Chapter 34: A Comrade I’m Sorry I Couldn’t Be With, A Comrade I’m Grateful For (End)

“Rafelon! Where on earth have you been?”

This was Eshil’s question as soon as she sat across from Rafelon at the round table. She had been so curious because he had vanished without a trace.

“Ah, I couldn’t sleep at night, so I went for a walk around the village. But somehow, I got kidnapped by a gang of thieves.”

“K-Kidnapped?”

“Yeah. Fortunately, Duke Rossel saved me.”

The statement that “he saved me” was true.

It was true that he owed his life to the duke. If he had been the one to bring down Emilia, the monarchy would certainly have executed him.

Now that her doubts had been cleared, Eshil gazed at Rafelon’s head.

Since she had confirmed his safety, she no longer felt the need to press him with more questions.

If he had been kidnapped, it must have been a painful memory for him too.

Instead, she raised a different question.

“But what’s with your hair color?”

“Oh, this?”

Throughout their journey, Rafelon’s hair had been white.

For a commoner, white hair had an almost divine quality. If he hadn’t been carrying luggage, one might have mistaken him for a hero.

Strangely, his hair was now a vivid red.

“Yeah, yeah. How did you do it? The color is so vibrant!”

“Ah, Duke Rossel did it for me.”

There was also dyeing technology in this world.

However, since the technology was still underdeveloped, it was difficult to achieve a color as vivid as Rafelon’s hair. Eshil’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Wow… So the master can even dye hair? That’s amazing… And the color is so pretty. But why did you change your hair color?”

“I had to conceal my identity. Apparently, my party members have been searching for me quite diligently.”

“Searching for you? Why?”

“Probably to ask me the truth.”

“Ah…”

The atmosphere grew solemn as the topic of his party members arose.

It was Eshil who first broke the heavy mood.

“I thought you’d really gone off on a journey.”

“I was thinking of doing that after everything was over.”

“Then, are you going to leave now?”

At Eshil’s question, Rafelon shook his head.

His dream of traveling the empire and drawing a map was still alive in his heart, but he hadn’t been able to act on it yet.

Even though they were dealing with monsters and remnants of the Demon King in each territory, strangely, the number of monsters hadn’t noticeably decreased.

In fact, knights returning from subjugation missions would sometimes talk in the dining hall, saying, “It feels like their numbers are increasing instead.”

After the Demon King dies, no new monsters are supposed to be created.

In other words, once they wiped out the remaining monsters and the Demon King’s remnants, the world would be peaceful again.

Because of this, he couldn’t guarantee when he would be able to act on his dream.

Besides, since Duke Rossel had also made a request, he was currently staying in the duke’s territory.

“Why not?”

“The number of monsters hasn’t gone down, so it’s still dangerous. And Duke Rossel said he had something to bestow upon me, so he asked me to wait.”

“Bestow something?”

“Yeah. I asked what it was, but he didn’t tell me. He did say I could look forward to it, though.”

“If the master said that, then you can definitely look forward to it. So, are you going to stay here for a while?”

Rafelon nodded.

Duke Rossel had even said he would like them to live together at the mansion. Starting tomorrow, he planned to stay in one of the annex buildings.

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“In any case, I’m really glad. I’m so relieved you’re safe.”

“…Look who’s talking. You’re the one I’m really relieved about — that you met Duke Rossel.”

“Hehe…”

Eshil chuckled at Rafelon’s words.

At the time, when she had her prejudices about nobles, she never would have imagined these events unfolding.

That’s why she didn’t deny his words.

It really was a relief.

It was truly fortunate that she got to serve a master as kind and virtuous as Duke Rossel.

Because of that, a new fear had recently begun to grow in her heart.

It was a fear that this daily life she had come to cherish might someday collapse.

A fear that the life she shared with her master might suddenly fall apart.

Of course, it was a happy kind of fear — completely different from the fear of betrayal and torture.

Seeing Eshil’s soft smile, Rafelon couldn’t help but smile along with her.

Even though he had fallen from being a hero to a s*ave, he had no doubt that, with a benefactor like Duke Rossel, Eshil’s reputation would once again shine brightly.

That night, the two of them shared stories they hadn’t been able to finish, talking deep into the night.

The next morning.

Rossel, who had taken a brief nap on the sofa in his office, rubbed his eyes and sat up at the sound of knocking.

“Oh dear, Master. Did you sleep on the sofa again today?”

Gellion approached Rossel with a look of pity. He placed two items on the sofa table and then poured water into a cup before handing it to Rossel.

Rossel took the water and drank it down in one go. He then picked up one of the two items Gellion had placed on the table.

It was a small, soft, gray, rectangular piece of rubber — an eraser.

This was the newly invented product that would usher in a second period of prosperity.

Rossel planned to present it to King Briccal today and receive the Western Territory as a reward.

“According to the test results, one of these can erase 2,850 characters. Out of 60 units tested, only one broke on the 752nd use.”

Hearing Gellion’s report, Rossel nodded in satisfaction and placed the eraser back on the table.

Next to it was a long, rectangular wooden case, but he didn’t bother to open it.

It was a product he had tested himself dozens of times in preparation for this day.

“Very good. How is that other matter coming along?”

“I looked into the number of artists within the territory. It seems there are about 30 of them. Of those, 23 have expressed their willingness to work for you, my lord.”

“Twenty-three… That’s more than enough.”

“May I ask the reason you are gathering the artists?”

At Gellion’s question, Rossel answered without hesitation.

There was no reason to hide it, nor could it be hidden for long.

Ever since he saved Roden on the first day, Gellion had shown boundless admiration and trust in him.

Even though Gellion had once been a member of the pro-royalist faction, Rossel felt that Gellion could be trusted with the truth.

“I plan to widely distribute a comic drawn by Eshil.”

“…A comic? What is that?”

In response to Gellion’s question, Rossel handed him a sheet of paper from the desk.

Looking at the paper, Gellion furrowed his brow, his expression puzzled.

“Is this… a comic? What a peculiar kind of drawing.”

“You can think of it as a novel, but with pictures instead of words.”

“Ho… How novel. It’s visually engaging and easy to read. The content seems to enter my mind effortlessly.”

“I’m going to have the artists copy Eshil’s comic and produce more of them.”

Gellion nodded repeatedly, agreeing with the idea, and handed the paper back to Rossel.

“Ah, you intend to reproduce it. But… if it’s Eshil who drew it, then…”

“Yes, that’s right. It’s a comic that tells Eshil’s story — the ‘true’ story of the Hero.”

“The… true story…?”

Rossel clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the window. He gazed out at the garden with a wistful look in his eyes.

If a butterfly with broken wings could no longer fly, he would let it ride on the back of a dragon and let it soar.

“I told you, didn’t I? If one is guilty of treason, then the only way to truly atone is through labor for the kingdom. Soon, the true story of the Hero — a story unknown to the world — will be revealed.”

Having said that, Rossel turned to face Gellion.

Given Gellion’s insight and experience, Rossel believed he would understand the true meaning of his words.

So Rossel silently awaited Gellion’s response.

The true story, unknown to the world.

Having guessed what kind of story it would be, Gellion’s expression stiffened.

It was most likely a story that King Briccal would absolutely dislike.

It might even be seen as blasphemy, a disgrace to the king.

While it could be defended as artistic freedom, if it became known that Eshil was the author, it would undoubtedly cause serious trouble.

For this reason, Gellion was deeply concerned that his master, whom he respected, might face danger.

“…Will you be all right, my lord?”

Knowing full well the meaning behind Gellion’s worried question, Rossel smiled softly and turned his gaze back toward the window.

The revolution had already begun.

He knew better than anyone that the winds of revolution would not be a gentle spring breeze.

If it were a spring breeze, the revolution would never succeed.

No, it would be a fierce, biting wind, as cold and sharp as the winds of a harsh winter.

That wind would surely leave behind countless wounds as it passed.

But Rossel was not afraid.

There were things that had to be done, even at the risk of danger, to bring salvation not only to Eshil but to the kingdom itself.

Because of that, Rossel did not fear.

Seeing his master’s firm resolve, Gellion’s worries gradually disappeared from his face.

He had come to a clear realization.

His master was a wise and strong man who could protect what was his, even in the most extreme situations.

Thus, the two of them continued their unfinished conversation late into the night.

The next morning.

Rossel, who had dozed off on the sofa in his office, rubbed his eyes and sat up at the sound of a knock.

“Oh dear, Master. Did you sleep on the sofa again today?”

Gelion approached Rossel with a look of concern. He placed two items on the coffee table and poured a cup of water, handing it to Rossel.

Rossel took it and drank it down in one go. Then he picked up one of the items Gelion had placed on the table.

It was a small, soft, gray, rectangular piece of rubber — an eraser.

This was a new invention that would bring about the second revival of the territory’s economy. Rossel planned to present it to King Bricall that day and request the grant of the western territory.

“Based on the test results, one eraser can erase 2,850 characters. Out of 60 samples, only one broke after erasing 752 characters.”

Hearing Gelion’s report, Rossel nodded with satisfaction and placed the eraser back on the table.

Beside it was a long, rectangular wooden case, but he didn’t open it.

It was a product he had already tested dozens of times for this day.

“Excellent. By the way, how is that other matter progressing?”

“We conducted a survey of the artists in the territory, and there are about 30 of them. Among them, 23 have expressed their willingness to work for you, my lord.”

“Twenty-three… That should be sufficient.”

“May I ask why you are gathering the artists?”

Rossel answered without hesitation.

There was no reason to hide it, nor could it be hidden anyway.

After Rossel had saved Roden on the first day, Gelion had since shown boundless admiration and trust in him.

Although Gelion had been a loyalist to the pro-monarchy faction, Rossel decided it would be fine to share his intentions with him.

“I plan to spread Eshil’s comic far and wide.”

“…Comic? What is that?”

In response to Gelion’s question, Rossel handed him a sheet of paper from his desk.

Looking at it, Gelion raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“Is this what you call a comic? It’s a strange kind of picture.”

“Think of it as a novel, but illustrated.”

“Ho… This is quite innovative. It’s easy to view and read, and it feels like the story flows straight into your mind.”

“I’m going to have the artists replicate the comic that Eshil drew.”

Nodding in agreement, Gelion repeatedly bobbed his head and returned the paper to his master.

“So, you plan to produce replicas. But… if it’s Eshil who drew it, then…”

“Yes, it’s a comic that contains Eshil’s story. The ‘true’ story of the hero.”

“The… true story?”

Rossel clasped his hands behind his back and approached the window, gazing at the garden with a distant look in his eyes.

If a butterfly with broken wings could no longer fly, then he would make it fly — even if he had to place it on the back of a dragon.

“Didn’t I tell you before? If one is guilty of treason, then to truly atone for their sins, they must labor for the sake of the kingdom. The untold ‘true’ story of the hero will soon be revealed to the world.”

After finishing his words, Rossel turned to face Gelion.

With Gelion’s experience and insight, he was certain Gelion would understand his intent.

So, he quietly awaited Gelion’s response.

The untold ‘true’ story.

Gelion’s face grew stiff as he realized what kind of story this might be.

It would surely be a story that King Bricall would not appreciate.

There was even a chance that it would be labeled as blasphemy.

If they invoked the “freedom of culture” argument, they might avoid punishment, but if it were revealed that Eshil was the creator, they wouldn’t be able to avoid a troublesome situation.

Concern for his master’s well-being rose in Gelion’s heart.

“…Will you be all right, my lord?”

Rossel understood the meaning behind Gelion’s worried question.

He turned his gaze back to the window, wearing a gentle smile.

The revolution had already begun.

He was well aware that the winds of revolution that would blow from now on would not be the warm breezes of spring.

If it were a mere spring breeze, the revolution would not succeed.

It would undoubtedly be a biting, wintry gale.

That wind would leave many scars in its wake, but Rossel did not fear it.

This was not only for Eshil’s salvation but for the salvation of the kingdom as well.

There were things he had to do, even if it meant taking risks.

Seeing the resolute will in his master’s eyes, Gelion’s concerns faded.

He lowered his head deeply behind his master.

He did not yet know the ‘true’ story that Eshil had to tell.

But no matter what that story contained, Gelion had resolved to trust in Rossel’s vision.

Even if that vision led them down a path that diverged from the king’s.

“I will make the preparations as you command, my lord.”

At that very moment.

Inside King Bricall’s bedchamber, where the hangover from his heavy drinking had faded, the early morning air was filled with sounds ill-suited to the hour — the cries and muffled moans of a woman.

“Mmph! Mmph!”

“Ah, so stubborn, aren’t you?”

Outside the chamber door, Duvel stood guard, his expression blank.

But inside, his heart was rotting away.

The king’s behavior had grown more disgraceful by the day.

He had always loved taking things from others, ever since he was young.

As a king — a sacred and exalted position — such acts were permissible, or so he believed.

At the very least, he used to have some sense of boundaries.

But at some point, it felt as though those boundaries had completely disappeared.

While he had never been a “good king,” he had not been a tyrant either.

But as the days passed, he became more consumed by alcohol, women, and banquets.

Eventually, he became what he was now — utterly depraved.

Duvel clenched his teeth.

Resting his back against the wall, he glanced at Viscount Droga, who was standing there blankly.

“If you’d like, you may step away. I’ll call for you when it’s over.”

Duvel spoke to him as if sympathizing with a man who had just offered up his wife.

But Viscount Droga refused.

“No, I’ll stay.”

Duvel wondered if Droga, like King Bricall, took perverse pleasure in seeing his possessions taken away.

However, upon hearing Viscount Droga’s next words, Duvel could no longer refute him.

“The king is a divine being chosen by the gods. If it is my fate to offer up my wife, then I must accept it.”

A weak lament from a man who had succumbed to fate.

Duvel knew that King Bricall wasn’t just violating Viscount Droga’s wife for the sake of pleasure.

Bricall’s power play was to force people to accept the despair of having their possessions stolen.

Those who failed to submit were ruthlessly executed.

Of course, he did not do this to high-ranking counts and above.

Instead, he tamed them with wealth and status.

But for lower nobles like Viscount Droga, he ensured they submitted in despair.

It was a brutal but effective logic.

Though it was a twisted way to maintain his throne, it seemed to work.

Viscount Droga was living proof.

Duvel sighed deeply, realizing he could no longer persuade the man.

“Do as you wish.”

The morning of Rossel’s estate had begun.

It was the morning of the final day of the banquet.