successful back in the day."
"I see. In any case, for a mercenary he doesn't really have that rough or desperate feeling ... and he gives a kind impression too ... so I thought he might be able to gently guide and lead Delia."
Certainly, Derrick looked like a fairly sensible and kind person by the standards of the harsh mercenary world.
Moreover, his progress in magic was fast. Although his rank was still weak, the fact that the age gap between him and Delia was not very large was important.
Mages of 4-Star or higher who had learned 1-Star and 2-Star magic decades ago could not easily understand the position of those who were just beginning to learn magic.
Thus, she thought that someone like Derrick might actually perform better in this regard.
After hearing Aiselin's explanation, Jayden let out a chuckle.
"Hoho. Young lady Aiselin really does seem to be a sincere and upright person. No matter who it is, that straightforward gaze of yours is what draws out a character that makes people follow you."
"You don't need to praise me that much."
"No. But ... would you allow me, a mere commoner who's wandered through battlefields here and there, to say something a bit presumptuous?"
Jayden's expression, which had been laughing heartily, grew a notch heavier. He still wore a friendly smile, but the atmosphere was quite different.
Young lady Aiselin knew that Jayden was a veteran who had been through countless battles. His lighthearted demeanor was a way of skillfully hiding his deeper thoughts.
"What do you think is the most important quality for a mercenary who constantly crosses dangerous battlefields?"
"... Well."
"Decisiveness ... or courage. You can teach everything else, but you can't teach that."
Jayden lightly brushed the floral teacup that didn't suit him at all, then set it back down on the reception table.
"Derrick is a mage who grew up on the streets. And he worked as a mercenary from before he even came of age. Do you think a street mercenary like that could survive on nothing but elegance and kindness?"
"What?"
"Young lady Aiselin, you should learn a bit more about seeing through people."
*
–Creak.
When he closed the door to the duke's reception room and came out, a maid was waiting in the corridor.
The maid bowed her head and spoke to Derrick in a polite voice.
"I heard from the head maid. I will guide you to the annex where Miss Delia is staying."
"Does young lady Delia live separately in the annex?"
"Yes. That is correct. She used to use a room in the main building, but because of certain circumstances ..."
It was easy enough to guess what those circumstances were. It would be difficult to keep a mad dog who smashed everything in sight according to her mood in the main building.
Derrick quietly followed the maid, who was walking with her head bowed, through the corridors of the ducal mansion.
The corridor of the ducal mansion, filled with lavish decorations, was dazzling just to look at, and the walls were covered with paintings that looked expensive at a glance.
From the carpets to the curtains, everything was the finest quality—a true noble household.
The path leading to the annex was surrounded by green trees, and red rose vines decorated an arched fence. It looked like a very pretty path, but the intention to keep it at a distance from the main building was evident in the design.
"........"
Thus, Derrick followed the maid into the annex where Delia's room was located.
After passing through the large front door, he finally saw the servants who assisted young lady Delia. Their faces already showed signs of exhaustion.
"I am Derrick."
"We have been waiting. This way, please."
When Derrick briefly introduced himself, the butler who managed the annex guided him toward the stairs leading up from the hall.
Unlike the lively main building, the interior of the annex had a strangely grayish feel. Sunlight did not come in well, and it felt as though heavy, damp air was flowing.
Derrick took a deep breath once and went up the stairs.
Soon, a large room that seemed to be where young lady Delia lived appeared. In front of the wooden door, maids were waiting with their heads bowed.
"Thank you for your hard work."
He finally reached the door after passing the servants, all of whom looked haggard.
Derrick rested his chin in thought for a moment, but since he didn't even know what kind of person Delia was yet, he figured there was no point in worrying any further and knocked.
–Knock, knock.
"Excuse me."
There was no reply, so he slowly opened the door and looked inside.
"......."
The air in the room was heavy and still.
It was far too large a room for a girl who wasn't even an adult yet. It was so grand that even if you added up all the space taken by the furniture, it wouldn't even make up twenty percent of the room.
A bed decorated with delicate lace, a tea cabinet that looked like a luxury item at a glance, a dressing table and wardrobe with splendid embroidery—all of these caught his eye.
In the center of the room was a tea table covered with a pure white tablecloth, and a girl was sitting there with her back to the door.
Only her back could be seen, but the abundant blonde hair wrapping around her small frame like wings was striking. The girl, wearing a comfortable-looking lace dress as everyday clothes, seemed to be sitting at the tea table having a cup of tea.
"I am Derrick. Please excuse me for a moment."
"Come closer."
Her tone was neat, but there was a youthful quality left in her voice.
She was the youngest of the Duplein family. Since she was said to be even younger than young lady Aiselin, there was nothing strange about that voice.
Looking at the expressions of the surrounding servants, their unease was obvious.
Derrick rolled his gaze once, then finally trudged into the room. No matter what, he had to talk to young lady Delia.
And just as he calmly approached young lady Delia—
—Splash!
It happened in an instant.
When he closed his eyes and opened them again, Derrick's entire body was already drenched.
Quickly turning around, young lady Delia had taken the dirty water from a mop she had hidden under the tablecloth and splashed it all over Derrick.
A fishy smell rose from Derrick's body. It was the same state as that maid who had been sobbing in the reception room.
"Oh my."
The girl's catlike, elongated eyes were filled with a satisfied air.
She traced her lips with her slender fingers, then twisted the ends of her abundant blonde hair and laughed innocently.
"Oh my, oh my, oh my."
–Drip, drip. Drip.
Dark red drops fell from Derrick's pure white bangs.
Young lady Delia, visible through that hair, was curling up the corners of her lips with a nasty smile, as if she were so pleased.
"I wondered what kind of sewer rat had crawled in, but it was the mercenary the butler mentioned?"
"....."
"Or is it? Now that I look again, you really do look like a sewer rat. You're a beggar who rolled around in the slums, right? How luxurious. You even get to come to a place like this grand mansion."
Young lady Delia pulled out something else from under the tablecloth, then stood up on the chair and poured it over Derrick's head.
–Whoooosh.
This time it was filthy water mixed with food scraps. It was something the kitchen maids had been about to throw away, but she had deliberately brought it and kept it.
Now Derrick understood why the servants' expressions had been anxious. They had known she would do something like this.
Even so, the reason they had no choice but to keep their mouths shut was because if they warned Derrick in advance and he prepared for it, Delia's anger would be directed at them.
Regardless of the era, middle managers always suffer. Working in this annex must truly not be easy.
Since Derrick could understand their anxiety to some extent, he quietly accepted the filthy water.
–Drip, drip, drip.
–Clang!
After completely emptying the contents, young lady Delia casually threw the empty container onto the floor.
"I prepared something that would remind you of your hometown, since I thought you might not be used to such a splendid place. Now you really look like a slum-born sewer rat. So? Do you like my little surprise?"
"......"
"Don't look at me so insolently."
Young lady Delia, still standing on the chair, pushed Derrick in the solar plexus with her foot, knocking him over.
–Thud!
The floor was already slippery from the filth, so Derrick had no choice but to collapse where he was.
"Ugh ... it stinks."
She took off the slipper that had touched Derrick's body and casually threw it at him.
The slipper hit Derrick's shoulder and rolled on the floor.
With one foot now bare, Delia crossed her legs and sat on top of the table. She used the chair as a footrest, propped her chin on her hand, and let out an arrogant smile.
"So now we're even letting sewer rats from the slums into my annex. Without even realizing how lowly your own status is ... you should have known your place and gone back before you had to see something unpleasant. Just look at this mess."
Despite her small frame, the girl's eyes were sharp with hostility. The aggression of a catlike creature with claws bared was plainly visible.
Perhaps the rising stench was unpleasant, because she pressed down on the bridge of her nose and said,
"How dare a lowly beggar like you try to teach me."
"........"
"Know your place, you street beggar."
Derrick quietly looked at the girl like that, then stood up again.
–'That is why, Your Grace, there is something I must earnestly ask.'
The Duke of Duplein, who had been quietly moving his quill while sitting in his office, stopped.
He rubbed his chin a few times, then set the quill down on the desk.
"......"
–'I am not a typical magic teacher, but a street mercenary by origin. Therefore, I can handle things in my own way, or I can handle them by the rules, like others have done.'
–'However, seeing that the treatment of young lady Delia has come to this point, I am not sure whether the way things have been handled so far will resolve the situation. Sometimes, extreme measures are necessary. That is why I cannot help but ask Your Grace, who loves young lady Delia so dearly.'
The duke stood up from his seat and walked to the window in one corner of the office, quietly gazing at the scenery outside.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he fell deep into thought.
A commoner by origin, yet the flow of mana in his body looked to be at least 2-Star.
Even before the duke, he spoke clearly and asked what he needed to know, yet he also showed the utmost courtesy—there was a basic understanding of noble culture underlying it.
The boy said that mercenaries take pride in always resolving the requests they receive.
Just as he said, the boy was trying to clearly judge what was necessary to resolve the request. And he intended not to care about the means or methods.
Feeling that strange sincerity in him, the Duke of Duplein had no choice but to prop his chin and think.
–'In teaching young lady Delia, to what extent are you willing to grant me authority, Your Grace?'
Extreme measures may be necessary.
The seriousness in Derrick's eyes when he said that was clearly different in direction from the refined noble-born mages he had seen until now.
If things continued as they were, the result would only be the same as it had always been.
The boy's voice saying that was firm like steel.
"......."
Delia's arrogant character was already famous among the upper class.
Was it really true that the Duke of Duplein himself bore no fault at all for his daughter turning out that way?
As the Family Head, as the head of the household, as a father—had he always made the right choices?
Valerian, Raig, Aiselin, Delia.
Amid the mountain of documents piled up like heaps, he had always been preoccupied with running the duchy—had he really loved his children equally?
In the endless chain of such questions ... the Duke of Duplein could only quietly look out the window.
–Smack!
–Crash!
Sometimes, when something happens too suddenly, you cannot immediately understand the situation.
It is such a scene detached from reality that your mind simply cannot accept it.
This was exactly such a situation.
The servants who had gathered near the door and the corridor all widened their eyes.
They were so shocked that they even forgot to breathe, each of them trembling at their fingertips.
–Clatter!
The sound of a teacup falling from the tea table and breaking.
In front of it—young lady Delia, who had been slapped by Derrick and knocked straight off the chair, was sitting collapsed on the floor.
"--"
A silence so deep it felt as though even time had stopped.
Delia, sitting on the floor, could only stare with wide eyes, not even properly understanding what had just happened. Her pupils, stretched to their limit, spoke of her shock.
What is the position of a young lady of a powerful family?
If the temperature of the black tea were adjusted wrong and it burned her tongue, the servant who brewed it would be whipped until their back skin split open.
If she so much as twisted her ankle while walking, the maid attending her would be driven out of the mansion.
Such was the precious body of a noble family's young lady, who must always be elegant and beautiful. The servants of noble houses were taught this until they were sick of it.
Yet, in spite of all that, Delia's cheek was swelling bright red.
–Tap, tap.
Derrick brushed off the hem of his soiled tunic.
Young lady Delia tried to speak, but her voice, wrapped in shock, could only spill out empty, meaningless sounds.
"...."
His body stank.
Young lady Delia was right. Derrick's hometown was a sewer.
For upper-level mages who had lived nobly all their lives, this kind of humiliation might be an unbearable wound, but for a sewer rat from the bottom, it did not even leave a scratch.
Because this, too, was a part of life.
"Stand up."
After straightening his clothes, Derrick quietly looked down at the girl sitting on the floor.
Pure white hair clotted with filthy water.
Between those strands, his cold eyes carried a certain ominous aura that made one's skin crawl just by looking at them.
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