Chapter 7: The Tyrant
Three days after I slapped Miriam, the atmosphere in the castle had definitely changed.
Whereas before it felt like walking on thin ice with cracks, now it felt… like plunging into cold water. Everyone inside the castle was the same.
Just like people suffering from hypothermia would wear heavy clothing, everyone seemed to be wearing an additional layer of expressionless masks. The stiff and rigid movements and postures clearly showed that they were tense.
My deliberate wandering around the corridors made the effect even more noticeable. Servants who had been whispering to each other would quickly turn their heads or press themselves against the walls when they saw me.
It was as if they were trying to flatten themselves against the walls. At this point, it was hard not to notice, even if one tried to ignore it. The rumors about me had spread throughout the castle, and everyone was desperately avoiding me.
I had to walk around the empty corridors today, lamenting silently. Before I could even say a word, someone would collapse or rush to the bathroom with stomach pains. The castle had become like a hospital, indeed.
Living by pre-modern ethics, they seemed to be shunning a twelve-year-old. These primitive people probably didn’t realize how much harm it caused to neglect a young boy like this.
At least, as someone from the modern world, I was lenient with them since I was somewhat mature in spirit, even if not in body. Of course, I still thought the servants were overreacting.
I wasn’t overly self-conscious, but their reactions made me a bit embarrassed. Fortunately, the reliable maid, Edwina, was by my side. Thanks to her, I wasn’t alone.
However, Edwina was somewhat different from usual. She would absentmindedly fidget with the end of her braided hair and subtly avoid eye contact. Even now, she was doing the same.
“Edwina.”
“Yes?! Ah… Yes, My Lord.”
Just by calling her name once, she jumped like a startled cat. Realizing her state, Edwina quickly put her hands together and assumed a polite posture.
If it weren’t for her stuttering voice, fidgeting fingers, and twitching eyebrows, she would be perfect as a maid. It was quite pitiful. But right now, there was no one else to ask except Edwina.
To ease her burden, I deliberately asked some casual question.. I wanted it to seem like an insignificant question. Whether now or in the past, a relaxed atmosphere was crucial for gathering opinions.
“Did I act like too much of a madman?”
Edwina’s large, bead-like eyes peered at me from beneath her long eyelashes. She blinked for a while and then spoke very slowly and clearly.
“Well… No… Not at all.”
Look at that. If I were an ordinary medieval noble boy, I would have just moved on, thinking it was okay. This is the delicacy of modern sensitivity. Edwina clearly had much more to say, but she had cut out the main points.
I showed a gentle and warm smile, fully utilizing my consideration. It was meant to help her feel more at ease. This attempt greatly eased Edwina’s wariness.
“You can speak honestly.”
“Well, you did go a bit far.”
…I might have eased her too much.
But since I had brought it up first, I couldn’t really criticize her. If others felt this way, what could I do? Even if they gossiped behind my back, I’d just have to laugh it off.
Most importantly, I had acted this way expecting such a reaction from Edwina. I nodded and agreed with her opinion.
“Indeed, if a punishment beyond mere reprimand were handed down, I wouldn’t have much to say.”
“You knew that, didn’t you?”
Edwina’s gaze was sharp. Half of it seemed to say, “You knew and still acted that way,” while the other half felt like, “I see you were aware of it.” I could only guess how far my image had fallen in Edwina’s eyes.
But since I had already committed to this course of action, I had to make sure there would be no further complaints. I needed to ensure that criticism for being too submissive to Duke Aselton would not arise.
It was an event that had blatantly defiled my honor. Even though I was a young boy, it was enough of an insult to be considered extreme. The act of slapping the pregnant woman was also an impulsive act of youthful anger, shame, and rebellion, and should be overlooked.
That must be prevented.
Even if Duke Aselton was to disown me, a convincing reason was needed for everyone to understand. And I had a method to make everyone convinced.
Honestly, my malice felt too weak to proceed according to plan.
In the medieval context, it wouldn’t be surprising if I brought someone else’s child and immediately whipped them and performed a traditional mask dance. It’s not even enough to merely tie a noose around their neck and perform a dance.
Even as someone from a modern perspective, I felt this way. For the more macho medieval people, this would certainly seem like a very lenient action. How extreme would I need to be to be seen as ‘barbaric’ in their eyes?
I decided to share this significant concern I was feeling with Edwina.
“But wouldn’t it be too weak to say that I should be expelled from the family?”
“Yes?”
“?”
“…I’m sorry. I must have misheard.”
While I was deep in thought, it seemed Edwina also lost her focus for a moment. Given how often I had been moving around lately, it was natural for her to be tired. Even trained maids, in the end, are just salaried workers.
As a former salaried worker myself, I felt a peculiar empathy and explained again to Edwina in more detail.
“Isn’t the intensity of my malice too weak for them to call for my expulsion from the family?”
***
The church and I had entered into a transaction on equal terms Or rather, it would be more accurate to say we were in the same boat. The gist of the plan exchanged through the acting priest was as follows:
I, a foolish child, would insult and provoke Yubas to make an irreparable mistake. At this point, the mistake needed to be severe enough that Yubas, who would normally overlook it, could not tolerate and would feel compelled to apply pressure.
Next, disappointed with the son’s mistake, Duke Aselton would take strong measures to pacify Yubas. The core actions would be stripping of the inheritance rights and expulsion from the family, followed by taking holy orders. This was meant to sprinkle additional troubles on Yubas’s plans.
Yubas was not hesitant to wield military force. Even if it was an insult to a child, if I claimed it was my child and threatened with a sword, everyone had to stay silent.
If Yubas had raised an army to fight back, we wouldn’t have even entertained such a marriage proposal in the first place. The bamboo-like integrity would snap against an axe.
The stripping of inheritance rights and taking holy orders were measures for this.
Firstly, Duke Aselton, using his authority as head of the family, would strip inheritance rights to eliminate potential dissenters siding with Yubas.
Secondly, if Yubas used military force to deny the inheritance stripping decision made by the head of the family, the religious authority of taking holy orders would be used to deny it once more.
These two measures were to prevent support from internal dissenters and uninformed common people. Even if Yubas recklessly proceeded with land grabbing, without internal support or public backing, it would likely lead to failure.
On the surface, it would seem that Duke Aselton was bravely challenging Yubas. However, Yubas would be in a very difficult position. Ignoring the insult done to his daughter and addressing it could risk the inheritance rights he was aiming for.
Even if my inheritance rights were denied, how could it reach my child?
Once the safety measures were in place, the final part of the plan was simple.
It was just a matter of becoming a reformed individual who had received the teachings of the church and reemerged as a close aide to the Pope. Although there was an aristocratic cartel that disapproved of the church’s intervention, I was that cartel member.
We could laugh off superficial conflicts with a spirit of camaraderie.
Ultimately, while everyone wept over the church’s achievement of turning a notorious delinquent into a reformed individual, I would lead the anti-Yubas faction, exact revenge on those who betrayed the church, and end up living a prosperous life.
It would be a perfect drama with lessons and inspiration.
However, to make this planned true story a reality, dramatic presentation was needed. I had to instill the belief that this person couldn’t be reformed to make people’s tear ducts activated when the reformation actually occurred.
For all these reasons, I had no choice but to torment people…
“I heard rumors that I would be sent to the monastery.”
“I–I’ve never heard that before.”
Of course, since I was the one who first brought it up, that was natural. I looked carefully at the servant who had prostrated himself before a twelve-year-old boy and continued.
“It doesn’t matter where I go. Wherever I go, I need entertainment, and I must be able to smile even during the journey.”
“What do you mean?”
“Prepare entertainment that naturally brings a smile. It should be enjoyable enough to shake off bad things. But, it must be done while I am sober.”
From a subordinate’s perspective, what is the most terrifying thing when fulfilling a customer’s demands? After several experiences, I was able to answer that it was something abstract and immeasurable, which couldn’t be quantified or objectively measured…
The Most Terrifying Request
The most terrifying request is being asked for ‘something.’
Especially when it appears elaborate with grandiose descriptions but lacks concrete details, it’s even more frightening. This seems to be a principle that applies even in a medieval-like fantasy world.
The servant, forgetting about rudeness, had inadvertently raised his head. He was deeply troubled by the difficult problem, nervously shifting his facial muscles.
I drove the point home once again.
“I’d like a stop near a lake where we can rest, no matter the destination. We shouldn’t have to worry about moisture damaging our belongings.”
“Understood.”
“Oh, and I’d also like something to hunt small game along the way.”
“Something… you mean?”
Tsk. I deliberately made a loud tongue-clicking sound. I narrowed my eyes slightly and deliberately breathed heavily to signal my displeasure.
“Bows and crossbows, I’m not yet strong enough, Do I need to explain every single word and reason to you? Isn’t that why I employ servants?”
“Oh, no!”
“Prepare it. Since my father forced this marriage and this is the result, I will be demanding as well.”
“Of course! I will go right away!”
The servant, seeing an opportunity to escape, struck his chest with his fist and hurriedly ran away. Although he wasn’t talented in acting, it seemed that life experience had given him some momentum.
If an unnamed servant reacted like this, it must have been of sufficient quality. I gazed with satisfaction at the door through which the servant had disappeared. Of course, if this were truly my superior, I would have stabbed him by now.
But what kind of society is the medieval one? It’s a hierarchical class society. In an era where one had to duel without knights or judges if they were stabbed by someone of lower rank, it was a world of class inequity.
I felt the injustice of the unequal class society deeply and wiped away my tears internally.
“Alright, next.”
But crying doesn’t stop one from working. I had to sternly push my tender heart for the perfect execution of the plan.
While making this resolve, a golden-haired girl holding the hem of her dress entered.
She was clearly nervous. The golden-haired girl had wide eyes and was breathing heavily with her mouth slightly open. Her face was reddened from forcing concentration, and her proud golden hair was slightly tangled with sweat.
I realized that my malice was now on trial. In a medieval-like world, where medieval mindset and patriarchal values prevail, there were unwritten rules against treating women roughly.
It’s not that one treats any woman that way, but rather noblewomen.
Of course, top 1% medieval men were kind to even lower-class women if they were beautiful. Medieval average men, however, were known for being overly obsessed with women. I had to become a man worse than the medieval average…
“I heard rumors that I would be sent to the monastery.”
“…Is that so?”
Her hesitant and weak response was truly pitiful. But I had resolved to be worse than the medieval average. How could I discriminate based on gender when committing malice?
I chose to torment the girl in a different way.
“I’d like to have something sweet during the journey. To do that, we need to urge beekeepers to bring several jars of honey.”
“Just honey isn’t enough. I need something with a crispy texture, salty but not too salty, sweet but not cloying.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing…”
Of course, I was the first to mention it.
With the primitive medieval food culture, such food probably didn’t exist. Preserving food in salt was the standard of the era.
But would explaining such facts in a gentle manner be considered malice? I raised the corners of my mouth, reflecting seriously on malice.
“Never heard of it? What?”
“Are you saying you can’t do it?”
“No, no!”
Unlike true delinquents who commit malice as if breathing, I was different. To follow in their footsteps, constant effort was required.
Considering serious reflection and the context of the situation, coming up with a demanding but not impossible request was quite challenging. I looked down arrogantly at the girl who was answering with a trembling voice and gave an internal thumbs-up.
“Understand? Go now, next.”
The girl left the room with dragging footsteps.
Of course, even with such actions, I wouldn’t match the true masters of malice. It’s extremely difficult to catch up with those whose lives are centered around malice.
But with consistent and diligent buildup… I might be able to catch up a bit.
***
The buildup was completed about a week later.
When I had all the prepared items displayed in my room under the pretext of a mid-term inspection, the gathered servants were all hunched over, desperately avoiding my gaze.
Their anxiety was evident, fearing that something might go wrong. I resolved to address those concerns thoroughly.
Fortunately, there were glass jars on the table that would help with impactful staging.
I approached and swung my arm.
“Clear it all out!!!”
– The sound of breaking glass filled the entire room.
