Chapter 5
Episode 5
“Ah, ahh!”
Tension, fear, and exhaustion mingled, leaving her unable to think straight. Edel squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for a hard tumble.
But as her body lurched forward, large hands caught her, and her face colliding with the ground instead met something firm yet yielding.
A rush of unfamiliar masculine scent made her head spin.
Realizing her forehead had landed against Laslo's chest, she instinctively shoved him away. At least she hadn't screamed.
*My life just keeps getting worse...!*
Long ago, her etiquette tutor had lectured her several times.
“Pretending to faint and falling into a man's arms is a truly vulgar seduction tactic. A lady must never do such a thing.”
*Spoils of war*
*Duchess*
She had no such intentions, but it was a situation ripe for misunderstanding.
Edel apologized while struggling to stand straight on her trembling legs.
“I'm sorry.”
*Written by ruly lemon frog*
Adding any explanation would just sound like a lame excuse, so she kept it to those two words.
She tried to apologize without irritating him, but wasn't even sure her voice had come out properly.
Yet Laslo simply looked down at her with an inscrutable expression before turning away.
“Follow me.”
Edel barely held back tears as she trailed after him into what was surely about to become her personal hell.
“Sir Crisus just personally came and took custody of the prisoner.”
- 2 -
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‘Too good to waste as a mere hunting dog. With proper nurturing, he could be a pillar to support me.’
Emperor Dimarcus smiled faintly at the servant's report.
But he lacked the right bait to win Laslo's heart.
“I figured as much.”
He had no interest in things others coveted desperately...
Though his hangover lingered, his mood wasn't bad. Everything from yesterday's plan had gone perfectly.
One key part was foisting Edel Lancaster onto Laslo.
*That stone-faced man showed interest in her alone.*
He already had more than enough money, and the number of mercenaries under his guild <Calliope> surpassed even the troops the duke's family could muster.
So titles meant nothing to Laslo. Most nobles couldn't match his wealth, military might, or power anyway.
In the end, he tried tempting him with basic desires by offering beauties, but Laslo remained indifferent.
Even when he sent a dancer renowned for seducing any man, Laslo sent her back with clear annoyance.
Dimarcus recalled Laslo staring at Edel during a banquet two years ago.
In the final conquest war, where he had contracted the famously titled Mercenary King Laslo and employed his mercenaries, Laslo had racked up achievements beyond what any noble knight could match.
“Hey, you. Did you take a bad hit from a sword while mercenary work, right... there?”
Exaggerating a bit, it was as if he had won the war single-handedly.
“...‘There’? What do you mean by that, Your Majesty?”
And yet Laslo wasn't greedy.
“You know, ‘down there,’ your ‘manhood.’”
“...No, I don't understand why you'd ask such a thing.”
“Name your desire. Anything at all.”
“The amount I'm to receive is detailed in the contract, Your Majesty.”
Though Laslo had looked at him with contemptuous eyes, Dimarcus couldn't help suspecting if the man was impotent.
He had learned by chance that Laslo showed a slightly different interest in Edel.
Having ascended the throne young in less-than-ideal circumstances, Dimarcus—who made offers tantamount to blank checks to bind talented individuals—had been lightly ignored by Laslo.
Stroked by both competitive spirit and curiosity, Dimarcus abruptly granted him a countship.
“Look at those who opposed the conquest war flip their attitudes completely. Isn't it amusing?”
Of course, he had added plausible persuasion, but refusing an emperor's title as a mere mercenary would have been a death sentence, and Laslo surely knew that.
“Laslo...?”
“I never intended to contract with Your Majesty in the first place.”
He liked how boldly defiant Laslo's gaze had been.
Dimarcus, muttering to himself during the banquet, noticed Laslo had gone silent instead of his usual curt replies and turned his head.
He realized Laslo was staring at a woman—not with a friendly expression, but with slightly furrowed brows.
But the mere fact that Laslo was ignoring even his words to gaze at her stirred some ‘instinct’ in Dimarcus.
*Perfect material for a loyal hound.*
He glanced in the direction Laslo was looking.
However, after investigating Laslo's background, that thought shifted slightly.
Eh? Isn't that the Canian Count's daughter?
Laslo was a man with some intriguing secrets.
If those secrets were exposed, it might benefit Dimarcus's enemies, but he was willing to risk it to have Laslo in his grasp.
There stood Edel Canian, famed as the top marriage prospect.
Rumors swirled that she would soon wed the aged Lancaster Duke, yet she smiled with impeccable poise, fully aware.
.
Dimarcus clicked his tongue.
‘What the hell does that mean? Is the head maid exaggerating?’
Damn. Can't steal the Lancaster fool's bride-to-be...
It was incomprehensible to Edel, but Laslo smoothly shifted to business as if accustomed to it.
That would have caused an uproar.
“Didn't you say you were short on maids?”
Regretfully unavoidable, he let go of his interest and forgot about the woman named Edel—until hearing intelligence that the Lancaster Duke was plotting independence.
“Yes, my lord. As I mentioned before, you need to do something about Lady Lynia. If the maids keep quitting like this, even a veteran like me can't keep the estate running...”
“Here—additional staff. Assign her as you see fit.”
Did Laslo even realize he had spared the duke's two daughters just to give her to him?
Marsha's eyes widened at his words, but so did Edel's.
Dimarcus chuckled while sipping water.
He wanted to boast about orchestrating this hassle right in front of Laslo, but the fastidiously particular Laslo might discard Edel too.
*He's really going to use me as a maid?*
A gamble based solely on that one gaze that had clung to her unwaveringly, devoid of any lust.
Dimarcus intended to watch how the dice rolled.
As she perked up her ears, Marsha asked Laslo in return.
Would Edel Lancaster ignite passion in that man?
“Additional staff? Who...?”
“Are you blind? She's right here.”
The ever-victorious gambler Dimarcus rose with a meaningful smile.
It was a bright late-autumn morning.
Laslo indicated Edel with his chin.
The head maid scanned her up and down before asking again.
“Th-this lady... as a maid?”
“Marsha!”
“...She's not a ‘lady.’ Just a war prisoner bestowed upon me by His Majesty the Emperor.”
“Ah!”
Upon entering the estate with Edel in tow, Laslo immediately called for the head maid.
The woman in her mid-forties approached with quick steps, her expression barely concealing her annoyance.
She nodded as if finally understanding, then pryingly asked Laslo about Edel's circumstances.
“You called for me, my lord?”
“So, how did this... woman end up a prisoner? What was her original status?”
“Any issues?”
“What issues could there be? This Marsha takes perfect care of everything in the estate, so don't worry. Hohoho.”
But Laslo didn't answer that and turned away.
Edel, puzzled that no one had come out to greet the master, doubted her ears at the revelation that a mere head maid oversaw the entire estate.
“Wash her up, feed her, and let her rest for now. Give her any spare servant's room, and start assigning work from tomorrow. You'll probably need to teach her a lot at first.”
6
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