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In the inner castle of Orendel, Ian walked down the dimly lit hall. Upon entering the inner castle, his first action was to search the bedrooms of the Marquess and his heir. No one attempted to stop him since they recognized him as a knight of Tir En and also because they were too preoccupied with their own tasks.
Declan was busy undergoing the formalities to inherit the marquess’s title and the governance of the land. Meanwhile, the mercenaries were occupied with sorting the Marquess and his heir's loyalists, identifying traitors, and dealing with them—a de facto purge following the successful coup.
"The smell of blood seems to reach even here," Philip commented as he followed behind.
Ian responded nonchalantly, "It might soon be overshadowed by the stench of decay, which would be preferable, I suppose."
"...However, sir, wouldn't it be better not to delve further today? There's been a battle, and searching the rooms of the Marquess and his heir should suffice for now. The evidence won't run away on its own, will it?"
"That's a possibility, given the castle is swarming with thieves.”
"...Ah." Philip sighed, recalling the mercenaries.
As they entered a spiral staircase leading downward, Ian continued, "Today, everyone's drunk on a shallow sense of justice or duty, but tomorrow will be different. If the evidence falls into the wrong hands, it'll only become a nuisance for us."
"Indeed. Whatever may be hidden, we should collect everything. Honestly, I find it hard to...
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