Ch#50
“That’s not something a child should say. We’ve been living all alone as old folks anyway, feeling lonely—it’s for the best. Stay here.”
Thanks to the kind-hearted elderly couple, Laslo felt a weight lift off his shoulders and headed straight to the mercenary guild. It was because he remembered overhearing their conversation when his father’s friend had visited long ago.
“Commoner boys start working as errand boys at the mercenary guild by age ten, but why can’t our son even think of leaving his mother’s skirt hem?”
He had no idea what a mercenary guild errand boy did, but he went anyway and boldly asked to be one.
Fierce-looking men glared down at him with eyes that seemed ready to devour him, but Laslo didn’t back down.
He instinctively knew that yielding there would lead only to worse things.
“You’ve got guts, kid? Fine, let’s give you a shot. What’s your name?”
“...Laslo. Laslo.”
*Spoils of war*
He gave the name of the hero from the storybook his nanny had read to him as a child.
From then on, Laslo became an errand boy for the small mercenary guild, delivering letters or carrying unidentified packages. The next year, he followed mercenaries on long journeys, handling their meals and luggage, standing watch for suspicious activities, or tailing and surveilling targets.
*Duchess*
So it was only natural that he took up the sword.
He had to protect his own body first, and then earn more money as a full-fledged mercenary.
Truly written by Lemon Frog
As Laslo fell silent, lost in memories, Linia pressed him again.
“How did you live? Huh?”
“How? We scraped by somehow.”
“Don’t brush it off! I barely remember that meat pie grandma’s house from when we were little!”
“They were good people. If only they’d lived longer, I could’ve taken better care of them.”
The elderly couple who had taken them in passed away sooner than expected. The grandfather when Laslo was fifteen, and the grandmother when he was eighteen.
Of course, their life had improved greatly with the money Laslo brought in even before then, but he always regretted and felt sorry that he couldn’t give them more.
- 2 -
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“The house had only one window and was so small that it got dark as soon as the sun set. But we lived quite happily there.”
Having the portrait done with the still-adorable Linia was nice, and so was helping the quiet, loyal Marco share one frame with his daughter.
Then, when he had Edel pose again in front of the painter to send to Barbara, Laslo found himself staring blankly at her face for a moment. Her smile was dazzling, like the sunset on a clear day.
Though not related by blood, they had cared for Laslo and Linia with love. That love was the only reason Laslo hadn’t grown completely cynical.
“All done! Ah, who should I give this one to?”
“If they hadn’t looked after you, I wouldn’t have been able to go out and work. They saved us.”
“Give it to me.”
“I see. Well, as long as I have you, brother, I don’t care.”
Laslo received the completed portrait and quite liked how it resembled the real thing almost perfectly.
Linia finished off her meat pie, reminiscing about that unforgettable taste.
“Thank you once again, Count.”
“Ah, that was delicious. So, shall we go eat something else? There’s supposed to be a chicken skewer place across the bridge—want to try it?”
“Ah... No need to thank me multiple times. It might even be for your sake.”
As they crossed the bustling bridge full of portrait artists and people at Linia’s suggestion,
Laslo had said it feeling a strange twinge of conscience, but Edel smiled softly.
And upon returning to the mansion, Laslo tucked the portrait into his desk drawer and often took it out to sigh over it.
*‘I thought I just heard a voice that sounds just like Edel’s...’*
*I should send this to the Celestine Marchioness Dowager, but it feels too abrupt somehow. I’ll keep it for now.*
He thought it absurd, yet looked around anyway.
Edel’s voice wasn’t there, but an irritating woman’s shrill voice rang out. Following the glances of the surrounding people, he quickly spotted the source.
As Laslo walked toward it as if drawn by something, the words “mercenary scum” pierced his ears.
“So the great Edel Canyon wasn’t content being sold off as an old man’s second wife—she’s even become a mercenary scum’s mistress?”
Edel had plenty to do as Linia’s personal maid. It was just as she’d expected, so nothing surprising.
Why did that remark grate on him so much? Without thinking, he spoke up.
“I didn’t know I had a mistress.”
For the first five days, she taught Linia what suited her and what didn’t, and what items a countess shouldn’t choose.
The next five days were spent sorting Linia’s possessions into “keep using,” “sell,” or “discard.”
So inevitably, the next task arrived.
After clearing it all out, Linia’s wardrobe, jewelry box, and vanity looked utterly barren.
The opponent looked terrified, but he only saw Edel’s face.
She seemed quite troubled. And seeing Daisy clutching Edel’s sleeve tightly beside her, Laslo roughly guessed the situation.
“Now that it’s empty, we need to fill it up.”
*They said they were going out together today. It’s her first outing since coming to our house—no way I can let her get caught up in annoyances.*
Linia declared it with a somewhat resolute face, then turned to Edel with a bright smile—as if saying she trusted only her.
That afternoon, people from the dress shop arrived at the mansion first.
He wanted to raze that noisy woman’s husband’s family and her own to the ground, but held back for Edel’s peaceful day.
Using the surrounding stares as an excuse, having everyone go to private studios for portraits wasn’t bad either.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Dora, the tailor from the dress shop.”
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