I Am The Madman Of This Family-Chapter 61: Be Careful of Who You Befriend (1)

Besil was the patriarch of Sefira, the Masters of Archery. He had a duty to protect his family from downfall, and he chose defense as his strategy. He ignored the provocations of his enemies and focused on securing the family’s territory.

Thanks to this approach, the nobles weren’t able to bring Sefira down easily. Peace had also lasted a long time; however, Besil didn’t know how long this peace could continue for. He simply hoped that the situation would improve if they held out long enough. Perhaps the nobles would tire and stop their attacks, or maybe a new war would erupt, restoring the value of archers.

Of course, Besil knew there was another option—offense. This was exactly what Panir advocated for: attacking instead of merely defending. However, Besil couldn’t run the family in an offensive way. It was an uncertain path, bound to result in casualties. While defense was also uncertain, at least it avoided sacrifice.

Besil feared sacrifice, so avoiding it was crucial. At his command, thousands of soldiers and hundreds of knights would mobilize. This was no child’s play with toy soldiers.

If there are any casualties, Sefira will inevitably be trapped in a cycle of hatred under the guise of honor and revenge.

Throughout its five-hundred-year history, Sefira had not fought with anyone. The family even declined the title of marquis to avoid power struggles, and it had long maintained its status as an earl’s family out of tradition.

Though no one explicitly stated it as Sefira’s policy, all the previous patriarchs valued peace and negotiation over conflict. So how could Besil ignore and shatter that history? By what right could he drive the peaceful Sefira into a pit of hatred? He couldn’t bring himself to do that.

Maintaining the status quo was the safe path. Even if soldiers and knights had to endure humiliation, at least it wouldn’t kill them. Besil thought that was enough, that he was doing his part. He believed the future of Sefira would be resolved not by his own inadequate self but by the next generation. His best role was to preserve Sefira as it was.

However, recently, Besil had completely changed his mind. It was because of Keter, he and Akrah’s son who was raised in Liqueur. It had only been three days since Keter arrived in Sefira, but three days were enough for him to shatter the silence Besil had built around Sefira over decades.

And it wasn’t just the silence that broke. Keter ignited and stirred Besil’s hardened, withered heart. Thanks to Keter, Besil realized that mere maintenance and defense weren’t the right paths. But nor was the attack that Panir had advocated for—the answer was counterattack, something between attack and defense. Thanks to Keter, Besil realized that this was the best path to save Sefira.

“No.”

Besil grabbed Keter's wrist. Normally, that’s all he would have said. However, through Panir and Suvide, he came to realize that his feelings would not be delivered correctly unless he expressed himself clearly.

“You are needed in Sefira,” Besil added.

At this moment, the curse of silence that had plagued Sefira was finally lifted.

“Please don’t leave.”

Besil held onto Keter's wrist firmly, as if he would never let go.

Keter glanced at him with a gentle gaze and asked, “And if I say no?”

Besil’s expression grew even more serious. Seeing that, Keter waved his hand dismissively.

“Come on, can’t I even joke with you? I was only kidding.”

“Then, you won’t be leaving Sefira?”

“I do have something to take care of outside, so I’ll be stepping out briefly. Or did you think I wouldn’t return at all?”

“You said you were leaving.”

“But I never said I wouldn’t come back.”

“...!”

“Now, would you let go of my wrist? You’re going to break it.”

“Ahem.”

Besil let go of Keter and smoothed out his clothes awkwardly. A distinct red mark remained on Keter’s wrist.

“Honestly, you should let people finish speaking. You’re going to hurt someone,” Keter said.

“I guess you don’t think there was anything wrong with your choice of words. You could have simply said you’d be stepping out briefly.”

“To me, it’s the same thing. Ah, by the way, I’ll be taking Luke with me.”

“Just tell me where you’re going and when you’ll be back.”

“I don’t usually share those details, but I plan to go to Liqueur. So, I’ll need to receive my mother’s keepsake now.”

Originally, Keter was supposed to spend a year in Sefira to receive his mother’s keepsake—a special artifact allowing him free passage in and out of Liqueur. But he needed it right away, so he confidently asked for it.

“You mean you’re going to go back to that dangerous place?” Besil asked.

“I’ll invite you to Liqueur sometime. It’s hard to warm up to, but once you do, there’s nowhere better,” Keter replied.

“...Akrah.”

Besil took a black ring from his breast pocket and held it out, adding, “That’s your mother’s name.”

“Ah.”

Keter had been so curious about his mother’s name, but he didn’t care about it much now that it was out of his interest.

“If you need anything, just say it. I’ll even assign you the Order of the Galaxy.”

“No thanks. They’ll just be bothersome.”

Besil was genuinely curious—was Keter’s disregard for Order of the Galaxy, Sefira’s strongest order, due to ignorance or confidence? Moreover, he disrespected Sefira even in the presence of him, the patriarch. If Anise or Taragon had spoken like that, Besil would have scolded and punished them severely.

Perhaps he simply doesn't care.

Maybe Keter didn’t care about being part of a noble family. Or perhaps it was that Sefira was not appealing to him. Besil considered that as a possibility since Keter had seen the signs of decline from his very first day in Sefira.

I admit, Sefira isn’t as alluring as other noble houses. But… that’s going to change now.

“Get into just the right amount of trouble and come back safely.”

If Sefira failed to captivate Keter, forcing him to stay would only backfire. Besil decided not to cling to him. Or rather, he was going to pretend he wasn’t clinging.

“I’ll bring back a gift, so look forward to it.”

And with that final promise, Keter left, leaving Besil with a small hope in his heart.

* * *

Splash!

A splash of icy water hit Volus, the eldest son of the Bydent family, in the face. Patra, the patriarch, tossed aside the empty glass.

“Say it again,” Patra said.

“The commander, lieutenant commander, and five others from the Order of the Silver Leopards were captured by Sefira.”

“Why?”

“It was reported to be because of Keter, the bastard child, and Luke, a holy knight, but that’s likely inaccurate.”

“I haven’t disciplined you since appointing you as the deputy patriarch. Do you know why? It’s not because you’re the deputy patriarch, but because you handled things well.”

“Father, this time it was not…!”

“Silence! Which weapon do you want to be struck with? Bring it to me yourself.”

The walls of Patra’s room displayed an array of weapons. There were dark red stains of dried blood on them, showing they weren’t merely for decoration.

Volus bit his lower lip. He was almost thirty and was called the deputy patriarch outside these walls. It was demeaning to be punished like this. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His mind screamed at him to rebel, yet he did nothing. Reluctantly, he walked over to the wall, grabbed a club, and handed it to Patra.

Patra, holding the club, stood up and spoke, “Raise your hands. Do you want your arms broken?”

Volus raised his arms high. It was a humiliating posture.

Whack! Thud!

The club hit Volus repeatedly. He staggered with each strike, yet each time, he got back up like a punching bag that couldn’t be knocked down. Patra was an elderly man with not much strength, so he could only swing the metal club for so long before tiring.

Trying not to show his exhaustion, Patra spoke, “...I’ll give you a chance to explain.”

“I believe Elder Reganon has betrayed us.”

“Are you certain?”

“... Not entirely.”

“Only speak of what you’re certain of.”

“I’ll start by freeing the Order of the Silver Leopard who are imprisoned. Even if it wasn’t Elder Reganon, there are other collaborators inside.”

“Sefira went through the trouble to capture our knights. Security will be tight; will you manage?”

“No matter how tight, it’s still Sefira. This time, I won’t fail.”

“There’s no chance the captured ones will reveal our secrets, is there?”

The critical secret behind Bydent's success—the Moon Rabbit Tribe, one of the Seven Cursed Species. If Sefira learned of their existence, Bydent would face complete ruin.

“The regular members don’t know about the high elder. The only ones aware are Jordic, the youngest, and Deputy Commander Arbold, both of whom are resistant to torture.”

Torture resistance didn’t simply mean they could endure pain well; it meant they had mastered techniques to block their sense of pain. This skill required no aura, so even if their aura was suppressed, it wouldn’t matter.

“I will also send a letter to Sefira's patriarch, requesting the return of our captured knights. He’s quite passive, so he’ll likely give in and hand them over with a little pressure,” Patra said.

“Truly wise, sir,” Volus replied.

“Still, Besil will stall for as long as he can. But breaking out of prison right under their noses would be an even greater disgrace for Sefira. Understood? You must not fail.”

“I’ll remember it well, sir.”

“Get out. I don’t want to see your face anymore.”

Soaked in water and bruised all over from the beating, Volus bowed formally to Patra one last time before leaving the patriarch’s chamber.

“Gasp!”

The guards at the door couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of Volus.

“Hah, even you find me laughable, don’t you?” Volus asked.

“No, my lord, not at all.”

The guards quickly averted their eyes. Volus clenched and unclenched his fists as he walked down the corridor, thinking about the report he received from the two surviving members of the Order of the Silver Leopard, who had barely escaped Hacose Village.

Absinthe, that lawless city. One lowlife gangster from that trash heap, along with a single one-star holy knight, managed to take down the commander, lieutenant commander, and five more of the order?

The Order of the Silver Leopard was a secret order loyal to the Bydent elders and the Moon Rabbit Tribe. Their strength and resolve surpassed even the Order of the White Leopard, the pride of Bydent.

“What on earth happened there?” Volus yelled in frustration.

R𝑒ad latest chapt𝒆rs at freewebnovёl.ƈom Only.

The two survivors hadn’t been in the thick of the fight. They were stationed at the village under Jordic’s orders. They only heard the sounds of battle outside, so they didn’t know that the Blade Bird Tribe was there. What they saw and reported were that Keter and Luke had defeated the strongest forces of the order. All other intel gathered from their spies confirmed the same: Keter and Luke alone had overpowered everyone. That was the only story that had made it out.

“Reganon…!”

Volus was convinced that Reganon was behind it all; it seemed impossible otherwise. Even if Reganon had intervened, it was impossible that the Silver Leopard knights lost to the Galaxy knights. But for now, the accusation that Reganon had betrayed them was the priority.

I asked him to take care of Keter, and instead, he betrayed me?!

Volus’ rage burned, and he vowed not to leave any of Sefira unscathed.

“I’ll kill every last one of them, down to the very last child.”

He stopped mid-step and glanced back.

You’re next, you greedy old man.

Once this matter was settled, Volus was determined to become the patriarch by any means necessary, legal or not.

* * *

In Sefira’s underground prison, all the rooms were solitary confinement cells. In these cells were the Bydent knights. Though they had regained consciousness long ago, they were unable to do anything but remain locked in place. This wasn’t simply because they were shackled with aura-suppressing bracelets.

“No strength... What in the world have they done to us?”

Jordic, the first of them to wake up, immediately attempted to escape. Even without aura, his pure physical strength alone was enough to break through wooden planks. The prison bars weren’t thick, so it seemed like he could just pull them apart.

“This is absurd. No guards or shackles.”

Gripping the bars, Jordic gave a powerful tug.

“Haaah!”

Nothing budged.

“Wh-what's going on? The bars won’t move at all. Are they made of some kind of super steel?”

He strained himself to the limit, putting every last ounce of energy into his grip, but the bars held fast, unmoved. And he quickly realized—it wasn’t the bars that were unusually strong.

“I’ve gotten weaker.”

What have they done to me?

Jordic felt around his body but didn’t find any signs of damage, curse symbols, or marks to suggest they had somehow gotten rid of his muscles.

“Damn it. I can’t even bend a measly bar?”

It was only then that he looked around. In one corner was a small hole, likely serving as a toilet, and a straw bed. That was it. The cell was simple and plain.

“Is this supposed to be food?”

There was one bowl just outside the cell door. Jordic stirred it with the spoon beside it and saw that it was a clumpy porridge made of flour. He didn’t need to taste it to know it would be utterly flavorless and disgusting.

“Is anyone there? Bring me someone in charge! I am Jordic, the Spear Dragon!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, but only silence responded.

“Damn it!”

Jordic kicked the wall in frustration, only to hurt his own foot as he was now weaker than a commoner. He didn’t have a sense of time because there were no windows in the cell, which made him a little stuffy. The dim lantern beyond the bars barely provided enough light to keep total darkness away, which only heightened his frustration.

And then, suddenly…

Creak.

… A door opened somewhere in the distance.

Finally, someone’s come for me. Could it be Lord Besil? Or perhaps an elder?

Jordic knew he was a prisoner, but he wasn’t really afraid. After all, he was the youngest son of the Bydent family and the Spear Dragon. He wasn’t someone that the Sefira family could dare touch. Even as a captured criminal, he had no reason to grovel. His family probably figured out the situation by now, and it was only a matter of time before he left—he would be out by today, maybe a week at most. Jordic had no doubt about it.

Clank, clank.

The sound of something being dragged grew closer, until a figure stopped just outside Jordic’s cell. To assert his confidence, Jordic stood with his back to the door, but just as he began to turn…

“Why is a damn criminal standing up so straight? It’s irritating.”

It wasn’t Besil nor an elder of Sefira.

Jordic spun around to see who it was.

“K-Keter!”

Standing outside the cell, Keter sternly said, “Jordic. It’s time for your torture.”