Chapter 25 - Herthe’s Black Flame (2)
Chapter 25 - Herthe’s Black Flame (2)
Being a butler for a high noble family meant dedicating every waking moment to work without respite.
This held true for the Herthe family’s butlers—and their apprentices were no exception.
Yet even amidst such rigor, unexpected breaks occasionally arose.
“The young lady’s shopping trip today is canceled.”
As we stood in the waiting room dressed impeccably in our butler uniforms, awaiting Parmela’s preparations for her outing, a senior butler entered abruptly with those words.
“Huh? What happened?”
“We’ve had an unexpected guest arrive.”
Everyone grumbled about how the guest could’ve come before we’d dressed up properly, yet their expressions betrayed delight at this unforeseen respite.
Everyone except me.
‘Tch… There goes another chance to get some treats…’
For some reason, Parmela often took me—a mere page boy—along on her outings, never failing to buy me something each time.
From clothes to self-defense knives, they were trivial gifts by noble standards (though exorbitantly priced by common economic sensibilities).
But those gifts were too expensive to use casually, and selling them was out of the question—quite the predicament…
Personally, I much preferred the food and desserts she occasionally treated me to at restaurants or cafés.
Even their casual meals were exquisite.
Though whenever that happened, the head butler and other servants would shoot me odd looks.
Honestly. If you’re jealous, just ask for some yourselves.
At any rate, with this sudden free time, the butlers began chattering excitedly about their plans.
“Theo! What are you gonna do?”
“Me?”
Hmm…
“I think I’ll take a nap.”
“Again? You sleep whenever you get the chance.”
“Sleep is profit.”
Even if I stayed up for days, it wouldn’t affect me—but having lived as the Heavenly Demon without proper rest, I felt compelled to compensate for lost time.
A sort of psychological repayment.
“Hey! None of that—come to the training grounds with us.”
“The training grounds?”
“These days, mock battles with wooden swords are all the rage among the butlers.”
“…What kind of trend is that? We’re not children.”
“Of course that’s not all. The others place bets on who’ll win.”
“Ah…”
“How about it? Hey! Armin! Why don’t you and your subordinate join in?”
“…You’d regret it.”
“What? Scared?”
“Theodor’s presence alone would ruin any betting pool.”
“…?”
As we bantered, the head butler suddenly burst into the waiting room.
“Attention, everyone!”
At his command, the butlers reflexively snapped to perfect posture.
“…To think you’d grow lax the moment my back was turned…”
“”“Our apologies!”“”
Their synchronized response was military in its precision.
“Head Butler! But we heard the young lady had a visitor, so our schedule was cleared…”
“The guest’s arrival is correct. However, you’ll all be busier than ever starting now.”
“…?”
“A request has come from the Lord of Bainwood—to exterminate corrupted monsters.”
“My apologies for the sudden visit, Lady Parmela.”
In the Herthe family’s guest reception room, Count Crape, Lord of Bainwood, stroked his short white beard before setting down his teacup.
“Had it been one or two, Bainwood’s Adventurer’s Guild or my private soldiers could have handled it… But eighty wyverns tainted by corrupted mana? That’s another matter.”
“I see.”
“Moreover, with the Radain Holy Nation mobilizing all forces to search for that ‘Heavenly Demon’ character, they refused our request for aid…”
“Hence your visit to me.”
“I know you’re on academic break… But might I entrust this wyvern extermination to you?”
Opposite him, Parmela sipped tea elegantly with closed eyes.
Setting down her cup, she opened them to meet the Count’s gaze—her irises glowing crimson with their usual brimming confidence.
“Leave it to me. Burning threats to the Empire is the Herthe family’s duty.”
“Magnificent! Just what I’d expect from Lady Parmela.”
After discussing troop compositions and deployment scales, the Count took his leave.
“We’ll meet again in four days, Lady Parmela.”
Parmela maintained her poised, confident smile befitting a ducal heir until the door closed behind him.
Click.
But once alone—
“…What do I do?”
All traces of her earlier assurance vanished, leaving only a trembling girl gripped by anxiety.
“I can’t fail this time… But rejecting an official request would undermine my standing in the family…”
The Herthe Ducal House.
A founding lineage of the Arkesia Empire, their prestige as national pillars only solidified after the demons’ emergence.
Magic cores—the crystalline hearts of monsters.
When demons infused these cores with their corrupted mana, the resulting mutations birthed “devilized” monsters.
These devilized beasts exhibited enhanced physicality, core dissolution, and heightened aggression.
But their most dire traits were contagion and regeneration.
A single corrupted monster could mutate an entire horde within ten days.
Their regenerative abilities made them exponentially harder to kill than their original forms—some becoming outright immune to conventional weapons.
Centuries ago, when demons first invaded the human realm, their greatest devastation came not from themselves, but their corrupted monster legions.
Naturally, countering these devilized hordes became pivotal to the warfront.
After Radain’s holy arts proved effective against them, the once-city-state grew into a full-fledged nation.
Other kingdoms desperately sought their own solutions.
For Arkesia, it was the Herthe family’s secret art—the Black Flame.
The Herthe’s mana-infused black fire never released its prey until reduced to ashes.
Even against the demons’ minions.
Through centuries of battlefield glory against demonic forces wielding this flame, the Herthe rose to become the Empire’s second-most prestigious house.
Thus, mastery of the Black Flame became the paramount criterion for selecting heirs.
“…”
Parmela bit her lip.
Her sister Eliana and younger brother Pelias—both rivals for succession.
If her failing flame arts were exposed, the house would inevitably pass to them.
“…This time, I must succeed…”
The following three days saw unprecedented activity at the Herthe estate.
Beyond mere busyness, preparing for this quasi-military operation against corrupted monsters cast a solemn air over the manor.
Between routine duties, weapon inspections, drills, and strategy meetings, even the butlers were run ragged.
“…Senior.”
“Too… tired… don’t talk.”
After a mock battle involving both soldiers and butlers, Armin collapsed, gasping as his wooden sword clattered to the ground.
“Something’s been bothering me… Why are butlers fighting?”
“Huh?”
“I mean… shouldn’t combat be the soldiers’ role? Butlers work in the manor…”
Having lived a life steeped in combat, I’d never questioned it—but now that he mentioned it, butlers joining battles?
“Sigh… You idiot. Nobles’ butlers must possess combat skills to protect their masters. Obviously.”
“Is… that so?”
That sounded more like bodyguard work—but it wasn’t entirely illogical.
“Would armed butlers just stand by when their masters take the field?”
“Ah…”
Hard to argue with that.
Though it did feel like something out of a fantasy novel.
Apparently in this world, butlers were jack-of-all-trades—attending households and waging wars alike.
…Don’t they deserve higher pay for that? I should ask Parmela for a raise.
Finally, the day of the extermination arrived.
At the northern gate, 150 of the lord’s soldiers and 30 adventurers awaited the Herthe forces.
Clink. Clink.
Led by Parmela, the Herthe troops advanced toward them.
Spear-bearing soldiers at the rear, butlers ahead, and Parmela on horseback at the forefront.
Her resplendent silver armor bore crimson pauldrons—the Herthe emblem.
“Welcome.”
A general approached to greet her.
After erecting a temporary command tent, they began discussing operational details while others waited outside.
“Yaaawn.”
“Hey! Theodor. Stop yawning.”
As restlessness set in—
“!”
My senses detected someone approaching rapidly.
Northwest. My gaze snapped that way—yet nothing appeared.
“What’s wrong?”
“…Someone’s coming, Senior.”
“What?”
Not a monster—definitely human, but…
‘Flying through the air.’
Whoever it was, they were extraordinary.
As they drew nearer, Parmela seemed to sense it too, bursting from the tent to stare skyward.
“What’s the matter, Lady Parmela?”
“…They’re coming.”
“Who is—?”
No answer was needed.
Whoosh—Thud.
A silver-haired figure descended gracefully before Parmela, his cape and uniform bearing imperial designs.
“Came to see you, Parmela.”
“…Edgar?”
—Edgar? As in Crown Prince Edgar?
The unexpected visitor sent ripples through the assembled forces.
“What brings you here unannounced?”
“…That ‘letter’ you sent.”
“…”
“Not a discussion for public ears. Later.” His gaze swept over the Herthe troops.
“…So it’s you.”
When the Crown Prince’s eyes met mine, the slight frown I glimpsed—must have been my imagination.