Chapter 412 - Episode 395: Interrogation, or Rather
A merchant calling himself Viets Alyoshan had come to stay as a guest at the estate of Orso Helder, and it was now midnight, after a peaceful dinner party had concluded.
A mercenary man hired as a bodyguard for the Helder Company was looking around the estate while yawning.
"...Good grief, what a joke."
The man walked down the hallway, letting out a small curse along with his yawn.
Orso, the master of this estate, was an abnormally cautious man; since the time when the Helder Company still boasted great power, he had ordered his bodyguards to maintain strict security, fearing intruders who would target his wealth. To alleviate Orso's anxiety, the bodyguards stood watch every night and conducted regular midnight patrols.
Recently, Orso had become obsessed with the delusion that "assassins sent by debt collectors are coming to kill me and my family," so the midnight patrols by the watchmen continued even now.
There was no point in killing Orso, who should be kept alive as long as possible to repay his debts, so who on earth would send assassins? It was ridiculous.
Despite thinking this, the man continued his patrol with a semblance of diligence, as he felt a sense of gratitude for being employed as a bodyguard for the Helder Company for a long time.
On this day as well, thinking there was no way any abnormality would be found in the estate, he checked the locks and looked around for suspicious persons out of habit.
However, on this day alone, he could not finish his patrol out of mere habit. He felt the presence of someone toward the back of the estate, near the service entrance.
"...! Who's there! Is someone still awake!?"
The man raised a handheld magic tool for illumination while shouting, but the light did not reach the end of the long hallway, and only black darkness was visible.
The one who stepped quietly out of that darkness was—the guest, Viets Alyoshan.
"Oh dear, my apologies for startling you. After going to the restroom, I found I had forgotten the way back to my guest room."
Seeing Viets scratching his head with an embarrassed smile, the man breathed a sigh of relief.
"I see... It is your first time staying at this estate, so it is only natural. I will guide you to your room."
"I would appreciate that. This is a spacious estate, and I happen to have a poor sense of direction..."
The man inwardly sneered at Viets, thinking that it seemed he really was that way.
Orso's estate was certainly needlessly large, but even so, Viets's lack of direction was severe. From the guest restroom, the guest room and the service entrance were almost in opposite directions. How on earth could someone head in such a misguided direction? It was a wonder he could function as a merchant.
As the man attempted to guide Viets to the guest room while thinking this—he froze, looking toward the hallway where the service entrance was, behind Viets.
Emerging soundlessly from the darkness at the end of the hallway was a man whose face was hidden by a black mask. A sword hung at his waist, and he held a Crossbow in his hand.
Furthermore, several men wearing similar black masks followed behind him. No matter how one looked at it, they were intruders—assassins sent by someone to the Helder Company.
Viets also looked back toward the assassins, but he showed no surprise. He had an expression as if it were only natural for them to approach.
In other words, it was Viets who had let the assassins in. His claim that he got lost while returning to his room from the restroom was also a lie; he had likely come here intentionally to unlock the service entrance. Otherwise, there would be no explanation for how the assassins entered by opening a lock equipped with a magic tool that would make a piercing sound if forced open from the outside, the mercenary man reasoned.
"Everyone, you were fast."
"Rather, you were slow. We were hiding right in front of the door, growing tired of waiting and wondering when the lock would open."
"Hahaha, my apologies. I properly put medicine in the Company President's wine cup, but he just wouldn't fall asleep."
Pointing at Viets and the black-masked assassins exchanging such words, the mercenary man's mouth flapped open and shut.
"Y-you... Guest, who the hell are you?"
Asked this, Viets turned toward the man and showed a likable smile.
"Ah, actually, the part about me being a merchant was a lie. The part about getting lost in the estate was also a lie. I'm sorry, even though you tried to guide me."
"...! S-someone—"
The moment the man tried to raise his voice, a sharp sound cutting through the air echoed, and several arrows pierced the man's chest.
The man, facing the assassins, understood that the Crossbow held by the lead assassin, who seemed to be the commander of the group, had been fired at him.
The arrows were thin, and the wounds were shallow. It was as if thick needles had pierced the surface of his body, far from being fatal. However, it seemed some chemical had been applied to them, as his body gradually grew numb, and he lost the ability to move.
Unable to stand and about to fall backward from his head, the man's body was supported by the commander-like assassin who had fired the arrows, who slowly laid him down.
"Sorry. I have no grudge against you, but I'll have you stay quiet for a while... By the time that numbness wears off, it'll be tomorrow morning, everything will be over, and we'll be gone. Until then, sleep quietly."
Toward the assassin looking down at him, the mercenary man turned only his eyes, the only thing he could still move.
"So, how many other bodyguards are there?"
"There are only two others staying at the estate. Other than that, there are about ten people in total including servants and slaves, and then Orso's wife and child. It's few for the size of the estate, but he probably fired them because he lacked the money."
"I see... If your two subordinates and my three subordinates handle it, it'll be over in no time. Shall we begin immediately?"
The assassin was already no longer looking at the man, speaking such things with Viets.
Then, while still smiling, Viets stuffed cotton into the man's ears, wrapped a cloth around his eyes as a blindfold, and further placed a cloth bag over his head.
Placed in a state where he could feel neither sound nor light, the man was left abandoned for several hours until the numbness in his body wore off.
.....
Orso Helder, who had shared dinner with the guest Viets Alyoshan and continued to indulge in conversation while exchanging drinks afterward, felt a sudden sleepiness, ended the conversation, and retired to his bedroom.
The sudden, strange sleepiness was likely because he had let the alcohol go to his head during a pleasant time of showing off and letting a guest hear his boasting stories for the first time in a while. While thinking this, he fell asleep—and regained consciousness with a sensation as if his face had been slapped, feeling a great sense of incongruity.
"...Hm? What is this?"
The blanket that should have been wrapping his body was gone, and in the first place, his body was not lying on a soft bed. The inside of the room was exceptionally cold. Orso muttered a question while opening his eyes, looked around, and then his eyes widened.
"W-what is this! What's going on!?"
Orso, who should have been sleeping in the bedroom alongside his wife, was now seated in a chair completely naked and tied up with ropes. To make matters worse, the location was not the bedroom, but a stone basement used as a warehouse.
And before him stood Viets Alyoshan and several armed men. Despite this clearly abnormal situation, Viets still wore the same gentle smile as he had during the trade talks and dinner.
"Vi-Viets-dono, what on earth is the meaning of... You, you are not a merchant!? You deceived me!?"
"Hahahaha, so you noticed."
When Orso shouted with a grim face, Viets showed the same gentle smile as during the conversation after dinner.
"My family!? Where are my wife and daughter!?"
"Please be at ease. Both are safe and are in the next room. They are restrained and numbed with a paralytic, so they may be frightened, but I have not let them be injured."
While feeling a slight relief at Viets's words, Orso did not stop his grim expression.
"Who do you people belong to!? The Vazedildon Company!? The Quoren Company!? T-the Baron Solnhait family!?"
As Orso listed the names of the moneylenders to whom he owed vast sums or the lordly houses who likely found him an eyesore, Viets shook his head while maintaining his smile.
"Unfortunately, it is none of those. We are people who serve the Grand Duchy of Arqvist. I am not Viets Alyoshan; my real name is Baronet Bart Heidemann."
Hearing that name, Orso gasped.
Baronet Bart Heidemann, a foreign affairs bureaucrat serving the Grand Duchy of Arqvist and one of the Grand Duke's close aides. His name was famous as he wandered particularly through the northwestern and southwestern regions of the Kingdom of Lordberg as the Grand Duke's envoy.
Orso knew that name at least. The characteristic that he was handsome and a person who gave a good impression at first glance also matched when looking at him now. He had heard that Baronet Heidemann did not wear glasses, did not have dark skin, and had bright blond hair, but the glasses, skin color, and hair color of the man before him were likely for disguise.
"...H-how did you track me down... Th-those guys, they failed."
Orso recalled the faces of the three agents with whom contact had been lost recently and felt anger at their uselessness.
"If by 'those guys' you are referring to the three who were conducting operative activities in the capital city of Noeina, they have already taken responsibility for their failure with their deaths, so please let that satisfy your grudge. And... the reason we came here is none other than to have a little talk with you, the mastermind who threatened the vicinity of our lord."
Viets, or rather Bart, said this and turned his gaze behind him—toward a man with sharp eyes.
Bart stepped back, and in his place, the man with sharp eyes approached Orso.
"I am the Captain of the Arqvist Grand Duchy's Guard, Baronet Pence Schoenberg. I have come here to speak with you on behalf of His Excellency Arqvist. We know that you are the mastermind who ordered the operative activities of the three criminals who were executed for threatening the public order of the capital city of Noeina. His Excellency wishes to know the reason why you did such a thing. You will answer."
"I-I am a citizen of the Kingdom of Lordberg! If you do this to a citizen of the kingdom, do you think it won't become an international issue—"
"His Excellency has already settled this matter with His Majesty King Oscar Lordberg III. That is why we are doing this here."
The man calling himself Pence Schoenberg dismissed Orso's protest.
"There isn't much time until morning. If you won't speak honestly, we'll have to do things a bit roughly."
As he said this, Pence drew his sword. Seeing this, Orso turned pale.
Orso was merely a merchant. He had never received training to endure torture, and in the first place, he had hardly ever sustained a wound to his own body. He was not used to pain.
There was no way he could resist. Even if he resisted, it would only result in useless pain.
"I-I understand. I'll talk. I'll tell you everything."
Orso started with that and recounted the reason he engaged in operative activities. That said, it was not a story that took much time, nor was it a story that was difficult to explain.
If he could drag the reputation of the capital city of Noeina as a trade city through the mud, trade at the borders of the southwestern part of the Kingdom of Lordberg would relatively flourish, and the Helder Company might be able to achieve a revival. He had taken a gamble thinking that. That was all.
"...I see. I understand well."
Having finished listening to Orso's story, Pence muttered and nodded.
Then, for some reason, he raised his sword.
"!? W-why? If I spoke honestly, you weren't supposed to do things roughly..."
"Did I make such a promise? Hey Bart, what do you think?"
"No, no such conversation came up."
Hearing the exchange between Pence and Bart, Orso's face, which was already pale, became even paler.
"There might be other involved parties, and it's not certain that you aren't protecting them. For the time being, I'll have you undergo a slightly more detailed interrogation. Now, don't be so scared. I'm not going to kill you with this interrogation."
"N-no, stop, stop it! Wait! Wai-wa-gyaaaaaa!"
As the tip of the sword blade was twisted between the nail of his right big toe, Orso let out a foul scream.
After that, an interrogation—or rather, torture—continued, in which the blade was finely inserted into the tips of his toes and the surface of his skin, and within that, Orso was asked the same question many times, and while screaming and crying, he spat out the same answer many times. He screamed that the operative activities were carried out on his own discretion and that there was no other mastermind. Toward Pence. Toward Bart. And toward the Insight magic tool they had brought.
After continuing the same confession while five nails in total from his hands and feet were ripped off and the surface of the skin in various parts of his body was thinly and smallly peeled away, Pence and the others finally seemed satisfied.
"...Alright. That should be enough. It seems it's true that you planned this alone. Good work."
Before Pence, who spoke as if giving words of appreciation to someone who had been assigned a small task, completely unbefitting of the gruesome act, Orso was in tears and gasping for breath.
"Now then... shall we have you die?"