The old man fell onto the sofa a little faster than I expected. By reflex I ran to his side and checked his breathing. Fortunately, he wasn't dead.
"Yes, he's not dead..."
Rue watched us closely. He was calm. He stayed in the same spot where he had first set foot in the reception room, arms crossed.
If there was something different from what I had seen before, it was the cold golden gaze, never seen before, fixed on a point on the floor. A slight curl of disdain at the corner of his mouth. Long, shadowed eyes. The pointed tip of his nose aiming upwards. Eyebrows that didn't move at all at that sight. All these elements combined to form his expression.
I realized it immediately.
—Hmm.
Rue was thinking whether he should kill the old man who had discovered his identity.
—No, you can't.
I quickly put the old man and Lenya on the sofa and blocked their path.
—Stay there, no access allowed.
Rue, raising an eyebrow, looked at me and asked:
—Why?
—He's the one who pays us. You can't threaten him.
Rue let out a low laugh, his face not particularly cheerful.
—Oh, God... Does that mean Miss Daisy is willing to work under trash as long as she gets paid?
Trash? Was he referring to this old man?
The piercing gaze he had fixed on me withdrew. Rue soon acted as if nothing had happened and headed for the desk by the window.
A desk in the reception room. It was an unconventional combination, but it wouldn't be strange if there were barely any guests visiting the mansion. The shelf next to it was full of small photo frames. Some of them contained familiar faces, making it hard for me to look away. Rue rummaged through the desk and drawers full of papers, lifting his lips with confidence.
—Miss Daisy. No one can recognize my face in the Empire of Penrotta. If they did, their reaction wouldn't be anything like this. If you remember the attitude of the congregation towards me on the airship...
The way the congregation treated Rue...
—Something weird like licking your feet?
—Yes. Therefore, Miss Daisy should only keep one attitude in mind when meeting someone who knows me or knows my face here.
—Kill them?
Rue, who was looking at the books with indifferent eyes, smiled at me happily. It was an affirmative smile.
Considering the difficulty and the cryptic nature of the warning, I couldn't help but remember the uniqueness of Rue's identity, leaving me speechless.
Calepa.
One of the only three leaders of Rogue.
Some of the members of Rogue (South Rogue) who moved south through the Northern Deus Mountains joined the army of the Grand Mage Mephisto. Mephisto's army was completely uprooted in the 10-year Magic War, and all their temples were burned. Since then, Rogue had been treated as a controversial foreign religion in the Penrotta Empire, nothing more and nothing less, and had been quickly forgotten.
Therefore, there was no one in the empire who could recognize the face of the Calepa. Even if they existed, instead of fainting with fear at the sight of him, they would prostrate themselves in submission, probably even going as far as to lick his feet. If there were beings who denied these two possibilities, they would probably be...
"The remnants of Mephisto's army."
In an instant, I felt as if my heart fell to the ground.
—So, these two... were part of Mephisto's army?
Before my eyes passed flashes of the last fourteen years. The places trampled by demons. The underground chambers of the temple, stained red by repeated biological experiments. The fallen comrade who asked me to send letters to his family... who told me not to wait any longer... who had died. A boy who volunteered to go to the front to protect his brother.
I felt as if my breath was cut off. I felt a wave of overwhelming emotions that washed over me to the point that I myself found it disconcerting. My heart rate accelerated and my head started spinning.
—Daisy.
I raised my head. I felt Rue's shadow covering my shoulders and his gentle pats on my back.
—Should I kill them?
I looked at Rue, gasping for air while wondering that.
—Or should I spare them?
The whispering voice contained neither anger nor compassion. It was dry, as if asking about someone's well-being.
—If you don't know the answer, leave this mansion and get into a carriage heading for Westwinterre station. Wait for the train that arrives there until three o'clock. By then, I will have finished my task and I will be by your side. After that, we will return to Midwinterre.
I didn't answer.
—Shall we do it?
Rue's affectionate consideration repeatedly added a darker layer to my rationality already stained with ink... No, it wasn't just an additional layer, but rather a torch that illuminated.
—Would you feel more at ease if we did? For now, and in the future, forever.
Now and in the future, forever.
—No, I won't be satisfied.
I couldn't let myself be carried away by the footprints Mephisto left for so long.
I turned my head. In the old bookshelf next to the desk, there were large and small photo frames stuck together like barnacles. Among them, in the largest frame, two faces were seen.
Yes, that frame.
Since I entered the reception room, I could never completely separate my attention from that particular picture. A young man and a child. The child looked like the older man in his youth, and the young man was undoubtedly...
"I have more important business to attend to."
Dian Cecht.
The young man in the frame had exactly the same face as Dian Cecht, according to what I had seen in the data provided by the assassin.
I exhaled very deeply. Breathing slowly seemed to fill my mind with fresh air. Reason had set aside emotions and taken its place.
"Let's pull ourselves together. That these two are part of Mephisto's army is only speculation for now."
The true duty of the maid: to reduce the time she dedicated to housework through logical thinking.
—Open your eyes, old man.
I turned and looked at the old man lying on the sofa.
—If you don't wake up right now...
In the end, the answer would have to be heard through their stories. Whether it's their relationship with Mephisto's army, Dian Cecht, or the Weatherwoods family.
—The Calepa will personally wake you like a princess, with a kiss.
The old man's eyes snapped open.
Little by little, I let go of the frame I was holding. The fingerprints etched on the young man's face were as vivid as a painting. I raised my hand and gently wiped away the faint smudges, revealing the man's face with clarity once more.
Dian Cecht was a slender man.
"Besides, he was unexpectedly beautiful. If he were a little shorter, he could be mistaken for a woman."
With long hair covering his chest and a sharp jawline that left an impression, he gently embraced the young man in front of him. Even in the black and white photograph, Dian Cecht's pale complexion stood out. His dark, blurry area under his eyes made it look like he could be mistaken for a corpse if he were found lying on the ground with his eyes closed.
—So, the old man was a relative of Dian Cecht. Then... could it be that this boy brought the device we had in the Weatherwoods family house?
I wanted to ask him what relationship he had with Dian Cecht, but I had to be careful with an old man who had just woken up. I wasn't Calepa so I had to take it slow.
"So, do you mean...?" I placed the frame back on the shelf and looked at the old man. His complexion was no more impressive than Dian Cecht's in the photo.
The old man who had fainted and then regained consciousness was named Malcolm. I summarized the brief story he had told me and asked him again.
—Grandpa, you are not part of Mephisto's army, but rather you oppose their bad actions...
—His army, you say! To think you would take for granted that I, Malcolm, am on the same side as those bastards! I'd rather bite my tongue and die!
The old man, Malcolm, spat out a dry cough and his face turned red as he shouted.
—Those traitors of the world! Heretics who go against the teachings of the church! It's a pity I couldn't tear them limb from limb with my own hands! They are demons. They dragged away the elderly, women and young children, sacrificing them as offerings. They were sacrifices for dirty desires! Desires that can never be fulfilled, not even in death!
—Okay, okay. Calm down. You have spit on your face.
—Ahem, I'm sorry. Whenever I talk about those damn bastards, I get on my nerves...
Lenya approached silently and handed a glass of water to the gasping old man. However, Malcolm rejected the glass of water offered to him and climbed down from the sofa, crawling towards Rue.
—I humbly ask for forgiveness, Calepa. By personally receiving Calepa, of whom I have only heard, I unknowingly committed a great offense. If you allow me, I would like to offer you my greetings, albeit late.
Rue, as before, limited himself to taking a look at the ledger without saying a word. Malcolm seemed to interpret Rue's silence as an affirmation.
—Thank you for granting me your permission, Calepa.
Then, just like the other Rogue followers I had met before, he began a long and elaborate greeting in the language of the northern continent. How emotional the encounter with Rue must have been for him, for he sometimes trembled at the end of his words. I wondered if Malcolm knew that Rue had had the intention to harm him.
"By the way, I didn't know the elder of the Weatherwoods family was a Rogue believer."
—What? Mephisto's army? You're asking me if I'm in cahoots with those damn bastards? Ha. Incredible. My goodness! I have dedicated more than 15 years of my life to burying that vile scum in the earth!
At first I thought it was a lie, but when I heard him explain in detail where he investigated the Southern Rebel Church and how he gathered information, I found it hard to deny...