Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: The Use of a Treacherous Subject - Part 19
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"Wh-what is this? A... a griffin? Is that right? One of the dangerous-class monsters! They fly down from the sky to snatch cows, horses, and sheep, sometimes even attacking humans... Just like the black wolves, what in the world have you done?"
"Well... how should I put it? I guess you could call it the recklessness of youth? Haha. I originally went out aiming for a griffin, you see."
At fourteen, he was too young to truly call it youth, and if you added his previous life, Beonald's age was already beyond old age, so the excuse didn't quite fit anywhere. But upon hearing his explanation, Baron Leon looked at Beonald with a complicated, hard-to-express expression.
"You aimed for a griffin? Good heavens! Goddess above! No matter how talented you are, you're still a child! Even seasoned adventurers don't hunt griffins recklessly!"
"Hahaha... Well, I just boldly attempted it, but anyway, I couldn't catch that one, so I only managed to pick this guy up and run. These black wolves were attacked on the way back, so I caught them as well."
"You could have gotten yourself killed! If you died, your mother would..."
"That's why I gave up the attempt and ran away early. Anyway, please keep this a secret. I'm going to raise him."
"R... raise him? A griffin? No, wouldn't it be better to present it to the Count? It might be dangerous... And a gift of this level would be the best..."
A griffin, even with one wing missing, was a dangerous-class monster. And a live chick at that—its value far surpassed that of most hunting trophies. Presenting it to the Count would surely make the stolen bear pelt and such trivial matters.
But Beonald shook his head, rejecting his father's opinion.
"No. Offering something too precious might invite envy and make us stand out. This level is just right. It's the limit of what we, coming from a rural backwater, could obtain."
"Is... is that so?"
"One way or another, our family is the ugly duckling anyway. A gift that's neither excessive nor lacking is best. Anyway, I'll take responsibility for raising this one, so don't worry too much. If he doesn't lose his wildness, I'll deal with it then."
"If... if you say so, then do as you wish."
Perhaps finding Beonald's opinion reasonable, his father nodded and complied quickly.
Beonald thought that, while sometimes frustrating, this very obedience was a blessing.
There were plenty of people who, clinging to paternal authority or whatnot, would plug their ears and ignore sound advice.
"And also... since that damn 'young master' might come or other problems might arise, we should keep this one a secret... no, to disguise it, it might be good to buy another bird from outside. I'll keep an eye on this one, Father, please take care of that. I'll clean up the wolf pelts a bit more."
"Alright, understood! I'll be right back."
Phew~ It's a relief he listens so well.
After sending off his obedient father, Beonald fed Alterio, who had been crying again.
While tending to the wolf pelts, his father soon returned with a bird and placed it on top of the box where Alterio was sleeping as camouflage, then disappeared again, saying he had to greet other nobles.
So Beonald spent time quietly alone, when suddenly he detected frivolous footsteps approaching from somewhere.
That sound? Ah, it's him again, isn't it?
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Those frivolous footsteps, completely heedless of the people around. Just hearing them, Beonald could guess who it was. He let out a deep sigh and immediately hid Alterio.
The wolf pelts could be given away again for all he cared, but Alterio was like family now that he'd decided to raise him, so he absolutely couldn't give him up.
He's finally here.
Bang!
After quickly using his hands to conceal Alterio and pretending to tend to the newly bought bird instead, he waited. Sure enough, Ralt Callermain barged in, kicking the door open with an attitude unimaginable for a noble's child. Seeing Beonald tending to the canary, he scratched his head in confusion.
"Is something the matter?"
"Huh? Huh? It's not here? Why isn't it here?"
With an arrogant, overbearing attitude, he looked around without even a greeting or introduction, completely ignoring Beonald before him, only searching for something.
Annoyance welled up inside, but Beonald calmly suppressed it and asked Ralt.
"What are you looking for?"
"I heard there's a griffin chick? Where is it?"
......
His attitude, openly searching for it as if it were already his, was absurd, but the bigger question was where he'd gotten that information.
Surely, before entering the village, they had concealed it well in a barred cage, been thoroughly careful about any presence around them, fed Alterio day and night so his cries for food wouldn't be loud, and when bringing him to this mansion, he was well hidden, only the wolf pelts visible. So where on earth did the information leak from?
Ah... damn Father, I bet. That's the only place it could have leaked from. Unavoidable, I suppose.
He didn't know where exactly the slip happened, but Beonald had a rough idea.
His father wasn't a loose-lipped person, but he might have been muttering to himself while agonizing over it, and that could have reached someone's ears.
"Well, it is here. I just fed it and put it to sleep."
If its existence was uncertain, he would have flatly denied it, but judging by that attitude, Ralt was clearly confident about Alterio's existence. So Beonald skillfully packaged the fact that he was hiding it into an excuse.
That insolent brat would undoubtedly rummage around recklessly trying to find it anyway, so he revealed its existence.
"Hand it over. Grandfather's gift is mine, isn't it?"
Using the same pattern as before, he tried to forcibly take it with unreasonable demands, but this time, Beonald had no intention of giving it up easily.
"That is not a gift for the Count."
"If it came from Grandfather's territory, it's mine."
"Griffins aren't a species that inhabit the Count's territory in the first place. I happened to rescue it from a place over a day's ride away on horseback."
"Eek!"
Stumped by Beonald's calm logic, Ralt Callermain glared at him fiercely.
Having lived his whole life without anyone defying him, this strange guy suddenly resisting him was infuriating enough.
"Anyway! Anyway, hand it over!"
...Right. This is a fourteen-year-old for you. Still, the annoyance is unavoidable.
Well-fed, well-grown, and well-groomed, Ralt whined and made unreasonable demands, unbecoming of his decent appearance.
Looking at him, Beonald recalled his merciless birth father Felix, who never tolerated any whining, and pondered how to stop this annoying noise. Meanwhile, Ralt issued another threat to Beonald, who was ignoring his whining.
"If you don't, I'll tell Grandfather and you won't get away with it! You country bumpkin!"
"Yes. I am indeed a country bumpkin. But I am still a blood relative of the Count, am I not?"
"So what?"
"Hmm, have you not been educated? The young master who must lead the Callermain family in the future will need the help and cooperation of many people. As you know, around this earldom, there are those who have submitted to the Count's power, but also many noble families connected by blood ties."
That's right. There were many territories within Count Callermain's sphere of influence, but the pure Callermain earldom's territory wasn't that vast.
Moreover, building trust to employ people takes a long time, but blood relatives guarantee that trust, at least through 'blood,' and are highly likely to be in the same boat, making them essential allies to secure.
Of course, like the son from my past life, there are those you trust the most who betray you... But managing a family ultimately comes down to the ability to judge people and manage blood relatives.
"So what about it?"
"What about it? No matter how much of a country bumpkin I am, with no roots and nothing to my name, I am still a blood relative who shares the Count's blood. Moreover, a griffin chick would be quite a treasure, a topic of conversation. Now, let's put it together. How would everyone view the future heir who uses the family's prestige to seize a blood relative's possession without a proper reason? Do you know what you might lose over this one little bird?"
"...What's that supposed to mean?"
It seemed Ralt didn't fully understand Beonald's words, but perhaps feeling pressured by his demeanor and aura, he stopped his insolent attitude and instinctively shrank back.
There was already a difference in height and build, but dignity naturally flows from one's actions and speech.
"What do you mean, 'what'?"
Feeling something strange under the pressure of Beonald's calm, high-noble rhetoric and the force within it, Ralt raised his voice and acted insolently, trying to resist. But to Beonald, it just looked like a chick flailing.
With a sharp smile, Beonald opened his mouth before Ralt as if popping a balloon.
"Now, next, please go ask the Count or your father, the young master's sire. It is not my place, a mere country bumpkin, to educate Young Master Ralt, the future heir of Count Callermain."
"You! What?"
"However, if you still desire it even after hearing the answer, I will gladly give you this griffin chick. I swear on the blood of Count Callermain that flows in my veins."
"...Fine! You won't get away with this! Wait right here!"
"Yes, yes~ Young Master. I won't run or hide."
Ralt stormed out, huffing and puffing. Beonald leisurely sat on the bed and fed Alterio, who had woken up again.
No matter how doting a father or grandfather might be, if they were a sane family head protecting their family, they would know how foolish his actions were.
Or, if he comes back triumphant again, blinded by parental love... then this family has no more value.
A family whose head or heir was so clouded that they didn't understand the value of blood relatives and the importance of family members was not worth regretting if lost.
If you saw this earldom as the captain of a ship, then the branch families with blood ties or other families connected by blood were like the crew.
No matter how capable the captain is, he cannot steer a massive ship alone; he must skillfully utilize cooperative relationships with the crew.
But imagine if rumors spread that the captain, relying on his authority and power, seized treasures cherished by the crew. Naturally, his authority and popularity would be wounded, and trust among blood relatives would likely shatter.
Moreover, the mischief this only son was causing, using his position as the future heir, probably wasn't the first time for him; it had likely been going on for a long time, further rusting the chains of trust among relatives.
Then eventually... when a minor crisis occurs someday, it will crumble to pieces.
That way, a family that seemed like it would last a hundred or a thousand years could collapse in a single day.
While thinking that and waiting, this time, someone approached with quiet, light footsteps, and soon a very polite knock was heard.
Knock knock.
"Are you inside?"
"Yes, I am."
Click.
The door opened, revealing a middle-aged man similar in age to his father, with brown hair and a neatly groomed beard.
He wore unostentatious black-brown clothes, but the accessories attached were quite splendid, indicating he was no ordinary person.
And behind him stood Young Master Ralt, who had been insolent earlier, frowning. The middle-aged man who came with him, with a stern expression, first introduced himself to Beonald.
"I am Rengel Callermain. The second son of Count Callermain, his heir, and currently acting as his proxy, handling all territory affairs in place of my elderly father."
"Yes. Pleased to meet you, Acting Family Head. I am Beonald Dustycloak, the eldest son of Baron Leon Dustycloak."
After exchanging clean introductions, the two briefly tried to read each other through their eyes. Then, suddenly, Rengel Callermain bowed 90 degrees before Beonald, offering an apology.