Medieval Gacha Lord

"How long has it been?" Fringilla opened her eyes.

The familiar furnishings of the room immediately told her she was in their lodgings at the Oak and Hazel inn. The dizziness in her head was still severe.

If an ordinary mage overexerted all their magical power at once, it could very well leave serious sequelae, even brain death.

Even with a vampire's powerful constitution, she still needed a long period of recuperation to awaken.

She subconsciously licked her lips; a sweet taste made her somewhat entranced.

"Where's Milord?"

'I'm in this state, and he doesn't even leave someone to take care of me?' A sense of aggrievement, like wild grass, grew robustly in Fringilla's heart.

Footsteps gradually approached. She hurriedly closed her eyes again, feigning unconsciousness.

Lothar placed the freshly baked honey cake, sprinkled with nuts, on the table, looking with some worry at the still-unconscious Fringilla.

Fringilla liked chocolate, which proved she probably liked sweets, so he had specifically borrowed an oven and, relying on memories from his past life, baked a cake that tasted reasonably decent.

"Why isn't Fringilla awake yet?" Lothar sighed lightly. There was a faint, already healed wound on his wrist. "Isn't it said that potent blood is a great tonic for vampires? Or is Dragonborn blood not good for vampires? I've already fed her three times."

Banu frowned slightly but said nothing.

Lothar stood up. "I'm going to the privy. Banu, watch Fringilla for me for a moment."

"I must accompany you."

Lothar met Banu's brown eyes somewhat awkwardly. "It's just the privy. I'll be back quickly. Nothing should happen in such a short time, right?"

Banu said in a low voice, "You previously said you could protect yourself before we arrived, but facts prove you cannot. So, you must do as I say." Her attitude was very firm.

The system's notification sound suddenly chimed.

[Your Epic retainer, Fringilla's, affection towards you has increased.]

Lothar paused, then looked at Fringilla, still pale-faced and unconscious, somewhat puzzled. 'To get an affection increase notification, Fringilla should have woken up already, right?'

Just then, Banu had already risen and walked into the corridor. She said to Lothar, "Let's go. I won't stare at your... critical parts. To me, they aren't anything particularly worth peeking at anyway."

Fringilla couldn't hold back any longer and burst out cursing, "Nonsense! You old pervert! Staring even when Milord goes to the privy! Have you no shame at all?"

A slight smile touched the corners of Banu's lips. She said in a low voice, "Still a bit more shame than a little bat who pretends to be unconscious even when she's awake."

Lothar let out a long sigh of relief. "So you were faking. I was wondering what went wrong."

"Milord, did you feed me your blood?"

"Mm. After killing the evil god, I coincidentally obtained a Dragonborn bloodline. Banu said this kind of blood is a great tonic for vampires and can alleviate your injuries."

Fringilla said somewhat shyly, "Th-thank you."

Lothar ruffled her soft white hair, a trace of indulgence unconsciously entering his tone. "It's what I should do. Eat the cake. Try my handiwork."

Just then, a clamor arose from outside the window. Lothar glanced out and saw that the knights of the Royal Knights, crowding around Pepin, who was about to duel the Montreal knight that had insulted the Royal Knights' battle record last night.

He had no interest in watching. Among Montreal's knights, very few were highly skilled in martial arts; that pimply-faced knight, who had several times shown signs of guilt and cowardice, was clearly not one of them. In this battle, Pepin was certain to win.

Banu urged, "Milord, didn't you want to go to the privy?"

Lothar was surprised. "Weren't you just saying that deliberately to tease Fringilla?"

A hint of speechlessness flashed in Banu's beautiful large eyes. "Milord, do you think I am such an idle person with so much leisure?"

Fringilla argued vehemently, "No! Absolutely not! This is too shameful! You big dummy, you haven't considered Milord's dignity at all! He is the liege lord we serve! How can you see those indecent scenes?"

Lothar felt that what little urge to urinate he had had already been suppressed. The mere thought of being stared at while urinating brought on a wave of embarrassment so intense he felt like the earth would split open and swallow him whole.

"Milord, Saladin's envoy has arrived." Hans's voice sounded opportunely from outside the door.

Lothar let out a long sigh of relief, thinking inwardly, 'Hans truly is my most vital subordinate, always saving me from dire straits.' He quickly said, "Have them come see me."

Lothar went to the top-floor room where Zahir was being held. Hearing the commotion, Zahir, lying on the bed, lifted his eyes slightly. "What, have the people to ransom me arrived already?"

"Correct." He nimbly leaped up with a flip, a trace of joy on his face. "Excellent! I must say, this place of yours is truly boring. You won't even give me a pretty maidservant."

Lothar said coldly, "It's all for your safety. News that you've been captured by us has already leaked out. You should know how many people in this city hate you to the bone."

Zahir had led troops to plunder several villages attached to Montreal; these were the fiefs of many knights in this city and the hometowns of their sergeants.

Zahir said with utter indifference, "That's a problem for you to consider, not me."

The room door was pushed open. A Saracen dressed as a merchant, his face darkened by the sun, walked in.

"Baron Lothar, I am my King's envoy. I have brought the ransom you requested. Your cavalry are currently inspecting it." The envoy placed his hand on his left shoulder and bowed to Lothar.

Lothar made a sign of the cross before him. "Envoy, please be seated. If the amount is correct, I will naturally let Prince Zahir leave with you."

Prince Zahir glanced at him, his face somewhat grim, and said in a low voice, "Why did 'you' come?"

The envoy smiled. "As your own uncle, how could I not be concerned for your safety? So, naturally I had to come personally."

"You are... Sayf al-Din?" Lothar said with some surprise.

The envoy smiled. "Baron Lothar, as someone who has impersonated me, surely you know my appearance?"

Lothar frowned and said, "Aren't you afraid I might take the opportunity to capture you too?"

Sayf al-Din smiled. "My King once said that although Count Werner was ruthless and cruel, he was a man of his word. I believe his son is the same."

"You flatter me." Lothar nodded slightly. He indeed had no intention of making a move on Sayf al-Din. This was a formidable enemy, but not one worth Lothar risking an unending feud with Saladin to assassinate.

Hans entered the room and whispered in Lothar's ear, "The amount is correct, and the quality is excellent. Two thousand Solidi, not one coin less."

Lothar nodded. "In that case, Lord Sayf al-Din, as promised, I will let you and Prince Zahir leave."

Sayf al-Din nodded slightly. "Baron Lothar, thank you for honoring your agreement. If the will of the Holy Fire dictates that we must fight each other, when I capture you on the battlefield next time, I will generously grant you your freedom."

Lothar said with conviction, "If it were me, I would definitely kill you. You deciding to grant me freedom means you do not consider me a threat. Me deciding to kill you if I get the chance means I recognize you as the Kingdom's greatest threat."

Sayf al-Din was taken aback and subconsciously said, "No, I am not! My King is!" He subconsciously glanced at Zahir beside him, who was staring at him with a dissatisfied expression.

Sayf al-Din said with some resignation, "Since when did the Franks, who are considered barbarians, also start playing word games?"

Lothar smiled. "May the Holy Fire protect you, Governor Sayf al-Din, the most respectable and also most terrifying opponent in the Zoroastrian world whom I acknowledge."

Though meant as praise, Sayf al-Din felt as if it were a sword coated in deadly poison.

He waved his hand at Lothar then rose. "Farewell, sharp-tongued Frank."

Watching Sayf al-Din depart, Lothar instructed, "Have men keep a close eye on them. I suspect this Sayf al-Din has other plans in Montreal."

Hans immediately accepted the order and left.