Chapter 89
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Mopping Up the Remnants (1)
Breivi and Habu faced each other.
"Federback? That Meursault one?"
"Hmm... Strictly speaking, Federback isn't exactly a rare name. Could it be someone else?"
"In this day and age, no potato-digging Federback, wood-chopping Federback, or moneylending Federback is going to come looking for me."
"Th-then it must be an imposter."
But no matter how they thought about it, there was no reason for Federback, the young heir of the Meursault House, to come here.
No, there was only one possible reason.
The Furosange House's failure.
The Meursaults crushing the Furosanges and discovering their collusion with Levarb, coming to punish them for it.
Otherwise, there was no reason for Federback to show up here.
Breivi asked in a thinly trembling voice,
"H-how many did he bring with him?"
The maid replied,
"Excluding ten escort knights, no one else."
"Ten of them...! Huh? Ten? You said ten? Just?"
"Yes? Yes. Exactly ten, no more, no less. And just one carriage."
"Puhahat!"
Breivi laughed as if he had never trembled.
Habu grinned as well.
"If that's true, it's tremendous luck. We've got a full five hundred men."
"It might be good to go out and see him. It'd boost morale before deployment, wouldn't it?"
"Just going out to see? If I capture him, I'll be the greatest hero of this war."
What Federback's business was with the Levarb House was unknown.
But one thing was clear: the fool was extremely off guard.
"Did the Furosange House completely crush the Meursault House? Is that why he's come crawling to us?"
"Nothing else explains it."
"Crazy bastard. Does he think we'll take his side? Forgot he already caused a huge ruckus in this castle not long ago? Or maybe he's that desperate."
Breivi stepped forward with an arrogant gait.
"Guess I should hear his begging first. Then I can capture and torture him afterward."
"A wise decision, sir."
Habu attended to Breivi's side.
Soon, Breivi opened the castle gates and stepped out.
Far more soldiers than befitting the guest's entourage guarded him.
"Ahem! You there, young heir of the Meursault House?"
Breivi called out to the boy directly in front.
The boy removed his robe.
"You there?"
White hair and red eyes.
"Did you just say 'you there'?"
Federback stared at Breivi.
Breivi flinched instinctively.
This was his first time seeing Federback in person.
He had been away on business during the previous incident.
Breivi smiled at Federback.
"You've had a long journey, well done. You seem genuine enough, so come on in."
"Come on in?"
Federback urged his horse forward.
And continued in his characteristic emotionless tone.
"The Levarbs still haven't come to their senses."
"What...?"
Breivi didn't even have time to retort.
Federback spurred his horse toward Breivi in an instant.
Startled soldiers blocked the way, but they were knocked aside by Federback's horse.
A few knights rode out to intercept Federback.
...Thud! ...Thump!
Houndid and Scolseiji from the rear fired crossbows, toppling their horses.
"Eek!?"
Breivi tried to flee in panic, but it was too late.
Federback effortlessly seized Breivi by the nape.
Krunch!
Breivi was horrified the moment his neck was gripped.
Crack—
It felt like a massive crocodile had bitten his nape.
How could this be the grip strength of a human, let alone a fifteen-year-old boy?
"Aaaargh!?"
Breivi screamed from the excruciating pain in his nape.
Federback's voice flowed into his ear.
"You're worse than that father of yours who called himself a gentleman. Didn't you learn anything even after a corkscrew was jammed into his throat?"
Something cold touched the center of Breivi's Adam's apple.
It was an icicle shaped like a sharp awl.
"No wine today, so shall I pop something else?"
"S-sorry! I didn't recognize you...!"
"You recognized me fine, but your tone was still trash."
"Eek! My mistake!"
Breivi squeezed his eyes shut and trembled violently.
Only then did Federback remove the icicle from Breivi's neck.
Breivi ground his teeth, drenched in cold sweat.
'Damn it! If I'd known, I'd have just peeked from the ramparts! What an embarrassment, trying to show off in front of the men!'
Then Federback's horse neighed, snapping Breivi from his thoughts.
"I stopped by the Levarb House today to ask a few questions. Are you the acting patriarch?"
"Y-yes. But I'm not acting—I'm the patriarch."
"The patriarch is Viscount Bargo, isn't he?"
Breivi barely held back a curse at Federback's question.
"Yes... The patriarch is my father... but Father is... currently imprisoned in your house... haha..."
"Ah, right. On charges of treason."
"Yes. As I mentioned back then, the treason was Father's independent scheme, and we had nothing to do with it. So afterward, I've been handling things as patriarch, humble as it is..."
"If you're the patriarch, you must know this guy well?"
Federback cut Breivi off.
He pulled a severed head from a leather pouch.
"Gasp!?"
Breivi recoiled in shock.
What Federback drew from the cowhide sack was Sir Jono's head, preserved in salt.
He was the spy dispatched from Levarb to the Furosange House.
No wonder all contact from Furosange had ceased—it was because their liaison, Sir Jono, was dead.
Breivi frantically shook his head.
"I-I-I-I-I have no idea. Who's that?"
"He said he was from the Levarb House. Don't you know him?"
"How would I? Wh-who is he? Where'd he die?"
"Killed in Furosange Castle. During the extermination of the Furosange scum."
"Hic!"
Breivi hiccuped at Federback's words.
The surrounding soldiers stealthily hid their spears and swords behind them.
The Meursaults had wiped out the Furosanges.
In less than a few days, no less.
Normally, they'd laugh it off as nonsense, but... Sir Jono's head was right there in Federback's hand.
"Hic! Hic! Kkhk!"
Breivi pounded his chest to calm his hiccups.
Federback glanced around.
"Quite a crowd for a welcome party. All armed with spears and swords."
"Th-that's... They were bandits until recently, so they don't know etiquette."
"Not preparing for battle after hearing I was coming?"
"Of course not! Never!"
With his nape gripped, Breivi flailed desperately.
Federback nodded.
"Good. I like the sincerity, so here's a gift."
"A g-gift?"
As Breivi blinked in confusion, knights brought a carriage forward.
Soon, a man stepped down from the cargo hold.
Gaunt build, sallow skin, an old man on the verge of death.
Breivi blinked, not recognizing the elder.
And then.
"Gasp!? F-Father!?"
Yes.
The one Federback had brought was Viscount Bargo, the original patriarch of the Levarb House.
Snap—
Federback snapped his fingers, and light returned to Viscount Bargo's previously dull eyes.
"Thanks to the grace of the Meursault House, I have returned to the Levarb House! From now on, I will rule the Levarb House faithfully, never opposing the Meursaults!"
"Good. The education took well."
Federback's gaze shifted from Viscount Bargo to Breivi.
"You were the interim patriarch, right?"
"Y-yes..."
"The rightful patriarch of Levarb has returned, so step down now."
"......"
Breivi was speechless.
Soon, Viscount Bargo bellowed at the five hundred soldiers.
"I'm back! What are you lot doing? Hurry and prepare to greet your patriarch!"
The soldiers sluggishly began to move.
With the original patriarch returned, they naturally had to obey him.
Breivi's expression darkened as the gathered soldiers dispersed.
He overheard Federback and Viscount Bargo conversing.
"By the way, your son was incredibly rude. You heard him say 'you there,' 'well done,' 'come on in,' right?"
"I heard it clearly. It's my failing as a father for not raising him properly!"
Viscount Bargo quickly flattened himself on the ground and began kowtowing, banging his forehead until it bled.
Federback waved it off.
"If you're alright with it, I could take your son back to the main house and educate him myself."
"That would be an immense gratitude."
"Conveniently, the isolated tower where you stayed is vacant now. He can board and study there."
Breivi's fate was sealed.
He would be dragged to the Meursault House and receive the same mental reeducation his father had.
"N-no!"
Breivi whipped his head toward Viscount Bargo.
"Father! H-how can you send me as a hostage to the Meursaults?"
"......"
But Viscount Bargo's gaze toward his son was ice cold.
He well remembered how his sons had betrayed him en masse the moment he was imprisoned in the Meursaults' isolated tower.
"Son."
"Yes, Father!"
"Or should I go again?"
"......"
Breivi shut his mouth at his father's cold words.
Finally, after racking his brains desperately, Breivi shouted,
"F-Father is too old! You're too frail to lead as patriarch!"
"I've got better stamina than you, fat and flabby. I went through the same physical training your soldiers do while at the Meursault House."
"H-h-handover! What about the handover? While you were gone, I handled the patriarch's duties and piled up mountains of info only I know...!"
"No handover needed. I've been patriarch for years—everything in the house is as clear as day to me."
"Impossible! N-no! There are things I must do here! Surely if you look...!"
Federback cut in toward the denying Breivi.
"We'll provide free education in all the refinements needed to become the next Levarb patriarch. Be grateful."
"......!"
Of course, it would be a thoroughly intensive indoctrination.