Follower's Downfall

In the castle hundreds of meters away, Renard, who was worrying about the current situation, suddenly received two notifications.

"Ding dong! You have successfully gained a follower with one hundred loyalty, and you are rewarded with one random draw."

"Ding dong! Follower System activated!"

At the same time, his nominal top lackey was nervously reporting his mission progress: "Young Master, look, this is Madam Tamara's pet. I went a bit late yesterday, so it ended up like this."

After speaking, he fearfully raised his head and noticed Renard lost in thought. He immediately lowered his head again, feeling even more uneasy. He didn't know what kind of punishment awaited him. As long as it's not a pay cut, he thought.

To outsiders, Renard appeared to be contemplating a problem. In reality, his attention had long been focused on the System in his mind.

"Follower: Tracy Haydn, Novice Swordsman, Loyalty 100."

"Follower: Ben.Jamin, Intermediate Swordsman, Loyalty 92."

"Follower: Tommy Hodgson, Novice Swordsman, Loyalty 86."

"Follower: Ken Houseman, Novice Swordsman, Loyalty 86."

"Follower: Reilly Brown, Novice Swordsman, Loyalty 84."

"Follower: Ryan Perkin, Novice Swordsman, Loyalty 84."

"Follower: Albert Brewster, Novice Swordsman, Loyalty 80."

"Follower: Austin Gray, Novice Swordsman, Loyalty 79."

"Follower: Fern Fast, Novice Swordsman, Loyalty 78."

How did an extra follower appear? Renard wondered. Could it be that my overwhelming charisma has attracted countless heroes to pledge allegiance?

He thought it unlikely, but regardless, this was good news for him.

Now, through this follower interface, he clearly knew the strength and loyalty of his followers. Anyone who dared betray him in the future would surely perish without a burial place.

"Heh heh..." Renard chuckled sinisterly, scaring the lackey standing opposite him into trembling.

Ben inwardly lamented, It's over.

Because Renard would always make that sound whenever he thought of a "good idea" for pranks, he feared he was in for trouble this time!

Unexpectedly, Renard did not punish him. Instead, he patted his shoulder with satisfaction, his eyes filled with encouragement.

Ben.Jamin, Intermediate Swordsman, Loyalty 92, Renard silently recited, looking quite pleased with himself for actually having a follower.

The other party's strength was decent, and more importantly, his loyalty was high. He was indeed his nominal chief lackey.

He treated loyal subordinates the same way he treated Scum Renard: with rewards. "Here! Two silver coins, consider it a reward for completing the mission."

Ben.Jamin caught the silver coins thrown to him, his mind filled with questions. He turned to look at the roasted meat on the iron skewer, his expression becoming even more confused. This was because the roasted meat on the skewer was made from Madam Tamara's pet.

Although it no longer looked like its original form, there were still some faint similarities. Moreover, those damned street rats wouldn't dare lie to him.

Does this count as completing the mission? He looked at the silver coins in his hand, then pocketed them with a clear conscience. If the Young Master says so, then so be it.

Renard snapped out of his excitement from the follower system's activation, his expression turning gloomy once more.

He circled the grill a few times and sighed mournfully. If he weren't afraid of appearing too fake, he would have even squeezed out a tear or two.

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

"Yes." The lackey nodded without hesitation, his face showing an expression of unwavering certainty.

Renard's heart sank by half. He wondered if handing this thing over to Madam Tamara would count as completing the mission. He hesitated for a long time, finally deciding to go all out. "Take it and follow me."

"Where are we going?" The lackey obediently picked up the iron skewer with the roasted meat and asked with a face full of confusion.

Renard shot him an annoyed glance and pointed at the roasted meat. "Naturally, we're returning it to its owner. By the way, do you know where Madam Tamara lives?"

Ben's eye twitched almost imperceptibly, but he dared not disobey. He answered truthfully, "Number sixteen Vanilla Street, Madam Tamara lives there."

He had clearly put a lot of effort into this task. This was a basic quality a qualified lackey should possess. As for those fools who only knew how to put on airs behind their masters, they could at best be considered house servants.

"Vanilla Street?" Renard scratched his head. "Isn't that the affluent area of Saint Brieuc Fortress?"

"That's right. The people living there are all wealthy merchants and nobles," Ben nodded, then proceeded to recount the situation on Vanilla Street like he was reciting a family treasure.

The two chatted as they left the castle and walked towards the nearby street.

Neither of them noticed that shortly after they left, the two guards at the entrance exchanged glances. One of them then sprinted towards a villa not far away.

Although all this happened silently, Bennett, standing on the second floor of the castle, saw it clearly.

Bennett maintained his stern old face, his focused small eyes sparkling with an inexplicable light. "If I recall correctly, those two guards are subordinates of Captain Huntington."

Selina, who was wiping the coffee table, did not reply, diligently continuing her task.

"We need to keep a close watch, in case they get desperate and do something detrimental to Young Master Renard," Bennett seemed to be talking to himself, but it was more like he was instructing someone.

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

Although Scum Renard was the heir of Saint Brieuc Fortress, he had been studying martial arts as a noble squire since he could remember. He knew very little about local customs and social affairs, so he could only rely on Ben to understand Madam Tamara's family situation.

The lackey Ben.Jamin answered everything he knew. "Madam Tamara is a very pitiful woman. She lost her husband at thirty and has been a widow ever since. She has two sons. The younger son is doing business elsewhere, and the elder son works at Arthur Academy."

He brought up a matter intentionally or unintentionally. "I heard that he is very close to Gilbert. It's only natural; when you meet a friend from a distant homeland thousands of miles away, you'll naturally want to be close."

Renard understood the implication behind his words but merely smiled, saying nothing more. He wasn't so heartless as to implicate a pitiful old woman over inheritance matters.

Seeing that Renard had no comment, the lackey wisely changed the subject. "Madam Tamara is the best tailor in Saint Brieuc Fortress. She only makes clothes for nobles. For example, the very fitting robe you are wearing now was made by her."

If you find this book good, remember to add it to your bookshelf to avoid losing it next time.