Suddenly, What's With the Dog Barking?
A modest, unassuming design. Furniture worn soft with the passage of years. Late-afternoon sunlight and the low murmur of voices drifted in through the windows of a first-floor inn dining room.
Leon and Limon chose one of the empty tables and sat across from each other.
"W-well, this is... rather simple fare, but..."
The middle-aged proprietress approached with hesitant steps. From the enormous tray in her arms, dish after dish began transferring onto the table.
Pie, stew, fruit, roast chicken, sausages... There was nothing simple about it. The spread was lavish — as though she had cooked up every dish on the menu and then invented a few more for good measure.
"Honestly... a single bowl of warm stew would have been more than enough."
Limon offered a wry smile.
"You've already brought it out, so there's nothing for it. You have my thanks. We'll enjoy it."
Even that alone seemed to overwhelm her; color flooded the woman's face.
"As for the bill—"
"Oh, no! I couldn't possibly take money from a person of your standing. Simply having you taste my cooking is an honor."
She waved her hands in frantic refusal. And it was no empty courtesy — she bowed at once and withdrew.
"Really, this never gets any easier."
Limon's manner suggested this was far from the first time. Without missing a beat, he drew a silver coin from his coat and set it on the table.
"..."
What is he even doing.
Leon watched the little farce unfold with a faintly sour look.
Limon gave an embarrassed smile.
"There's plenty to discuss, but let's eat before it goes cold."
"Sure."
Leon didn't refuse. He picked up his utensils. He'd skipped lunch and was properly hungry.
The food was decent. The proprietress knew her way around a kitchen.
For a while, Leon and Limon devoted themselves entirely to the meal, maintaining a dignified silence. Both observed noble table manners, so not so much as a chewing sound or the clink of cutlery disturbed the air.
"Ahem. So."
Leon was the first to speak.
"Brother, what brings you all the way out here?"
Limon set down the fork and knife he had been wielding with refined precision.
"What a cold thing to say. Jumping straight to business. Does a man need a reason to visit his younger brother?"
"Well... you did come here for a reason, didn't you?"
In the original story, there had been no mention of the wandering knight Limon seeking out Elaim. Not in any of the parts Leon had read, at least.
The slaughter of the orc colony and the Scout Bureau agents at Limon's hands — that, too, must have been a change born of Leon's presence.
"..."
Limon regarded his boldly answering younger brother with a flicker of surprise.
"You've changed a great deal."
"Yeah, well. Seven years is a long time—"
"It was three years ago that I last saw you."
"Ah."
"I'd gone to see you after hearing you'd broken through the Expert wall, but we never even managed a proper conversation."
"..."
Leon kept his mouth shut. Listening to Limon brought nothing particular to mind about that time.
The memories passed down to him were always riddled with holes like this. Perhaps even the original owner had forgotten them.
Limon continued.
"And now that same name of yours is ringing across the land."
"You mean what happened in Pribil?"
"Not only that. There's everything you've done before as well. Wander enough roads and you pick up no end of talk. Your name keeps falling from people's lips."
Fair enough. There was the Burrow incident, the Siruntel Demonic Realm affair, and simply taking the top rank at Elprime Academy was more than enough to make waves.
"Hmm."
From the way Limon spoke, it sounded as though he'd come simply because word of his brother kept reaching him and he wanted to see his face... but Leon could tell that wasn't the whole of it. There was a real reason.
He shot Limon a look that said get on with it. His impatient nature was showing.
And then—
"..."
The gaze Limon fixed on Leon grew deep and still. In those eyes was the keen light of a sage.
He began to speak, measured and calm.
"Those once-hollow eyes now brim with life and drive. Your words and deeds have lost all hesitation — which means you no longer falter in pursuing what you intend."
"The martial prowess you've achieved is so extraordinary it defies your age, and you've even gained the charisma and leadership that draws people to follow you of their own accord."
"And from this change, one concern has taken root in me."
"Leon. Tell me — do you have any interest in the position of family head?"
"—No."
Leon cut him off flat. Sharp as a blade.
Family head, my ass. What for.
He had absolutely no need for a seat like that. He wouldn't take it if it were handed to him.
It didn't suit him, and he didn't want it.
Gaining high rank and power wasn't an unalloyed good. It came with responsibilities to match.
A duke of the Latia Empire was a busy man. Leon knew this well from watching Duke Locke.
Buried in paperwork in his office day after day, hopping through gates and warps to race from place to place, conducting inspections, sitting through meetings...
His daily schedule was almost always packed to the brim. And if something went wrong on top of that, even the sleep he already lacked had to be cut shorter.
The Latia Empire spanned nearly half the continent. The Crusif Duchy administered the entire eastern reach of that vast imperial territory. Inevitably, the workload was enormous.
Leon was keenly aware that a duke's duties were a poor fit for him.
Administration, territorial management, diplomacy... Wasn't it all just complicated reading, writing, and mental gymnastics?
More than that, Leon pursued a free life. The most important thing in his existence had always been fun.
Live that busy and there was no time left to enjoy anything.
Of course, to most people that would sound like the complaint of a man who'd never gone hungry. Was there any work in the world that wasn't busy?
Even if it meant working themselves into an early grave, people hungry for the family headship and the ducal title were thick on the ground.
But Leon had no particular lust for power, either.
More precisely, he had no need for any greater power than he already held.
Why bother?
Simply bearing the Crusif name was more than enough. It was sufficient to live without ever being hassled over his station.
Money would never be a problem, so his plan for the future was simple: do the things he wanted to do, and enjoy himself while he was at it.
"I have no interest. None at all."
Leon stated it with finality, packing every bit of that meaning into the words. He made certain it was clear.
So that's why he showed up out of nowhere. The succession.
Limon was the eldest son — the one who would ordinarily inherit the house.
Had he come because the youngest, who'd been living quietly all this time, had suddenly started tearing around the countryside, and he was worried Leon might become an obstacle to the succession?
And yet—
"...Is that so."
Limon's reply carried a note of disappointment, somehow.
What.
Not relief — disappointment?
At the reaction so at odds with his expectations, Leon narrowed his eyes.
Limon chewed over Leon's words, then opened his mouth with gravity.
"In that case, I want to tell you to be careful."
"Careful? Of what?"
"The second son is unlikely to take your sincerity at face value."
"The second son..."
He meant Raul Crusif — the brother immediately above Leon.
Leon's mind cut straight to the heart of it.
"You're saying Brother Raul might try to assassinate me for the family headship?"
At Leon's blunt wording, Limon flinched.
"Assassinate... is going too far. For now, it would only be a matter of keeping you in check."
But midway through, Limon's brow furrowed.
"...Well. Yes. You may not be wrong. In time, he really might attempt an assassination."
"Hmm."
Leon wasn't particularly surprised. Fratricidal struggles over succession were common the world over.
"The second son is vast in ambition and fiery by nature. Always on edge, rather impulsive, and when something stands in his way, he prefers elimination to accommodation."
A scathing assessment.
"He will certainly not welcome you stepping out into the world. By now, he is almost certainly thinking of you as an obstacle on his path."
"..."
After a brief silence, Leon asked,
"Brother Limon, you have no interest in the family headship either?"
"I am not a man suited to it."
Limon answered without hesitation.
"Though for different reasons than mine, the same is true of the second son. Which is why, Leon, your transformation felt welcome to me."
Leon let out a small, dry laugh.
"Does Father share that opinion?"
Whatever the sons might debate among themselves, the decision on the heir rested with Duke Locke.
Is he still watching to see who fits the role?
In the end, Locke's judgment mattered most.
"I heard you met Hera."
Instead of answering, Limon changed the subject without warning, bringing up the name of their cousin Hera.
Leon found it odd but nodded for the moment.
"How did your sister seem to you?"
"...?"
A cascade of memories of his encounters with Hera unspooled through Leon's mind.
How did she seem?
Like a complete lunatic, honestly.
"She laughed a lot. Very lively."
Leon softened it somewhat.
"Same as ever, then."
Limon's expression said he understood perfectly.
Then, with a gravity that deepened another degree, he said,
"Father wishes to pass the seat to Sister Hera."
"...Excuse me?"
—Woof woof.
Leon found himself wondering why he was suddenly hearing a dog bark.