Chapter 150
Chapter 150
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 150
Chapter Title: If You're a Man, At Least Once
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The northern region of the kingdom always felt a bit out of place compared to other areas—putting it harshly, it came across as abandoned.
That was because their ancestors were barbaric tribes who had surrendered to the kingdom long ago, the land was harsh and lacked resources, and raids from those tribes came without fail whenever things quieted down.
Even though the royal family had provided support numerous times, to the locals who saw themselves as "abandoned," it was just scraps thrown their way.
As a result, this resentment caused the northern nobles—despite being Hispania nobles—to develop a murky sense of identity.
The royals had tried appeasement, warnings, and ultimately brokered peace with the barbarian tribes, paving the way for an improved quality of life in the north. But to the northern nobles, it looked like an opportunity to monopolize perks that other nobles couldn't enjoy—nothing more.
Viscount Gino wasn't the only one; most northern nobles seized the chance, squeezing the tribes dry to fatten their own bellies ahead of the competition.
All without realizing how disastrously it would backfire, blinded by immediate gains.
"Viscount Gino is throwing a party?"
"Yes."
"Word is, Young Lord Sion Clauzen secretly held talks with the northern barbarian tribes. Once his mission wrapped up and he returned to the kingdom, he stopped by Viscount Gino's to unwind from the fatigue."
"Tch."
"Of all people, Viscount Gino.
He should've come to our house."
The other viscounts and barons reacted much the same.
If he was coming anyway, it would've been nice if he'd visited their house to forge a connection.
Trade profits had already dried up, the tribes' situation worsened by the day, and they were racking their brains over how to stockpile strength.
At a time like this, if a war hero—the kingdom's rising star—came north.
And if they could plant a favorable impression to gain an edge over rivals, that would've been ideal.
"So he's holding a modest party tonight."
"A party, huh."
"Will you attend?"
"Of course.
With such a great man visiting the north, not showing my face would put us at a disadvantage compared to the other houses."
It wasn't that they felt no worry at all.
There was a slim chance Viscount Gino had dodged the net and spilled everything about their past deeds.
But Viscount Gino was one of them, deeply involved.
If the northern nobles' actions came to light, he couldn't escape unscathed either.
Even if he confessed everything and begged forgiveness.
'And Viscount Gino—that sly fox—isn't the type to handle things so sloppily.'
He'd even killed his own nephew to keep the operation secret.
It was unthinkable that a noble scion fresh to the north would uncover a scheme that had gone undetected for three years.
Of course, Sion had Kim Yu-hyun, the tactical nuke who shattered all logical assumptions.
"Viscount Tyker is entering!"
"Viscount Rolan has arrived!"
"Baron Basala..."
That evening, Viscount Gino's castle hosted northern nobles for the first time in ages.
Ah, precisely—one was missing.
Baron Rephoem hadn't shown, whether due to circumstances or not being invited at all.
They might've found it odd, but since he was already persona non grata among them, they promptly erased him from their minds.
And when Sion Clauzen appeared, their attention locked onto the kingdom's rising star, the war hero.
"Pleased to meet you, northern nobles."
"Young Lord Sion Clauzen!"
This man was the kingdom's emerging saint, heir to the Margrave of Clauzen Territory, his exploits so renowned they'd reached even this harsh north.
Sion Clauzen.
First impressions shocked them—a youthful face when they'd expected a hulking warrior.
His smile doubled the surprise, erasing all doubts.
"I asked Viscount Gino—a bit forcefully—to host this party and invite you all, who toil day and night for the kingdom."
"I see.
But Viscount Gino..."
"It was so rushed that even now, he's bustling about with his steward preparing something.
He'll be here soon, so let's enjoy ourselves lightly in the meantime."
At Sion's gentle smile, the nobles nodded and chuckled.
The party hall felt normal, no signs of trouble at any viscount house.
Human smiles inspire immense trust, making it impossible to imagine Sion plotting anything sinister.
"This is bad—with Young Lord Sion Clauzen here, I'll be completely overshadowed."
Vice-Captain Schumacher raised a hand playfully, feigning offense.
The nobles waved it off—how could that be?
As vice-captain of the royal knights, he was one of the king's favored swords, far above them in status.
With his upper knight title to boot, he was no one to underestimate.
"Were you with Young Lord Sion on the trip to the northern tribes, Vice-Captain?"
"If we'd known, we could've waited to help you unwind from the journey."
"Your words alone are appreciated.
It would've been better if things had gone smoothly."
Vice-Captain Schumacher's demeanor and voice felt oddly stiff.
A closer look might raise suspicions, but to the nobles, it just signaled their mission with the tribes hadn't wrapped neatly.
"Ah, there's Viscount Gino."
"Indeed.
Viscount Gino!
Over here!
Why are you so la—"
The gathered nobles' faces twisted grotesquely in an instant.
Viscount Gino entering the hall looked utterly wrong—anyone could see it.
Cheeks sunken as if starved for days without sleep, dark circles under his eyes.
Gaunt to the point of collapse, no one would've batted an eye if he dropped dead.
Worst, his eyes trembled with fear, screaming the situation wasn't unfolding as they'd anticipated.
"Young Lord Sion!
Could it be..."
Whatever Viscount Gino meant to say—likely denying the truth—cut off.
Sching—
Vice-Captain Schumacher's face turned stone-cold, as if his prior smile never existed, drawing a gleaming sword.
Simultaneously, royal knights and soldiers flooded in behind Gino.
All armed to the teeth, ready for war.
'Th, this is fucked!'
The wrecked Viscount Gino, fully armed knights and soldiers pouring in.
Above all, the vice-captain drawing his sword wasn't trivial.
A royal knight vice-captain wouldn't unsheathe lightly before allied nobles—it meant treating them as a grave threat to the crown, enemies.
"Damn it!"
"Viscount Gino!
Did you betray us?!"
It was over—everything exposed.
No more hiding or denying; they vented fury at Viscount Gino, the prime suspect.
Sion let out an overt sneer.
They knew big gains came with big risks.
Yet this reaction.
A calm response might've been intriguing.
"You've gorged yourselves plenty over these long years.
Disgusting trash."
From Sion's refined lips—expecting polite eloquence—came coarse soldier-speak, dumbfounding the northern nobles.
"Betrayed?
Fortunately, no.
We're comrades heading to the afterlife together—don't be too harsh.
Rishi.
Let go of that trash."
At Sion's word, Rishi shoved Viscount Gino toward the clustered nobles.
Now all eight thieves—three viscounts, five barons—were together.
"Since we're all gathered, skip the cliché 'Why did you do it?'
Let's get realistic."
"..."
"Anyone care to admit fault cleanly and go with dignity?
I could show special mercy for maintaining minimal decorum."
"Wh-what?!"
"Are you threatening to harm us?!"
"No matter your great noble lineage, you can't directly harm kingdom nobles.
Only the royals can—it's the law!"
True enough.
Only the Hispania royals could inflict physical harm.
That's why Kim Yu-hyun petting Viscount Conean drew no rebuke from Vice-Captain Schumacher.
'Heh.
What bullshit.'
To Sion, it was laughable nonsense.
"Pests who've harmed the royals and kingdom now invoke them and the law?
Wow, you're impressive.
Respect rising on its own, nobles."
Blatant mockery.
They ground their teeth, knowing it, but aid was far, blades near.
They'd brought escorts, but the intruders' full armament suggested easy suppression.
'At least there should've been fight noises—why not?!'
Even against royal elites, they were northern knights and soldiers battle-hardened against tribes.
Subdued silently? Too suspicious.
'Did they... all get turned?!'
No.
Just tactical nuke deployed, resistance swept clean.
Sion would've said that to their doubts.
Gazing at their ashen faces, Sion continued.
"And no need to worry.
Did you think I'd march north without backup?
Especially with tribe talks ahead—bare, without authority?
You didn't really think that."
"N-no way.
Young Lord Sion Clauzen—you're the king's proxy...?"
"Oh, you're sharper than most.
At least your brain turns a bit."
The nobles recoiled in disbelief.
The king granting proxy wasn't unprecedented.
But it was rare—lifetime maybe once for top marquises, heads of the three great houses.
Resolve national issues in the king's stead, halt policies.
Crucially, strike foes deemed harmful to the kingdom.
External or internal, no matter.
"By royal and national law, as king's proxy, I can execute you here without issue.
Details go in the report, but with witnesses and evidence...
One paper, and His Majesty waves it off.
Especially trash nobles—who nearly plunged the kingdom into war's worst hell."
Sion displayed what he held.
The nobles instantly recognized it: a kill list detailing their schemes.
"Th-this...!"
"Vice-Captain Schumacher.
What punishment for endangering Hispania, aiding enemies?"
"In peace, prison after ordeals—lucky to live.
In war? None.
Summary execution authorized, Young Lord Sion Clauzen."
"See?
Any last words, trash?"
Their fate sealed, the northern trash—not nobles—shuddered, lips clenched.
No escape here.
Even if, treason would burn them and their houses.
The spears aimed at tribes would turn on them.
"This can't—this can't happen!"
Then, one trash bellowed boldly, stepping forward.
Mana-rich, sturdy build—he'd seen combat.
"Viscount Tyker won't go down like this.
All we've gotten guarding the north is scorn and isolation from southern hicks.
While other nobles live lavishly, we couldn't enjoy our stations!
So what if we skimmed water from the north's stream?
It's unfair.
Unfair, I say!"
Vice-Captain Schumacher growled—talks big for a loose-lipped fool—advancing sword drawn.
As if to decapitate, Sion intervened.
"Hold, Vice-Captain."
"Young Lord Sion, no reason to talk with that..."
"Cornered rats spout nonsense for mental victories.
Crush it before killing—that's the way."
Sion approached Viscount Tyker.
Similar heights, but Sion above made Tyker look up.
"Couldn't enjoy your station?
Wrong—only those fulfilling duties earn rights.
Shirk and demand perks—what right to yap?
Skimming water wrong?
Not just skim—you shat in it and sealed lips. That's the issue."
"No choice.
This is the north!
Unlike bountiful lands—always scarce!
Thrashing to survive, what did Hispania do? Why so smug?!"
"Titles aren't for stew.
Survive within your means.
Need others teach basic wisdom?"
"You're mad, Sion Clauzen.
You, the kingdom—insane!
This is the north.
Nothing easy..."
Ha, fuck.
Squealing piglet.
When hearing such dogshit nonstop, what must a man do?
Our Butler bro showed it.
"Mad?
The north?"
If you're a man, at least once.
"...The!"
Such lines, then a satisfying kick—natural instinct!
"Hispania!"
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