The men exchanged puzzled looks in response to my question, clearly not grasping the subject. To clarify my query, I repeated myself.

"I asked about the Marquess," I emphasized. "Do you have any information regarding his involvement?"

"Which Marquess are you referring to, lord?" Erwin inquired; his confusion evident.

"What was his name again…" In the time of need, the names eluded me. "... Isolde's father." I recalled.

Finnan swiftly interjected to clarify, "You mean Marquess Tristan, lord?"

I confirmed with a nod.

"Do you suspect his involvement in the incident?" Erwin’s inquisitive gaze met mine, while Irwin kept his thoughts hidden behind a reserved expression.

"Let's see…" Being direct here would solve most issues as the men would have something to work with, taking the load off my shoulders. But I couldn't just utter everything to people I just met. Sure, they could be Harwyn's trusted associates, but until I was sure of their credibility, I wouldn't take the risk.

Then there was this promise made to Isolde. I could break it, but would it be really worth it? What if I reveal everything and the situation spiraled out of control? She would be forcibly taken away, rendering my leverage useless.

Can't lose her. I would have to act accordingly.

"… May I ask, how many of you are married or engaged?" I posed a question to the trio.

Erwin raised his hand, speaking first. "I'm married."

"I'm engaged," Irwin followed suit.

"I'm neither," Finnan chimed in, his hand joining the others'.

"Because no woman would want you," I quipped, slightly annoyed. "No surprises there..."

Finnan, as usual, was quick to counter, his grin resurfacing. "On the contrary, my lord. I'm quite popular among the ladies of Seiren, Arion, Fortazela, and—"

"Enough!" I interrupted him irritably. "I didn't ask for your romantic résumé."

"Apologies, lord," he responded with a nod, his expression shifting to a more serious demeanor.

Refocusing on Erwin and Irwin, I continued my line of questioning. "So, do you love your wives?"

Erwin's face lit up with pride as he answered, "Absolutely."

Irwin, on the other hand, seemed less expressive but nodded in agreement.

"Now, how about your fathers-in-law?" I inquired further. "Do you get along with them? Would you spend a day fishing with them or just chatting?"

Both their confident smiles wavered at the mention of their fathers-in-law. However, after a moment or two of contemplation, they managed to regain their composure.

"I could easily spend a day with my father-in-law, lord," Irwin responded first. “He’s a good man and we get along well.”

"Really?" I didn’t expect that. Still, there was one last chance remaining. “What about you?” I turned to Erwin.

He hesitated for a moment, giving me a glimmer of hope, but eventually followed the same path. "I too, lord, have a good relationship with my father-in-law. We could spend a day or two together."

“All alone, just you two?” I pressed.

“Yes, lord. We could go hunting or fishing or just drinking ale.” He mentioned the recreational activities with a wide grin.

“Well…” I let out a quiet sigh and sunk back to the chair, murmuring to myself. My attempt to make them relate to the situation seemed to have fallen flat. It appeared that both of them had positive relations with their in-laws, unlike the situation I found myself in, thanks to inhibiting the body of Arwan for reasons only God knew.

In any case, it wasn't the time for self-pity. Action was necessary, both to avenge my injured hand and to bring satisfaction by skinning all those involved. Now that I had names to work with, it was time to put my plan into motion.

“My point is,” I straightened up, my expression focused and intense. “What if Marquess Tristan attacked his son-in-law out of some personal vendetta? He may have been involved with some 'bad people', like these Duran brothers, to carry out an attack on me and the Willards as a whole.”

The trio fell into a contemplative silence, exchanging knowing glances with each other. After a moment, they shook their heads in disagreement.

“That is very unlikely, lord,” Finnan responded instead of the other two. “The Duran brothers and Marquess Tristan are polar opposites in every possible way. And a collaboration between them is something out of this realm. It's just impossible, just like him holding some vendetta against you. Why would he do that to a man he himself chose as his son-in-law, for his most beloved daughter?”

Why is he contradicting everything Isolde said? That was my one and only thought as I processed it all. Now, I couldn’t be sure who was right and who was wrong.

The bad people were the Durans, that was sure, but what about Tristan! Which side was he on?

“Tell me more about the Marquess? What’s his… characteristic?” I asked. If I had to piece the picture together, I needed all the pieces first.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Erwin and Irwin raised their brows at my request, presumably unaware of Arwan’s sudden lapse of memory, but Finnan had learned from his prior mistakes and promptly responded.

“Marquess Tristan… Well, to put it simply, he’s a good person,” he said with a faint smile.

“…” I waited for him to elaborate further, but he remained silent, gazing at us as if he had nothing else to add about the man in question.

“That’s all?” I inquired, a tinge of annoyance in my voice. “He’s just a good guy and nothing more?”

“Yes, lord,” Finnan nodded. “He treats his subjects well, rules them fairly, and addresses their needs on time. He is unwaveringly loyal to the crown and the church, except for that one time when he sided with Lord Harwyn… But that’s a relic of the past. He has never initiated a war in his lifetime, and he swears to never do so as per his vow. His beliefs always center around peace and prosperity of not just him, but all.”

I listened to the praise, trying to wrap my head around the fact that such a ruler existed in this medieval era. Wasn't absolute power known to corrupt? Or was he truly a saint, a rarity if they existed at all.

“Lord Tristan chose you as his son-in-law, despite witnessing your impulsive behavior firsthand. He believed in your potential to change and continues to hold onto that belief,” Finnan continued in a calm tone. “As for any association with the Duran Trading Company, it's highly unlikely. Marquess Tristan has publicly criticized them on numerous occasions and has advocated for their dissolution to the crown.

He often points out their unethical business practices that could bring ruin to all of us, citing the Willards as a prime example of their never-ending greed. For that and many other reasons, the Durans also hate him equally, always fighting teeth and nails to get him off their back. They are fierce enemies, and friendship between them is… Inconceivable.”

“Hmm…” I exhaled deeply as I thought it through. Then, suddenly, it all clicked. “Why does it all sound a whole lot like my plan?” I turned to Finnan, my eyes widening with realization.

“Your plan?” All three of them uttered together, looking perplexed.

“Yes, my plan,” I directed my response solely to Finnan. “Different entities that seem to hate each other to death, but it’s all just a façade. They’re actually the same under the hood, working towards a common goal.” The more I spoke, the clearer the picture became. “There is no way a guy with that squeaky clean image exists in this world, or any world.”

“Lord, that is a bit…” Erwin began to object, but I spoke over him.

“Just think about it!” I exclaimed, my voice growing a bit more emphatic. “You’re a scoundrel, he’s a scoundrel.” I pointed to the two men before me, eliciting bewildered expressions from them. “And he’s the grandest scoundrel of them all.” I motioned toward Finnan, who seemed taken aback by the label. “And not to forget, I’m a scoundrel too.” I patted my chest with an almost proud grin. “We’re all scoundrels, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Lord, we shouldn't just assume…” He pushed with a half-assed grin, desperately trying to contain his discontent, but I was in no mood to listen.

“In the same sense, Tristan is also a scoundrel. His pristine image is proof of that,” I asserted, my hands slamming onto the table, my grin now unmistakably wide as my heart raced. “Unless you want to hide a war, you don’t start preaching peace. It’s all a game, and Tristan knows how to play it.”

The Marquess had truly outwitted everyone by projecting himself as virtuous while concealing his true intentions. Isolde’s words really had shed some light on that, at least for me.

"Lord, I think we're getting way ahead of ourselves," Erwin interjected firmly. "We can't throw allegations at someone without any credible proof. That's unethical… unlawful even. If the masses learn of it, they wouldn't think well of you."

"Now you'll teach me what to say and when to say it?" I glared at him, my expression blank.

"No, lord. What I mean is…" He attempted to clarify, but I cut him off.

"Just as the Duran brothers have monetary reasons to attack us, Marquess Tristan also has his own motivations," I stated. "We just don't know them yet. But we need to figure it out, and the sooner, the better."

"With all due respect, Lord, we can't just start probing into one of our most trusted allies under the guise of speculation," Erwin countered. "If word ever gets out about such an act, it could get really ugly."

"Well, that's obvious," I shrugged nonchalantly.

"So, we don't…" Erwin began to say.

"So, the word never gets out, and you quietly bring me the results. Simple!"

Against my reasoning, Erwin sighed and leaned back into his seat, a defeated look in his eyes. Meanwhile, Irwin met my gaze, his expression resolute. He leaned forward, prepared to reason with me.

“Let’s establish a logic,” he tapped on the table. “We suspect Duran’s involvement because there are obvious and verifiable reasons pointing at them. Our sources have confirmed it. There's a clear link between the attack on you and them. It is not every day you see incidents where the victim's hands are damaged beyond recovery and everything else is left intact.”

“So, it’s their doing?” I raised my dangling left hand.

“They employ a very famous mercenary group that deploys such methods to scare their targets.” He mentioned.

“And you haven’t caught them?”

“None can.” Irwin added with a sigh. “There is barely anything about them in our records. They never leave any traces, making them practically untouchable.”

“You should have said that from the start.” I sneered, anger coursing through me. A clear target was all I needed. I could focus on them, while establishing a traceable connection between the operators and the financiers.

“Amongst all this, we haven’t found anything linking Marquess Tristan, your soon to be family.” Irwin continued. “Every single clue points at the mercenary group, indirectly implicating the Durans as their message intended. Making the whole…”

“…Making my point entirely baseless,” I finished his sentence with a short chuckle, which soon turned into an angry scowl. “Still, look into it.”

Irwin hung his head, just like his counterpart did earlier when listening to me. “…. Why are you so adamant about an assumption, lord?” he queried one last time.

“Because my sources have verified it.”

A daughter would never speak against her so-called beloved father unless something was obviously wrong in their relationship. Most likely, she feared him, and must have faced repercussions over the years to act that way. She asking a well-known clown to protect her spoke volumes about her father’s character, and the fake image he maintained.

“Can we talk to them directly and verify again?” Irwin asked.

“Will my words not be enough?” I groaned.

Wish I could tell them. But they wouldn’t believe it without proof, which I couldn’t produce. So, the only way remained was to force them.

“Forgive us, lord, but it won’t be,” he replied in an apologetic manner. “With credible proof, we will present your request to Lord Harwyn. After his approval, we would move ahead. Without it, we could only go so far.”

“I will talk with him. Then could you carry out my request?”

“Yes, lord.”

"Good!"

“Then we shall take our leave,” They requested, slowly rising, weariness evident in their eyes. The pointless back and forth must have worn them out.

I gave them a nod of approval, and the men, after bowing, left the room. Once the door was closed, Finnan turned to me. “Pardon my intrusion, lord, but why are you so fixated on Marquess Tristan?” he asked.

“Don’t you already know?” A small leer took over my lips.

“No!”

“Because I like him.”