I Have A Damn Family Again - Chapter 110

Chapter 110: The House of Ipheros (3)

Harnie's declaration left me speechless.

She squeezed my hand, explaining her reasoning.

“You were right. I’d rather be out here than stuck at the Marquisate, listening to my father's lectures. So I'm coming with you.”

“Do you… not have anywhere else to stay?”

“I do, but… I can’t go there right now.”

“What?”

“Just trust me. There are… complications.”

“….”

Having somewhere to stay but being unable to go there was a strange predicament, but she had her reasons. The problem was her insistence on following me.

“I was planning on buying a few things here and then heading back to the territory… You want to come with me?”

Harnie placed a hand on her hip, her eyes narrowing playfully.

“Do you really think I, a noble lady, wouldn’t be able to sleep without a proper bed, or wouldn’t be satisfied without a lavish meal served on a silver platter?”

“Well… I can’t say the thought never crossed my mind, but it wasn't a major concern.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m going to Lusmire.”

Lusmire wasn't exactly equipped to receive guests, especially a noble lady like Harnie.

Even for the basic test, the villagers could only offer me a glass of milk.

Their village, perched on a mountainside, had few amenities. The best they could offer was a spare room.

It was hardly a suitable place for a guest.

“If I were taking you to the Duchy, it would be a different story. But I’m not going back there anytime soon. And life in Lusmire is very simple, very commoner-like.”

“You’re a strange man, you know that? To even think of such things.”

“…Isn’t that a normal concern?”

She chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Not at all. Most nobles wouldn’t even consider it. They would assume a noble lady requires a grand mansion, expensive clothes adorned with jewels, fine wine, and a perfectly cooked steak. ”

“Hmm…”

She wasn’t wrong.

From the moment they met, Harnie exuded an air of refinement, a natural grace befitting a noble.

But she held up three fingers, refuting his assumption.

“Don’t worry about any of that. I’ve pulled weeds until I collapsed, I’ve slept on floors instead of beds or sofas. You do what you have to when you’re exhausted. And food always tastes better when you’re starving.”

After that day, Harnie had deliberately sought out experiences that allowed her to understand the lives of commoners.

And what she found wasn’t that different from her own.

The rigid etiquette of the nobility didn’t apply.

The warmth and freedom she found among commoners were refreshing.

With each finger she folded down, she shared another story, another experience.

It was clear that these weren’t isolated incidents.

She embraced these experiences.

She was a true noble, one who understood and connected with those outside her social circle.

“Thanks to those experiences, I was able to connect with commoners. I learned things I would never have known at the Marquisate. Are you still worried?”

“No. I’m starting to think I worry too much.”

“Right?”

Yes, he worried too much.

Who would have thought this noble lady was so adaptable?

“Alright. Let’s go to Lusmire.”

He hadn’t expected company on his journey back, but it seemed like his plans had taken an interesting turn.

***

We left the market, and I led the way to where I had left my horse. I suggested she release my arm, but she refused.

“You never know who might be watching,” she said as she tightened
her grip.

When we stopped to buy something she deemed necessary…

“Get the one next to it. It’s a much better value for your money,” she whispered, guiding me towards better deals and higher quality items.

I barely managed to buy anything for myself, but the supplies for Lusmire steadily piled up.

Then suddenly…

-Crash!

A glass bottle shattered inside a nearby tavern, followed by a woman’s scream.

Angry voices echoed into the street.

“You filthy Yarican! How dare you set foot in here?!”

“To think you were hiding among us…!”

“Get out of here, you scum!”

-Clink!

Shards of glass flew out of the tavern, heading straight towards Harnie.

Instinctively, I drew my sword, deflecting the projectiles with a swift motion.

“Are you alright, Harnie?”

“Y-Yes… Thanks to you…”

She was unharmed, thankfully.

But I couldn’t relax.

‘This damn game…’

This was a typical mini-event in the market district. Walking past certain taverns triggered these altercations, sometimes resulting in injuries or status ailments.

He didn't know why these events occurred, but they seemed to target Carsein specifically.

And now, with a companion, avoiding it would be difficult.

“We should take a detour. That fight seems pretty intense. Who knows what they might throw next.”

But instead of heeding his warning, Harnie walked towards the tavern.

“Harnie?”

“…Wait here for a moment. I need to check something.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“What?”

“It’s dangerous. I’ll go first. Just stay behind me.”

“Alright.”

Thankfully, no more projectiles were launched as we approached the tavern. However, the noise level escalated, the sounds of shattering glass and crashing furniture painting a vivid picture of the chaos unfolding inside.

Undeterred…

…Harnie stepped inside, braving the potential danger.

“I knew it…!”

She gasped, her eyes widening as she took in the scene.

“You damn Yarican!”

“How dare you show your face in the Empire?!”

“You’ve got some nerve! Get out of here!”

The situation wasn’t good. Several men were ganging up on one.

But what bothered me the most was the fact that the man wasn’t even trying to defend himself.

‘Why? He’s not weak.’

I could sense it. This man wasn’t just any brawler.

His body was riddled with scars, each one telling a story of countless battles, of wounds inflicted and healed. The calluses on my hands were nothing compared to his. The blisters on my feet? Insignificant. The cuts from wielding a sword? Child’s play.

These were the marks of a seasoned warrior.

Countless battles.

Endless struggles.

These weren't the scars of someone who had sparred with wooden swords. These were the marks of someone who had faced real danger, real enemies.

The three drunkards might be taunting him, pushing him around, but if he unleashed his true strength, he could easily subdue them.

And yet, he remained passive and unmoving.

“…Carsein, I know this is a lot to ask, but… could you do me a favor?”

She squeezed my arm, her voice pleading.

“Could you help that Yarican?”

Save the man being beaten by drunkards. That was her request.

I had anticipated this, to a certain extent. Her expression had hardened the moment that bottle shattered, and she had insisted on approaching the tavern. It was as if she knew what was happening, what was being said.

This was a risky move. If rumors of the Bagrand’s adopted son causing trouble in a tavern spread, it would damage my reputation, both at the Duchy and at the training grounds. And the drop in affinity would be significant.

But…

“Here.”

I handed her my sword and stepped forward.

***

Pollux let out a soft sigh as his hood was torn from his head, his face exposed for all to see. The men inside the tavern erupted, bottles and mugs flying through the air.

“Damn Yaricans!”

“You failed to defend the Empire, and you dare call yourselves Imperial citizens?!”

“You’re no different than barbarians!”

He had heard it all before, these tired accusations, these venomous insults.

Revealing his face meant inviting this kind of reaction.

He should have known better than to think he could enjoy a quiet drink.

The men surged forward, their fists connecting with his face, their kicks finding their mark. They mocked him for betraying his country, for siding with the Yaricans. They cursed his family, his people, spewing hateful words as a bottle whizzed past his head.

But he didn’t react.

He couldn’t.

-It doesn’t matter if we tell them about the House of Ipheros. To them, we're just Yaricans. Remember that, Pollux!

This wasn't the first time he had faced this kind of treatment. Coming down here, encountering Imperial citizens, meant this was bound to happen.

Endure it.

That was the only option.

Pollux closed his eyes, bracing himself for the onslaught.

But then

Strange sounds began to echo near his ears.

A thud, a muffled groan, followed by the heavy thud of something crashing against the wall.

And then…

“Ugh… W-What did we do to deserve…?”

One of his attackers coughed, his voice weak, before collapsing.

Pollux opened his eyes, confused, and saw him.

A young man with black hair, staring down at him.

A hand reached out.

For a moment, he thought it was another attack.

However…

“What are you waiting for? Take my hand. I’m helping you up.”

The young man wasn’t offering a fist.

He was offering a hand.