Collecting Overdue Debts (2)
The parade concluded, and just before his audience, Calix—now inside the palace—received etiquette instruction from the chief butler.
It covered greetings and manners for addressing the king.
“Good. The etiquette training seems sufficient now. Allow me to share a few precautions.”
“I shall listen attentively.”
“His Majesty will ask if you desire anything. Reply that you desire nothing.”
“...Even if I do desire something, I should say I don’t?”
The butler sneered at Calix with a look of utter disbelief.
“Hah! Do you think His Majesty has the leisure to indulge your whims?”
“I’m the winner of the Knight Tournament. No reward at all?”
“After the audience concludes, the winner’s prize will be disbursed in gold coins. I’ll hear no objections.”
“Gold coins... You won’t even tell me the amount?”
The butler scowled.
“I’ve treated you with the respect due a winner, yet your greed knows no bounds! Maintain some dignity. What are a few paltry gold coins worth anyway? No wonder provincials from backwater houses are...”
Tsk tsk!
Calix’s eyelids trembled with barely contained fury.
It wasn’t mere curiosity about the prize money.
From what he knew, past winners had always received lavish rewards.
Powerful artifacts, mana breathing methods, or special privileges for their houses—some had claimed all three.
The butler’s attitude stemmed from Szczecin County being an easy mark, tied to a faction opposing the king.
It wasn’t at anyone’s direct behest, though.
The king was the only one who could issue such orders, but petty commands like this would tarnish his dignity—he’d never voice them.
‘He’s just overreaching out of ambition... Let’s see how he likes a taste of his own medicine.’
Calix masked his thoughts and replied with deference.
“My apologies. Our house is so destitute that greed got the better of me. Rest assured—a bumpkin like me wouldn’t dare open his mouth before His Majesty.”
“Ahem. No need to debase yourself so. Rewards will come generously later, so show yourself as a loyal subject.”
“Of course. I’ll give it my all.”
“Calix Szczecin, kneel.”
“Descendant of the hero Sedrak who vanquished the evil dragon, sovereign of the Lock Kingdom, wise liege who illuminates the world—I pay my respects.”
“So you’re Calix of House Szczecin. Despite recent misfortunes, you’ve grown splendidly and shown remarkable valor. Even Collin the Count must rejoice in the underworld.”
“My thanks, Your Majesty.”
After a few exchanges of formal pleasantries, the moment Calix had awaited finally arrived.
“Well then, do you desire anything? If it’s within my power, I shall grant it.”
Calix recalled the butler barking at him moments before the ceremony to claim he wanted nothing.
‘Heh, if you thought I’d meekly obey just because you said so, you miscalculated badly, old man.’
He had no intention of letting his hard-won victory slip away unrewarded.
“Your Majesty, forgive my impertinence, but I have two requests.”
Calix felt the butler’s scorching glare boring into his back.
The king cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“Ahem... Is that so? Speak, then.”
“Previously, Your Majesty decreed that if I proved myself a Sword User, the noble council’s investigation would end forthwith, and I would inherit the countship.”
Irritation flared in the king, who clamped his mouth shut.
But he couldn’t retract his own words.
Finding no escape, he nodded curtly.
“...I remember. It shall be as decreed.”
Calix shook his head.
“Forgive me, but I ask to delay the succession ceremony.”
“Delay it?”
“Yes. Szczecin County currently enjoys profound peace thanks to Your Majesty’s gracious attention and the outstanding knight Russell. I am still young, lacking the qualities to lead the domain—not to mention my insufficient enlightenment in the sword. For the time being, I wish to focus on training.”
“Hmm... But the countship cannot remain vacant indefinitely.”
“Russell will manage admirably. Name him formal heir, but grant me a three-year deferral of the ceremony, I beseech you.”
‘What’s this brat playing at? Begging formal heir status makes sense—he’s had no standing to flaunt until now. But in that case, claiming the title outright would suit him far better...’ The king glanced sidelong at Marquis Antonio.
But the marquis kept his head bowed, offering no opinion.
He, too, couldn’t fathom Calix’s intent.
In a regular council on state affairs, he might have stalled with excuses.
Not here, though.
This was a ceremony to honor Calix’s victory.
Without cause to refuse, he had no choice.
“Ahem! So be it.”
“My deepest gratitude, Your Majesty. And...”
The king furrowed his brow, glaring steadily at Calix.
More?
But Calix knelt with head bowed.
No way for the king’s displeasure to reach him.
‘Tch. Push back now, and I’ll be branded petty toward a fresh tournament champ. Infuriating.’
What was a king’s dignity worth, haggling with a mere squire candidate?
It would only tarnish his authority.
He could torment the boy through underlings later—but for now, as Lock’s absolute ruler, he must appear magnanimous.
“Ah, yes—a second request. Speak.”
Calix, who saw through the king’s mind, showed no hesitation or reluctance.
‘Heh, His Majesty isn’t so idle as all that.’
Once back in his domain, they wouldn’t cross paths for ages anyway. In a few days, the king would forget him entirely.
“It pains me to say it, but with my father’s sudden passing, the house lost its ancestral armor. Our poverty leaves us unable to replace it—show mercy, I beg.”
“Ahem!”
“Er-hem!”
Polished verbiage aside, it boiled down to: Your service killed my dad and bankrupted us—cough up some decent armor.
Nobles of the first prince’s faction stifled laughter, lips quivering. Those of the fifth prince’s glared daggers at Calix.
The king’s mood soured no less.
Truth be told, he had no defense against accusations of neglecting House Szczecin after Collin’s death.
Worse, when they switched factions recently, he’d discarded them like used rags.
Strictly speaking, they’d never been on his radar—but to outsiders, it looked that way.
No one had dared point it out before, fearing royal ire.
“...Chief butler!”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Escort him to the royal vault and let him choose one suit of armor as he wishes.”
The butler, about to protest the excess, bowed smoothly instead.
Wrong moment for that.
It might redirect the king’s ire toward him.
He’d discipline the impudent whelp personally later.
“As you command, Your Majesty.”
The moment the ceremony ended, he chased Calix down.
“You—you insolent cur!”
“Ah, Chief Court Butler. A pleasure to meet again. Calix Szczecin.”
“Silence! You dare ignore my words?”
“What... Ah! You mean that ‘insistence’ that I claim no desires?”
“I-insistence?”
“Wasn’t it? Chasing me like you want to devour me alive...”
“Th-that was mere advice. But that doesn’t mean you can brush it off!”
“I intended to heed your ‘advice’ where possible, but the armor... I must survive too. Someone of your stature must know the ordeals I’ve endured lately.”
“Urk!”
Not widely publicized, but the chief butler was the palace’s eyes and ears.
He knew the broad strokes of the shadowy plots during the tournament.
He’d let them slide only because meddling profited him naught.
Calix’s jab left him speechless.
Deny it, and he exposed his incompetence. Affirm it, and Calix’s demands stood justified.
Sensing the man’s momentum wane, Calix opted to retreat gracefully.
No gain in needless antagonism.
“Compared to past winners’ boons, it’s hardly excessive—forgive me this once.”
‘Tch, underestimated the brat because of his youth.’
“Fine. I’ll speak no more of it. Vault access is in two days—present yourself at the west palace then.”
“My thanks, Chief Butler.”
“However! Parading such gall won’t serve you long. Self-restraint is advisable if you value your lifespan.”
With that warning, the butler whirled and strode away briskly.
He wanted no further proximity to Calix.
Krout, waiting outside the venue, approached only after the butler vanished.
“All resolved?”
“Roughly.”
“But why risk souring relations just for the royal vault? It’s grand in name only—rumor says little of true value remains.”
“I know. The real treasures are stashed in secret spots whose existence is classified.”
“Then why...”
“Heh, you never know—might hook a legend. Like some dusty, shabby old relic turning out to be legendary gear... Heard tales like that?”
“Fairy tales belong in storybooks. Think the court appraisers are pushovers?”
“Just an example. An example.”
The pair bantered as they headed for the annex.
A commemorative banquet was set for the afternoon.
At the entrance, Laila and Marie waited with temporarily hired servants.
“Welcome back, Young Master. Your formal attire is prepared.”
“Ugh, this should suffice...”
“What are you saying? Today’s your debut in high society! The tournament’s star—no, the banquet’s centerpiece! With more time, I could’ve fussed over it properly... Shall I summon a tailor now for adjustments?”
Marie unleashed a torrent of fretting.
Laila, spotting Calix’s glazing eyes, intervened hastily.
“Now, now, Marie. Let’s head in. Lingering here invites gossip from the nobles.”
“R-right. Inside, then.”
Calix grabbed Marie and pulled her into the annex.
Left alone, she might force another round of outfit changes.