That not so important character turned out to be important

Vance, Marcus, and Gareth, chained and bloodied, were dragged into the opulent room of Count Heron's estate.

"Master, we have brought them. They were hiding near a remote village, but we apprehended them. They even resisted and killed some of our men. In the end, the captain had to subdue them," reported the stern-faced man who delivered them.

Count Heron, meticulously piecing together a puzzle at his ornate desk, glanced up with a cold, calculating gaze. "Do you know why I bother to bring you here? After all I did for you—a ragtag band of mercenaries—this is how you repay me?"

Vance, trembling with fear and bearing the marks of a severe beating, stammered, "Lord, please believe us. We had nothing to do with the fire. The villagers falsely accused us and were the ones who attacked us first. I swear it, sir." Gareth and Marcus, equally battered, nodded silently in agreement.

Count Heron leaned back, his eyes narrowing. "Does it matter? Even if you had set the fire, it wouldn't have been an issue. The real problem is that you fled instead of informing me. I was lucky enough to suppress the situation before it spiraled out of control. Do you know what would have happened if this incident, with my name attached, had made the headlines? Why did you run? You should have annihilated the town and pinned it accident. But to think that mercenaries under me couldn't handle mere civilians. I feel like a fool."

Marcus pleaded, "Give us another chance. We can make it right."

Count Heron sneered, "Oh, you'll make it right? How? By turning back time? Your only task was to do the dirty work by any means necessary."

Marcus promised, "We can still do it. I swear, we'll do anything. Just give us a chance. We'll even make that boy give everything—his soul, his body—everything to you, sir."

Vance echoed, "Yes, Lord. Just give us a chance. We'll make it happen, whatever it takes."

Count Heron, his annoyance growing, shouted, "You fools! Even if you could do something, it wouldn't matter. That boy is hosting the entire town in his mansion. Acting discreetly is impossible unless..." He paused abruptly.

"Throw these men in the dungeon. If I can't find a use for them, sell them as slaves," he ordered coldly.

As they were taken away, Count Heron muttered to himself, "This close, and I could have been in a disaster. Hey Ralph, did you discover who actually caused the fire? Given their resistance to the allegations, it's unlikely they were responsible. Most of the people were from that town; they wouldn't burn their own homes. And even if a gang did it, the scale of the destruction is too big for their doing. Plus, what would they gain from blaming a mercenary group funded by me? In that area, Everyone knows they work under me. Did someone want revenge on them? The incident is too significant to be the work of an ordinary person."

Captain Ralph, standing at attention, replied, "Yes, sir. There's another thing troubling me. All of this occurred on the same day they went to target the boy, Shaun. The man they sent, Jim, didn't return that night as well. That's the first . Second, the events removed the Gafnar Knights out of the picture, and then the townspeople took refuge in Shaun's mansion making targeting him without making noise hard. It all points to the boy. He's the only one who gained the most out of all these."

Count Heron pondered, "Are you suggesting that boy is behind all this? How is it possible? I've seen more dangerous people , and even they couldn't orchestrate something of this magnitude within very same day."

Ralph clarified, "I'm not suggesting he did it alone, but he might have allies who did all these to protecte him. This is the only plausible theory for now."

Count Heron, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, mused, "Yes, you may be right. But it doesn't matter. In the end, no matter how much a fish struggles, it is destined for the plate." 

Count Heron tapped his finger on a specific spot on the map. "The Eyes of Symphony. A mere D-rank artifact which can help me with my goal."

Ralph shifted, folding his arms across his chest. "And you're certain it's hidden in Shaun's estate? The boy doesn't seem like he knows anything valuable is in his possession."

Heron scoffed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Of course he doesn't. He's a fool, barely scraping by, clinging to that crumbling mansion. But the artifact… it's there. My sources are certain."

His finger traced a line toward a marked location: Shaun's estate. "Imagine it, Ralph. An artifact that can find anyone, anywhere. With it, I'll do what even kings fail at—locating Lady Dorothy's daughter. The old knight commander is owed that much after what she sacrificed."

Ralph's brow furrowed, sensing more to Heron's ambitions than simple loyalty. "And finding her will… what? Earn you favor with the royal family?"

Heron chuckled darkly. "It's not just about favors. I owe her much myself. She is like a second mother to me. I'd like to help her, but I would be lying if I said I don't have personal motives as well. It's about power, influence. With Dorothy's gratitude, doors will open. More importantly, I can expand my reach. It will secure my position and my empire."

He gestured to a map of the region, eyes gleaming with ambition. "And Shaun's land? The perfect place to use as cover. Its location is ideal for every kind of operation—smuggling, trade, whatever I need. The boy's property will become the beating heart of my empire."

Ralph nodded slowly. "You plan to achieve all that in one move?"

Heron's smile widened. "Exactly. But subtlety is key. I can't storm the place without raising suspicions right now. We'll wait for the right time—he'll have no choice but to yield."

Ralph's lips curled into a satisfied grin. "Understood, my lord. I'll make sure everything runs smoothly."

Heron nodded, turning his gaze back to the map. His mind was already calculating the next steps. Securing the artifact was just the beginning. The future he envisioned was within his grasp, and no one would stand in his way.

He walked away, deep in thought. As he approached the grand staircase, he was greeted by a delightful sight that momentarily lightened his mood.

"Uncle Heron!" a cheerful voice called out. A young girl, Lila, no older than seven, with bright eyes and cascading black curls, ran towards him. She was holding a small, hand-sewn doll in one hand and flowers in the other.

Count Heron's stern expression softened instantly. He knelt down to her level, his eyes filled with genuine warmth. "Lila, my little star! What brings you here?"

Lila giggled and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "I was playing in the garden and picked these flowers for you!" She held up a small bouquet of freshly picked wildflowers, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the somber mood of the estate.

Heron's heart melted at her innocent gesture. He gently took the flowers and smiled. "They are beautiful, just like you, Lila. Thank you."

She beamed with pride. "Uncle, will you play with me? I've learned a new dance, and I want to show you! And I made cookie just for you," she said, handing him the treat from her pocket.

Count Heron stood up, holding her hand. "Of course, my dear. Show me this new dance of yours."

Lila led him to a sunny corner of the grand hall, where she twirled and skipped with the grace and joy only a child could possess. Her laughter echoed through the hall, and for a moment, all the troubles weighing on Count Heron's shoulders seemed to vanish. He clapped along, his stern demeanor replaced by the warmth and affection he reserved only for his niece.

As she finished her dance with a grand flourish, she ran back to him, breathless and beaming. "Did you like it, Uncle?"

Heron scooped her up in his arms and kissed her forehead. "I loved it, Lila. You are a wonderful dancer."

Holding her close, he walked towards the garden, her joyous chatter filling his heart with an unexpected peace. He couldn't help but reflect on the past. His brother and sister-in-law, Lila's parents, had tragically died in an accident, leaving him to care for this precious child. Despite the burdens of his position and the dark deeds he often had to commit, Lila was his light, his reason for holding onto a shred of humanity.

They walked through the garden, Count Heron allowing himself a rare moment . "Lila, do you know how much you mean to me?" he asked softly.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, sensing the seriousness in his tone. "I love you too, Uncle Heron," she said simply, her innocence bringing a tear to his eye.

He smiled through the emotion, pulling her closer. "You are my precious little star, and I will always protect you. No matter what happens, you will always be safe with me."

As they continued their walk, the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the garden. They sat down on a bench, Lila leaning against her uncle, content and happy.

A shadow passed over his face, a fleeting premonition of the misfortunes that might be lurking just beyond the horizon.