Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: The Foolish Heir
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“Huu...!”
The guard captain glanced sideways at Franz Bormel, who had been sighing whenever he got the chance.
Franz, clad in fine chain mail with a longsword at his side and a navy surcoat emblazoned with his family’s crest, was the eldest son of Baron Bormel.
Even a glance at his somewhat plump build showed how far he was from being a knight. Franz kept sighing repeatedly before staring off into the distant sky and mumbling to himself.
“Is the day when I, Franz Bormel, can make my name known across the realm truly never to come? Why does Father oppose me leading the troops into battle?”
*It’s because you’re so weak you couldn’t handle even a single mercenary, let alone a knight.*
But the guard captain wasn’t foolish enough to say it aloud. He forced a smile instead.
“It’s not a real war, just a fight where both sides compromise at an appropriate line. He must have judged it an insufficient stage to showcase the heir Franz Bormel’s wisdom and valor.”
“Yeah, that must be it. Haa! Still disappointing. I wanted to defeat Sir Fairchilden’s knights and proudly propose to Aleina.”
The conflict between the Fairchilden and Bormel families stemmed from the marriage between Aleina Fairchilden and Franz Bormel.
It was very common for children of noble families in the same region to form marital ties.
Thus, the Fairchildens and Bormels had planned to solidify mutual trust and surveillance by marrying their second daughter to the heir.
But disagreements arose over the dowry demanded by the Bormels, leading to this brawl where the victor’s word would prevail.
*No, I’m saying you couldn’t handle even one of those mercenaries, let alone a knight?*
Swallowing those words inwardly, the guard captain spoke in a voice full of feigned regret.
“Isn’t the victory of the knights bearing our Bormel banner the same as a victory for the lord and you, sir? Later, go proudly to Sir Fairchilden’s castle and welcome Lady Aleina.”
“That’s right. But it’s still disappoint—huh?”
Franz, who had been smacking his lips, suddenly widened his eyes.
“That... isn’t that a knight?”
“Yes? What!?”
The guard captain flinched as he looked where Franz pointed.
A knight in pitch-black plate armor, heavily armed and mounted on horseback, was slowly approaching the castle with someone ahead of him.
“Everyone, battle stations!”
Though only about fifty strong, the castle’s soldiers rushed up to the ramparts at the guard captain’s shout.
Crossbows loaded with bolts all aimed toward the knight, and moments later, the knight’s horse halted before the moat.
“Who are you, sir! This is the castle of Lord Rizepplin Yonasen Bormel, liege of Hailien!”
“I am Yan of House Eugene. I’ve brought Sir Afiel Bormel Pascal, nephew of Lord Bormel.”
“Sir Pascal!?”
The startled guard captain stared piercingly at the figure led by the knight who had named himself Yan Eugene.
“It’s me! Pascal, steward of Langbone!”
“Brother Afiel!”
Franz couldn’t hide his surprise and called out to Pascal.
“Sir Franz? Right now...”
“Shut up, or I’ll cut you.”
Eugene drew his shortsword in a flash and held it to Pascal’s throat.
“H-how dare you! You scum!”
Seeing his cousin, close since childhood, threatened, Franz flew into a rage.
“Whether it’s you or him, fetch Lord Bormel. As a knight hired by Sir Fairchilden, I demand the exchange of Sir Robos and Sir Pascal, who are imprisoned inside the castle.”
“Eek!”
Franz finally grasped the situation and ground his teeth.
But true to his position as heir of the Bormel barony, he boldly shouted back.
“My lord has no intention of parleying directly with a rogue like you! I am Franz Bormel! Heir to Baron Bormel! Negotiate with me!”
*That fool’s the heir?*
Eugene nodded inwardly at Franz’s words. Though clad in chain mail, his physique showed no trace of knightly training.
“Perfect. Bring out Sir Robos, and I’ll release this one.”
“Mm.”
As Franz furrowed his brow, the guard captain urgently whispered to him.
“Sir, you can’t agree so hastily. We must inform the lord first.”
“That’s true, but...”
The disposition of captured knights was the lord’s prerogative. No matter the heir, he had no authority to decide arbitrarily.
Yet Franz felt jealousy toward the young knight, armed in far superior plate armor and astride a magnificent horse.
Moreover, the image overlapped with his own fantasy of boldly riding alone to Sir Fairchilden’s castle and demanding his daughter’s hand in a dashing manner.
Yes, that was supposed to be his moment.
At that point, Eugene’s voice interrupted Franz’s pounding fantasy.
“What if you’re lying about being the heir? I’ve never heard of an heir who can’t even decide something like this on his own.”
“What did you say!?”
Flames erupted in Franz’s eyes.
He whipped his flushed face toward the guard captain and soldiers.
“Go report to Father right now! And you lot! Bring Sir Robos!”
“Sir Franz, the lord must issue the order first...”
“Shut up! I’ll make the judgment! Bring him now!”
“...Yes, sir.”
The guard captain could only bow his head before the heir’s fury. Status was law, after all.
“Um, could you maybe remove the sword?”
Feeling Pascal trembling through the shortsword on his shoulder, Eugene replied coldly.
“You’re the one who first broke a promise sworn on honor.”
“T-that’s...”
“I clearly said I’d take you to Lord Bormel’s castle. And I’m keeping that promise right now. So why complicate things with nonsense?”
“...Sorry.”
At a loss for words, Pascal muttered in a deflated voice.
Eugene removed the shortsword from his shoulder.
“Don’t test me again. This is your last chance. Once inside the castle, say whatever you want, but don’t forget—you’re still my prisoner.”
“Got it.”
Having a vague sense of what kind of knight Eugene was, Pascal nodded hastily.
Moments later, Franz Bormel led a man up to the ramparts and called out.
“Hey, knight! I’ve brought Sir Robos!”
Eugene shouted at the unexpectedly tidy-looking man.
“How do I know that’s Sir Robos?”
“It is! I’m Yecca of Robos! You said Eugene, right? Sent by Sir Fairchilden?”
Whether the gladly shouting man was truly Robos or not didn’t matter, so Eugene said loudly for Franz to hear.
“That’s right. Then, heir, let’s exchange prisoners quickly. The sun will set at this rate.”
Franz merely twitched without responding.
“No, doesn’t an heir have authority for something like this? What a letdown. Ah, could it be you’re too scared to even do a prisoner exchange? I thought the mercenaries at Langbone were just weak, but it’s the same here—knights and heirs alike, nothing special.”
“Sir, your words are too...”
“Shut it. Think I’ll miss and hit the horse’s rear with a javelin? If you want to test me now, I won’t stop you.”
“...”
Pascal, about to snap back, clamped his mouth shut. Having experienced it once, he knew full well Eugene’s skill level.
But Franz Bormel was different.
Having his dreamed-of heroic moment stolen(?) and repeatedly provoked, not to mention openly looked down upon, Franz’s anger exploded.
“Eek! Raise the gate! Lower the drawbridge! I’ll handle the prisoner exchange myself!”
“Yes, sir!”
With even the guard captain absent, the soldiers dared not defy the heir.
*That idiot!*
Pascal wanted to go mad and jump in frustration.
When even bringing a few knights was questionable, for the domain heir to step out alone!
No, before that—falling for such obvious provocation?
But Franz had no such experience, and he staunchly believed in his status as heir to a titled lord.
Creak! Thud!
Not entirely a fool, Franz rode out grandly across the drawbridge, pushing Robos ahead with a dozen soldiers in tow.
“See that! I, Franz Bormel, have come out myself for the exchange! So retract your insulting words from moments ago and...”
Ignoring Franz’s bellowing with one ear, Eugene muttered lowly.
“Why are they all such morons, one after another? Good for me, but Lord Bormel must worry endlessly.”
“Franz, you...”
As Pascal steeled himself to shout upon hearing that, Sillione charged out like a gale.
“Eek!?”
Startled, Franz’s soldiers rushed to block the front.
But domain soldiers in leather armor wielding spears—neither heavy infantry nor trained—couldn’t possibly stop a charge from a plate-armored knight and his barded warhorse.
Thud thud thud!
“Argh!”
“Guh!”
Far less skilled than battle-hardened mercenaries, the soldiers failed to resist properly and flew back screaming.
In an instant, five or six tumbled into the moat, and only then did Franz grasp the situation, his face draining to blue.
“Block him! Block, I said!”
Shrieking, Franz hurriedly tried to draw his longsword.
But as Eugene slightly released his vampire presence, Franz’s horse reared in fright.
Neigh!
“Huh!? Wh-what!?”
Noble or not, unused to knighthood, Franz couldn’t properly wield a two-handed longsword atop an excited mount.
Flailing on the saddle, the longsword slipped from his grasp.
Swoosh!
“Eep!?”
By then, Eugene had dispatched all the soldiers, and his shortsword halted before Franz’s helmet.
Seeing the blade stop mere finger-widths away, Franz felt as if all blood drained from his body at once.
No, more terrifying were the red eyes glaring from the pointed visor.
Having never experienced anything like it, Franz felt overwhelming terror and unwittingly pissed himself in his undergarments.
“Sir Robos, take the heir’s horse.”
“Ah! Got it!”
Overwhelmed by Eugene’s display, Robos hastily seized the reins of Franz’s horse.
Moments later, as Sillione and Franz’s horse left the drawbridge, Eugene raised his visor and turned to Pascal.
“What are you doing, sir? Hurry inside.”
“...!”
Like Robos, mouth agape watching Eugene, Pascal flinched.
“Didn’t I promise? To take you to Lord Bormel’s castle. Go on.”
Pascal shuddered unwittingly.
This knight had indeed kept his promise.
Yet he’d never imagined exchanging himself—a mere collateral knight—for the legitimate heir of House Bormel.
“If you don’t want to go, you can stay with the heir.”
“Haa! How could I go alone leaving the domain heir behind? I’ll stay too.”
Pascal wasn’t without shame or sense.
Going in alone would surely earn his uncle’s wrath and the stain of cowardice.
*Better to get called incompetent. Damn it.*
With the even more foolish heir there, any later blame could be shared amicably.
* * *
Upon hearing his nephew had been captured followed by his own son—and by crawling out of the castle on their own feet—Baron Bormel flew into a rage.
But in the end, he had no choice but to open the gates himself and pay respects to the knight who had taken both his heir and nephew prisoner.
With his hired knights and mercenaries all dispatched elsewhere, he’d already lost over ten castle soldiers in one clash.
Moreover, testimonies from the rampart soldiers who witnessed it all led to the conclusion that even mobilizing all remaining forces wouldn’t suffice against Eugene.
Above all, he couldn’t guarantee his son and nephew’s lives immediately.
Thus, in exchange for their return, Baron Bormel had to write personally admitting defeat and begging Sir Fairchilden’s mercy, even affixing his signet ring.
Even so, Eugene couldn’t trust Baron Bormel.
Hence, under the courteous condition of protection until the two lords met directly to negotiate, he brought Pascal back out.
Along with a large chest full of the Bormel banner and silver coins, plus two sturdy slaves to carry it.
“Kyieee! Silver coins! Slaves! Success! Now just promotion left!”
As the excited Spirit of Desire thrashed about, promotion aside, it was undoubtedly a grand success.
(To be continued)