Chapter 40
Chapter 40
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Chapter 40
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: 39. Providence Family Chronicles
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Rex's County—no, now it was a Marquisate—the heart of the territory, the capital.
A weekend had arrived in that capital, which ground through people as if there were no such thing as rest.
On that weekend when even the lord took a break, a rickety old carriage hurried through the capital.
"Father. We're almost there."
"Yes. Time to get up."
"Please be careful getting up."
The old man's name was Klanbel.
He was a former adjutant to Duke, captain of the Yormungand Honor Guard.
Now, due to his age, he had stepped down and was serving Rex in a different role.
The old man was as much a celebrity in the territory as Duke or Rex.
This was because, despite being the de facto third-in-command, he never flaunted his position or authority, nor did he indulge in luxury.
If you asked how frugal he was, consider that when he needed a carriage, he didn't buy a new one but used a rusty one from the previous lord's warehouse.
Even that was a compromise made solely to ensure the minimum safety befitting the third-in-command.
As a result, among all the old man's possessions, his wheelchair was the most expensive item.
"Father. Please sit here."
The old man sat in what was his most expensive possession: the wheelchair.
A special alloy wheelchair gifted by his superior, the Honor Guard captain.
Of course, the old man had refused, insisting he couldn't indulge in luxury even with a wheelchair—
—but
With words like that, the old man couldn't refuse the wheelchair.
Of course, Duke had only said it that way because he felt guilty about buying expensive gear or luxuries for himself in the future, but the old man didn't suspect his superior's intentions and was cleanly persuaded.
After that incident, the old man allowed himself the minimum luxury befitting someone in his position, but to this day, he had never indulged in anything more extravagant than the wheelchair.
The old man climbed into the wheelchair his son was pushing.
"Karan. Let's go."
"Yes, Father."
The young man called Karan was a beastkin.
Klanbel had never married and had no blood relations.
But he believed a family was bound not by blood, but by conviction and ideology.
Thus, though not a drop of blood connected them, Karan was undoubtedly Klanbel's son.
Karan, too, truly followed the old man who had not only freed him from the slave market but also taught him knowledge and opened his eyes to wisdom.
The father and son approached a towering building.
The Tower Prison, once a symbol of oppression, now remodeled into the Archives.
They showed their permits to the two elite knights guarding the entrance to the Archives and underwent a strict inspection before entering the building.
"Karan. From now on, you must carry on my work."
Karan swallowed tears of sorrow at his father's limited lifespan and of emotion at ascending to this glorious position, then nodded.
The old man smiled contentedly and picked up a book with his trembling hands.
—Providence Family Chronicles
The old man gently stroked the book and entrusted it to his son.
"Only the chronicler appointed by Lord Rex may read and edit these chronicles. You have become the glorious bridge carrying this great history to future generations."
The old man opened the book.
"Now, I'll show you how to record it."
Rex Providence, Year 0, Month X, Day X The Providence territory began, and Sir Duke proposed to Lord Rex: "A nation that forgets its history has no future." Thus, the position of chronicler was created. Refined by Lord Rex from Sir Duke's proposal, strict rules were established to prevent future misuse of the records. "No official except the chronicler may peruse these chronicles, not even the lord." This ensures the chronicler's objectivity and fairness, "Nor shall an eraser be allowed to touch any written record." This makes even the recorder cautious.
Thus, the Providence family's greatness began magnificently and shall shine eternally. * The chronicler opines: Lord Rex's grace is vast as the sea, so incorruptible... mumble mumble —Chronicler: Arabella White
The old man showed the first page.
"You just record all conversations and events accurately like this. Adding the chronicler's commentary at the end isn't mandatory, but I recommend it."
This chronicle system was originally nonexistent in the source material.
Yet Duke proposed it not for posterity...
—'Someone has to witness my awesome exploits.'
Even Final Boss play required witnesses, and Duke had no intention of letting it end as a one-off.
He wanted to pass down cool tales to his descendants, hence the system.
(Of course, Rex opposed it out of embarrassment, but Duke threatened a seppuku show, so it passed.)
However, to others, it appeared differently.
"A knight must never be ashamed before himself or posterity," he had said.
The old man chuckled with his eyes.
In this world, there were no means to check knights and lords.
Philosophy and religion were empty cries before overwhelming force.
Duke, wary of this, introduced records as a check.
Minor though they were, like how daily trifles build honor, to make knights and officials mindful of their actions...
Or so the old adjutant interpreted it.
Karan nodded in admiration.
"As expected of him. A role model for all knights."
"So you must record every deed of him and Lord Rex without omission."
"Understood, Father. But why does it say Arabella as the chronicler..."
"It's the head maid you have in mind."
During a severe manpower shortage, she had assisted Rex with work and served as chronicler.
It was a position that legally allowed stalking Rex, so she gladly accepted.
Of course, others thought she took it out of loyalty.
Hearing his father's explanation, Karan nodded.
"Then should I record like her?"
"No. She's no longer the chronicler."
"Something like this happened."
"Uh..."
Karan was at a loss for words.
He had glimpsed the human side of the territory's most idolized figures.
"Father... We record even this...?"
"The chronicler has a duty to record everything."
"Won't it shake the ruling authority?"
This era deified rulers, governing the people through charisma and fear.
Karan had learned that in political theory.
But the old man thought differently.
"Common folk don't want their blunders recorded. But Lord Rex and Sir Duke are different."
In the records, Arabella came off a bit unhinged, but their authority suffered no damage.
On the contrary, it gave the impression they were human too—flawed, yet striving.
Professionally termed, gap moe.
Sir Duke had said: "Between one born kind and living kindly, and one who acknowledges base impulses and overcomes them through effort—which deserves more praise?"
The old man showed a cabinet meeting record of Duke's speech.
Though hearsay, it stirred the old man and his son deeply.
"So fear not and record everything. As I repeat: just think of recording honestly."
He repeated it three times for emphasis.
His son finally nodded in conviction.
"Understood. What about security matters?"
"Record them too. The lord himself can't access these chronicles. Most security docs you record will have lower access than this."
The old man turned a page.
The covert knights were a top-secret matter known only to Rex, who appointed them.
Even yesterday's appointments were detailed here.
"These are all recorded. It prevents shameful acts under the guise of security."
"Amazing. Father, sorry to keep asking..."
"No need. Ask everything."
The father was pleased.
His son's questions all hit the core, not trivial—proof of his passion for the role.
The old man was glad his son could ably succeed him even after he closed his eyes.
"What are you waiting for? Ask."
"If only the chronicler reads it, what's the point of recording?"
"The lord already foresaw that."
Non-chronicler access to the chronicles was extremely restricted.
First, the lord and his bloodline: never, under any circumstances.
Second, officials: only in territorial crises.
Third, upon the lord's death, if the successor delegates, the people may access the previous lord's records.
"The third is practically useless."
To the people, Rex was 8th rank.
Otherwise, his interface spanning the vast marquisate made no sense.
Such a Rex dying of old age or assassination was unthinkable.
He'd explained countless times, but misconceptions deepened.
Territorial crises were also unimaginable.
With guardian deity(?) Duke behind them.
"So currently, only the chronicler can access. But soon the fourth condition activates."
Fourth condition:
Ten years after the chronicler who wrote an entry dies, those records become accessible.
This balanced fear of retaliation with security needs.
Duke insisted completely hiding history negated the purpose.
Of course, to Duke, chroniclers weren't superhumans—they'd age and die soon,
and ten years after, people would read his exploits.
"Now do you see? Why chroniclers can't be superhumans?"
The old man looked at his son worriedly.
If he dreamed of superhuman longevity, the role was too harsh.
But his worry was unfounded.
"Father! Even if my life shortens, I'll leave all records behind!"
Seeing his son's shining eyes, the old man smiled broadly.
"Don't overdo it. The lord would grieve."
"Yes!"
The old man stroked his son's head and opened the most recent entry.
And a week later.
Checking officials' positions via interface, Rex was shocked.
"Crazy... He was eavesdropping from beyond the wall..."
The new chronicler happened to be a rabbit beastkin, leading to less privacy for Rex—a minor mishap.
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