Chapter 107: The Returned Hero (4)

Chapter 107: The Returned Hero (4)

Vikir rode his horse to the city of Underdog.

A city where he had once served as a deputy magistrate.

Vikir rode his horse through the streets and alleyways of Underdog City.

The city's security had been greatly improved.

For the time being, there were noticeably fewer homeless people and drunkards wandering the city, and the streets were cleaner.

One thing I noticed was that there were very few children around.

Children are usually running around and playing in the streets and alleyways, but strangely, there were no children in the alleyways.

There were a few kids wandering around, probably running errands, but they were always accompanied by a guardian.

Otherwise, they'd rush back into their houses ,as if there was something scary outside.

"...?"

Vikir tilted his head, but urged his horse toward the city hall.

The main entrance to the city hall was now in sight, he felt bit nostalgic.

He hadn't been there since he had temporarily left the depths to find a cure for the Red Death.

<移木之信> / <The Faith of the Tree>

There was a plaque with those words clearly written on them by Chihuahua.

It was made in the past when Vikir burned 10 billion on a bet.

As he entered the city hall building, he was greeted by a bustling staff.

Without a sound, Vikir dismounted and made his way through the crowd to the inside.

This was to meet up with Chihuahua, Baskerville.

He spotted a woman busily working in front of the Deputy Commissioner's office.

Judging by the unfamiliarity of her face, she was a new employe.

Tap.

Vikir knocked once on her desk.

But the woman was so busy, she didn't answer except for a brief frown.

Tap.

Vikir knocked on her desk a second time without effect.

Tap.

But the woman didn't respond this time.

"Take a waitlist and wait."

She said in a very businesslike tone.

"...."

Vikir thought for a moment and nodded.

currently, Vikir was listed as dead, so he was not officially a deputy.

So, in principle, it was right to draw a number and wait.

Especially since he had no intention of making a scene.

<Waitlist number 3021>.

Vikir took the ticket and sat down to wait.

"...."

None of the employees walking by paid him any mind, their faces were buried in their papers.

After he had waited for hours.

Finally, Vikir's turn came.

The 3020th customer in front of him had just finished his business and went away.

Vikir had just gotten up and was approaching the woman.

...bang!

A desk near him shook as if it was going to shatter.

A male employee jumped to his feet and shouted in an excited voice.

"News from Red Salt Castle! Lord Vikir is alive and well!"

"What! Really!?"

"It's true! It's true! It's a message from the Commander of Morg family himself! He's leaving the Red Salt Castle and is on his way here!"

Then there was an uproar.

The atmosphere in the city hall quickly turned into a simmering pandemonium.

"Lord Vikir is alive!"

"It's the return of a hero! Contact the main house of Baskerville now!"

"Lord Vikir is on his way here! Roll out the red carpet now!"

"We only have a white carpet! What should we do?"

"Make it red with your own blood, and welcome him with all you got!"

The city hall staff began to scramble, abandoning all their important work.

That included the woman Siting in front of Vikir.

"For God's sake, we need to get ready to welcome Sir. Vikir right now!"

She threw down the 3021st waitlist and stormed out.

Or better said she would have don so if Vikir hadn't gotten in her way.

"Wait. You have to take care of my complaint first."

"If it's urgent, just send it in, and I'll do it first thing tomorrow morning!"

"It'll be too late then."

The woman shot Vikir a look of incredulity.

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you right now! We have a guest, a very important one at that! I don't know what your business is, but under these circumstances, you'll have to wait until later...!"

"I need to see the director."

The woman paused as the name of the Chihuahua Baskerville came out of Vikir's mouth.

If he was going to go straight to the office, he was a pretty important figure, and she couldn't ignore him.

So she grunted and gathered up the papers.

"Oh, no, I don't want to do this now that Mr. Vikir is on his way to .... Why didn't you tell me you had a meeting, so I could get it canceled sooner?"

The woman glanced back at her coworkers, who were busy preparing to welcome Vikir, and gave the "genuine complainant" a look.

Then she slid a piece of paper in front of Vikir.

"Write down your name and the purpose of your visit here, please, as fast as possible!"

Vikir did as he was told.

-Name: Vikir Van Baskerville

"So, Pomeranian, what do you want?"

"Rats! Rats!"

Pomerian held out another rat to Vikir.

Vikir nodded appropriately and tried to live up to Pomerian's expectations.

At that moment.

"...?"

Vikir took another look at the rat in Pomerian's hand.

Something was off about it.

Vikir squinted his eyes and examined the rat.

The rat reeked of death.

Upon closer inspection, the rat was long dead, nothing left but bones and skin.

And Pomeranian was playing with it.

"...!"

Vikir's mouth opened halfway.

The rat was now dancing on Pomerian's palm.

This was clearly a corpse resuscitation technique, a death magic spell that could be performed using negative mana.

"Pomeranian."

"Ung Uncle!"

"This rat, did you revive it?"

Pomeranian nodded with a cheerful expression.

"Ung!"

"Since when did you know you could do this?"

"Ung... one night, two nights, three baam...."

The Pomeranian wiggled her fingers eagerly, and then stretched out five fingers.

Vikir nodded.

"Five nights ago?"

"Mmm."

"Who taught you how to play with rats like this?"

"The tribe!"

Vikir was silent for a moment at Pomeranian's words.

Pomeranian had been found in the village of the Rococo tribe.

Vikir had assumed that she had learned the secrets of the Rococo tribe, who, are known for their black magic and command skills, over their shoulder, but he was not certain.

"At this age, you've already sensed mana, even the most elusive negative mana?

Even the children of the Baskervilles and Morg, who are said to be geniuses, don't feel mana until they were eight years old.

But Pomeranian felt mana at the age of five and was playing with it freely.

"...Hmm."

Vikir thought for a moment.

A magical prodigy had appeared in the Iron-Blooded Sword family, and she was the illegitimate granddaughter of the patriarch.

"I wonder how Hugo would react if he found out?

Vikir tried to imagine Hugo's reaction to seeing the Pomeranian.

'If it was the Hugo he knew, probably.

'... granddaughter. And you don't even know what kind of bastard's blood she's mixed with? You worthless thing!'

It was likely to be something like that.

Hugo judges all his children by efficiency.

A woman can't wield a sword as well as a man, so she's already going to be judged negatively.

And magic, black magic!

That's not exactly Hugo's favourite type of witchcraft.

'... Plus, I don't know what he'll think of her being his granddaughter.'

Vikir closed his eyes and considered.

There were few daughters in the Baskervilles. No, almost none.

You have to look far and wide to find one, and even then, Hugo doesn't even know their names.

In fact, there were no daughters in Hugo's direct lineage at all.

"...Pomeranian must be the only one."

Vikir muttered, looking down at the Pomeranian clinging to his leg.

Pomeranian La Baskerville.

She was the only child of the eldest daughter of the current head of House Baskerville, Hugo Les Baskerville.

In other words, the most direct of the direct line.

The first daughter of his first wife's first daughter. How would Hugo react? Is it a good idea to introduce Hugo to the Pomeranians in the first place?

Vikir shook his head, remembering Hugo's cold look.

"I can't imagine what that cold-blooded man would say to Pomeranian.

I'm sure he'll say something nasty, like they're useless, a waste, a mongrel, or something else.

Or maybe he'll just give her a cold, unfeeling stare, like he's looking at an invisible object.

'If that is the case, then it might be best not to confront them....'

Just as Vikir was contemplating what to do with the still very young Pomeranian.

... a bang!

Something crashed through the window.

Chihuahua opened the window in surprise and sees an owl with a letter tied to its leg.

The Chihuahua quickly took the letter and read it.

Then he looked back at Vikir in horror and exclaimed.

"Mr. Vikir, we're in trouble!"

"What?"

"It's from the main house! God, my lord! Gee, directly! As soon as he heard the news of Vikir's survival, he, he is on his way... !"

At the same time. There was a noise that cut off the Chihuahua's words.

A bang-bang-bang!

A knock on the front door of the city hall. And the panting of horses that had traveled a long way at a fast pace.

Finally, the Chihuahua finished speaking.

"He's here!"