The young Don and his servant excused themselves after the grueling briefing. They navigated the quiet, vaulted hallways of the chapel until they reached a secluded vestry, far from the prying eyes of the clergy. Once the door clicked shut, Justin performed a subtle gesture with his hand. Faint ripples of distortion shimmered in the air—an unknown, high-level magic that acted as a localized "dead zone," ensuring that no ear, human or magical, could eavesdrop on their conversation.
Hermes sat down on a high-backed wooden chair, crossing his legs and folding his arms over his chest. He tilted his chin up, his gaze distant as he processed the information.
"Justin, what do you think? The situation is too complicated to grasp all at once," he asked, his voice calm but heavy. "To be honest, I'm still a rookie when it comes to events of this scale. You are my advisor and my Consigliere, so I'm looking to you for some answers."
Justin rubbed his jaw, his eyes narrowed in thought. "I concur with your sentiment, my Don. Even while watching from the shadows, I found myself uncertain as to whether we should proceed."
"It feels more like we're being used as pawns for their own ideals," Hermes said, pressing his index finger against his forehead to soothe an oncoming headache. "We don't truly know who we're dealing with yet. Regardless, do you have any intel on that group they mentioned?"
Justin raised an eyebrow. "Group? You mean the 'Second Root,' my Don?"
Hermes sighed. "Exactly. To be honest, I have no idea who they are or what their objective is. So, since you've been keeping your ear to the ground, do you have any idea who those rascals are?"
Justin contemplated the question for a moment, then nonchalantly shook his head. The young Don heaved a disappointed sigh, leaning back into the stiff wood of the chair.
I can't believe they exist. This wasn't part of the story so far, Hermes muttered under his breath, so low that only he could hear.
Justin tilted his head politely. "Excuse me, sir?"
"It's nothing. Never mind that," Hermes waved his hand dismissively. "Anyhow, what is our play here?"
The question hung in the air. Justin took a moment to reflect. The situation was treacherous terrain for the head of the Archnemesis clan. As a Consigliere, Justin knew that a single piece of bad advice could lead his master into a fatal trap—a scenario he was determined to prevent at all costs.
"My Don," Justin began. "The situation hasn't been explained properly. To be fair, the High Priestess's request seemed genuine, but the Chief's reaction when you asked for a break... it was a bit suspicious." He pressed his index finger to his left cheek, his face clouded with worry.
Hermes's eyes turned sharp. "How exactly was he suspicious in your eyes?"
Justin raised one finger. "Well, first of all, I don't intend to undermine the trust between you and that man, so perhaps it isn't wise to ask for my specific thoughts just yet. It might just be a hunch—let's set it aside for now, my Don."
Hermes sighed. It was clear his servant harbored a deep-seated distrust for Chief Zamor from the very beginning. While he didn't fully understand why Justin was so hostile toward the man, Hermes made a mental note to watch his back around the Chief as well.
Justin raised a second finger. "Furthermore, we shouldn't do this without securing a significant benefit. I strongly advise that we re-evaluate the mission files before we commit to an answer."
"In short, we review the file first? Is that your suggestion?" Hermes asked, glaring slightly.
Justin nodded. "Exactly. We review the file, and then we call for another meeting. Ultimately, you are the one who will decide. As your advisor, I suggest you prioritize your own safety and never let anyone force a 'responsibility' upon you. We are their contractors; they are our clients. And while I might think she would make a fine wife for you in the future, don't let her beauty distract you. Remember: this is business."
"You don't need to remind me of that. I know my business," Hermes snapped, his face heating up slightly. "And who do you think I am? I'm not going to lick her shoes or flirt with her. Gosh, we're wasting time on nonsense. Anyhow..." He hesitated, a flash of genuine worry crossing his face. He exhaled a long breath before continuing. "We'll do as you suggest. It won't be long before someone comes looking for us, so we should head back before they think we've abandoned them."
"As you wish, my Don." Justin bowed his head.
Just as Hermes was about to stand, three sharp knocks echoed against the vestry door.
"Who is it?" Justin asked, moving swiftly to the side of the door, his hand poised for any sudden movement.
"Mr. Aljen, this is Mambo. May I come in?" a deep, respectful voice asked.
"Mambo?" Hermes tilted his head, searching his memory.
Justin slowly opened the door. A tall man in a crisp white suit with a black bow tie entered. His presence was commanding, but his demeanor was humble.
Justin's eyes lit up as he recognized the visitor. The two tall men exchanged a brief, knowing smile and shook hands before approaching the young Don.
"Master, let me re-introduce you to Mambo," Justin said with a touch of sarcasm. "Remember the man we helped four days ago? This muscle-brain was that person. Oh, I mean no disrespect, sir—but that is exactly how I remember you."
Despite the light insult, Mambo remained composed. He lowered his head before Hermes, a respectful smile on his face.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Aljen and Mr. Justin. It is my deepest pleasure to meet you both again," he said, chuckling softly. "Mr. Justin is always like this, isn't he? I'm just learning something new about him. I am honored to be recognized at the very least. To be honest, I thought you might have forgotten me. It's wonderful to see the two saviors of Milady and myself are healthy and well. Especially you, sir. I'm so glad we finally meet again; it's been four days since I last saw you."
Mambo was more than just a servant; he was the personal attendant and the most loyal shadow of High Priestess Venus Aphrodite. As the sole surviving bodyguard from the carriage ambush four days ago, he owed his life—and the safety of his mistress—to the man he knew as Mr. Aljen.
According to the mental biography Hermes had retrieved from his memories of the game's lore, Mambo was a man of impeccable character whose past was a testament to his unwavering loyalty. He had once been falsely accused of theft by a merchant who was the true culprit. Brutally tortured and condemned to execution by a biased court, Mambo was only saved when the High Priestess herself intervened. Since that day, he had devoted himself to being her shield, viewing her as the light he would protect until his last breath.
Mambo raised a large, calloused hand, waiting for the young Don to shake it. Hermes hesitated at first, but Mambo's friendly, open demeanor eventually made him give in.
"Oh, it's nice to see you again without any bruises on your body," Hermes said, a polished, fake facade of a smile appearing behind his mask as he shook the hand and quickly released it. "How's your life?"
"Oh, Mr. Aljen, you're also saying jokes like him, huh?" Mambo laughed, a deep, hearty sound. "I'm okay and happy to be alive right now. The Priestess was too energetic for the past few days since the time you saved her from those bastards. I feel so great because my one and only master kept her purity until today. It is all thanks to you," he answered happily.
"Tell me in full details," Justin interjected, suddenly pulling a notepad and a pen from his chest pocket.
"The Priestess was so glad to receive a picture of Mr. Aljen," Mambo continued with glee. "The photos were all preserved in her room. I'm so glad that Mr. Aljen accepted her request to send her some of your finest looks. It was a very accommodating and excellent gift according to milady."
"My photo? Wait, a gift?" Hermes asked, his voice cracking as confusion washed over him behind the mask.
"Oh, mamma mia. I forgot to send another batch of his album," Justin interrupted smoothly. "Next week, I'll make sure to send it again."
Mambo clapped his hands once, happily. "Oh, I'm glad! Milady will be pleased to hear that good news. I'll make sure to tell my master about it."
"Wait, what's going on?" Hermes's face turned pale under the cover of his disguise.
"Oh, Mambo. Don't worry," his butler reminded the bodyguard with a sharp glint in his eyes. "Just make sure to tell your master that we need compensation for all of his gifts."
Mambo nodded vigorously. "Of course, the goods will be sent right away as an advance payment."
I don't know what's going on here, but my guts tell me to stop this madness, Hermes thought. He quickly stepped between the two men who were making a deal.
"Oh, it's good to hear that. Oh, well. It's nice meeting you here, but we have to go," Hermes said, excusing them from the room.
Mambo blinked several times, looking entirely clueless about the Don's sudden distress. He simply returned a warm smile. "Thank you, sir."
"Hey, Mambo, next time. Let's have a coffee after the meeting," suggested Justin.
"Okay, sir." Mambo raised his hand to say his regards before the butler closed the door.
On their way back to the meeting room, Hermes was in a foul mood.
"Justin, please don't do that again," he demanded, his voice low and angry.
His servant tilted his head innocently. "Do what?"
The young Don halted in the middle of the hallway, pointing frantically back toward the place they had just left. "That... That... That—that!"
"Aah, don't worry, boss. It is just a simple transaction for a bright future," Justin replied, giving a thumbs-up.
Hermes grabbed his butler's collar, his eyes flashing behind the eye-slits of his mask. "Are you selling your boss to that woman?"
Justin looked remarkably unfazed. "Eh? Don't worry, boss. As your butler, I have to make sure that you have a bright future. I mean, the Archnemesis clan should always take an initiative and advance preparation. Who knows, she might give you a male heir if you choose her."
"Ay yahay yahay," Hermes released him and covered his masked eyes in disappointment.
"My Don," Justin said, his voice suddenly turning grave. "You need to remember that you're still the boss of our organization. I don't know how long it would take for you to realize the possibility of being alone in this world. Being a loner is never an answer. You're still a young and healthy young lad, so you've got to enjoy your youth to the fullest. You need to take measures and also, you need to prepare for your own future. A future where you will stand firm with your family, friends, and subjects."
"I don't need a lover and I don't need friends in this place. Who are you to say that to me, huh?" Hermes pressed his index at his butler's chest three times.
Justin stood firm and replied firmly, "I'm your butler, attendant, and—"
"—And, what?" Hermes insisted.
"The Consigliere of the Archnemesis Clan. It is my responsibility to make sure you won't fall on the wrong path. Some unfortunate beings who fail to receive a good blessing from God are all living in hell, and they have to work so hard to survive in this world. To be specific, living alone won't make you happy. I used to think that the worst thing in life was to end up all alone. It's not. The worst thing in life is ending up with people who make you feel all alone. That's why I want to make sure you won't end up like your father and elder siblings."
Hermes bit his lower lip. The reminder of his family and his position hit him harder than he expected. His servant had spoken with a depth of experience that he couldn't simply argue away.
He clicked his tongue and turned around.
"Never mind. I don't know what you're planning, but believe me or not, I don't like that girl," Hermes stated, his voice sharp and final. He leveled a steady gaze at his butler through the mask's eye-slits. "Let me remind you again. Never, ever do something behind my back. Or else, I'll whack you out personally. Capiche?"
"Yes, my Don," Justin replied, lowering his head in immediate, practiced respect.
Hermes clicked his tongue, the sound echoing in the stone corridor. "Let's go. The clients are waiting. This place isn't safe for talking about any more shit regarding our organization."
Two hours later, the meeting finally concluded. Hermes and his servant excused themselves to head home. The High Priestess had invited him for dinner along with Ylla; however, he reluctantly refused her, citing urgent business that required his attention. The rejection made her look a little downcast, but she seemed to understand the "busy merchant" persona he maintained, so she let him go. In truth, Hermes was simply desperate to avoid increasing her affection rate any further.
Before Hermes could fully walk away from the Church grounds, Chief Zamor called out his name, inviting him for a private word. The young Don accepted, giving a subtle hand signal to Justin to stand by at a distance.
"Mr. Aljen, I know it's a little late to ask this of you, but please hear me out," the Chief asked, his voice laced with anxiety.
"Okay. Tell me what you want to say," Hermes replied, folding his arms across his chest and adopting a calm stance.
Chief Zamor coughed once to clear his throat. "I want to apologize in advance for this one big favor of mine. I know you're a busy person, and you've got business other than this. I know it well because you always go outside of our village for quite some time."
"No, you don't need to apologize, Chief. You're a good client of mine, so it's not a big deal at all. What do you expect me to do now?" Hermes asked, a polite, fake smile hidden by his mask.
The old man rubbed the back of his neck and pulled a cigar from his chest pocket. He ignited it, took a deep drag, and blew a thick cloud of smoke into the evening air. "Mr. Aljen, I know this will be a difficult task, but I'll make sure to pay you double for this."
Hermes's ears practically twitched at the mention of the word double.
"Oh, good. Now we're talking about something nice to hear," he said, rubbing his hands together in a rare show of merchant greed. "Spill it, Chief. I'm excited to hear it."
"Umm, here it is. On Monday, my twins are going to the Dark Scily Forest to gather some herbs. Our stocks are minimal and not enough to support our market to supply our clients in other provinces," Zamor explained, hesitating before he continued.
Hermes recalled the time he had saved the twins from a demon beast five days prior. He understood the Chief wanted to ensure his children returned home safely, but he wanted to hear the old man say it.
"So, what's this all about then? You want us to act as the bodyguards for your kids?" Hermes asked.
"Exactly. That's why I want you to do me a favor, Mr. Aljen," the Chief admitted, scratching his cheek.
"Wait. What about your men working in the village hall? There's gotta be some tough guys who would volunteer for that job."
Chief Zamor shook his head and corrected him. "Mr. Aljen, I know that, alright. But I don't want to risk my kids' lives and put them under someone's protection. Remember, there are some village militia who hated me so much. And I don't have anybody besides my friend Ubert."
"Oh, yeah. The fat and the smelly old man? The one my butler almost cut off? Oh, I remember him fully well. I hope he's still okay."
"Umm, I don't know if I should tolerate that or what, but yeah, he's the fat and smelly old man you know about," the Chief sighed, crossing himself. "But he's a difficult man, and he's my old friend who recommended me to hire Mattia in the first place. Oh, may he rest in peace. I don't want to entrust my kids to this man after I learned about his friend's true personality."
"Ah, I get it. But why me? You've got those representatives on your back, and some jackass village militia to keep them safe. So, what's gotten you to entrust your kids' lives to this small-time and young lad of a merchant like me?" Hermes quizzed, his eyes narrowing.
"I don't know, either," Chief Zamor closed his eyes before continuing. "To be honest, I don't fully trust you."
"Oh, thanks. That's too sweet to hear. I'll call you later; I've gotta go now then," Hermes snorted, turning to leave.
Chief Zamor's eyes snapped open and he stopped him before he could turn around. "W-w-wait! That's not what I meant! Please, please, I'm begging you. Hear me out. I didn't mean to disrespect you, Mr. Aljen."
"Okay. So, answer my question properly, or else," Hermes said, folding his arms across his chest menacingly.
Chief Zamor heaved a heavy sigh. "I admit I don't trust you yet because you and I are strangers. We've just met for less than a week. Both sides have their own business to take care of. But the difference between us is huge. I'm a single parent of three kids. The eldest is working abroad somewhere—God knows where. While she's out of town, my twins are following our family tradition to keep it alive. To be honest, my children are the only reason for me to keep living in this village. They are my strength and also, my weakness."
Hermes kept his mind focused on the explanation.
"Mr. Aljen, you're still young. You're a very talented man who's trying to act like an adult, but you cannot hide the fact that you're still a teenager. You're in the same age just like my eldest, so for some unknown reason, I'm very attached to your presence. That's totally the fact why I'm very fond of you, to be honest. You're the opposite version of my child."
The young Don's body shivered from the cold breeze, but for some reason, he felt warm or something genuine in those words.
The Chief blew some smoke before he tossed away the stick of his cigar. "I hope you accept my favor. Please, guard my kids on Monday. You're the only one who I could trust. So, please. Help me."
"What time?" Hermes asked.
"Time? Don't tell me— Oh, my goodness. I'm very grateful, sir!" he exclaimed, hanging his head in front of him.
"Don't do that. We're outside; someone will misunderstand this. Lift up your head before someone sees us," Hermes insisted, feeling the weight of the moment.
"Around 7 in the morning."
"Copy. I'll meet you up before 6:30 a.m. Tell the kids to prepare themselves. I'll keep in touch," Hermes noted, turning to rejoin Justin.