When Malherb brought the two ugly men to Herbert in the now-deserted Lord's House, the face of the lord, who was nearly fifty, turned grim in an instant. He clearly knew the two men.
Seated on the table, he stared at the two bound captives and sank into a long silence.
Watching his father's dark expression, Malherb guessed that this matter was anything but simple. It had probably implicated someone in their family. Although he had expected this outcome all along, his spirits inevitably sank.
After all, whoever it was, they were family he had lived alongside for the past twenty or thirty years.
After a long while, Herbert said wearily, "Son, you handled this well. Go about your business, and remember to entertain your elven friends properly on my behalf."
Malherb knew his father was about to do something he did not want his son to witness. Sensibly, he bowed to his father and said, "I will, Father."
He turned toward the door, but Herbert's voice came from behind him again. "Malherb, don't mention this matter to anyone else!"
"I understand, Father."
Malherb then left Herbert's room. From this point on, the matter was no longer his responsibility, and he did not want to become too deeply involved. After all, he was not yet the lord of Red River Town.
A few days later, news spread among the townspeople who had yet to leave, shocking them all.
The lord's two sons had somehow broken their legs in riding accidents. Their uncle Theodore would escort them to Dale for treatment, and neither of these heirs would return until their injuries had healed.
Malherb, who had departed with a group of townspeople several days earlier, still had no idea that he had won the contest and become Red River Town's sole