As the first rays of sunlight fell upon Greycastle, the fire in Colin's bedroom had already been extinguished.
Fortunately, most of Greycastle was built from fire-resistant stone. Otherwise, the blaze likely wouldn't have been confined to just one room.
In the charred remains of the bedroom, the steward Eamon stood with his hands behind his back, staring blankly at the scorched corpse before him.
Thud, thud, thud…
Heavy footsteps echoed as a towering figure entered the room.
"Eamon, I've already ordered the castle sealed off. All entrances and exits in Greycastle Town are now under strict guard. Hmph, let's see if this bastard of a murderer can still get away!"
The newcomer stood nearly three meters tall, built like a black bear. His entire body was wrapped in thick armor, though he wore no helmet, revealing a shiny bald head. With a face full of scars and a menacing expression—not to mention the massive battle axe in his hand, still stained with dried blood—he could easily scare every child in Greycastle Town into tears.
"Thank you for your efforts, Sir Rego," Eamon said without turning around, his eyes still fixed on the charred corpse, pupils slightly unfocused, as if deep in thought.
Seeing this, Rego assumed the old steward was mourning the young lord's death. He sighed and said, "Let's tidy up the young lord's remains. We'll hold a proper burial when the Baron returns."
Eamon didn't respond.
Rego scratched his shiny bald head, thinking the steward must be feeling guilty. He stepped closer and whispered, "Eamon, I haven't seen Sir Carter today. I suspect—"
At the mention of Carter's name, Eamon's vacant eyes suddenly sharpened. He turned and instructed the servants still cleaning up, "Leave this place as it is. You may go."
"Yes, sir."
Once the servants had all left, Eamon tilted his head slightly upward to look at the towering Rego and asked, "I remember, three years ago, you dueled Carter at the knight tournament held by Earl Uman, didn't you?"
Rego frowned, unsure why Eamon was bringing up an old tournament, but he replied, "Was that three years ago? I guess it was. Heh, I beat the crap out of him!"
Eamon smiled. "Yes. You knocked him off his horse with a single spear thrust. He broke his arm and lost two teeth."
"Heh." Rego chuckled sheepishly at the memory, but was clearly puzzled. "Why are you bringing this up now?"
Instead of answering, Eamon continued, "Do you remember which side he lost those two teeth on—left or right?"
"How would I know that?" Rego growled, frustrated and confused by Eamon's line of questioning.
Eamon ignored his tone and simply smiled mysteriously. He pointed to the charred corpse on the ground. "Well, if you don't remember, you can go take a look for yourself."
Rego furrowed his brow, staring at Eamon for a moment. Seeing that the steward wasn't joking, he finally crouched down and reached out to open the corpse's mouth.
Crack!
As Rego clumsily handled the burnt jaw, it came off completely in his hand. Eamon winced hard at the sight.
Startled, Rego fumbled to try and reattach the jaw.
"Enough. Just check the teeth carefully," Eamon sighed, exasperated by Rego's clumsiness.
"Oh, right… Hey! The lower left side of the jaw does have two gaps!" Rego's eyes lit up. He turned back eagerly. "So Carter lost those two teeth on the left, didn't he?"
Clearly, the brute was beginning to sense something was off about the corpse.
But Eamon shook his head. "I actually don't remember which side Carter lost his teeth on."
Rego's brow twitched, and he was about to say something when Eamon slowly added, "But I do know that Young Master Colin never lost a single tooth."
"Then that settles it!" Rego stood up with a start, yelling in excitement—before lowering his voice. "This corpse isn't Young Master Colin at all—it's that bastard Carter!"
"No," Eamon said with a smile, shaking his head. "The young master was killed by Carter. What you need to do now is lead a search party and apprehend that treacherous bastard."
"What?" Rego's eyes went wide again. "Are you insane?"
Eamon sighed and patiently explained, "Think about it. Why would the young master set fire to his own room? And why would he disappear without telling anyone?"
Rego scratched his round bald head. "You're saying… the young master wanted people to think he died in the fire?"
"Exactly."
"But why would he do that?"
"Maybe to uncover who was really behind Carter. Maybe to stay hidden and safe. Whatever the reason, the young master clearly has a plan. What we need to do now is cooperate and play our part."
"…Alright, I understand." Rego grunted and turned to leave. "I'll go give the order to apprehend Carter."
Eamon watched the giant's figure vanish out the door, and silently added to himself:
"Or maybe… the young master just doesn't trust us anymore."
⸻
"How could I not trust you?" Colin said with a smile to the old mercenary in front of him. "What I mean is—I'll pay you half now, and the other half once you've helped me get into a caravan heading to Eaglefall City."
"And what if I get you in, and then you refuse to pay the rest?" The mercenary clearly didn't like the idea of payment on delivery.
"You think I'd cheat you out of that little money?" Colin tossed a gold coin into the air and caught it casually.
The old mercenary's eyes widened, his gaze fixed on the coin as it danced in Colin's fingers.
For someone like him—who lived at the bottom rung of society—copper coins were the norm. Silver coins were rare, and as for gold… those were the currency of nobles and wealthy merchants.
"Then I want thirty copper coins!" The old mercenary, sensing Colin was a fat lamb ready for slaughter, immediately raised his price.
"Twenty. Any more, and I'll find someone else."
"Deal!" the mercenary said eagerly, catching the ten copper coins Colin tossed over, and began leading the way.
A short while later, the two arrived in the west district of Greycastle Town and entered a run-down tavern.
The Bearded Tavern.
Colin found that the name fit quite well. At a glance, nearly every drinker inside sported a massive beard.
The mercenary was clearly a regular here. Greeting the patrons with nods, he led Colin to a long table in a shadowy corner.
He hunched over and whispered into the ear of a burly, bearded man seated at the head of the table.
The big man glanced Colin's way, then beckoned him over.
"This is Lord Saru, captain of the Fire Fox Mercenary Company. He's a second-rank warrior and also heading to Eaglefall City. Travel with his group, and you'll be perfectly safe!" The mercenary introduced Saru with reverence.
Then, turning to Saru with a notably more eager tone, he said, "Lord Saru, this is my nephew. Don't let his skinny looks fool you—his martial skills are impressive…"
"He's your nephew?" Saru sneered, interrupting him.
"Y-yes, of course!" the mercenary stammered, a flicker of panic in his eyes.
He quickly added, "He doesn't look like me because he takes after my brother-in-law. And, well, I've been roughing it on the road all these years—my face is a mess now. But back in the day, I was quite the looker, you know…"
Saru smirked coldly, cutting him off again. "Your nephew's a knight?"
At the word knight, the old mercenary suddenly went stiff—like someone had clamped a hand around his throat.
The words caught in his mouth.
And Colin's pupils contracted sharply.