"The Heim territory, as a count's domain, is allowed to maintain an army of 500 soldiers," Sebas explained.
"So that means it must also send 500 men to fulfill its conscription duty.
However, the last batch was dispatched to the Watch Wall before your arrival, young master, so you won't need to worry about conscription for the next five years."
"Alright," Hel sighed helplessly, already dreading the compensation payments that would eventually be owed to those five hundred soldiers' families.
"So the Black Mountain Bandits were stationed there not just to avoid the draft," she continued, "but also as a hidden weapon—an unregulated force not bound by the nobles' rules, free to attack anyone they wish.
How many are they sending this time?"
"You're perceptive as always, young master," Sebas replied. "According to our informants, the Hawke brothers have decided to send an elite strike team of about a hundred men.
They'll infiltrate the city through a secret tunnel beneath the Hawke estate and carry out an assassination attempt on you."
"An inside job?" Hel frowned—not because of the assassins. A mere hundred elite knights, even double that, weren't enough to threaten her.
What caught her attention was what Sebas had just said about an insider.
A rather absurd idea crossed her mind.
Sebas, noticing her expression, smiled faintly.
"You truly are sharp, young master. Just as you've guessed—everyone in the Hawke household, aside from the viscount himself, has already been turned into my informants.
The same goes for the other two viscounts.
Because of this, no matter what schemes they hatch, we'll know about them immediately."
At that, Hel's eye twitched slightly.
Good grief.
No wonder Sebas had recently requested a batch of "aura-masking" sigils—so this was what he'd been plotting.
So this was the western-fantasy version of 'Why did His Majesty rebel?'
If it weren't for the risk of exposing the Soul-Eater Insects implanted in their brains,
Hel might have actually staged a dramatic play of "fatherly love and filial piety" just for laughs.
"Ahem… and when are they planning to move?" she asked.
"Tonight," Sebas replied promptly.
"They're all elite, so it won't take long to travel from the Great Black Mountains.
However, after marching all day, their stamina will surely be depleted.
If we ambush them outside the city—"
"No," Hel interrupted, tapping the table lightly with a smirk.
"Let them in. Our dear Viscount Hawke and his entire household will heroically sacrifice themselves to stop these vile bandits from harming innocent townsfolk.
What do you think of that script?"
"Ah… this…"
Sebas was momentarily stunned by Hel's audacious imagination, but quickly recovered and praised,
"As expected of you, young master—a brilliant plan. Two birds with one stone."
"Good. Take the two Skeletal Greatsword Knights and the Skeletal Berserker with you," Hel ordered.
"Bring the city guard as well—but don't let them fight.
Let them watch instead.
After all, even the finest play needs an audience, doesn't it?"
"As you command, young master," Sebas said with a bow.
"I'll make sure to put on a splendid performance for you."
"The show begins."
Deep within the Hawke estate, Viscount Hawke watched as a group of knights emerged from a secret tunnel.
When he saw the burly man leading them, a cold smile crept onto his lips.
Tonight would be his grand performance—the final act for the Count of Heim.
Once the count was dead, his power would crumble.
Everything would return to how it was before.
He would avenge his useless son and earn a handsome reward from the duke.
Yes—Hawke served the Duke of Mandrake, as did the entire Golden Family.
And since the duke wanted Hel dead, his subordinates naturally knew about it.
They also knew that Lyman, captain of the guard, was the duke's inside agent.
That meant the guard would not interfere tonight.
Killing a mere junior mage would be child's play for their elite knights.
What they didn't know, however, was that their information was already outdated.
Hel was no longer a junior mage—she was a Magister now.
And Lyman? He had long since betrayed them.
Not that they'd live long enough to learn that.
"Third Boss, I didn't expect you to personally lead this mission."
On the plaza before the main building of the Hawke estate, Viscount Hawke—his body thick and slightly plump—addressed the towering man beside him.
The man wore armor made of beast hide, his appearance as wild as a barbarian warlord:
a leopard-eyed face, tangled hair tied into short braids, and a scar that ran from his forehead to his chin.
Combined with his thick beard, he looked every bit like an ancient Viking pirate.
"Naturally," the man rumbled.
"That arrogant brat dared to lay hands on one of our Golden Family's young masters.
He's chosen death.
The First Boss sent me personally this time, bringing the best men from the camp:
seventy junior knights, thirty intermediate knights, and myself—a high-ranking knight.
More than enough to slaughter everyone in that petty little county.
Once I'm done, I'll hang the count's head on the city wall,
so he can know what it feels like to be left to rot in the wilderness.
The world will remember that the honor of the Golden Family is not to be defiled."
"With you leading them, I'm relieved," Hawke said with satisfaction.
"To avoid unnecessary complications, you'd best move quickly."
"Fine. Wait here for the good news."
But just as the Third Boss was preparing to march toward Heim Castle,
chaos suddenly erupted throughout the Hawke estate.
In moments, people were pouring out from every corner—guards armed with swords, kitchen staff wielding cleavers and broomsticks, even well-dressed servants and attendants who clearly held high status in the household.
At their head stood a mature, elegant woman—Hawke's wife.
Despite her age, she was well-kept and poised, holding a delicate dagger in her hand as she advanced coldly toward Hawke and the Third Boss.
"Madam, what is the meaning of this?"
Hawke was stunned, though not entirely panicked.
He assumed his wife, unable to let go of their son's death, had gathered the household staff to join the attack against Heim in vengeance.
But what he couldn't possibly know—was that everyone present was already under the control of Soul-Eater Insects.
It wasn't until his wife's dagger—gleaming with a faint green poison—suddenly lunged toward the Third Boss's chest that Hawke realized something was terribly wrong.
However, the difference in strength was vast.
The strike was unexpected, but the Third Boss easily caught her wrist before the dagger could pierce his heart.
The venomous blade hung just inches away from him, trembling in the air,
no matter how hard the woman struggled, she couldn't push it closer.
"Viscount Hawke," the Third Boss snarled, fury flashing in his eyes.
"I want an explanation."
Before Hawke could even speak, his wife shouted:
"The Third Boss has betrayed the Golden Family!
He's been colluding with Count Ashton!
Second Brother said—whoever takes down the Third Boss tonight will become the new Third Boss!"