Chapter 196
Chapter 196
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 196
Chapter Title: The Prince from the Empire
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“His Grace Duke Bartla headed toward Lord Leadwell’s territory. I saw him going that way with dozens of knights.”
“Oh, really?”
At the words of the roaming mercenaries, the nobles accompanying the Pransil family head brightened up.
They knew he had gone along the west coast, but they hadn’t known the exact direction. They had gotten lucky.
However, one person alone—Lord Leadwell—grew extremely grim.
‘That vampire bastard! What more does he plan to squeeze out of my territory this time!’
“Sir Pransil, couldn’t we hurry just a bit? I’m terribly worried about what that insolent duke might do in my lands.”
“We shall. You needn’t worry at all.”
“Oh!”
Lord Leadwell and the nobles brightened at this resolute and stern attitude, truly befitting a regional hegemon—no, a feudal lord of the Brantia Kingdom.
If it was the Pransil family head, he would strongly impress upon that vicious vampire duke the collective will of the west and teach him what true honor really meant.
Filled with great anticipation, the nobles spurred their horses onward.
Yet half a day later, they encountered an unexpected group.
“Who are they? Bandits, perhaps?”
“Probably bandits. They’re all mounted.”
“Could be nobles from the south.”
The nobles tilted their heads at the sight of a group of about ten riders, all on horseback, far in the distance.
They were too neatly attired for bandits, and more than half were properly equipped with arms.
In Brantia, any group equipped to that level wouldn’t stoop to banditry when they could simply ransack a manor and impersonate nobles.
“Hmm.”
Lord Pransil felt it would be awkward to simply pass them by, so he made a decision.
“Sir Kalpen. Go find out who they are.”
“Yes!”
At Lord Pransil’s order, one knight spurred his horse toward the mysterious group.
Everyone watched the situation with eyes full of both expectation and tension. A few minutes later, Sir Kalpen returned with clear excitement.
“My lord! My lord! They’re an imperial entourage from the Roman Empire! It’s Prince Rocaroph himself and his guard knights!”
“What!?”
“Oh!”
Not only Lord Pransil but all the nobles jumped in surprise.
They might be nobles of Brantia, but a member of the Roman imperial family was a being on an entirely different level.
Comparing the nobles of Brantia—a mere peripheral island kingdom—with the direct descendants of the Roman Empire, which had wielded massive influence over kingdoms since ancient times, was absurd to begin with.
“R-really? Truly a Roman imperial?”
“Yes! It’s real. The guard knights’ armor was completely different from our style. And the knight guiding them speaks our language. It’s certain!”
As the knight reaffirmed it, the nobles’ faces lit up at once, and they began chattering excitedly.
“What an honor! Sir Pransil, shouldn’t you go greet them? It’s a golden opportunity to forge ties with the empire’s imperial family.”
“Exactly. A Roman imperial prince holds a status even the king has to defer to, doesn’t he? And he’s a prince, no less. If we befriend him, we could even put pressure on that insolent Duke Bartla and the greenhorn king.”
Lord Pransil’s eyes twitched for a moment amid the nobles’ babble.
A Roman prince certainly made it far from impossible. And setting aside such side benefits, there was no harm at all in building ties with one—only gain.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes!”
The nobles followed happily behind Lord Pransil.
Moments later, they drew close enough to clearly make out each other’s faces with the naked eye.
‘Such luxurious attire!’
‘The knights’ harnesses and tack are different from Keiler Kingdom style too!’
‘It’s certain. He really is a Roman imperial.’
The inwardly admiring nobles grew even more excited.
To them, the Roman Empire was the pinnacle of civilization—the origin of all culture—and a land of envy, symbolized by pristine white jade highways and golden palaces.
The prince of such a place!
The nobles, itching to speak to the prince’s group, glanced at Lord Pransil.
Even Lord Pransil was a bit excited, but he feigned leisure and dignity as he spoke.
“Ahem! I am the great lord of the barony of Pransil and a feudal lord of the Brantia Kingdom…”
“Insolent. Dismount and show respect to the shining golden blood of Rome. Sir Pransil.”
“…!?”
Lord Pransil panicked when a young man he took for an attendant—not even the prince himself—suddenly cut him off.
But an attendant seated so close to the prince would surely be a direct heir from some highly ranked noble house in the empire.
Moreover, to speak Brantian so fluently meant he was extremely well-educated, befitting his station.
Suppressing his rising anger, he dismounted and offered a polite greeting once more.
The prince nodded from horseback and spoke in a unique accent, a touch more distant than the attendant’s.
“You must be Sir Pransil. I am Rocaroph, eldest legitimate son bearing His Imperial Majesty’s noble blood and Count of Freibork. Pleased to meet you.”
“The honor is mine, Prince Rocaroph. But… did you know of me?”
“Of course.”
Ooh…!
The nobles could no longer hide their excitement at the fact that a Roman prince was speaking Brantian—and that he knew Lord Pransil.
If things worked out like this, they could befriend the prince and truly pressure the king and Duke Bartla…
“I heard of you from my honorable friend, King Luke.”
The nobles’ sweet dreams shattered instantly at the prince’s leisurely voice.
Never mind already having met the king—what was this about a ‘friend’?
For an imperial known for arrogance to address the greenhorn king by name and call him a close friend?
“I heard your daughter is to become King Luke’s side consort. It may be presumptuous, but I hope you support the king well and contribute to the royal house’s prosperity and stability.”
“Ah… yes. Thank you for your kind words, Your Highness.”
“Incidentally, where were you headed, Sir Pransil?”
“Er. Well…”
Lord Pransil had no desire to air petty grievances.
But one noble, unable to let go of his lingering hopes and lacking any tact, jumped in.
“Sir Pransil was heading to Leadwell territory with us. You may know this, but a certain duke who’s appointed himself the king’s guardian has recently committed some outrageous acts.”
“You mean Duke Bartla, the king’s guardian? And you call him insolent?”
“Precisely, Your Highness.”
“And what exactly did Duke Bartla do…?”
Seeing the prince’s interest, the nobles eagerly spilled all the tales they had gossiped to Lord Pransil, putting on endlessly aggrieved and pitiable expressions.
A young, inexperienced prince would surely be weak to appeals to sympathy and a sense of honor.
“Hmm. I see. Well… hmm.”
As the nobles had hoped, the prince looked uncomfortable as he listened to their stories.
Yet he kept exchanging glances with the attendant at his side—seemingly quite reliant on the peer, of all people.
Sure enough, as the nobles’ tales showed signs of dragging on, the attendant stepped in at just the right moment.
“Your Highness. Shouldn’t we meet Duke Bartla first and judge for ourselves?”
“Yes. That would be best.”
“Pardon? Meet Duke Bartla?”
When one surprised noble unwittingly blurted it out, the attendant turned a slightly chillier gaze on him.
“Prince Rocaroph has business with Duke Bartla.”
This unexpected turn flustered the nobles.
A Roman imperial prince comes to Brantia and meets the king—that should conclude his business.
So what possible business could he have with Duke Bartla, a foreigner from the continent?
“Uh… business, you say…”
“Must the blood of Rome’s emperors explain such things to you?”
“N-no, of course not. Not at all.”
But why are you—an attendant, no less—speaking so casually?
They wanted to say it, but the nobles fell silent before the strange dignity and presence emanating from the golden-eyed attendant.
The prince then stepped in with a smile.
“Now, now, you said Leadwell territory? Let’s head there together for now. You seem to have business with Duke Bartla as well, so we can travel together. That all right with you, Sir Pransil?”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Unlike the nobles, who were still flustered and hadn’t gathered their wits, Lord Pransil replied with a now-calm face.
The reason a man who wasn’t even true nobility had become a regional hegemon in just over twenty years—and ultimately a feudal lord of Brantia—was his extraordinarily keen instincts.
* * *
“Guh!? Y-you mean my children?”
“Exactly. Not just the Katan clan—five other clans will send two direct heirs each to House Roderick.”
“…”
Saliva dripped down Chieftain Katan’s fang ring as he panicked.
But he quickly pulled himself together and spun his thoughts.
‘Don’t know where Roderick is, but it’s Brantia for now. Tell them to lie low for about a year, then revolt later.’
Not only his own children but the other chieftains’ sons and daughters were all seasoned warriors.
They were no match for the vampire duke or his knights with their absurd strength, but ten young, vigorous orc warriors could easily seize an average territory.
It might take time, but he could avenge today’s humiliation.
“So be it. I’ll take responsibility and convince the other clans.”
“No need. They’ve already agreed. And this fellow will handle the rest.”
When Eugene nodded toward awkwardly smiling Maxen, Chieftain Katan’s face darkened momentarily.
To entrust the future of the Bayman Orcs to that sniveling runt of an orc.
“So, who’re you sending?”
“Hm.”
Chieftain Katan looked over the captured orcs and pointed to two warriors.
“Kostan, Ortan. Both my legitimate sons. And Ortan’s the one who’ll succeed me as chieftain.”
Since it would be at most a year of suffering, the chieftain boldly named his heir.
“Hoo. The chieftain’s resolve is something else. I like it.”
“Kuheheh. We don’t trust each other, but as a warrior, don’t I have to take the first step like this? Anyway, I’ve shown my trust, Duke.”
Thoroughly concealing his cunning inner thoughts, Chieftain Katan puffed out his massive shoulders as if making a grand magnanimous decision.
But he truly didn’t know Eugene at all.
“It must’ve been a hard decision, but I truly appreciate you showing trust.”
“Kuh! No need to mention it.”
“In that spirit, we’ll appoint Chieftain Katan’s heir as foreman. You lot, take those two.”
“F-foreman?”
“Yes!”
As the flustered chieftain stood stunned, the knights responded vigorously and dragged away the two orc warriors—who were stumbling awkwardly with their steel-bound limbs.
“What’s this foreman business? What do you mean?”
Watching his sons being hauled off, Chieftain Katan asked urgently. Eugene feigned surprise as he replied.
“Hm? You don’t know about House Roderick? Ah, well, you’ve lived in the north your whole life, so maybe not.”
“...?”
Eugene flashed a meaningful smile at the chieftain, whose bull-like eyes shook with unease.
“House Roderick rules the Roderick Archipelago. It’s a prison island chain.”
“P-prison?”
“That’s right. Of course, your kids and the other clan hostages won’t live on the main island with the prison. There are plenty of uninhabited islets right beside it—one of those. Lots of work to do all around. Slack off, and there’s no food or water.”
“Kuheok!”
Chieftain Katan’s face instantly turned ashen.
To orcs who feared deep water and couldn’t swim, an island was an inescapable hell.
He might even go mad from terror just getting there.
“We don’t trust each other, so I’m just going to keep on not trusting you. Anyway, follow through on our agreement when you get back.”
Agreement be damned! It’s just ‘do as I say’!
“Krugh!”
Chieftain Katan collapsed to the ground in despair.
“Hell. Master’s deviousness just shines brighter with each passing day.”
“Kikheheh. Shines black as pitch. Only fitting for Demon King Overlord Absolute Darkness.”
“Demon King Overlord Absolute Darkness. Thrilling phrase. Note taken…”
Eugene briefly contemplated whether to just thrash his retainers, spirit, and pervert princess one by one, ranks be damned, as they murmured while eyeing him.
At that moment, Prabow—who had been alternating knight duty with Galpredic—rushed in.
“Your Grace, Duke. We have guests.”
“Guests? For me?”
“Indeed. Lord Leadwell and other nobles have arrived with Sir Pransil. And Prince Rocaroph’s entourage from the Roman Empire is with them.”
“…”
Eugene unwittingly scowled at this unexpected appearance of the prince—the turd he thought he’d escaped.
But on the other hand, he felt puzzled.
‘Tenacious doesn’t even cover it. Come to think of it, he’s shown big interest in me since we first met. Hm. Did he really come all the way to Brantia because of me?’
Why would a colossal noble like a Roman imperial prince…?
Either way, at this point, it was an inevitable clash of fate.
Thus, Eugene decided to meet the garrulous prince who hid his identity.
Of course, first he’d have to give a proper thrashing to the tattletale nobles—including Lord Pransil—who had come dragging their vain expectations.