The Follower, Part Two

Several hundred meters away, inside the castle, Renard was fretting over the situation when two notifications suddenly appeared.

"Ding! You have successfully gained a follower with 100 loyalty. Reward: one random draw."

"Ding! The Follower System has been activated!"

At the same time, Ben, nominally his number-one lackey, nervously reported on the progress of his assignment. "Young master, look. This is Madam Tamara's pet. I went a little late yesterday, so it ended up like this."

After speaking, he timidly raised his head. Noticing Renard lost in thought, he immediately lowered it again, feeling even more uneasy. He had no idea what kind of punishment awaited him. As long as he doesn't dock my pay, he thought.

To an outsider, Renard seemed to be pondering a problem, but in truth, his attention had long since focused on the system in his mind.

"Follower: Tracy Hayden, Beginner Swordsman, loyalty 100."

"Follower: Benjimin, Intermediate Swordsman, loyalty 92."

"Follower: Tommy Hodgson, Beginner Swordsman, loyalty 86."

"Follower: Ken Hausman, Beginner Swordsman, loyalty 86."

"Follower: Raleigh Brown, Beginner Swordsman, loyalty 84."

"Follower: Ryan Perkin, Beginner Swordsman, loyalty 84."

"Follower: Albert Brewster, Beginner Swordsman, loyalty 80."

"Follower: Austin Gray, Beginner Swordsman, loyalty 79."

"Follower: Fern Fast, Beginner Swordsman, loyalty 78."

How had he gained another follower? A question surfaced in Renard's mind. Could it be that he'd unleashed his kingly aura, and now countless heroes were rushing to pledge themselves to him?

It didn't seem likely, but no matter what, this was good news.

With this follower interface, he could now clearly see his followers' strength and loyalty. From now on, anyone who dared betray him would meet a miserable end.

"Heh heh..." Renard let out two wicked chuckles, making the lackey standing opposite him tremble.

Ben thought to himself, I'm done for.

Whenever the other man came up with a "great idea" for tormenting someone, he always laughed like that. Ben feared he was about to suffer for it.

Unexpectedly, Renard didn't punish him at all. Instead, he patted Ben's shoulder with satisfaction, his eyes full of encouragement.

"Benjimin, Intermediate Swordsman, loyalty 92." Renard repeated the words to himself, looking rather pleased. He actually had a follower.

Ben was reasonably strong, and more importantly, his loyalty was high. No wonder he was, in name at least, Renard's chief lackey.

Renard treated loyal subordinates the same way Scum Renard had: with a reward. "Here! Two silver coins, for completing the assignment."

Ben caught the silver coins Renard tossed him, his mind full of questions. He looked at the roasted meat threaded onto the iron skewer, growing even more puzzled. The meat on the skewer had come from Madam Tamara's pet.

Though it was hard to make out what it had looked like originally, there was still a faint resemblance. Besides, those damned street ruffians wouldn't dare lie to him.

Did this count as completing the assignment? He glanced at the coins in his hand, then tucked them into his pocket without a qualm. If the young master said it did, then it did.

Renard came back to himself, his excitement at activating the Follower System fading as his expression turned gloomy once more.

He circled the grill several times and let out a sorrowful sigh. If he hadn't been afraid of looking too fake, he might even have squeezed out a tear or two.

He asked again, "Are you sure this is Madam Tamara's pet?"

"Yes." The lackey nodded firmly without hesitation, his expression leaving no room for doubt.

Renard's heart sank. He didn't know whether handing this thing over to Madam Tamara would count as completing the assignment. After hesitating for a while, he finally decided to throw caution to the wind. "Take it and come with me."

"Where are we going?" the lackey asked, obeying his order by picking up the iron skewer with both hands, roasted meat and all. His face was full of confusion.

Renard shot him an irritated glance and pointed at the meat. "Obviously, to return it to its owner. Oh, do you know where Madam Tamara lives?"

The corner of Ben's eye twitched, almost imperceptibly, but he didn't dare disobey. He answered honestly, "Number sixteen, Vanilla Street. That's where Madam Tamara lives."

He had clearly done his homework for this assignment. It was a basic quality every proper lackey should have. As for the fools who only knew how to put on airs behind their master's back, they were fit to be no more than household servants.

"Vanilla Street?" Renard scratched his head. "Isn't that where the wealthy people of Saint Brieuc Fortress live?"

"That's right. Everyone who lives there is a wealthy merchant or noble." Ben nodded, then proceeded to describe Vanilla Street in detail.

The two chatted as they left the castle and headed toward a nearby street.

Neither of them noticed that, shortly after they left, the two guards at the gate exchanged glances. One of them then dashed toward a nearby villa.

The whole thing had happened in silence, yet Bennett had seen it clearly from where he stood on the castle's second floor.

Bennett's stern old face remained unchanged, but a strange glint shone in his small, focused eyes. "If I remember correctly, those two guards are subordinates of Captain Huntington."

Selina, who was wiping down the tea table, didn't answer. She continued carefully with what she was doing.

"Keep a close eye on them, in case they get desperate and do something that harms young master Renard." Bennett sounded as though he were talking to himself, but he seemed more to be giving someone an instruction.

Vanilla Street was only eight hundred meters from the castle, a ten-minute walk.

Although Scum Renard was the heir to Saint Brieuc Fortress, he had become a noble's retainer as soon as he was old enough to remember, learning martial arts. He knew little about the local social scene, so he could only ask Ben about Madam Tamara's family.

Benjimin told him everything he knew. "Madam Tamara is a very unfortunate woman. Her husband died when she was thirty, and she's been a widow ever since. She has two sons. The younger one does business abroad, and the elder works at Arthur Academy."

He casually brought up another matter. "I heard she's close to Gilbert. That's only natural. If you meet a friend from your distant homeland thousands of miles away, of course you'll want to grow closer."

Renard understood the implication behind Ben's words, but only smiled without saying anything. He wouldn't go so far as to drag a poor old woman into a dispute over the inheritance.

Seeing that Renard didn't respond, Ben tactfully changed the subject. "Madam Tamara is the best tailor in Saint Brieuc Fortress. She makes clothes exclusively for nobles. For instance, that very becoming robe you're wearing was made by her."