Chapter 8: Sacrament of Baptism (3)

When Sien returned to the mansion, a luxurious dinner feast was waiting for her.

At the spacious dining table, Laila and Sien sat facing each other.

“It feels like the house was bustling just yesterday, but now it’s just the two of us.”

“It’ll soon be lively again.”

“That would be nice.”

Before the start of this extravagant course meal, a selection of finger foods—hard cheese and prosciutto, served with wine—was brought to Laila’s seat.

“You took down that ironclad beast marvelously. And in quite an unconventional way, too.”

Laila couldn’t hide her delight as she put a perfectly sliced piece of cheese into her mouth.

“It was thanks to Mother’s teachings.”

“Hmph. I never told you the exact number of nails needed to fasten the armor.”

“How did you take it down, Mother?”

“I wasn’t able to do it as easily as you did.”

“But you still managed, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t anything worth boasting about.”

Laila took a sip of her wine, continuing happily.

“I was desperate not to die, fought ugly and fiercely to survive.”

As if reminiscing about a memory that was now dear to her.

“But you survived.”

“Yes, I survived.”

After that, their conversation continued in short exchanges. Before they knew it, the golden wine in Laila’s glass was just about empty, and the next course was served.

Before the main meal, an appetizer (Antipasto) to stimulate the palate was brought out.

Tomatoes with basil, generous mozzarella cheese, toasted garlic bread, and a chicken soup simmered with capon and assorted vegetables.

The meals in this house were not just luxurious—they were decadent. After the lavish appetizers, the dishes that could be called ‘real courses’ appeared.

The first course (Primo Piatto)—dishes mainly made from wheat.

From spaghetti to lasagna, every sort of pasta with tomato, cream, or olive sauces.

Risotto made by simmering rice in chicken stock and white wine, overflowing with cheese and saffron, or king crab gratin, with penne pasta and crab meat stuffed into emptied shells.

Then came the second course (Secondo Piatto)—the meat dishes.

Beef, veal, pork, chicken, lamb, and even goat—hearty cuts of meat, cooked in a variety of ways, were set on the table by section.

It was mostly Sien who ate the main dishes.

Laila merely sipped her wine, occasionally picking at the cheese or prosciutto from the plate.

“Eat plenty.”

Laila smiled as she watched Sien eat heartily. The meals in this house were almost excessively extravagant. And all that extravagance was offered for the sake of young Sien.

In fact, Laila was not someone who enjoyed such gourmet meals. She didn’t have a large appetite, nor did she particularly crave anything—aside from cheese and wine.

Sien sliced into a marbled steak. The knife caught on a tendon, and she carved off a piece of juicy meat, yet not a drop of fat or blood stained Sien’s knife.

Its blade was as sharp as if it had just been whetted on a grindstone.

It wasn’t simply that her knife skills were neat. Nor was she using any special aura. Sien’s slicing was uncanny in its precision, and for a moment, a spark of interest flashed in Laila’s eyes.

“It’s delicious.”

“You’re young, so you need to eat a lot.”

Eating plenty while young is important.

After the sacrament, Sien’s growing body needed dozens of times more energy than a normal person.

“Excuse me during your meal, Your Grace the Duke.”

At that moment, the butler, dressed in formal attire, approached with caution.

“A messenger from the capital of the Republic of Veneto has just arrived.”

“A messenger from the capital?”

“It seems he came in haste under orders from the Governor.”

“Oh, from our illustrious Governor.”

Despite the unexpected name, Laila smiled, not at all surprised or intimidated.

The Governor.

Officially, the highest ruler of the Republic of Veneto. Yet everyone in this country knew that the title was little more than a hollow name, a mere puppet. Laila was no exception.

“Tell him that I am currently at dinner. Have him wait until the proper time.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

And at the same time, Laila also knew exactly who truly pulled the strings of this country.

“The world is vast, Sien.”

Laila spoke, sipping the golden Sarmagnu wine with her Camembert cheese.

“Compared to that, this land is as tiny as a grain of millet.”

She wasn’t wrong. The Duchy of Nightwalker was wealthy, and boasted immense power, yet their power did not come from the ‘size of their land.’

“The fief we govern is small and barren, nothing more than a handful of insignificant soil.”

“Just like this country.”

“That’s right.”

At Sien’s reply, Laila smiled.

“Do you know why, then, our family and this country enjoy such extravagant wealth and glory?”

“I don’t know.”

Sien feigned ignorance, for even with her intelligence, it was not an easy matter for a ten-year-old child to understand.

“It’s because we control a great many networks.”

“Didn’t you just say our land is as tiny and insignificant as a grain of millet?”

Sien questioned the seeming contradiction.

“Not everything you see is all there is.”

“Are there lands we can’t see?”

“Yes.”

Because they control the unseen lands.

There’s a saying on this continent: ‘All the gold of the world flows to the Republic.’

Just as the saying goes, the Republic of Veneto had established hundreds of merchant guilds and bank branches across the continent, monopolizing twenty-nine regular trade routes from its capital port, spanning the Black Sea, the Mediterranean, and the Atlantic.

“You’ll come to understand someday.”

“Understand what?”

“How vast and boundless the lands ruled by this country are, and how great a sacrifice our family paid to claim them.”

Assassinations and bribes, terror and conspiracies, persuasion and threats, espionage and schemes of every kind.

That was the true power that transformed this barren little state into the continent’s richest and strongest small nation.

“This country grew by feeding on the blood of our family.”

As everyone knows, it is not the Governor who rules this land or decides national affairs.

It is she who sits here—Laila Nightwalker, Duke of Nightwalker. Not because of some political slyness or a hidden hand, but for a perfectly legitimate reason.

That foundation is what made this country possible.

The Nightwalker Family’s Assassins risked their lives across the continent, and the blood and sacrifice spilled in the shadows is what gave rise to this nation.

“I too will shed my blood someday.”

“…Mother?”

“Yes.”

Laila laughed softly, sipping her wine.

“For the sake of family, you must be willing to do anything.”

Just as her ancestors and siblings had done, and as Sien and her siblings would one day do.

For a moment, the image of Laila’s final moments flashed through Sien’s mind like a lantern passing by.

Sien bit her lip in silence.

“And one day, this land that grew from my blood will be ruled by you and your children.”

The land Sien would one day govern.

Sien couldn’t raise her head at those words. But her embarrassment didn’t last long.

She recalled the feeling of her blade sinking into the armored Minotauros earlier that afternoon.

The blade that would one day strike down the mighty of the Holy Romanius Empire and the entire continent. Yet, it had not reached the heart of the Empire itself.

The Holy Romanius Empire, the millennium-old empire blessed by the gods.

And, beyond that, the ‘Shadow Lords’ who ruled the Empire from the shadows.

Now things were different. No, they had to be different.

“I will become even stronger.”

“You’re already growing strong enough.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Not enough?”

“I want to carry out real work.”

Sien spoke calmly.

“Not some childish make-believe.”

As if armored Minotauros were nothing worthy of being her opponent.

“Is there something else you wish for?”

“Please assign me to the family’s missions.”

The family’s missions.

It wasn’t hard to imagine what ‘missions’ the continent’s top Assassin family carried out. Laila blinked, momentarily surprised by the sudden request.

“I wonder if you really understand what that means.”

“I understand it fully.”

At Sien’s answer, Laila fell silent.

Just like before.

It was neither a childish tantrum nor reckless bravado. Confidence didn’t quite capture it, either. It was simply a matter-of-fact tone, as if she had come of age and was ready to do what must be done.

“I am no longer a child who needs your protection.”

“Very well.”

“I am now a family member ready to shed blood, just like you, Mother.”

“A fine resolve.”

Laila smiled and nodded, unable to hide her delight at Sien’s ever-astonishing uniqueness.

***

That night.

It was nearly midnight when Laila finally allowed the Governor’s messenger, who had been anxiously waiting since dinner, into her office.

“Donna Nightwalker.”

The messenger bowed before Laila, pressing a careful kiss to the back of her hand.

“Welcome.”

“Please pardon the intrusion, Your Grace the Duke of Nightwalker.”

Laila smiled as she offered her hand, sitting at her desk. The Governor’s messenger, who had been restless with impatience, froze on the spot as soon as he raised his head. Like a frog petrified by a snake.

Mother of Assassin, ruling the country from the shadows, stood there with the pale moonlight at her back.

The true ruler of this land.

“So, what message does our dear Governor have for me?”

“G-Governor Ocelot… has urgently requested that you return at once to the capital of the Republic of Veneto.”

“My stay in the duchy has grown a bit lengthy, hasn’t it?”

Laila continued in an even tone.

“But there’s still unfinished business here.”

“B-but Your Grace! The Governor and, of course, the Supreme Council, both have expressed grave concern at your extended absence—”

The Governor’s messenger hurriedly tried to raise his voice, but then remembered who he was standing before.

“There’s no need for such concern.”

Laila smiled gently at the pale-faced messenger.

“Convey my regards to the Governor and the Supreme Council. Tell them I’ll return in due time, and that there’s no need to be so hasty.”

Do not rush—just wait patiently.

“Besides, though it’s a bit inconvenient, it’s not impossible to handle affairs from here, is it?”

Such words would have been unforgivably rude before the leader of any country. But even if the Governor himself were present, he would not have dared object.

“Yes, Your Grace the Duke.”

“It must have been a tiring journey. I’ll have arrangements made for you to rest here for the night.”

“I am most grateful, Your Grace.”

The messenger bowed his head apologetically at Laila’s words.

“However, as a messenger on urgent business, I must beg your forgiveness for refusing your hospitality.”

“Ah, I see. Then please forgive my foolish oversight.”

“N-not at all… Your Grace.”

The Governor’s messenger, sweat pouring down his back, carefully turned to leave.

He had an obligation to move as quickly as possible as a messenger. But it was not mere professional duty that made him refuse Laila’s kindness.

He simply wanted to escape this ominous and chilling estate as quickly as possible.

Not long after.

As the messenger all but fled the Duke’s mansion, another silhouette appeared in Laila’s office.

It was Sir Hyde, the Shadow Master of the Shadow Knights.

“Did you call for me, Your Grace?”

“Welcome, Sir Hyde.”

Laila turned to the leader of the Shadow Knights, who paid his respects before her.

“Prepare an appropriate ‘list’ for Sien.”