Ⅴ
At the steward's question, Count Bernaken couldn't help rubbing his brow.
The Old Count could draw his sword and face ten Trolls head-on, but he had no idea how to persuade a noble who wasn't quite right in the head.
Especially when that abnormality had long since been branded into her bloodline. That made it even more of a headache.
He really wanted to go home and play Gwent!
Why did he still have to run around working when he was already retired?
Why had that woman shown up again after disappearing for so long?
Couldn't she just stay hidden and wait until he was dead before coming out?
At least then, he wouldn't have to deal with the headache!
As the Old Count's servant and apprentice, Lynn had spent nearly thirty years with him. One glance told him what his master was thinking.
The steward immediately spoke-
"My lord, you are a Witcher!"
"Retired."
"My lord, you are South County's last Witcher Master!"
"Retired."
"My lord, are you really willing to let those fellows from North County laugh at you?"
"Retired."
"My lord, are you going to forget the traditions of the Witchers?"
"Retired."
Faced with the questions from his apprentice and servant, the Old Count spread his hands and gave the same utterly firm answer again and again.
He was retired!
Why did he still have to do all this?
Would he have gone to visit Windsor if he weren't honoring their traditions?
"Ah!"
With a sigh, the Old Count leaned back in his seat and looked up at the carriage roof.
Years of wear had smoothed the wooden roof, though it had no luster. In a book of miscellaneous notes, he had once read that, during the Empire's era, certain nobles spent enormous amounts of effort