Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: The Spark of Ambition
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"Young master! Young master Kael!!"
The first to greet me upon my return from escaping the Pavilion Campaign was, naturally, our Alexei.
He had insisted on following me anywhere, but I talked him out of it.
Even when we clashed with the Norobogord Demon Alliance, I had taken Alexei along.
But that had been more like a localized clash of arms than a true war.
In contrast, this was a massive war, with at least five imperial legions mobilized.
Moreover, unlike back then, when I had simply tagged along without any official role.
"Aigoo! Just look at your face—it's a mess! You definitely skipped meals! No matter how bad army rations are, I told you a hundred times to eat every single one properly!"
"No, I ate every meal without skipping a bite."
Our family might not have a dedicated chef, but imperial army rations were decent enough.
One reason the imperial legions boasted the continent's finest combat prowess:
They always provided soldiers with meals better than the bare minimum.
The simplest way to gauge your treatment?
Look at the meal on your plate today.
Basic of basics—which made it all the more crucial.
Soldiers couldn't be held together by duty alone.
Conscript or volunteer, it didn't matter—pride had to come with it.
The Empire had chosen hearty rations as the way to foster that pride.
'Those fools who scoff "Pride from food?" should be force-fed vinyl-pack rice laced with anchovies and kimchi. Then they'd get it—whether food builds pride or not.'
Anyway, that's why I never skipped a meal.
A Clauvitz turning up his nose at camp side dishes?
Our ancestors would drop straight into my dreams, furious.
And bellow, "Eat up! Our family doesn't snub camp grub!"
"Your cheeks are all sunken in, and you've got dark circles under your eyes!"
"I don't."
"And you've lost weight too. Did the imperial army put you through training or something?!"
"Be honest. Isn't our grandma possessing you or something?"
After some perfectly reasonable suspicion, we got back to normal talk.
"So, all your duties are fully wrapped up now, right?"
"Who knows. Could be, or not."
"If not, you're not heading back to the eastern front, are you?"
That's exactly what I couldn't pin down.
As I hesitated, Alexei glanced around warily and whispered.
"Is it the Crown Princess's orders holding you back?"
"The Crown Princess just said we'd meet again."
"Then..."
"I don't know myself all that well."
Part of me thought I should bolt from here before it was too late.
Another part wondered if I might actually have more talent than I realized.
In short, I really had no clue.
What path would best serve my family—and me.
"Let's head to the capital first. Even busting our asses from today, it'll still take a good while."
"Aigoo, I'm worried you're working yourself to death, young master!"
"Father's special training means a long carriage ride won't kill me."
Maybe that was the root of my resistance to being called a "strategist."
The word conjured images of average—or subpar—physical prowess.
Muscles melted away from overwork, leaving just bones and sallow skin.
A wheezing, burnt-out office drone.
'Looks can deceive, but I trained under my martial-arts-master dad himself. I handle a sword decently. "Strategist" just glosses that over.'
It felt downright unfair. I'd busted my ass building stamina.
"Let's go, young master! Off to the capital!"
"Yeah. Alexei, I owe you one again."
One thing was crystal clear: time to bump up Alexei's salary.
The master roamed far and wide, dragging him through the wringer too.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Nearly three months, now.
The capital felt far calmer than I'd expected upon my long-awaited return.
News of the Pavilion Campaign had surely spread by now.
Everyone knew the alliance's pathetic rout.
Yet no great stir.
With the war just underway, no room for premature celebration?
Cheers for the Empire and jeers for the enemy—save those for the end.
Not bad. Very Empire-like, even.
Victory was ours by rights, after all—a firm, well-founded certainty.
"The report on the Pavilion Campaign was most intriguing, Young Lord Kael."
I snapped to and gazed at the Crown Princess seated right before me.
First impressions held: she was charisma incarnate.
"Ah, Bell's gone east to console the imperial citizens there."
"I see."
"Gnaeus is holed up in seclusion right now. Told him it wasn't necessary, but he insists it's proper. Little brothers are a handful, honestly."
"I see."
Why share prince-and-princess gossip with a mere noble's son?
I couldn't bring myself to ask—just fiddled with my teacup.
She watched me steadily, then smiled and spoke.
"Young Lord Kael."
"Yes, Crown Princess."
"Something troubling you?"
Subject dropped clean off.
Yet somehow, I sensed she already knew it all.
"There's an old saying: eras make their heroes."
I'd heard it before—waited quietly for more.
"And heroes? Sometimes they must be humble. Other times, boldly shine. Know why?"
"...No clue."
"Because,"
Her smile deepened.
"True excellence doesn't read as humility. It stirs a foolish greed—to eclipse that hero, claim his glory."
"..."
"Heroes either ascend to greater heights... or plummet pathetically."
She invoked "Young Lord Kael," steering us onward.
"You wish to stay put in your station. But that won't be easy. You've already revealed yourself—who you are, your mettle, your potential."
"...Your words ring true, Crown Princess."
"Which is why I say: why not embrace it? Become exactly the man they all want."
Their views of "Kael," their judgments, opinions.
I knew them. Just lacked the confidence.
So far, pure luck—situations aligned perfectly.
Now crowds chant my name, so maybe I'd tilt my head, wonder could I?
But one misstep, one slip...
"Young Lord Kael."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"It's not ability that qualifies you for ambition."
Her finger tapped my chest; her face turned deadly serious.
I swallowed dryly without thinking.
"Ambition qualifies you to unlock your true abilities."
"..."
Ambition. A word I'd thought worlds away from me.
Luckily born the Imperial Count's heir. Luck met a fine sibling.
Smooth path to succession. Next Imperial Count.
And luck struck again—past-life memories resurfaced.
Maximized them in every pinch.
But I figured that was my limit. Feared the real trials ahead.
Vowed: no overreaching beyond this talent.
"Aim to be the finest strategist. The greatest advisor. You qualify for that ambition—and I guarantee it personally."
"..."
"Even if you falter later, fret not. My guarantee means my aid follows naturally."
She burst into laughter.
I couldn't help smiling along.
"I shan't leash you like some pet."
Laughter faded; she tilted her teacup.
"Nor tempt you like a hound with scraps. I simply wish you to grasp ambition."
"Your Highness."
"Don't you crave a mightier Empire? Your house the realm's pinnacle? The name 'Kael' etched eternal in history?"
Where faint ripples had stirred, now a boulder crashed.
That word—ambition. Elevating me, my kin, my house.
Brief, yet searing. My jumbled thoughts... cleared.
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