Lord of Rot

As long as Leech was alive, he was the one and only Baron of Porcupine Castle, and its people had to obey his command.

”Yes!” The manservant set down the wooden basin full of water and trotted away.

The morning sun filtered through Porcupine Territory, dappling the ivy-covered castle walls. Light danced with the trembling leaves; it was a day to lift one’s spirits.

Dressed in a light cloth shirt, Jamie Duke stood in a long pavilion, his hands clasped behind his back. He gazed out at the women bent over their farm work on the slopes below the castle. It was a pleasant view.

The barren fields didn’t yield much, so many farmers had their wives help tend the land. The lenient Baron of Porcupine Territory didn’t collect extra taxes from the women who farmed. The men, meanwhile, would take their homemade bows and arrows or hoes into the dense forests of the territory to try their luck. If they caught any game, they could sell it to the Lord Baron in the castle.

It was a considerable source of income.

”Good day, Sir Duke!”

A stout woman approached, carrying a wooden basin. She wore a white cloth wrapped around her head and an apron. She was one of the village women from the bottom of the hill, responsible for doing the castle’s laundry. If the castle didn’t have its own cook, she was confident she could handle that job too. Her black bread was famous throughout Porcupine Territory, and she was sure that if she could use the Lord Baron’s fine wheat flour, she could bake an even more fragrant loaf.

Still, just being able to work in the castle was enough for her to boast about in the village. Every time, before stepping onto the castle’s stone-paved path, she would vigorously wipe the mud from the soles of her feet and tug at her wrinkled linen skirt, trying to blend more gracefully into this noble fortress. If she remembered correctly, that word used only to describe the nobility was ”elegant.”

She didn’t understand the ranks of the nobility. All she knew was that this Jamie Duke had been a subordinate of the former Lord Baron and was now the teacher of the current one.

While doing laundry behind the castle, she’d heard the bald cook say that if you came across a lord and couldn’t tell what kind of noble he was—a Lord? A Baron? A Knight?—you should just call him ”Sir.” The cook had only heard this himself, but she treated it as gospel.

It became the farm woman’s only chance to display her ”elegance” before a noble.

”Good day. But as I’ve told you many times, Lady Sparrow, I am not yet a noble.” Jamie shook his head, though his expression showed he quite enjoyed the title.

Commoners usually didn’t have surnames. Most were named after local animals—whatever was seen was what they were called. If people shared the same name, they had to be distinguished by nicknames. Some fathers even passed down their own names and nicknames to their children.

The nobility loved to add various heroic prefixes to their names. The uncultured common folk liked to imitate this but could only add unflattering nicknames like ”Pockface,” ”the Limper,” or ”Toothless.”

The stout woman said, ”You are the Lord Baron’s teacher. You’ll surely become a Knight.”

She had heard the Lord Baron was gravely injured and wanted to ask about him, but a thought to her station kept her mouth shut. No one liked a meddlesome servant.

Jamie smiled and said, ”Go on about your work.”

Lady Sparrow took a side path to the back of the castle. She was not permitted to enter through the main gate.

”Mr. Duke!” The manservant came running over in a panic, panting from the exertion.

”Hammer, remember you are Lord Leo’s manservant. You must always maintain your composure.”

”Yes, but...” The manservant was frantic.

”But what?” Jamie asked.

”The Lord Baron is awake! He wants to see you!”

”What! How...!”

Jamie’s face changed abruptly. He glared at the manservant, Hammer, a murderous glint unconsciously surfacing in his eyes. ”What’s his condition?”

The ”Warg Slayer’s” aura terrified the manservant, and Hammer fell to the ground on his backside.

To kill a Baron, to betray the lord he had sworn allegiance to, was an act that would earn him universal scorn. If word got out, he would be utterly finished. Other nobles would surely lead armies to punish him, seizing the poor Porcupine Territory for themselves in the process—if they ever found out, that is.

Hammer was terrified. ”I-I don’t know! His Lordship told me to fetch you immediately. But his voice sounded very weak. He said... he said he only trusts you.”

’He only trusts me?’ Jamie’s expression flickered. ’I may have struck from the shadows, but there’s no way Leech couldn’t have known... No, wait. Maybe he really didn’t notice?’

’Besides, what’s to fear from a Baron who’s just waiting to die from a blade through his chest?’

”I’ll go right away!” he instructed. ”...Don’t tell the Baroness yet.”

He was already starting to regret cooperating with that woman. With Leech’s weak personality, he might have been able to control him completely, or at least he wouldn’t be in such a precarious position. This was the assassination of a Baron, after all. He had been on pins and needles until he heard the scholar’s apprentice pronounce the man’s impending death.

But after killing Leech, he would have to face a ruthless former Baroness. What was done was done. All he could do now was go alone to see the weak Baron on his deathbed and test the waters. Backing out was clearly no longer an option.

Jamie quickly made his way to the second floor of the castle. He raised his hand and knocked softly on the door. From behind the wooden door came Leech’s weak voice, ”Who is it?”

Hearing that feeble voice, Jamie was certain, even through the door, that the man didn’t have long to live. He breathed a sigh of relief. ”It is I, Jamie, answering your summons, my lord!”

”Is that you, Teacher Jamie? Please, come in!”

Jamie pushed the door open and walked in. The white ice-wolf fur blanket on the bed had been thrown aside. He scanned the room but saw no sign of Leech. There was only a tombstone in the middle of his bedroom, and a crypt.

”I’m in the crypt,” Leech’s voice called out from the opening. ”Come in, Teacher Jamie. And remember to close the door.”

”Why is there a... tombstone in your room?” Jamie asked in confusion as he closed the door. He didn’t venture down into the crypt. His old mercenary instincts told him it was dangerous, even though his mercenary days were more than a decade behind him.

Leech’s voice drifted up again. ”It seems to be a secret treasure my father owned when he was alive. Lord Leopold once gifted him a sheepskin rug, and he always said it was a treasure. Today, I accidentally dripped some blood onto that sheepskin rug, and a tombstone and a crypt appeared out of thin air!”

Baron Lierde had indeed owned a hand-woven sheepskin rug. It was right beside the bed.

But Jamie didn’t know the details. He only knew that Lierde had received many fine things from Lord Leopold and was particularly fond of one rug, which he treasured and had even specifically willed to Leech.

’Appearing after dripping blood... it sounds like a blood sacrifice. Could it be that the Baron, having survived a great disaster, received a blessing in disguise? Did he use a blood sacrifice to obtain some ancient treasure?’ Jamie’s eyes burned with envy.

It was also true that a tombstone had appeared in the room out of nowhere. It hadn’t been there when he’d visited yesterday.

’So, the treasure might be real, too!’