"Since you've already said that, I have no reason to stop you."
Hel looked at Witt with a half-smile, making his heart tighten with unease.
Still, hearing her words, Witt maintained a calm expression as he said,
"I will not fail you, my lady."
He turned to leave, but after walking for a while, he realized he hadn't moved even half a meter.
"Alright, drop the act. There'll be plenty of chances for you to earn merit later — you don't need to pledge loyalty right now."
Hel shot him a glare. Witt scratched his head awkwardly and returned to her side.
"Haha, nothing gets past you, young master."
"So, you didn't even consider that I might actually be sending you to your death?"
Hel sighed helplessly. Dealing with clever people was always so tiring.
Perhaps Witt felt uneasy that he had been entrusted with such an important task so soon after joining her. He just wanted to prove his loyalty.
But what he didn't know was that Hel could see a person's loyalty directly — there was never any need to doubt him.
"If that's the case," Witt continued, "then I'll stay hidden near Mandrake City. Once Orad is lured out by his brother and makes a move against Heim City, I'll ambush and assassinate him halfway."
"That's unnecessary."
Hel waved her hand dismissively, signaling Witt to drop the matter and return to his duties.
Even with its open strength alone, Heim City was not to be underestimated. Once Hel found the right excuse to reveal the power of her knight puppets, the neighboring forces harboring ill intent toward her would naturally restrain themselves — perhaps even scramble to reconcile with her.
After all, even the newly appointed Grand Duke of Mandrake couldn't easily field a cavalry unit composed entirely of third- and fourth-tier powerhouses.
Speaking of the new Grand Duke, Hel frowned slightly.
By all logic, after the eldest son's downfall, the most advantageous successor to the duchy should have been the calculating third son.
But unexpectedly, just before the Great Cataclysm struck, that third son suddenly vanished.
The fifth son then died in the riots within Mandrake City, leaving only the second daughter eligible to inherit the title.
Of course, if Hel wanted to, she could secretly eliminate the young lady and claim the title herself — but there was no need.
The mess that was Mandrake territory could be someone else's problem.
Pacifying the refugees, uniting the nobles, preparing for a potential beastmen invasion within a month, and dealing with the plague the beastmen were planning to spread through rats — none of these were easy matters.
And since Mandrake City lay on the road to the Kingdom of Sacrifice, Hel had no intention of getting dragged into a costly conflict with the beastmen.
All she wanted was to maintain her public position and hide her true identity as a witch.
Meanwhile, deep within the dungeons of Mandrake Castle—
The newly appointed Duchess, Brenda, stood expressionless as she watched the citizens of Mandrake City bound to torture devices, screaming as soldiers tormented them with cruel instruments.
A flicker of satisfaction flashed deep within her eyes.
Ever since she found her younger brother's corpse hanging from a streetlamp, she had wanted nothing more than to make these rioters pay.
But back then, her power was too weak. If word spread that she abused her people, inheriting the ducal title would have been nearly impossible.
Now, however, things were different.
Citing the threat of a renewed beastmen invasion in spring, the Third Princess had swiftly approved Brenda's appointment as Duchess.
With her new authority and control over the army, Brenda tore away her mask completely.
She ordered the mass arrest of everyone even remotely connected to her brother's death — the rioters who struck him down, the onlookers, even their families.
All were dragged into the castle dungeons.
And since the day she took office, Brenda had developed a new pastime — watching the "murderers" of her brother scream under torture.
This evening, after finishing her day's duties, Duchess Brenda came to the dungeon as usual to indulge her gruesome hobby.
But before long, the iron doors creaked open again.
The Third Princess entered, frowning at the blood-stained floor.
"Brenda," she said in disgust, "you can put your revenge aside for now. I bring news about your third brother."
"Ducane? That man's still alive?"
"That's right."
The princess tossed a scroll toward her.
"Someone spotted him near the border of the Dessert Kingdom. Apparently, he crossed through the fallen territories of the Free Nation and escaped there successfully.
My influence doesn't reach that far, so his current whereabouts are unknown.
But as the former duke's son, he still poses a threat to your title.
So I suggest you spend this time consolidating your power — gathering troops, rallying nobles. That's far more valuable than torturing these wretches."
"I understand, Your Highness."
Brenda hesitated briefly, then sighed and gave an order, her voice cold and sharp:
"Execute them all."
Seeing Brenda finally come to her senses, the princess's expression softened slightly.
She pulled an elemental crystal from her cloak and tossed it to Brenda.
"Also, your current strength is insufficient for your rank. If Ducane reaches the fifth tier before you, you might be forced to surrender your title.
That's not an outcome I want. Absorb this crystal — reach the fifth tier within five years."
"I understand, Your Highness."
Brenda clutched the crystal tightly, nodding with determination.
"Oh, and one more thing," she added hesitantly. "I have another brother — though he's been disowned from the Mandrake family. Should we… deal with him as well?"
"You mean Hel Heim? That minor count under your command? He's just a small-time lord with no real power. Handle him yourself when you have time."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Brenda bowed deeply.
But as she lowered her head, her expression twisted, seething with hatred.
My real brother is dead… so why are you, that cast-out bastard, still alive?