SWNOVELXO Chapter 26: The Truth
The Red Lion possessed a professional team of assassins and spies. But when Governor Pedro arranged a sudden secret meeting with the Medici, Hayreddin opted for a more direct solution—he sent Nick to handle the matter personally. What he didn't expect was that the prolonged standoff would end up assembling such a strange group of assassins by sheer coincidence.
Governor Pedro took this meeting very seriously. He specially assigned a fully armed escort to accompany "His Grace, the Grand Duke of Florence, Lorenzo" up the mountain. Victor had failed to lure the prey out of his den. To persist would only arouse suspicion, so he had no choice but to present himself reluctantly. The three of them set off toward the mountaintop castle, surrounded by the enthusiastic guard.
The ship's doctor peeked out through the carriage curtain and saw a circle of Spanish cavalry holding gleaming lances. His palms were soaked with sweat.
"I—I must've really lost my mind. Why did I follow you two lunatics? The Captain just said to create an opportunity…"
"Lances are ceremonial cold weapons," Karl kindly reassured him. "They can't ride horses indoors, so their lethality is limited."
"What!? You mean they're going to practice on us!?" Victor's voice cracked as it rose.
"Shh." Nick pressed a finger to her lips. "Bringing you was clearly a mistake. Our plan is not to engage. Do the job and get out—head straight for the ship at the coast."
"You say it like you're munching on a sardine!" the ship doctor growled, lowering his voice.
"The more complicated it sounds, the more scared you'll be."
"Who—who said I'm scared?!"
"Whoever's sweating bullets, that's who."
"You little—"
"All right, enough," Karl stepped in as mediator. He knew their bickering was just a way to ease the tension. "The Captain means we have no intel on the castle's interior. We'll have to improvise. And look—we're nearing the gates. Quiet now."
The massive iron gates clanged shut behind them. The three of them stiffened, knowing there was no turning back. They had to steel themselves for the challenge ahead.
Judging by the interior of the castle, the master clearly disliked opulence. Though it was a governor's mansion, it looked more like the estate of a fallen noble. A fresh carpet and a few extra candelabras were the only signs of preparation for an important guest.
A gaunt, stern-faced middle-aged man greeted them in the hall, leaning on a cane. He was Pedro de Toledo, Spanish noble of Aragon and Viceroy of Naples.
"Your Grace," Pedro greeted gravely. Though he limped slightly, he stood ramrod straight—a soldier through and through. "My gout is acting up again, so I couldn't receive you outside. I beg your pardon."
"Lorenzo" nodded. "I heard you were injured in the Battle of Garigliano. Must be difficult in this weather."
"Pain is a soldier's badge of honor," Pedro replied with pride, showing no remorse for invading foreign lands. "If this wound secured Naples for my country, I am proud to bear it."
"By your country, do you mean Aragon?" Victor asked, his tone deliberately provocative.
Spain was a patchwork empire formed by dynastic unions of small kingdoms, with Castile and Aragon being the largest. Forty years prior, Ferdinand II of Aragon married Isabella of Castile, uniting the two kingdoms in name.
But as Hayreddin once said, "A herd of oxen won through marriage won't stay tied for long." Internal division always simmered beneath the empire's surface. Nobles ruled like warlords, and power struggles extended from the royals down to the peasants. Victor's words were a jab at Spain's chaotic politics.
Pedro, however, did not take the bait. "Aragon is my homeland," he said calmly. "But my country is one—Spain."
Pedro's composure impressed even Victor, who had to admit the man was unnervingly poised.
The impostor "Lorenzo" had never actually met Pedro before, so he didn't dare talk too much in the hall. "Surely you don't intend to conduct all our business standing like this?" he said lightly. "Forgive me, but I'm spoiled and not fond of long periods on my feet."
Though not fond of socializing, Pedro understood etiquette. He immediately invited "Lorenzo" to the drawing room, even suggesting a banquet or ball. Victor knew the longer the contact, the more likely something would go wrong, so he made small talk on the way, waiting for a chance to strike when Pedro was alone.
This secret visit from the "Grand Duke of Florence" included only a personal guard and a young servant. Pedro initially appreciated the show of trust—until he caught a glimpse of the two quiet followers and paused.
Victor hurriedly acted annoyed. "What? Just these two? Shall I dismiss them?"
Pedro, knowing Lorenzo had a volatile temper, quickly waved it off. "No, it's just—they look familiar."
The castle's labyrinthine design was made for defense. As they climbed the narrow stone stairs, Nick's blood felt like it was burning. She kept wanting to reach for the dagger in her sleeve but restrained herself. Guards were both ahead and behind. She bit down and kept walking.
Pedro's injured leg made him slow. The assassins' hearts pounded in time with the tap tap of his cane. The sound echoed down the dim corridor like a summons for ancient monsters.
"Our last discussion didn't seem to interest you," Pedro said suddenly. "Why the change of heart?"
Victor had no idea what they'd discussed before, so he played along. "I needed time to think. A rash decision could endanger my house."
"And what convinced you my proposal was reliable?"
"It's not the terms—it's the potential future." Victor gave a vague reply, cold sweat soaking his back. Pedro's serpentine gaze was making him nauseous. "Tell me, Governor—do you often take such important walks like this? I thought your advance guard was all about security."
"Rest assured," Pedro said meaningfully. "These men were hand-picked by me. Loyal. Reliable." His glance brushed over the two silent attendants.
The walk to the drawing room felt like the longest journey of Victor's life. When the door carved with a dragon slammed shut behind them, he thought his head would burst. Pedro had left four guards in the room. Victor couldn't protest—he needed his two "attendants" to stay.
"Your Grace, you look pale," Pedro said. "Are you unwell?"
Victor was about to bluff when Pedro suddenly stepped back. The guards behind him instinctively reached for their swords.
"Or is it that your new servants are not taking proper care of you?" Pedro barked.
The ship's doctor's mind went blank.
At that moment, two flashes—one black, one silver—leapt from Victor's side and struck the guards like lightning. Though trained soldiers, they were no match for pirates who practiced on living targets. Before they could draw their swords, they were dead.
Pedro was stunned. He'd expected a one-on-one fight. At worst, he'd die capturing one of them. But now he was alone. He drew a blade hidden in his cane, but before he could shout, Karl's sword was at his throat.
"Make a sound and you die faster." Karl circled behind Pedro, ready for any sudden move.
Pedro's face didn't flinch. A veteran of countless battles, he said coldly, "You won't escape. I should've known better—fooled by a Medici coat of arms."
"No shame in being fooled," Victor replied, backing away from the spreading blood. "How'd you figure it out? I thought I'd trained myself not to squint."
"You played the role too well. Until a moment ago, I thought you were Lorenzo, forced into this by assassins." Pedro turned his head slightly and addressed Karl. "He gave it away. Blond hair, blue eyes—you look too much like him in his youth. That face is unforgettable. Are you his son?"
"He had no sons. I'm merely his blood heir," Karl replied icily. "But I'm not the one you're here to talk to."
Pedro's eyes narrowed in confusion. The silent young servant suddenly ripped open his shirt. Buttons clattered to the ground, revealing a horrifying blue brand on his pale chest. Karl lowered his gaze, unwilling to look.
Pedro's composure collapsed like a toppled tower. His narrow eyes bulged in disbelief.
"The hexagram! So it is you…"
"Seems you remember," Nick said, raising her head. She swept her bangs back and stepped into the candlelight. Her black pupils were like twin abysses, bottomless and starless.