CH 11

I was left wondering if my strike had missed.

But in the next breath, the goblin's iron sword broke apart.

A line of blood stretched from its face to its chest.

Frozen in shock, the goblin wobbled.

Just as it seemed about to gasp, it keeled over.

Thud!

It hit the ground, rigid as a stone.

"What kind of power is this…?"

I heard Sir Brown's voice from a distance.

"Young Master!"

"Brown, over here! Guard me!"

After giving my orders, I sat down on the spot.

The power I felt after slaying the forehead-tattooed goblin was unlike anything before.

I couldn't pinpoint what it was, but I sensed it could offer me immense strength.

I started to channel my aura.

'Huff!'

As I predicted, a huge surge of energy flooded into me.

Even after hunting many goblins before this one, the magic I gained was beyond comparison.

I kept my mouth shut and continued to channel my aura.

I strained to claim this energy as my own.

'Is this the goblin's memory? Or its emotions?'

In the midst of the magic power pouring into my body, I stumbled upon a memory fragment.

It was an alien memory, set in a forest, unlike anything I'd experienced in the Vreio Family or the Hebron Barony.

-Lewis, I've been waiting for you.

Darkness closed in on me.

Past the darkness, a light flickered.

The light moved closer and touched my forehead.

Screech!

"Ahhh!"

A scream tore from my lips. I tried to move, but my body wouldn't respond.

This wasn't reality. It was the goblin's memory.

Someone had etched a symbol onto the goblin's forehead.

The dot in the center of the symbol was someone's fingerprint.

---

Raei  Translations

---

"Young Master, are you okay?"

When I opened my eyes, Sir Brown and Hebron's soldiers were gathered around me.

The sun was now high overhead.

I must have been sitting for at least six hours; my body felt stiff.

'Uh, what is this aura...?'

My aura had grown so much it was beyond compare to before. If I had this much aura, Inferno could have wiped out the goblins without me lifting a finger.

'...Trickster, did you do this?'

The Trickster was a god from a fairy tale book I had read in my past life.

A neutral being, neither good nor evil, associated with the .

I had thought it was all make-believe.

'The symbol on the goblin's forehead is definitely the Trickster's mark.'

I began to believe that what I thought was just a fairy tale or myth might be real.

I was the living evidence.

I had traversed the river of death to become Lewis de Hebron.

Only a god could perform such a miracle.

The being that brought me back to life was a god, and the one who sent this strange creature to this land was a god too.

The Trickster was a god of disorder, banished by both good and evil.

If he was stirring up trouble, no other god could guess the outcome.

Just as in the old tales, both good and evil gods would need to unite to trap the Trickster.

"Why bring this up now?"

"Sir Brown, have you ever seen a symbol like this?"

Brown glanced at the Trickster's symbol on the goblin's forehead and replied.

"I've never seen it. Do you know what the symbol is, Young Master?"

"It just seemed familiar. We should bring the creature's body back to the mansion. I need to examine it."

"You, you're going to examine it?"

An examination wasn't a job for a knight or a lord. It was work for doctors and eccentric mages.

"No, it'll be my first time. I want to be ready if we face such a creature again, even if it seems over the top."

---

Raei  Translations

---

"The world is getting dangerous. Be careful. And remember, you're the future lord of Hebron."

While speaking, my father was sewing a dress for my expectant mother. I responded as I usually did.

"Yes, Father."

"Are you ready? Have you packed your luggage?"

"Don't worry, Father. I've packed a lot in the carriage. If I sell everything the goblin left, Hebron can relax about taxes for a while."

I knew my father was beating around the bush, but I didn't let on.

"...What about the clothes I made?"

"I packed them, Father."

Only then did he look satisfied.

"I don't know if they're outdated. Living out here, I can't keep up with what people are wearing."

My father was indirect, but I understood him just fine.

"I'll buy some trendy clothes too."

"Make sure to get plenty of fabric."

My father didn't care about running the territory, but he loved talking about clothes.

'I'll support your dream, Father. Once we beat the poverty of the land.'

The clothes my father made were basic and didn't follow the trends.

I wore outfits carefully crafted by the top tailors and designers of the House of Vreio. Because of this, I had an eye for clothes.

My father handed me a small basket. Inside were four wooden needles and a thick roll of thread.

"This is a gift. If you get bored on the carriage, you could pass the time knitting socks. You're skilled at it now, right?"

Knitting was more my father's hobby, not mine.

Naturally, I knew how to knit. Lewis de Hebron had inherited his father's talent.

Tailoring is unbefitting for a noble.

The backdrop may have shifted, but the etiquette I absorbed in Vreio was deeply etched in my mind. Although Lewis de Hebron's mindset had somewhat disrupted these notions, I hadn't yet mustered the courage to make clothes myself.

"I'd rather train my aura on the carriage."

"Wouldn't that be risky?"

"It's fine if I control it."

My father tilted his head. He didn't particularly care about aura training or fencing, so when I said it was safe, he quickly moved on.

Training one's aura in a moving carriage was traditionally deemed imprudent.

However, I knew how to counter such a situation.

I only knew this theoretically, so I was preparing to put it into practice soon.

"In my eyes, you possess a gift, much like me. You have an eye for fashion. That's not something everyone can master. It's a privilege that only a chosen few can relish."

Pride resonated in my father's voice.

He seemed delighted to have imparted his talent to me.

'Surely, the two fathers are different.'

I was conflicted about whose rhythm to follow.

No, the decision had already been reached.

The forefathers of the Hebron and Vreio families were founding contributors to the nation.

But now, after over 200 years, the fortunes of the two families had entirely diverged.

Hebron was not merely in retreat but on the brink of a precipice. They began as a Marquis family and, after selling their territory and title, they were demoted to Barons.

In contrast, the Duchy of Vreio wielded unparalleled influence.

Even King Xenon couldn't overlook the might of Vreio.

I made the judgment, history confirming the life I should pursue.

"I favour the sword over clothes, Father."

It was indeed an oddity.

The Duke of Vreio had pressed me to master the sword and magic, while the Baron of Hebron had handed me thread and a needle.

The values of the two families were as diverse as night and day.

'I prefer you, Father.'

I appreciated the Baron of Hebron's subtle hints more than outright demands.

At least it wasn't stifling.

There was room for discussion.

'Clothes....'

It was something I hadn't contemplated in my former life.

'One day, when the territory is secure, and I'm content... Then, I might consider sewing as a pastime. But not yet.'

"Let's set off!"

I took the lead, guiding the troops. There were 20 soldiers, with Baron Brown left behind in the territory. Our battalion comprised 20 soldiers, three horsemen, and three carriages.

Of the group, ten soldiers were tasked to return to the territory immediately after crossing the eastern forest.

In the past several decades, there were no instances of traversing the eastern forest with such limited numbers.

We ventured through the eastern forest.

The long-abandoned route was thick with undergrowth.

Soldiers led the way, hacking at the overgrowth and clearing the path of trees and rocks.

The carriages lined up, carefully navigating the narrow track.

"Ensure you clear it thoroughly. We'll be using this path every month henceforth."

"Yes, sir!"

The soldiers felled trees with their prepped axes.

While not quite expanding the route, they ensured it was passable for a carriage.

At the forest's entrance, ten soldiers, Baron Brown, and laborers borrowed from the territory began widening the path. They aimed to make a route broad enough for at least three carriages to traverse simultaneously.

'The security of the eastern forest is secured. I'm intrigued to see how Baron Nurha, who had been anticipating Hebron's downfall, will respond.'

No creature posing a threat remained in the forest.

The goblins were wiped out by the pursuit team, and wild animals were fleeing from the scent of humans.

Neigh!

Three horses each pulled a carriage.

Originally, Hebron only had a single aged carriage horse.

Given that even draught horses were worth 20 gold each, the soldiers treated the horses with extreme care.

After a day's travel, we arrived at the eastern forest's edge.

From there on, the horizon unfolded.

"Let's rest here for the night, and set off at dawn."

We unpacked a simple tent and erected it. It served to ward off the morning dew, and was a creation of my father's.

Despite the tent—constructed from three windows and a large cloth—being spacious enough for up to seven people, it was conveniently portable.

'A fascinating and warm-hearted individual.'

I found myself praising my father pretty often.

While pondering his potential utility, I abruptly dismissed the thought, as if disgusted.

'Family...'

The next morning, as planned, we divided our forces.

Half retraced their steps, and the other half followed the flat wilderness road, providing escort for the carriage.

Our destination lay at the road's end, the Barony of Nurha.

Baron Nurha had erected triple fences on his territory's outskirts.

The wooden ramparts on the periphery were recent additions, made to deter goblin invasions.

The forces of Baron Nurha were stationed beyond the wooden fence, which had been quite a costly project.

They merely repelled the goblins that sprung out from the forest, instead of actively hunting them.

'Baron Nurha's assessment wasn't misguided. He opted for the most effective means of defending his lands, and like any noble, harbored a desire for his neighbor's lands. So, hold no ill will towards me. If I covet your territory, it's merely a noble's instinct.'

Beyond the fence was a low stone wall, constructed centuries ago to thwart the charge of knight orders.

Further behind stood a high wall.

Two centuries prior, the Barony of Nurha was a fortress embroiled in violent conflict.

Now, it has been reduced to a tranquil rural hamlet.

Upon reaching the wooden fence, our path was barred by two spear-wielding soldiers. I addressed them.

"We hail from the Barony of Hebron."

The security was lax. The soldiers were taken aback by the arrival of Baron Hebron's troops outside of tax collection season.

The soldiers conversed in hushed tones. Their voices were faint, but I utilized my aura to eavesdrop on their discussion. It was a survival habit I had honed during my time in Vreio.