The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

As Desmond turned around, his pupils contracted, revealing a fleeting flicker of surprise. "Please, let them in," he uttered, his voice carrying a commanding tone.

Standing behind Laura, Diana loomed with her large, piercing orange eyes fixated on her coldly. A disdainful snort escaped her as her gaze caught Desmond's attention.

In an instant, her courage dissipated, evaporating like mist in the presence of a formidable creature. A flush of crimson rushed to her cheeks, and she couldn't help but bow her head in embarrassment, resembling a wilted plant overcome with shame.

"Young master Desmond," the captain addressed, breaking the tense silence after exchanging a meaningful glance with his soldier. Frowning upon noticing Desmond's indifferent gaze towards his young lady, he continued, his voice laced with concern.

On the opposite side, the soldier, stationed resolutely before the maids, shifted to the side, allowing Laura and Annie to flank their young master. Undeterred by the soldier's glares, the maids gravitated towards their rightful place by Desmond's side.

Meanwhile, Annie derived amusement from observing the sudden transformation of this shy young lady. Though aware of their impending engagement, she discerned distinct disparities in their affections. Her young master had never mentioned this young lady before, and yet, now, it seemed she had developed an infatuation for him.

A sense of pity overwhelmed Annie as she glanced at Diana, shaking her head in silent disbelief. How could she be unaware of her young master's disposition? In the few years she had spent in his service, she had gleaned that he paid no heed to his mother's words or the notion of marriage.

Lost in her ruminations, Annie failed to notice the discomfort etching itself on her face, inadvertently casting a mocking look in Diana's direction. Inwardly, she indulged in a self-comparison, exuding an air of superiority over the young lady—an unintended display of jealousy.

Unlike Annie, Laura lacked the subtlety to conceal her emotions. Instinctively, she detected the animosity emanating from Diana, a premonition of impending ill intentions. Hence, she fixed a piercing glare upon Diana, her eyes locked onto her adversary.

Unbeknownst to either Annie or Laura, their unyielding stares at the young lady triggered a frigid transformation in the captain's eyes—a glacial shift in his regard for them.

"Miss Diana, it has been quite some time," Desmond spoke with polite formality, his annoyance barely concealed in his gaze fixed upon her. "I appreciate your assistance. Your father's power and dependability are truly commendable." Despite his acknowledgment, Desmond couldn't help but wear a wry smile, a testament to his perceived disregard.

The captain, quick-witted and perceptive, swiftly discerned Desmond's reaction and detected an unusual air surrounding his young lady. "Please forgive any discourtesy, young master. It appears the young lady is not feeling well today. You may proceed, and we shall catch up once her condition improves," the captain responded with genuine warmth, his smile emanating sincerity.

However, from Desmond's perspective, that smile appeared disingenuous, reeking of clandestine machinations. He found himself disliking it, yet he knew the importance of maintaining courtesy and decorum.

After all, it was his father who had safeguarded him throughout the entire journey.

"Are you alright, Miss Diana?" Desmond's face contorted with worry, his eyes betraying a hint of panic as he observed Diana's unresponsive demeanor.

On the other hand, Diana's fury had nearly erupted upon hearing the captain's earlier words. She had yearned to tear him apart, but all that anger dissipated upon hearing Desmond's voice.

"I'm... okay," she stammered in reply, her words trembling. She couldn't comprehend what was happening to her. Her heart pounded so loudly, she feared Desmond might hear it. Moreover, an unexplained heat surged through her body, unsettling her.

The first time Diana laid eyes on Desmond upon her arrival, she had found him to be the most strikingly handsome man she had ever encountered. In her eyes, he resembled a prince, radiating an aura of pristine charm, coupled with his penetrating gaze that pierced her very soul.

However, Diana's current state of mind troubled her. She felt an almost overwhelming urge to burst into tears, recalling the harsh words her mother had uttered. Her mother had once regaled her with tales of a group of debased women who offered their bodies to any man in a sordid tavern, employing seductive tactics to entice them.

These women exuded unbridled desire, like animals in heat, employing any means necessary to lure men into their beds. Diana vividly remembered her mother's expression of disgust and the heavy pressure she had exerted upon her shoulder, causing her to tremble.

"I understand. In that case, we shall proceed," Desmond nodded. Turning on his heel, he led his maids into Vesta's tent, choosing not to probe further, wary of his patience wearing thin.

Upon entering the tent, Desmond found Vesta seated behind his desk, his expression devoid of emotion. The tent, though not as expansive as the prisoner's quarters, comfortably accommodated five people. At the far end stood a set table and chair, while several smaller chairs were positioned in the middle.

Furthermore, wooden candle holders in the shape of forks adorned Vesta's side and the entrance, casting a soft glow.

"Greetings, Sir Vesta," Desmond greeted with a smile, his eyes meeting Vesta's unyielding gaze. Desmond noticed that Vesta's lips curled up into a wide grin.

"Welcome... Welcome... young lad," Vesta replied, his voice tinged with joy. Despite Desmond's earlier commotion, he had overheard their conversations and found satisfaction in the manner in which Desmond had conducted himself around his daughter.

"Please, take a seat, including your maids," Vesta continued, a glimmer sparkling in his eyes as he took note of the presence of Desmond's two maids. "When did your other maid arrive?" he inquired, his gaze narrowing as he focused on Annie.

Instantly, an immense pressure bore down on Annie, threatening to crush her. Yet, upon closer inspection, the sensation vanished as if it had never existed in the first place.

"This humble maid arrived this morning, while the battle was still underway, Sir Guardian," Annie replied calmly. Unfazed by the guardian's presence, she held her ground, recognizing her lady's elevated status over him.

"Excellent. Judging by appearances, you can handle yourself in a fight, can you not?" Vesta remarked, his eyes narrowing further as he detected subtle changes in Laura's expression. His suspicions seemed to be confirmed by her reaction. "If not, why would that young man have sent you here? Hahaha," he added, letting out a hearty laugh.

Vesta posed a question to himself and proceeded to answer it, eliciting a chuckle from the maids, who found his self-amusement amusing.

On the other hand, Desmond found himself dumbfounded as he looked at Vesta. The stoic Vesta he had come to know throughout their journey had suddenly vanished, replaced by the Vesta he had encountered upon his return home.

Just as Vesta finished his own jest, Desmond spoke up. "I've heard that you need assistance in clearing the path, correct?" he inquired, his words flowing forth. Seeing Vesta nod in affirmation, Desmond continued, "I've taken the liberty of requesting the aid of mercenaries, and they have agreed to lend their assistance."

Vesta was taken aback upon hearing Desmond's words. The smile on his face gradually faded, replaced by widened eyes, before he composed himself.

While Vesta was aware that Desmond's influence was the main reason the mercenaries had dispatched their best fighters, he couldn't fathom that they had merely agreed so readily after the recent battles. It had never crossed his mind that, in fact, the mercenaries had never explicitly refused to continue the journey during the previous meeting.

Bandits, beasts, ogres, and now an assassin and a shapeshifter—a combination that would exhaust and mentally drain any individual, leaving them yearning for the comfort of their homes.

Moreover, the mercenaries were notorious for their self-interest. Unless there was a substantial profit involved, they wouldn't risk their lives, unless, of course, it was mandated by a royal decree.

These thoughts brewed suspicion within Vesta's mind regarding Desmond's motives. He began to suspect that Desmond and his family harbored ill intentions toward the kingdom.

The series of encounters with the beasts, ogres, and assassins seemed too peculiar and coincidental, particularly considering that Desmond had only recently recruited soldiers. Vesta even pondered whether he himself was the true target.

Furrowing his brows, Vesta began to speak, "I see, then what is your—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Desmond interjected, calmly stating, "I simply wish to expedite the journey. The registration period for the academy concludes in a month and a half, and I have numerous preparations to make for the entrance exams."

Vesta was once again left stunned upon hearing those words. All the suspicious thoughts he had harbored about Desmond and his family suddenly vanished.

His mind started to reevaluate the situation. Considering his parents' contributions over the years, coupled with the endorsement from the former Grandmaster, it was inconceivable that they would betray the kingdom.

After enduring all the hardships and battles, Vesta had forgotten the primary purpose of their journey—to ensure Desmond's timely enrollment in the academy.

He shook his head helplessly, attributing his forgetfulness to the passage of time and aging. Perhaps his friend's and daughter's opinions had fueled his tendency to think negatively about Desmond.

The presence of the Imp had already given him a minor headache, and now, the case of the shapeshifter seemed to be draining the last vestiges of his intelligence.