A Villainess pulled out the Sword instead of the Hero.

 

Well, it was somewhat expected.

 

Most people trusted the priests for their quick results and practically guaranteed divine powers.

 

So an apothecary of dubious credibility and questionable efficacy was bound to lose ground.

 

Morgana replied politely, eating her steak with a fork.

 “I don’t know anything fast, but I might know something the priests don’t.” “Huh, if the priests heard, they’d have you for blasphemy.” 

By all accounts, Caradoc was in bad shape.

 

He was certainly robust enough to look wounded.

 

It was easy to see why the mercenaries had said he was fine. From a distance, Morgana would have thought the same thing.

 

But his soulless words and actions gave him away as a deranged man.

 

Nordic must have known.

 

‘A younger lord who hasn’t come of age is all that’s needed.’ 

 

Why else would Nordic be in the House of Equator?

 

If the sick lord dies untimely, the family assembly could choose someone to act as acting head until the next heir comes of age.

 

‘If Lord Caradoc passes away, perhaps he’ll take over as acting lord, steal the title, leave Cadric behind.’ 

 

The thought made my blood run cold. 

 

It was ridiculous, this family squabbling over money.

 

I’ve seen that there truly was no family before money. I knew it, but it was still unpleasant to witness.

 

It was no wonder Cadric was traveling everywhere, trying every possible means.

 

Nordic looked as if he wanted to find something more to quibble about, but when he saw Morgana eating quietly, he gave up.

 “You’ve learned something on the subject of commoners, eh?” 

‘I haven’t seen anything, it’s a fierce education!’

 

Soon the day arrives when I must use the manners I’ve been taught.

 

Morgana finished her meal quite nonchalantly, though Nordic continued to grate on her nerves.

 “Would you mind bringing more dessert here?” 

When I wanted to eat some, I couldn’t, so I didn’t leave any.

 

He even added more as if to show off.

 

Nordic felt sick to his stomach watching, and thought,

‘Where the hell does that bastard Cadric keep getting these people from?’

 

From priests to healthy food to holy water. There was nothing he hadn’t tried.

 

He had literally done everything he could.

 

But in his eyes, it was time for his uncle to die.

 

After all the talk of being a faithful servant, he was cut down by the king he trusted, and all he could do was talk like a puppet.

 

It turns out one shouldn’t trust just anyone.

 

Rather than entrusting his life to the king, Nordic would rather just take the money and live off of it.

 

What’s the point of being loyal, giving him bread, giving him clothes, nothing less?

 

As he finished his meal and headed back to his room, he realized that the hallway was deserted.

 

Apparently, the guests had arrived, and Cadric and the others were busy entertaining them.

 

It was a rare opportunity.

 

Nordic sneaked into Caradoc’s room. He found him sitting at his desk in his office, looking dazed.

 

Knocking on the already open door, he greeted him.

 “Uncle, I’m here.” “Yes.” “I have a favor to ask of you.” 

He crept over and rummaged around his desk.

 

Surely somewhere Cadric and the butler had hidden the papers proving ownership of the mine.

 

They had failed time and yet again, with maids, servants, and even the butler taking turns guarding it and logging their entries and exits.

 

Leaving Caradoc behind, he searched around and found a locked desk drawer.

 

Unbeknownst to the others, he knew how to manipulate his uncle.

 

Caradoc moved almost instinctively at the sound of a single sentence.

 “Uncle, you must open this, so that the family honor is preserved.” “Family honor…must be protected.” 

Caradoc fumbled slowly around the desk and opened the inkwell.

 

Instead of ink, it contained drawer keys.

 

“Ha, I wonder where they hid the key. They were right under my nose, weren’t they?”

 

Opening the drawer, he found the mining revenue contract.

 

He quickly placed the contract in front of Caradoc, and then offered him a fountain pen.

 

“Here you go, uncle. Please write here that you are transferring the mine to Nordic Equator, and sign it. I will uphold the family honor.”

 

As if mesmerized by something, Caradoc silently did as he was told.

  

Morgana sat quietly on the bed in the guest room, closed her eyes, and waited.

 

The maid was supposed to give the signal when the Caradoc fell asleep.

 

Arthur, in the next room, did the same.

 

Soon, there was a soft knock on the door and a quick rush of footsteps.

 

Morgana opened her eyes.

 

Her vial of herbs clutched tightly in one hand, she opened the door to find Cadric and Arthur waiting for her.

 

Morgana glanced around the darkened room and whispered.

 “This makes me feel like a thief.” “What kind of thief does the next Lord of the Manor show you around?” 

I couldn’t tell if Arthur was joking or serious.

 

In the distance, down the dimly lit hallway, the butler, and maid of honor bowed and offered to help.

 

Cadric held up a lamp with a candle in it and said.

 “Father’s room is this way.” 

His voice was cautious, perhaps out of respect for Nordic.

 

When they reached Caradoc’s tightly closed chambers, Cadric jerked his head and said.

 “Butler.” “Yes, Master.” 

The butler stuck his face in.

 “Ugh, what a surprise.” 

He almost swore for a moment. Morgana thanked her lucky stars that she didn’t spit out a curse word.

 

The atmosphere was eerie with the lights down there.

 

Morgan’s heart skipped a beat as she leaned in close.

 

The butler bowed graciously as Morgana moved to Arthur’s side, startled.

 “I didn’t expect you to be surprised.” 

Pulling a key from his pocket, the butler turned the lock and the door swung open with a rattling, heavy sound.

 

Through it came a deathly groan.

 “Shut it down…” 

Caradoc was sprawled on the dingy bed, clutching his right arm.

 

His arm was clearly visible, thanks to his light clothing.

 

A long gash ran from the back of his hand to his elbow, the unexplained mark of King Vortigern.

 

He broke out in a cold sweat and shook his head as if he were lost in thought.

 “Argh, ah, Semi…” 

He seemed to be calling someone’s name.

 

Morgana caught sight of him, and Cadric opened his mouth cautiously.

 “My late mother’s name.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” “That’s okay, it was so long ago I don’t even remember her.” 

Cadric forced a bright smile. It lightened the mood a bit.

 

Morgana sat down in the one-person chair next to the bed and opened the vial.

 

When she tried to reach for Caradoc’s arm, he winced and twisted away.

 

‘I can barely get the medicine on him if he keeps moving.’

 

I need to hold his arm, but it’s not easy to reach the vial with his wiggling.

 

For a man strong enough to serve as Grand Master of the Knight’s Commander, the slightest movement felt big to Morgana.

 

He looked like he was having a nightmare.

 

Arthur stepped to Morgana’s side as she struggled.

 “I’m sorry.” 

With a stiff gesture, he handed Cadric an apology, then with a thud, he yanked Caradoc’s scarred arm out from under him and pressed him down in front of Morgana.

 

Looking at his flailing arm, Morgana stammered gratitude.

 “Well, it was radical, but in a good way.” 

It was a bit of a shock, and the groan of pain lessened.

 

Does this actually work as shock therapy?

 

Morgana carefully placed her hand under Caradoc’s nose as she watched him quiet down.

 

She was greatly relieved when she heard him gasp.

 

‘Phew, I thought I’d come to heal you and then pay the bill.’ 

 

Morgana placed the herb on top of the bulging tendon and quickly ran the power through it.

 “Ugh…” 

The groan that had been flowing gradually faded as time passed.

 

Cadric watched, clasping his hands together as if in prayer.

 

Eventually, the breathing evened out.

 

‘Is this… working?’

Morgana asked, nervously, craning her neck to examine the Caradoc’s complexion.

 

And then there seemed to be a flicker. Caradoc’s eyes opened.

 “Kyaaah!” 

Morgana squeaked in surprise and stumbled backward.