Chapter 64
Chapter 64
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Clash with Pidren's Heirs
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"Bro, isn't this a bit much? Wouldn't it be better if we just went to meet them ourselves?"
"Nonsense. They're the ones who trespassed on land our family has owned for generations. They need to show the proper respect."
Nestor, the eldest son out on patrol due to the recent roamers and bandits plaguing the territory, spoke firmly to his younger brother Georg.
He wasn't in a good mood.
A group of soldiers entering the territory without notice could be overlooked.
But their commander was the problem.
An unknown knight whose name no one had heard of until recently—a total nobody from out of town, now a lord?
After years as a squire, he'd subjugated roamers and bandits multiple times over nearly two years, yet he still hadn't even been knighted!
"Still, Father signed the recommendation letter himself. Don't pick a fight—just invite him to the castle."
At Georg's words, his twin Aire nodded eagerly, unable to hide his excitement.
"I agree! He's a wyvern slayer. If we invite him to a banquet, we could hear how he took it down. How did he even do it? Rumors say it was over two meters tall—must be because he's so strong."
"Tch! How old are you to believe that crap? He probably just got lucky with a roamer. And they say he has over a hundred men. If he couldn't take down a wyvern hatchling with that force, it'd be embarrassing."
"You think so? Still, he seems like a real knight. I heard he smashed a troll near Maren."
"Rumors are always exaggerated."
Nestor was convinced.
He must have been extremely lucky, or some high-ranking noble was backing him up.
Maybe both.
"Huh? Bro, over there!"
Everyone's eyes turned in the same direction.
They saw two knights with a black dragon banner at the fore, followed by their troops.
"......"
Nestor swallowed hard without realizing it.
The pitch-black plate armor on the knights screamed top quality at a glance, and the sheer number of troops following them was intimidating.
That force could easily hold its own in a war involving a great noble house he'd only heard of in stories.
'It's the power of silver. That's what money buys. Guys like that usually aren't all that skilled.'
Biting his lip as if denying his own intimidation, Nestor's resentment and envy toward the newcomers only grew.
"Are you Lord Pidren's sons?"
As Eugene removed his helmet, the brothers' eyes widened involuntarily.
Too beautiful, too young.
'Whoa......'
The twins were simply awestruck, but Nestor was shocked that Eugene was around his own age—and it fueled his anger.
"Yes. Nestor Pidren."
"Yes?"
"Huh?"
"Your speech is rather curt. Did Lord Pidren teach you to address other lords that way?"
"Kiek!? What the hell's your problem, punk! Daring to talk to our lord like that? Should I spit in your damn eyes?"
Eugene stuffed the leather pouch containing Mirian, who was ready to act on her threat, before she could.
"......!"
Nestor panicked. His own words had been short, but he hadn't expected Eugene to respond like this.
"Well, well. No manners, no honor. Now that we've met, I'll be on my way. I don't have time to waste with rude brats."
As Eugene coldly donned his helmet again, Nestor shouted.
"Sir! Take that back!"
"What?"
"You said our Pidren family has no manners or honor!"
"B-Bro."
The twins tried to restrain their suddenly agitated eldest brother.
"Why!? Doesn't that piss you off!?"
"No, it's not that......"
As the brothers began arguing among themselves, Eugene quickly intervened.
"Enough. Save the kid fights for home. For Lord Pidren's sake, I'll let it slide this time. Just go."
Eugene's attitude was openly condescending.
And while it might seem cold, it wasn't improper.
A lord speaking to lower-ranking nobles could even be seen as a measure of restraint.
"Eek!"
Having endured no such disdain even as a squire, Nestor did something he absolutely shouldn't have.
His hand unconsciously went to his longsword.
'Well, now.'
Eugene felt a pang of emptiness inside.
Just a light scratch, and this immediate reaction?
Clearly, a fancy education didn't make everyone smart.
Young nobles and knights especially tended to snap when slighted by peers.
Half of young knights died in duels over trivial reasons—it wasn't just empty talk.
'These are the perfect guys to run into.'
Hiding his inner thoughts, Eugene addressed Nestor, who was on the verge of exploding.
"What? Planning to draw that and challenge me to a duel?"
"You......"
"Bro! No, don't!"
'At least the twin brothers have some brains.'
"You'll regret it if you draw."
To ensure Nestor didn't regain his composure, Eugene quickly provoked him again.
And it worked perfectly.
"Regret? In Nestor Pidren's life, there's no such thing as—"
Thwack!
Struck in the head by a Rondel dagger that flew like lightning, Nestor half-drew his longsword before tumbling backward off his saddle.
"Ahh!"
"Brooo!"
The two twins hurriedly checked on Nestor.
Fortunately, he'd been hit with the flat of the blade, not the edge—he was unconscious with a gash on his head.
"Payment for treatment and passage."
Eugene tossed a pouch of silver coins to the twins and continued coldly.
"This is only because of Lord Pidren's face. But I'll lodge a formal complaint about today. Tell him I'm looking forward to seeing how he apologizes. Got it?"
"Y-Yes, sir!"
Overwhelmed by Eugene's sharp tone, the twins nodded frantically.
"What a waste of time. Let's go."
"Yes, sir!"
The troops replied thunderously and followed Eugene once more.
"Who the hell picks a fight with a lord? He's insane."
"Be glad he's lucky. If Sir Eugene had been serious, there'd be a hole in our bro's head."
"A hole? Nah, his head would've been gone."
"True. Heh heh!"
Some passing mercenaries hurled insults, but the twins couldn't move.
They feared that knight—who drew and threw a dagger without anyone noticing—might return if they retaliated.
"W-What do we do? Father's gonna flip."
"What else? We tell the truth. He looked like he was heading out on campaign—he'll come back this way for sure, right?"
"Oh......"
Their eyes darkened as they stared after the troops, then they exchanged glances as something occurred to them.
"But where are they going?"
The twins said it in unison, eyes widening, then turned toward the direction Eugene's group had taken.
"That's the road to Marquis Archibald's territory."
Its past glory had somewhat faded, but it was still the fiercest hotspot on the Kalsbagen Peninsula, teeming with the most influential and powerful nobles.
* * *
"Master, why'd you let them off back there? If you'd grabbed those brats and dragged them to that Pidren lord, you could've skipped the toll and gotten a reward instead."
"Hmm. That was the plan at first. But then I remembered—Lord Pidren was one of the nobles who signed the recommendation letter."
"Oh? Really?"
It had sounded unfamiliar at first, but seeing the letter signed by the nobles jogged his memory—the first signature belonged to House Pidren.
"So you cut him some slack as a neighbor? Not a bad idea, but punks with no manners like that shouldn't get off easy."
"Who said I let him off?"
"Huh? Then why?"
Eugene smirked at Galpredic's puzzled tilt of the head.
"Lord Pidren is the first noble Baron Beogalan sent the recommendation letter to. The very first signer."
"Oh? And?"
"You don't send a letter asking random nobles to endorse some stranger as a lord, do you? The baron's no fool."
"Oho. True......"
Galpredic stroked his chin. But he hadn't fully grasped Eugene's thinking yet.
"Either way, Lord Pidren is someone the baron can control or a close ally. So when Pidren learns about today, what do you think he'll do?"
"Hmm. Probably ask the baron about you... Holy shit! So that's why you went easy on that rude eldest punk?"
Nodding at Galpredic, who finally caught on, Eugene confirmed it.
"Yeah. He'll dig into me more. I even warned him I'd complain. And as the first signer, he'll spread word to the other nobles too, right?"
"Crack up! Lord Pidren's gonna shit bricks! His kid started shit without permission and got smacked—Pidren's losing his mind. That eldest might really get a hole in his head now. Puhaha!"
"You think? Not my problem."
Eugene shrugged at Galpredic's joke.
* * *
Thwack!
"Ow!"
"You idiot!"
"M-Milord!"
"Stop him! Milord!"
Chaos erupted as those around tried to restrain Lord Pidren, who pummeled his eldest son with a signet-ringed fist.
The protruding gem left a hole in Nestor's scalp, blood pouring as he bowed his head.
"I'm sorry, Father! But he insulted our house......"
"Insult this, insult that! You're lucky he just went on his way—if he'd dragged your ass back here, what then!?"
"B-But......"
"He's a knight Baron Beogalan personally certified as a lord! Not enough? He got me and the other lords to sign the recommendation letter! Know what that means? The baron sees him as an equal! You goblin-shit-brained fool!"
Since receiving his commission from Marquis Archibald, Lord Pidren had avoided foul language—until now.
And at his heir apparent, no less.
"Huff, huff."
Exhausted after ranting, Pidren slumped and caught his breath.
"So, he's coming to complain to me?"
"Yes, Father."
"He said he's looking forward to our apology."
The twins chimed in side by side, as if waiting.
"Haa......!"
Lord Pidren felt the world go dark.
No need to grovel to the new neighbor first, but no reason to provoke either—he'd planned to watch quietly.
All ruined by his hot-blooded eldest son whose rage had rotted his brain.
'What to do? Warn the other lords not to act rashly first......'
Pidren was quick-witted and perceptive. But overly cautious.
'What gift? Silver's a given—what else?'
After agonizing, Pidren decided.
"Someone! Bring paper and ink. Silver-embossed."
When in doubt, ask.
'Whew, at least that's a relief.'
The man in question had marched out with his troops.
So a subtle inquiry to a mere estate manager would yield the perfect response discreetly.
Show goodwill first, less pressure than facing the lord himself.
'Two birds with one stone.'
Unaware the manager was of the Night Clan and a mid-level Roman Empire official like himself, Pidren breathed easy.
Two days later, late evening.
A neighbor's estate manager arrived in pitch-black clothes and hat, dressed like an undertaker.
"I am Delmundo. Sir, I hear you've erred against our lord. Most regrettable. Speaking on behalf of Sir Eugene, bearer of the pure, noble blood of the full moon, and as one who feels the weight of his honor more than any......"
"......"
The moment this 'mere estate manager' fluently wielded the Roman Empire tongue reserved for royalty or famed great nobles, Lord Pidren sensed something was very wrong.
(To be continued in the next chapter)