Chapter 44
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 44
The higher the status of the privileged class, the more they loathe rubbing shoulders with those beneath them. Even in the Lower District, people drew a line between the merely poor neighborhoods and the dirt-poor ones. The Custoria family, one of the Empire's most prestigious houses, was no different.
The Custoria estate lay in the suburbs, far from the capital of Akbaran. Land travel hadn't even been an option—there wasn't a single road leading to the mansion. The surrounding terrain was a stark, awkward stretch of red wasteland.
Our aerial vehicle reached the skies above the estate. Looking down, I saw a garden and a fountain nestled at the center of the mansion. With greenery and water existing only within the estate's walls, it looked like an oasis in the middle of a desert.
The estate was massive, boasting four large main buildings, with more minor annexes than I cared to count.
"I only stop by the main house once every couple of months myself. I spent my childhood here, but I never grew attached to it," said Imperial Guard Captain Heilas, gazing down through the window.
Whirrrr.
Beneath the aerial vehicle, the stabilization thrusters adjusted with meticulous precision. Our altitude dropped steadily.
At the estate's airfield, several vehicles that had arrived before us were already parked.
"They're here to meet you. Some of my siblings are among them."
"I've memorized all their faces and names," I replied, feeling the tremor of the landing. Our vehicle settled onto the airfield.
Clack.
The door slid upward.
The Imperial Guard Captain—no, I should call him Heilas now. Our relationship was no longer merely that of superior and subordinate.
In any case, Heilas stepped out first. I followed behind him.
"Ah, the Family Head has arrived. Is the boy beside you our new nephew?"
A man resembling Heilas came to welcome us. Their features were similar, but this one gave off a feeble impression. I knew exactly who he was.
Artur Custoria.
Heilas's older brother. Also the idiot who had let his position as Family Head get snatched away by a brother ten years his junior. Hmm—maybe that's a bit harsh.
I'd heard that Heilas had shoved his brother aside to be recognized as Family Head. I'd been given a rough brief on the situation beforehand.
"It has been a while, brother."
Heilas's tone was polite, but his manner was arrogant. He looked down at his older brother with cold, stern eyes. The hierarchy was unmistakable.
Artur's gaze locked onto me. I stepped forward to greet him.
"I am Luka... Custoria."
Tacking that grand family name onto the end felt awkward. Artur seemed to catch my discomfort and smiled.
"Yes, we'll be seeing plenty of each other from now on. You're about the same age as my youngest son, so do get along with him."
After exchanging formal pleasantries, Artur went into the mansion ahead of us. Guided by Heilas, I greeted two of his sisters at the airfield. They would be my aunts.
Four more remained. Heilas had seven siblings in total, and they were the ones currently manning the front lines of the Custoria family.
I could already feel the fatigue setting in. Everyone here was sizing each other up while spouting words they didn't mean.
"The rest are said to be on their way. Luka, go inside and rest first. A room should already be prepared for you."
We headed toward the main building. I scanned the people we passed, moving only my eyes.
The estate's hierarchy broke down broadly into three tiers: the members of the Custoria family, the servants who handled menial tasks, and the middle-class vassals and retainers.
Most vassals of noble houses were either lower-class citizens whose talents had been recognized, or nobles of a lower rank than the family they served. They assisted the master family in their respective fields. Higher in status than servants, but not members of the family.
With enough skill and luck, they too could become family through marriage or adoption.
The eyes and expressions of the vassals watching me were thick with envy and jealousy. I had seized the very status they coveted.
"Please follow me, Young Master."
A servant who looked like a mid-level manager guided me to my room. The title "Young Master" tickled my ears.
"If you need anything, you may call for me at any time."
Even the servant's deference felt foreign.
I studied 'my room.' It reeked of a military family's heritage. Decorative spears and swords hung on the walls. The furniture looked like solid wood at a glance, but a tap on the desk instantly summoned a hologram interface. Opening the wardrobe revealed a thoroughly state-of-the-art system tucked inside.
Crackle, crackle.
I stared at the fireplace. It wasn't a hologram—real firewood was burning. The warmth filling the room was coming straight from those flames.
"Ridiculous."
They were using a fireplace despite having every kind of advanced climate control at their disposal.
It was an absurdly tedious method. Above the hearth, a smoke exhaust system modeled after a chimney had been installed.
Using the cutting-edge technology of an age capable of interstellar flight to imitate the style of a long-forgotten era. Pure irony.
So this is what luxury and showing off look like.
Inefficient and unnecessary—which was precisely why only nobles could afford it. On second thought, it wasn't entirely beyond comprehension. Even within the Imperial Guard, there were occasional ostentatious traditions meant to display strength. In a way, inefficient extravagance was the privilege of the powerful.
I looked around the room and stopped in front of the window—a pane of glass large enough for two people to pass through side by side.
My formal introduction would take place at dinner. Until then, I had some time to myself.
Knock, knock.
Someone rapped on the door.
The place was unfamiliar, so it was hard to pin down the exact nature of the presence. I could only sense that it was a light-framed female.
Creak.
The door opened. A familiar girl stepped inside. There were very few Custoria family members I actually knew.
"So you really did become a Custoria, Luka," said Giselle Custoria. Her dark blue hair was tied back, swaying like the night sky with every movement.
"I didn't expect to bear the Custoria name so soon either," I said flatly.
Giselle sat in a chair, folded her arms on the table, and rested her cheek against her hand. She avoided my gaze for a moment, then stole a glance at me. She seemed a little embarrassed.
"Thank you for... last time. I couldn't even greet you properly."
"Things were chaotic. And your gratitude is probably owed more to Felix Eigen."
I had saved Giselle from the terrorists' kidnapping plot. Barbara had been strangely fixated on her.
"I visited Felix separately as well. He didn't recognize me."
Giselle smiled bitterly. Her heart seemed heavy over Felix, who had been left permanently incapacitated.
"You can be grateful without feeling guilty. Felix was simply carrying out his duty as an Imperial Guardsman."
"Are you trying to comfort me?"
"I'm stating facts, not comforting you. I'm not exactly the warm and fuzzy type."
"I already know your personality well enough. You're like a blue flame. You seem cold, but in truth you burn wilder and hotter than a red one."
Hmm. As expected of an educated woman—her phrasing was quite poetic. I shrugged.
Giselle's attitude had shifted from before. Much of that thorny edge was gone. It made sense. I had risked my life to save her. No matter how noble, anyone with a sane mind understood how to show gratitude.
Giselle doesn't know about the Imperial Guard's operation. She doesn't know that her own father, Heilas, used her thoroughly as bait.
If she learned the truth, it would cut deep. Even Barbara's Curse had been part of the Upper Command's design. Perhaps Giselle's predicament hadn't been coincidence at all, but something predetermined.
Heilas was excellent as an Imperial Guard Captain, but cold-hearted as a father. Still, I understood him. It was precisely because of that chaos—where friend and foe blurred together—that Barbara had managed to infiltrate the terrorist group.
"...And I apologize for making a fool of myself back then. I was emotionally cornered at the time. No—even that's just an excuse. It was conduct unbecoming of a Custoria."
The proud, high-nosed young lady slowly bowed her head, offering her gratitude and her apology together.
Honestly, it didn't feel bad at all. I was being treated with proper respect now. Human to human, regardless of my background.
"It's only natural for an ordinary person to panic in that situation. Don't dwell on it," I said briefly.
Giselle closed her eyes slightly and let out a breath.
"Thank you for saying that. Luka, do you happen to remember what you told me back then? That if you became a Custoria, you would support me."
I knew what she was about to say next was the real point. There was a reason she'd been so humble until now.
As expected of an Imperial noblewoman. She knew how to look after her own share and interests. I liked that.
"Well, it wasn't a lie. Aside from the Imperial Guard Captain, you're the only Custoria I've actually spoken with, and I consider you reasonable enough to strike a deal with."
The word "father" still refused to roll off my tongue. The moment she heard "deal," Giselle paused, thought for a moment, then tapped the table.
Whirrrr.
A hologram lens bloomed at the center of the table. Giselle synced her terminal with it and projected the faces of the Custoria family members, one by one.
"Father probably told you almost nothing about the Custoria family. He always expects his children to figure things out on their own."
"He's certainly not the type to hold your hand from start to finish."
"I'll share information with you. Consider it repayment for last time."
I waited for her explanation.
"Luka, the people you need to watch most carefully are my two older brothers. The eldest and the second eldest. Your arrival must have them feeling an immense sense of crisis."
"A sense of crisis? I'm just an adopted son."
"That doesn't matter. Right now, among Father's children, you're the only one who meets the criteria of an elite soldier. Blood relation or not, you're in a position they have to guard against. Say what you will—the Custorias are a military family."
I recalled the information on Heilas's two biological sons.
The eldest, Nikolaos Custoria. A graduate of Cracia Academy, walking the path of a bureaucrat. Judging by his career so far, he was quite the elite. From the Custoria family's standpoint, his only flaw was that he wasn't a soldier.
The second son, Jupe Custoria. A military officer who had graduated from a regular military academy. He didn't belong to a special forces unit like the Imperial Guard, and despite ten years having passed since his commission, he'd shown no particular distinction. Just an ordinary officer of noble birth—the kind you could find anywhere.
The eldest son was twenty years older than me; the second, thirteen. In a normal household, they wouldn't have viewed a far younger adopted son as any threat.
But the Custorias were a military family. A deeply prestigious one, at that. They had to keep producing elite soldiers, generation after generation.
"The other children are too young—not even old enough to take the Second Selection Test. Right now, among Father's children, you hold the highest potential as a soldier, Luka."
"The noble folk are fretting over nothing," I chuckled. But Giselle's expression stayed dead serious.
"Everyone suspects Father brought you here to make you his successor."
I remembered Heilas's words.
It will be a fresh stimulus in many ways. For my children, too.
Was this what he'd meant? It seemed I had indeed become quite the stimulus.