The several empty rooms in the courtyard were soon tidied up, yet after imprisoning the female assassin inside, Richard did not hasten to interrogate her. Instead, he seized the moment to engage in another task—crafting plant specimens.
Time, after all, waits for no man; the longer he delayed, the poorer the quality of the specimens would be.
Thus, it was only as the afternoon drew close to evening, once all the collected plants had been adequately processed, that Richard remembered the matter of questioning the female assassin.
Stretching lazily, Richard rose and delegated the final touches of work to the young maid Lucy before stepping out into the courtyard.
At this point, the sun was preparing to set in the west, casting a golden hue across the landscape as if gilding the earth itself.
Walking upon this "gilded" ground, Richard approached a storeroom at the corner of the yard, where the female assassin was bound.
Tuku and several guards stood watch at the door. Upon seeing Richard's approach, they relaxed, signaling that all was well.
"Nothing unexpected occurred?" Richard inquired.
"No," Tuku replied.
"Good," Richard nodded and reached for the door.
Just then, a sudden voice broke the air from behind him: "M-Master Richard."
"Hmm?" Richard turned to see Hughes's sister, Alyssa, standing a short distance away, her expression a mixture of anxiety and determination, as though she had mustered the courage to undertake an exceedingly righteous act.
"Is there something you need?" Richard asked, his eyes flickering with curiosity.
"Yes! There is!" Alyssa vigorously nodded her head, inhaling deeply before solemnly stating, "Master Richard, you are the heir of the baron, and we are mere peasants of the baron's territory. The clergy say that nobles must care for their subjects, so…"
"What is it you wish to convey?" Richard asked Alyssa. "Surely, you do not mean to lecture me on human rights? Though a noble thought, it is but a few centuries too early for such discussions in this world."
"N-no, that's not it!" Although Alyssa struggled to grasp Richard's words, she fervently shook her head. "In fact… I wish to plead with you… not to harm the sister of the one imprisoned inside!"
"Hmm?" Richard furrowed his brow, intrigued. "Why? Do not tell me you know her, or are somehow affiliated."
"No, I do not know that sister at all," Alyssa replied, lowering her gaze, her voice faint. "I simply find her pitiable…"
Richard's expression shifted to one of interest.
Pitiable? To describe an assassin with such a term seemed rather ill-fitting.
"And… I think she seems quite innocent as well. I… I suspect she must have unwittingly offended you about a trivial matter. I beg of you, Master Richard, spare her! I implore you…" Alyssa's pleas grew increasingly heartfelt.
Richard's expression became more pronounced, as he accurately deduced Alyssa's motivations.
In the next moment, Richard spoke, "You see her as innocent, do you not? You believe she has incurred my wrath over some minor issue that has led me to prepare to torment her, right? Out of sympathy, you muster your courage to dissuade me, hoping I shall release her. Simply put, you perceive the woman in that house as virtuous, while I am a villainous nobleman, and you, a brave and kind-hearted girl?"
Richard's tone remained serene, devoid of mockery or anger—merely an account laid bare.
Alyssa, upon hearing this, felt embarrassed, her hands twisting the hem of her dress as she stammered, "I… I did not mean it that way! I do not see you as a bad person, Master Richard, it's just… just…"
"Just what?" Richard pressed.
"Just that I feel sorry for that sister," Alyssa replied, her expression wavering on the brink of tears. "She is truly pitiable."
Richard chose not to respond further, turning his gaze toward the courtyard door.
At that moment, Hughes entered from outside. He had been away acquiring provisions for dinner, running to several hunters in the village, and it was only after visiting the miller that he secured sufficient meat and white bread. After all, he dared not invite Richard to sup on black bread and wild vegetable soup.
Now seeing his sister Alyssa standing with a tearful expression in the courtyard, not far off from the stoic Richard, Hughes's heart sank.
Had Richard been any other nobleman, Hughes might have assumed it was his sister being bullied. Yet, with Richard present, Hughes felt it more likely that his sister was the one in trouble.
In the next heartbeat, Hughes hurried over to Alyssa, asking a few questions before quickly confirming his suspicions. Upon hearing that Alyssa was pleading for the very assassin that sought to kill Richard, Hughes nearly fainted. In that instant, he discarded any thoughts of maintaining secrecy and revealed the assassin's identity.
Hearing this, Alyssa froze, her body stiffening as she stared in disbelief. "This… this is true?"
"Of course, it is true," Hughes replied, a mix of exasperation and amusement coloring his voice.
"Well…" Alyssa's face flushed crimson, akin to a ripe apple, as she cast a bashful glance at Richard, stumbling over her words. "M-master Richard, I… I…"
Richard merely waved a hand, saying nothing, before turning to push open the door to the room.
With a creak, the door—acting as a temporary interrogation chamber—closed behind him.
Alyssa glanced nervously at her brother Hughes, her voice barely above a whisper. "Brother, is Master Richard angry?"
Hughes chuckled wryly. "You're overthinking it. Master Richard wouldn't grow angry over such trivial matters. He has far more pressing concerns."
"But, I did misunderstand him earlier…"
"Then simply perform well tonight. Make sure dinner is delightful—don't replicate my habit of returning home with unpalatable fare."
"Really?" Alyssa replied, pondering, "What exactly did you manage to acquire?"
"Well, I obtained some meat from the hunters and acquired some white flour from the miller."
"Meat and white flour?" Alyssa's eyes lit up with inspiration. "Then let's make pies! Perhaps bake some onion rings and prepare a pot of mushroom soup…"
As she spoke, Alyssa disappeared into the kitchen.
With a creak, the door closed behind her.
Turning his attention, Richard gazed with keen interest at the female assassin within the room.
At this moment, she appeared utterly devoid of her former bravado, tightly bound to a pillar in the room. Gone was the imagined allure—rough hemp rope dug deeply into her flesh, leaving behind darkened bruises akin to unseemly scars, the consequence of prolonged constriction.
Richard understood very well that even if he were to untie the assassin now, the places bound would likely fester in the coming days, and should her confinement extend further, the repercussions could prove catastrophic.