The empty rooms in the courtyard were soon prepared, and the captured assassin was locked inside one of them. But Richard did not rush into questioning her. Instead, he turned his attention to another task—preparing the botanical specimens he had collected.
Time was of the essence. The longer he waited, the more the plants would wilt and lose their value as references.
It wasn't until late afternoon, nearing dusk, that Richard finally paused and considered the assassin again. Stretching, he stood upright, delegating the final touches to Lucy, before stepping out into the courtyard.
The western sun hung low, casting golden light across the ground as if gilding every surface. Richard's boots crunched along the sunlit floor as he approached the corner where the temporary holding room stood, the assassin bound inside.
Tsubuku and several guards stood vigil at the door, offering calm expressions at his arrival—everything was under control.
"Any incidents?" Richard asked.
"None," Tsubuku replied.
"Good," Richard nodded, reaching out to push the door open.
Then a voice called from behind him:
"Ma… Master Richard."
Richard turned to see Alice, Hughes' sister, standing not far away. Her face was tense but resolute, as though she had mustered courage to do something she believed was right.
"Yes? What is it?" Richard's eyes flickered with curiosity.
Alice nodded firmly. "Yes! It's important. Master Richard, you are the heir of the baron, and we are just common folk. As nobles, you are supposed to protect your people, so…"
Richard raised an eyebrow. "And you want to lecture me on human rights? Admirable, but this world isn't ready for that yet. At least a few centuries to go. You're a bit early."
"No, no!" Alice shook her head vigorously. "It's not that! I… I just want to ask you… please don't hurt the woman locked inside."
Richard's brow furrowed. "Why? Don't tell me you know her… or are in league with her."
"No! I don't know her at all," Alice said, lowering her gaze. "I just… I feel she's pitiful."
Richard's expression twisted into a subtle mix of amusement and disbelief. Pitiful? For an assassin?
"And… I think she might be innocent in this," Alice continued, her voice trembling. "I… I guess she must have offended you somehow, Master Richard, and that's why… please… I beg you… spare her."
Richard's eyes softened slightly, though his tone remained calm and neutral. "Let me see if I understand. You believe the person inside is innocent. You think she got on my bad side somehow, and I am about to punish her. You can't bear to see that, so you've gathered courage to persuade me to let her live. In short, you see her as good, me as cruel, and you as a brave, kind-hearted girl."
Alice blushed furiously, twisting her hands at her sides, stammering: "I… I didn't mean it like that… I don't think you're cruel… I just… just…"
"Just what?" Richard asked, though his tone was patient.
"I… I just think she's pitiful," Alice admitted, her eyes glistening, on the verge of tears. "Really pitiful."
Richard said nothing more. He turned his gaze back to the door of the temporary interrogation room.
Hughes returned from gathering dinner supplies—meat from hunters, flour from the mill, and other essentials. Seeing Alice on the verge of tears, and Richard unmoving, Hughes felt his heart lurch.
If this were another noble, he might have assumed Alice was being bullied. But with Richard… he knew his sister was likely the one who had caused the stir.
Hughes strode over and asked a few questions, confirming his suspicion. Hearing that Alice had pleaded for the assassin, he nearly lost his composure. In a rush, he revealed the assassin's true identity to Alice.
Alice froze, eyes wide. "Th… this is true?"
"Of course it's true," Hughes replied, a mixture of exasperation and amusement in his voice.
Alice's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, like a ripe apple, and she looked at Richard, stammering, unable to form a coherent sentence: "Master Richard… I… I…"
Richard waved his hand dismissively and pushed open the door to the room.
Click.
The temporary interrogation room door shut behind him.
Alice, still outside, cast a worried glance at her brother. "Hughes… is Master Richard angry?"
Hughes let out a wry chuckle. "Don't worry. He's not angry about something like this. He has far more important matters to attend to."
"But… I misunderstood him earlier…"
"Then tonight, make a good impression. Try to cook a proper dinner—unlike my usual attempts, which are barely presentable."
Alice nodded, still slightly embarrassed. "I see… so, what exactly did you manage to get?"
"Some meat from hunters, and white flour from the mill."
"Meat and white flour?" Alice thought for a moment. "Then let's make pies, bake some onion rings, and cook a pot of mushroom soup…"
With that, she hurried into the kitchen.
Click.
Richard turned his gaze back to the assassin inside. She was no longer imposing, bound tightly to a wooden post. The ropes cut into her skin, leaving deep purple marks, evidence of prolonged blood stagnation.
Richard knew that even if he loosened the ropes now, the pressure marks would take days to heal, and leaving her bound any longer would only worsen her condition.
The assassin was now powerless, her threat neutralized—for the moment.