Rebellion

Translator: Cinder Translations

...

A large swath of sunset clouds hung in the distant sky. The sun in the west had mostly set, but its afterglow still bathed the forest in a golden hue.

Ferguson stood by a small river, silently cleaning a gutted deer. Crimson blood flowed into the river, quickly dispersed by the rushing water.

Ferguson carefully held a sharp knife, painstakingly peeling the deer's skin from its body, inch by inch. He was utterly focused, as if nothing in the world mattered more than this deer before him.

"You really are taking your time, Lord Ferguson," a deep voice sounded from behind him.

Interrupted, Ferguson responded irritably, "When hunting, the moment right before you shoot the arrow is when you must be the most inconspicuous, lest the prey senses something amiss. Wouldn't you agree, Lord Walter?"

The man behind him—Lord Dmitri Walter—clapped his hands lightly and chuckled.

"Haha, you're right. You truly are a knight of the Grayman family."

It was unclear whether he was mocking Ferguson, Paul, or both.

While these two spoke casually, the third person present was extremely tense—Chacon Walter, Lord Walter's second son. He tightly gripped the sword at his waist, his palms sweating. His eyes darted around, his mind repeatedly conjuring a terrifying image: a mass of the lord's guards suddenly bursting out of the trees, shouting "You damned traitors!" and cutting them all down.

"Un... Uncle Ferguson, um..." Chacon hesitantly spoke.

"Chacon, if you have something to ask, speak up," Lord Walter said. "Lord Ferguson is very busy tonight."

"Well... uh..." Chacon blushed and quietly mumbled, "When we act tonight, could we, um, not hurt Miss Setia? We are honorable knights, after all, and it wouldn't be right to harm women and children."

Ferguson turned around, looking at Chacon in disbelief before bursting into loud laughter.

"Quiet down! You'll draw attention to us!" Chacon warned in panic.

Ferguson wiped his mouth and said, "Lord Walter, your son is quite the gallant protector of women. Such chivalry! You must have raised him well."

Lord Walter's face flushed bright red. He hadn't expected his son to still be thinking about a woman at a time like this. He should have told the boy to shut up earlier.

"You disgraceful brat! Filthy scoundrel!" Lord Walter raged, raising his cane and striking his second son fiercely.

"You've humiliated me! Get out of my sight!"

Chacon looked dejected after being beaten, but he didn't dare retaliate against his father, who he held in such high regard. He could only slink away into the woods in shame.

Yesterday, when Ferguson had greeted the lord, Chacon had caught sight of the lady accompanying him. He was struck by her beauty, immediately adding another reason to kill Paul Grayman. The thought of such a beautiful woman being harmed in their upcoming action pained him deeply—a genuine heartache. What a waste of such perfection, he thought.

Tall, with fair skin, a swan-like neck, and an elegant figure, Lady Setia was everything that words like "stunning" and "breathtaking" could describe. She made the country girls he usually saw look utterly plain in comparison.

Especially at the banquet yesterday, her graceful manners paired with her aloof and cold demeanor left Chacon's heart racing wildly. He was completely smitten.

"I must have this beauty!" a voice in his head screamed over and over, shaking his very soul.

"Mind full of women!" Lord Walter continued to curse at his son by the riverbank, still furious.

"Alright, alright, young people will be young people," Ferguson said, half-consoling and half-mocking. "Weren't we the same in our youth, always thinking of women? Just remind him not to mess up the main task. As for that... Lady Setia, I've heard she's an officer in charge of education under the lord's command. She's not an ordinary woman."

Lord Walter's face cooled slightly as he said coldly, "Hmph! Putting a mistress in a position of power is no different from letting a hen crow. Paul Grayman is utterly absurd! Our rebellion is about setting things right, about restoring morality."

In his mind, that beautiful woman was already labeled as Paul's mistress. Why? Did it even need reasoning? It was just obvious! What noble didn't have a beautiful "pet"?

To him, Alden Town had long since become a place of depravity. The fact that a mistress was put in charge showed that immorality must be rampant in that dark and corrupt domain.

The more Lord Walter thought about it, the more he felt justified. He believed he was acting in righteousness, striving to restore the purity of Alden. Yes! The great Father in heaven was guiding him. Paul Grayman had fallen into the hands of the devil, and he was the one tasked with driving out the Father's enemy.

Through repeated self-assurance, Lord Dmitri Walter no longer felt any guilt. Instead, he was filled with a sense of righteous fervor.

"Actually, if your son wants her," Ferguson smiled, "I can ask the men tonight to be careful not to harm the little canary."

"No need!" Lord Walter snapped coldly.

Ah, if only this second son were half as capable as his older brother, how much peace of mind he would bring.

"And you... can you ensure that tonight's action will be flawless?" Lord Walter asked doubtfully.

"We're gambling, and there's no such thing as a sure bet," Ferguson replied honestly. "If we fail, we'll have no choice but to resort to the final option."

Ferguson gazed at the forest by the river. "Ah, if it really comes to that, it will be a shame to lose this hunting ground. It's such a good spot."

"Trees can regrow, but opportunities come only once," Lord Walter reminded him.

"You don't need to tell me. I know what's at stake."

They had considered several plans for dealing with the lord.

The first choice was poison—slipping it into Paul's food during the banquet.

But they hadn't expected Paul to bring fifty guards with him. If they killed Paul with poison, what would they do with the fifty guards? Kill them all? And even if they could somehow kill them all, his manor was right in the village. How much chaos would that cause?

They were all respectable people. How could they bear the label of regicide? At least... at least... they couldn't let it be known, right?

Ferguson had even admired how cautious Victor, the captain of the guards, was. Ross Hayden really had chosen an excellent successor.

Fortunately, they had prepared other plans as well.

(End of the Chapter)

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