Date? - 4

"This harmless-looking old man might be the most dangerous person in the entire territory—after me or Swordmaster Barak," Conrad mused, his gaze narrowing as he studied the frail figure before him.

The man was none other than Roosevelt Vason, the head of intelligence for the territory—a shadowy figure whose reputation was as vast as it was feared. Despite his unassuming appearance, Roosevelt was a lethal force. An assassin by trade and the secretive leader of the Assassin's Guild, he was a man of unparalleled influence. 

No one, except for me or Barak, knew his true identity. Not a single minister, not even the current king, was privy to the truth of Roosevelt's role in the Deroth. His existence was cloaked in layers of secrecy, but his actions spoke louder than words. He was the silent guardian of the territory, the invisible hand ensuring its stability. His respect among those who knew of him was unparalleled. Reich himself—a man notorious for his volatile temper and penchant for cursing even his closest allies—had never dared to cross him. For good reason.

Conrad sifted through Reich's fragmented memories, piecing together everything he could about this enigmatic figure. Roosevelt had always been the unseen cornerstone of the territory's defense, ensuring peace through means both diplomatic and, more often, ruthless. He had no qualms about eliminating threats before they could even materialize. Uprisings, dissent, and conspiracies—none stood a chance under his watchful eye.

How powerful was he? Conrad pondered this question as he recalled one particular detail: Roosevelt's reach was so vast that he could orchestrate an assassination from one end of the kingdom to the other in less than a day. And the deed would be done without the faintest trace of evidence. Such was his influence and control.

"It's incredible," Conrad thought. "How did someone like Reich, with his erratic temperament, manage to keep Roosevelt on his side?"

But Roosevelt's contributions went far beyond silencing opposition. He was the linchpin in ensuring the territory's survival against external threats, always staying several steps ahead of rival territories. His network of spies and informants stretched far and wide, gathering intelligence and preparing the territory for any eventuality. 

It was no exaggeration to say that Roosevelt's loyalty was the sole reason Reich's reign had endured. Despite the atrocities committed by the lord, no coup had succeeded, no rebellion had taken root. Roosevelt's presence was both sword and shield—a deterrent against any who dared to disrupt the fragile order of the territory.

As Conrad continued to analyze the old man, unease crept into his thoughts. This was not a man who could be underestimated. His power was not in brute force but in his ability to outmaneuver and outthink anyone who stood in his way. Roosevelt was a predator cloaked in the guise of prey, and Conrad knew better than to make the mistake of treating him as anything less.

"What would the lord like to eat?" Roosevelt asked, his tone courteous yet devoid of any unnecessary warmth.

"The usual," Reich replied curtly, leaning back in his chair.

"As you wish, my lord," Roosevelt bowed with practiced precision before turning to the young woman seated beside him. "And for you, young lady?"

"Ah—ah, the same as Master Reich," Sulvia stammered, her voice betraying her nervousness. She hadn't expected to find herself dining with nobility, much less in such an intimate setting. This entire situation felt surreal, as if she were an actor thrust onto a stage without a script.

Roosevelt gave her a faint smile, one that seemed to ease her nerves just slightly. "As you wish, young lady." With a subtle bow, he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the two alone.

Reich's piercing gaze shifted to Sulvia. "Well, Sulvia, what do you think?"

She blinked in confusion. "What do you mean, Master?"

"I mean," he clarified, leaning forward slightly, "you're acting awkward. Is all of this strange to you?"

Sulvia panicked, bowing her head apologetically. "No—no, Master. I didn't mean to be awkward. I'm sorry!"

Reich raised a hand, his tone softening. "Oh no, you've got it wrong. I'm not offended, not in the slightest. You don't have to apologize or panic. I'm asking as one person to another." He studied her expression carefully, his tone unusually gentle. "I'm genuinely curious."

Sulvia hesitated, her mind racing. "Ah—sorry, Master. I… I really don't know how to answer this…"

Reich smiled faintly, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "I see. That's fine. If you can't answer, you can't answer. I just wanted to hear your honest thoughts."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, emboldened by his demeanor. She took a deep breath before speaking. "Well… this is really weird for me," she admitted, lowering her gaze. "When I first joined your service, the maids at the castle told me stories. They said you were a monster—a bloodthirsty demon. Not just the maids, but everyone in the public seems to hate you. Even I… I believed those things, Master."

She paused, uncertain if she'd gone too far, but when Reich's expression didn't darken, she pressed on. "But after the… incident, everything changed. You're completely different now. Kinder. Patient. You haven't lashed out at anyone since then. It's hard for me to understand… it's like you're an entirely different person. I don't know what to think."

Reich nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you for being honest. That's what I wanted to hear." He leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. "You're right—I've changed. That incident changed everything. I'm trying to become a better person, a better ruler for this territory. I want to fix what I've broken and make things right."

Sulvia looked at him, her unease beginning to shift to curiosity. "I see," she murmured softly, unsure what else to say.

In truth, Reich wasn't just opening up to Sulvia for the sake of introspection. He needed her trust—not for her loyalty alone, but for the ripple effect it could create. If she spoke kindly of him to the other maids, those words would spread. Slowly but surely, his image would soften in the eyes of his servants, and perhaps even the public. What seemed like a heartfelt conversation had its own calculated purpose. A ruler's reputation, after all, was another kind of weapon.

In the kitchen, Roosevelt worked with practiced efficiency, his sharp mind whirring as he prepared their dishes. "What is the lord trying to achieve with this sudden shift in personality?" he wondered, his instincts as sharp as ever. "It's unusual, even after the incident. What game is Reich playing now?"

Roosevelt's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile as he arranged the plates. Whatever Reich's true intentions, the head of intelligence would uncover them. He always did.