Chapter 10
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: The Duke of the North Heads to the Holy Capital
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Holy Capital Assembly.
The moment Eline uttered those words, memories I'd forgotten came flooding back.
Me becoming the heir to the Bilheim family, running away only to be caught by the Pope and dragged back, being chosen by the holy sword, and ultimately becoming the Duke of the North...
The beginning of it all.
My father, Duke Palthion, and my four brothers had been on their way to attend the Holy Capital Assembly when they were ambushed and killed by the White Dragon.
According to the letter, the rescheduled date for the Holy Capital Assembly was three weeks from now.
"Considering the travel time to the Holy Capital... we don't have much time left. You should depart no later than two or three days from now."
"...Do I have to go?"
"Pardon?"
"I've got a mountain of work to do right now, and attending the Holy Capital Assembly means I'd have to be away for at least three months straight."
The current state of the Bilheim territory could be bluntly described as a total mess.
The economy had plummeted straight through the basement floor.
The Northern Army, once renowned for its bravery and loyalty, was now like a hollow shell on the brink of collapse, reminiscent of Rome's final days.
And to top it off, diplomacy was in ruins, leaving us ostracized by the surrounding territories.
Truth be told, my ancestors before my father weren't exactly model rulers either,
but they weren't as disastrously incompetent as him, so the territory had managed to limp along thanks to the efforts of other vassals and officials.
The problem was... my father, Duke Palthion, had four sons just like him—utterly incompetent and vicious.
Those four sons, desperate for achievements to win the succession race, meddled and interfered in nearly every aspect of territory management to rack up accomplishments.
And rather than reining them in, my father proudly encouraged them, saying they had his "daring spirit."
Duke Palthion and his four sons.
Thanks to the monumental disasters piled up by this Northern Quintet of villains, the Northern Territory was now enduring unprecedented hardship.
"You know that too, Eline. We're barely keeping our heads above water as it is, and if I leave too..."
"Indeed. The territory's situation has only just started improving since Your Grace took over, and your prolonged absence would undoubtedly burden its operations."
"Right? That's why I was planning to just say no."
"Will that be alright? It's a personal summons from His Holiness the Pope..."
"It'll be fine. His Holiness will understand."
Connections are for times like these.
The Pope was my fan now, right?
Even if I refused to attend, a single line in the reply letter—“I had no choice, for the sake of the territory”—would be enough to move Mercadie to tears at my devotion.
"Anyway, that's settled, so prepare a reply. Get some stationery and a quill..."
Knock knock.
-Pardon the intrusion, Your Grace. It's Henriotte.
"Come in."
The head butler Henriotte entered, bowed politely, and handed me another letter.
"What's this?"
"A letter addressed to you, Your Grace."
I examined the envelope front and back, but there were no notable markings.
"No sender listed... Who sent it?"
"I, uh, opened it first to check the contents..."
"Oh? What's it say?"
"It might be faster if you read it yourself."
The butler replied with an awkward expression.
"...?"
What could be in it?
I opened the envelope and read the single sheet inside.
To Robertus, from Mercadie.
Some things weren't suitable for the official letter, so I'm sending this unofficial one separately in secret.
I know the current state of the Northern Territory, and given your care for the people, you'd naturally prioritize it over the Holy Capital Assembly.
However, as noted in the official letter, the reconvened Holy Capital Assembly has added an agenda item: the subjugation of the "White Dragon."
And naturally, public opinion in the Holy Capital holds that you, Robertus Bilheim, the successor to the previous Duke of the North who suffered at its hands, must attend.
Even without that reason, it's hard to imagine the Northern Army sitting out such a crucial dragon-slaying operation.
Hm.
...Truth be told, I did try to accommodate you as much as possible.
I subtly suggested to the ministers that given the chaos in the Northern Territory, it might be better to delay summoning you until you've sorted it out,
but... your father's reputation is... well, you know.
Constant friction with the Holy Capital, rampaging through neighboring territories...
As a result, they all seem to think this time they need to summon the newly appointed Duke of the North—you—to the Holy Capital ahead of time for a proper "vetting."
In any case, it would be best if you attended this Holy Capital Assembly.
If you don't, who knows what retaliation they might unleash... It could bring even greater calamity to your already struggling territory.
I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help.
But within my power, I'll support whatever you need, so don't hesitate to reach out anytime.
See you in the Holy Capital. That's all.
"...That damn bastard of a father."
"Your Grace. I understand your feelings, but please maintain the dignity befitting a duke."
Having read the letter, Henriotte and I shared a moment of perfect understanding,
"?"
while Eline, unaware of the contents, looked back and forth between us in confusion.
"Looks like I have to go to the Holy Capital after all."
I sighed and set down the quill I was holding.
"I don't know what was in that letter to change your mind so suddenly, but... understood. I'll begin preparations immediately."
"Thanks, Eline. And Henriotte."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"While I'm away from the Northern Territory, can you serve as acting family head once more?"
"If it's your command, Your Grace, I shall gladly obey."
Our reliable head butler, Henriotte, replied with a resolute expression.
...Hmm.
Still, just in case, maybe I should lay down some extra insurance.
Call it doping him up a bit.
"Henriot te."
I rose from the office chair and walked toward him.
"Y-Yes?"
Henriot te looked flustered as I stood right in front of him.
I placed my hands on both his shoulders.
"I'm counting on you for the Northern Territory."
"...!"
"I know it's no easy task. But with me having to head to the Holy Capital, and Eline needed to assist me... you're the only one I can rely on."
I gazed at him with utmost sincerity.
"Can you protect this territory and my people in my stead while I'm gone?"
"...Lord Robertus. Even in this situation, your concern for the Bilheim territory..."
The old butler choked up with emotion.
"Yes! Even if it costs my life, I will safeguard the Northern Territory while you're away!"
"Thank you. But no need to go that far. Who would I lean on without my head butler?"
I patted his shoulders once more before returning to my seat.
"I'd like to be alone for a bit."
"Understood. Lady Eline, let's return to our duties. We have new tasks ahead, after all."
With that, the two departed.
Now, only I remained in the office.
-Master! Done with work?
And a single talking holy sword.
'No. Wait.'
-Hing...
I silenced the holy sword, then sank deep into the office chair and stared up at the ceiling.
'In the end, I became the Duke of the North, huh.'
It was as if fate itself was dead set on making me the Duke of the North no matter what,
weaving coincidences upon coincidences until I finally ascended to the position.
I took stock of my current situation.
1.
First, my public image.
Robertus Bilheim. Fifth son of the Bilheim Grand Duchy.
Lived over twenty years as a drunken prodigal, then became heir after his father and brothers' sudden deaths.
As if mocking the skeptical gazes questioning if he was fit for Duke of the North,
he appeared at the succession ceremony escorting the Pope himself, broke the 150-year curse sealing the holy sword, and was acknowledged as its master.
A true prodigal's return.
The Northern Territory's people rejoiced that a proper leader had finally emerged.
Henriot te was the prime example.
Moved by my appearance at the succession ceremony, he had fully converted to the Robertus loyalist camp.
Meanwhile, neighboring territories and nobles eyed me warily—the sudden upstart who cozied up to the Pope and claimed the Northern Duke title.
2.
So, what about my actual abilities?
Martial prowess? Zilch.
Even my diehard fan Henriot te,
-No helping it. We'll take it slow, one step at a time.
couldn't hide his troubled expression at my subpar training results every session.
After repeated training, my physical abilities had barely reached average, and I had zero combat sense, naturally.
What about the Holy Sword Aurelion?
Of course, the holy sword was a divine artifact, granting immense power to its wielder.
Truly all-purpose.
It temporarily boosted the user's physical abilities, released holy power in aura-like forms akin to a swordmaster's blade energy,
and boasted countless utilities like exorcism and wound healing—Holy Sword Aurelion.
The issue was that I wasn't a vessel capable of containing that power.
I once tested its holy sword energy in the back mountains by swinging her.
The result was astonishing.
Even I, who couldn't properly awaken mana let alone aura, cleaved down every tree in a dozens-of-meters radius with a single swing.
And then I collapsed.
According to Eline who came to my rescue, I looked like a fish dried crisp in the sun.
Completely drained, it took me a full week to recover.
Her later explanation: the sword supplied the required holy power itself, so the user only bore minor physical strain as a conduit.
-Master... you're really pathetic, huh?
Even that test's output was near minimum, yet my body couldn't handle even that.
Leadership?
Sure, in my past life I'd taken management classes and served as class president or student council head.
My father had even started teaching me business virtues, intending to hand over the company someday.
But could that qualify me as Duke of the North?
It's like handing the vice-ministry of economy to a fresh econ grad—same difference.
In simple terms, my current stats were those of a college student adapted to fantasy life. Nothing more, nothing less.
3.
The internal and external situation surrounding my Northern Territory was equally dire.
I already explained the inside; the outside relations were a disaster too.
Our esteemed father had pillaged transport carriages heading to other territories under the pretext of military supply procurement, and such nuisances had severed exchanges with neighbors.
Even setting aside his misdeeds, I'd already drawn massive aggro from my debut.
Vigilance, jealousy, watchful waiting, checks.
The nobles' and high priests' feelings toward me.
Not long into my tenure, no major incidents yet, but give them an opening, and they'd act on those sentiments anytime.
I, the Duke of the North, and my Bilheim territory were tightrope-walking between the rotting internal mess and diplomatic chaos.
4.
So, has Robertus Bilheim given up?
"Don't make me laugh."
Fate was hell-bent on making me Duke of the North, and it succeeded.
God? Nah, felt more like fate—grander somehow.
Okay, listen up, you bastard fate.
The day I dreamed my humble dream of loafing forever, you grabbed me by the hair and forced me into this seat.
Congrats, you win.
...This time.
Life's a best-of-three.
Game's not over yet.
I will absolutely achieve it.
Lounging on the southern continent's beaches, basking in the sun, sipping palm fruit juice—my dream retirement life.
First off, I became Duke of the North. Irreversible fact.
No more running.
That'd just bring a betrayed Pope to lop off my head personally.
So, what to do? How can I retire as Duke of the North?
"If refusing the test is impossible, just solve the problems as fast as possible and leave."
In other words, become the perfect Duke of the North.
To retire, I need a successor. A proper one.
Blood heir or adopted, doesn't matter.
But I can't just dump this shitshow territory on them.
They might crack and flee, shoving the mess back to me,
or worst case, the Holy Capital could charge me with dereliction of duty.
Alright. Conditions for my retirement:
1. Revitalize the Northern Territory through perfect domestic and foreign policies.
2. Find a suitable successor to hand it over to.
Once those are met, I'm free.
And gone.
Departing as the Northern Territory's great former lord amid cheers and acclaim.
Straight to that sun-kissed paradise, the southern beaches.
"...Heh heh."
Just imagining it made me grin uncontrollably.
-Master, your face looks creepy.
"...No playtime?"
-S-Sorry! Just kidding! Master's the best! Hottest guy in the North!
"Hmph."
-But I overheard your whole inner monologue... So, what's your ace in the hole?
"Hm?"
-From what I see, your situation's dire, but you don't have much to work with. Can't even handle my powers properly.
"What do you mean, nothing to work with? I've got one."
-Huh? What's that?
"The image other people have of me, Robertus Bilheim."
-Image?
"Yeah. The Northern Duke persona they've inflated with their wild imaginations."
Living like a prodigal, then his whole family wiped out, and suddenly he flips—woos the Pope, draws the holy sword—unpredictable new Duke of the North.
People must be curious. And the unknown breeds fear.
Who is Robertus? What’s he thinking? What does he plan as Duke of the North?
Plus, the existing brutal image of the Northern Duke (mostly from my father) fuels that fear.
"I'm going to act. The 'Cold-Blooded Northern Duke'."
-Ooh...
I had acting skills.
Enough to fool the Pope and the holy sword.
So, I'll bluff with all I've got.
I'm one scary dude. Don't mess with me.
I'll leverage this character for advantages in diplomacy, administration—everything as Northern Duke.
-So, this assembly is your debut as the 'Cold-Blooded Northern Duke'?
"Exactly."
Holy Capital Assembly, gathering the Holy Kingdom's power players.
I need to attend and imprint 'Cold-Blooded Northern Duke Robertus' on them.
"Alright. Time to flesh out the character thoroughly..."
I jotted down public info on myself and brainstormed the best persona to build from it.
"Besides those, who else noteworthy is attending this assembly?"
Deep into the night, in a space that seemed her bedroom.
A blonde woman gazed at the moon beyond the window.
A lovely face sculpted by the gods.
A bust unrealistically massive, defying divine teachings, flowing into elegant curves below.
Her white negligee revealed her figure plainly.
"One key figure remains. Robertus Bilheim."
A reply emerged from the shadows in the bedroom corner.
An artificial voice indistinguishable by gender.
"Ah, yes. The new Duke of the North. Him."
"He's central to this assembly. We've investigated even his minutest details accordingly."
"Good. Send me the report later. I'll read it."
Yet unlike her lovely appearance, her eyes gleamed sharply.
"What kind of man is this new Northern Duke, I wonder. At least not a fool like the previous Palthion, too dumb to grasp basic 'human relations'..."
"Planning to recruit him?"
"Naturally. If the Northern Territory joins our side, what better ally? And chosen by the holy sword—no less, giving us the justification too."
"How?"
"I'll think on it. Money, position... seduction if needed."
As she pressed her arms together, her ample bosom asserted itself boldly.
That seductive gesture clashed utterly with her public image as a Saintess candidate.
"Can't wait to meet him. Robertus Bilheim... I'm dying to know how he won over my mother."
Aselina Radain's red eyes narrowed like a beast eyeing prey.