Hopefully, at Your Mercy - Chapter 32 - Arc 4. Never Again

Chapter 17.1

<Arc 4. Never Again>

Count Duwell, Delinda’s fiancé, adjusted his attire. He had just freshened up after a bath while the duke’s party was busy negotiating a contract with Lord Cavila.

With the help of a servant, he got dressed. Once he applied cologne and combed his hair into place, he gazed into the mirror, pleased to see a flawless, handsome man staring back.

Satisfied, he began making his way toward the appointed meeting place. On his way, a group of cloaked figures approached from the opposite direction.

There were three of them. The smallest appeared to be an official of some sort, while the other two seemed to be knights.

Both knights were broad-shouldered, moving with powerful strides that exuded intimidation. Their black swords were partially visible beneath their cloaks, and they were massive, clearly requiring two hands for an average person to wield.

But then again, they were nothing more than lowly knights of a minor lord’s castle. Knights from a territory like this weren’t exactly known for their skills.

Count Duwell slowed his pace, expecting the group to acknowledge him with proper respect.

However, they didn’t. In fact, the smallest figure among them brushed past his shoulder without so much as a glance.

“And so we had the loveliest chat!” the small one’s chattering voice faded as they walked on.

Count Duwell was stunned by their insolence. How dare they bump into him without apologizing?

“Listen here,” Count Duwell called after them.

The middle one kept walking as if he hadn’t heard, but the small one who had bumped him and the other knight stopped.

“When you bump into someone, it’s only common courtesy to apologize.”

Count Duwell wanted to shout at him for daring to touch the shoulder of a high-ranking noble, but he held his tongue. The other man was likely also a noble serving with the local knights.

Even if they were of lesser rank and no match for his family’s status, there were still matters of etiquette to maintain.

“Did I?” the small one asked.

“Yes, you brushed right past me. How dare you…”

With a displeased expression, Count Duwell flicked at his shoulder. The small man snickered, then gave an exaggerated bow.

“Forgive me for daring to brush against your noble garments. I offer my deepest apologies for any distress I may have caused you.”

“…”

“Please pardon my humble self, so that you may carry on with your oh so noble steps.”

“What was that?”

“I shall take my leave now.”

With that, the small man spun on his heel and dashed off, his cloak swirling behind him.

“Hey, wait up! How could you just leave me behind!”

Carlot managed to catch up with Iskan and Rowton. He felt rather aggrieved that the two of them strode off without a care while he was left behind to deal with that strange noble.

“Do you really think it’s fine to leave me behind like that? Hm? I should just blow our cover and tell him we’re under Your Highness’ command!”

“Do as you like.”

Iskan replied flatly, as if it weren’t much of a secret. Carlot grumbled under his breath.

“Seriously, what a clown. If we bumped into each other, it’s on both of us for not paying attention. Why is it suddenly all my fault? If it weren’t for His Highness, I’d have—”

“You did a good job holding yourself back,” Rowton said, chuckling as he patted Carlot’s head.

“Right? Honestly, the arrogance of these nobles is something else.”

“But you’re a noble yourself.”

“Well, yes, but still… it gets on my nerves. And it’s ironic since my liege is the highest-ranking noble of all. An imperial prince.”

Carlot swatted Rowton’s hand away from his ear, scratching where it tickled.

It was likely all those years on the battlefield that had changed him. Somewhere along the line, surrounded by death, he had come to a realization.

No matter one’s rank, in the face of death, everyone was equal.

In his eyes, true nobility came not from status but from strength.

There were countless people who owed their lives to Prince Iskan and Rowton.

That’s why His Highness and Rowton were the only ones worthy of the utmost respect, unlike that pompous noble who’d kicked up a fuss over a brushed sleeve.

Meanwhile, Count Duwell was left stunned. Their complete disregard for him as they walked away was baffling.

“Clearly, they have no idea who I am. What filthy vermin.”

Considering he’d come as a guest and hadn’t announced his arrival, it was possible word hadn’t gotten around yet.

‘Yes, that must be it. They simply don’t know who I am.’

Trying to preserve his wounded pride, he rationalized to himself. Still, ignorance was no excuse for such rudeness.

“Those lowborn fools dared to…”

Determined to teach them a proper lesson before he left, Count Duwell stormed off, heading toward Delinda’s beautiful maid, Rose, who would surely be eagerly awaiting him.