Ainz Ooal Gown: Noble Knight

Later he realized that it wasn't laughter, but a silence deeper than crying.

Their home was in a small village on the border of the kingdom.

My mother was the most beautiful girl here—beautiful, kind, and pure. But it was precisely this beauty that led to her being raped by the landowner, the baron who only came to inspect the area occasionally.

Ahab was born under these circumstances, taking his mother's surname, as his mother lived alone in the family.

Despite having such sinful blood flowing through her veins, the mother still gave Ahab her love without reservation.

She put the few rations she had into Ahab's bowl, saying that she wasn't hungry.

With her meager income, she mended clothes for Ahab, the light of the oil lamp casting her shadow on the mud wall, swaying gently.

During the coldest part of winter, she covered Ahab with the only blanket, leaving half of her body exposed, her breath condensing into a thin layer of frost in the darkness.

The village children only knew that Ahab was a fatherless bastard and someone easy to bully.

They threw stones at him, called him a bastard, and called his mother a defiled slut.

Ahab couldn't defeat four or five of them by himself, so he could only crouch on the ground, covering his head and letting the stones hit him.

Every time this happened, my mother would rush out of the house. She ran very fast, her skirt billowing in the wind like a tattered flag.

She rushed into the group of children, bent down, and shielded Ahab with her body.

A stone struck her back with a dull thud. She didn't move, but simply held Ahab tighter.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said, her voice trembling, but she tried to appear calm. “Mom is here.”

Ahab hated his weak mother. So kind as to be submissive, never even putting up a fight. But he also hated himself, hated being forced to crouch on the ground, hated needing to be protected like this.

One day, Ahab finally learned about his origins from the village elders.

The old man told him in a sympathetic tone that his father was the baron of this territory, a man with a wife, children, and a happy family in the capital.

His mother was merely a plaything for that man's fleeting whim.

Ahab stood there, motionless.

On what grounds?

Why does that man live a respectable life in the capital, while his mother is bullied in this village? Why does that man have happiness, while his mother doesn't even have a decent piece of clothing?

As Ahab grew up, perhaps out of a change of heart, the old baron gradually gained control of part of the village.

He didn't retaliate against the children who had beaten him; he had bigger ambitions.

He managed the village very well. The irrigation ditches were repaired, the field ridges were redrawn, and the harvests got better year after year.

Commoners, adventurers, and even some minor nobles who were passing by all noticed the changes in the village.

They saw neat rows of fields, clear irrigation ditches, and granaries piled high with wheat. They saw the once numb faces regaining their color.

Ahamere's reputation for honesty, kindness, and wisdom gradually spread throughout the capital.

Upon hearing this, the baron sent men to bring Ahab back to the capital.

Ahab met his father for the first time.

The old baron sat in his study, looking at the boy who bore some resemblance to himself, yet was far more handsome than he had been in his youth, and remained silent for a long time.

Then he made a decision that was against the rules of the nobility: he kept the illegitimate child by his side.

Of course, there was gossip among the noble circles of the capital. An illegitimate child, from the countryside, whose mother was a lowly village woman.

These words drifted like the wind through banquets and salons.

But Ahab's integrity, kindness, and excellence quickly silenced the gossip. The nobles began to praise the young man's talent, and even the royal family had heard of him.

The baron felt more and more that the title should be left to his eldest son, and Ahab became increasingly favored and powerful.

But Ahab did not forget his mother.

He wanted to go back to the village and bring his mother to the capital. He wanted her to live in a spacious and bright mansion, to wear soft and clean clothes, and to live with her head held high, with dignity.

The weather was lovely on the way back with my mother.

The carriage moved slowly along the dirt road, its wheels creaking rhythmically as they rolled over the gravel.

The mother sat in the carriage, lifting a corner of the curtain, and looked out at the vast fields rushing past. She had never been to such a far place before.

The people around him were still complimenting Yaha.

"Your Excellency has a discerning eye."

"Young Master Ahab has a bright future ahead of him."

"When Madam arrives in the capital, she will surely live a life that everyone envies."

Ahab felt a surge of satisfaction as he listened to these words. He had indeed succeeded; he was about to give his mother a better life.

Just as Ahab was envisioning the future, a group of mercenaries attacked.

Shouts of battle erupted from the woods on both sides of the road, the whistling of arrows piercing the air. The guards drew their swords to meet the enemy, but they were too few in number to stop the dark figures surging in from all directions.

Ahab's men were insufficient to resist. He pulled his mother off the carriage and ran into the woods by the roadside.

His mother couldn't run fast; years of hard work in the village had taken a toll on her body. Yaha held her hand, feeling her breathing grow heavier and her steps more unsteady.

"Aha, you go first."

"Don't speak!" Ahab gritted his teeth, gripping his mother's hand even tighter.

He heard footsteps getting closer and closer behind him, and the faint creaking sound of a bowstring being drawn taut.

A hail of arrows flew over.

At this final moment, Ahab relinquished all his ambitions.

All those obsessions about titles and status shattered at that moment, as if they had never existed.

He turned around and pulled his mother into his arms.

The arrow pierced his body.

A tingling pain, carrying the smell of rust, spread from his back. Ahab's body shuddered, but he did not fall.

He used his last bit of strength to stand firm and hugged the small, trembling body in his arms.

Just like when I was a child, my mother protected me.

“Don’t be afraid,” Ahab said.

His voice was trembling, but he tried his best to appear calm.

"I'm here."

His mother trembled violently in his arms, making a broken sound.

Ahab lowered his head and buried his face in his mother's hair.

At that time, he hated his mother's weakness.

Now he understands.

That's not cowardice; it's the courage of someone willing to bend down for another.

Ahab began to regret learning about his origins.

If he hadn't known from the beginning, perhaps he could at least have lived a poor but happy life with his mother.

Ahab's arms gradually lost strength, and his body slid down little by little. His mother caught him in her arms, holding him very tightly, as if she wanted to melt herself into his bones and blood, just like many years ago.

“Aha…Aha…”

His mother called his name, over and over again.

"Mother……"

But he had no strength left.

The boy died.

Chapter 66 Seeds

When news of the baron's bastard son's murder reached the capital, Rune astutely recognized this as an opportunity to exploit.

Not much operation is required.

All it takes is adding a little bit of fabricated rumor to this real event.

Only when lies and truth are intertwined can the most authentic falsehood be woven.

The sound of rain pattering against the windows of the reception room.

Rune sat by the window, the black tea beside him had gone cold.

He gazed at the street scene blurred by the rain outside the window, his brows furrowed slightly, as if he were still immersed in the gloom brought by that news.

"This was done by the 'Death-Spreading Sword Gang'."

Rune's voice wasn't loud, but it sounded exceptionally clear in the small reception room.

Sebastian sat opposite him, hands on his knees, back ramrod straight. Hearing this, he frowned slightly but remained silent.

"What a pity." Rune withdrew his gaze, looked down at the cup of black tea in front of him that had stopped steaming, and a bitter smile appeared on his lips.

"If I had wiped them out sooner, perhaps this tragedy wouldn't have happened."

Rune spoke softly, as if he were talking to himself.

Those light green eyes were now filled with self-reproach.

He was someone accustomed to taking responsibility, and his reaction upon hearing the bad news was natural. His brows furrowed slightly, his lips pressed into a thin line, and even his shoulders slumped a little.

He was silent for a moment, then spoke again. His fingertips gently caressed the glaze of the teacup, as if the lingering warmth there could offer him some comfort.

“I’ve heard about that young man.”

"Although he was born out of wedlock, he managed the village very well. He never hesitated to help those in need in the village."

He paused, looked up, and gazed at the gray rain outside the window.

"Such a righteous and kind person deserved a better ending."

Rune looked out the window; rainwater trickled down the glass, blurring his profile.