The Will of Winchester
Day after day, supplies and people flooded into Endeion, and the streets remained as congested as ever, crews racing to process the incoming goods beneath the cold northern winds that never failed to arrive.
Yet the place where we stood now seemed utterly divorced from that clamor—quiet, solemn, heavy with gravity.
It was the heart of Endeion itself: the vast conference hall within Winchester Manor.
Ordinarily the chamber opened only at the Duke’s command and only for matters of true importance. Today was different.
The manor was already the size of a castle; an entire floor had been given over to this single hall, and the enormous conference table that filled it was built to match—large enough for a small army of officials to sit around it at once.
I took the seat that should have belonged to the Duke and studied the faces arrayed along either side of the table.
These were the people who truly ran and represented the territory.
The commanders of the four great knight orders of House Winchester were present—Blue Dragon, Red Dragon, and White Dragon; the Black Dragon order, of course, had vanished with the Duke. Behind them sat the heads of diplomacy, justice, administration, culture, agriculture, industry, and every other vital office. Each of them had brought their own aides, swelling the numbers still further.
Every soul in the room had answered the telegram I sent the previous evening.
Its contents: Duke Winchester has gone missing.
Its sender: Taylor Winchester, Acting Duke of Winchester.
None of them were fools. Each possessed their own intelligence networks; every one of them already knew about the Duke’s disappearance. What unsettled them was the man who had summoned them—the “D-rank talent, the worthless heir.”
They watched me with eyes full of open distrust, the silence stretching taut.
I wanted nothing more than to jab a finger into those insolent stares and ask who the hell they thought they were evaluating, but I was only the Acting Duke. For the sake of her honor I kept the impulse locked inside my skull.
“I apologize for gathering so many busy people on short notice. I am Taylor Winchester, temporarily serving as Acting Duke in His Grace’s absence.”
“Given the urgency, perhaps we can dispense with formalities. There is no one here who does not know the Acting Duke.”
The speaker was Rox, commander of the Blue Dragon knights. A note of impatience edged his voice; he seemed more worried about the Duke’s disappearance than I had expected.
“Ha! Urgency? As if a mere dungeon could threaten Her Grace! Are you actually frightened?”
The complaint came from Renald, commander of the Red Dragon knights. Thick golden hair, skin tanned dark as if he lived outdoors—he looked every bit the thug he sounded like.
Tch. Even his face is full of attitude.
Not the sort of man I liked.
“Since the knight commander insists, we will skip the introductions. I trust everyone already knows, but yesterday afternoon His Grace was caught in a dungeon and has gone missing.”
When I first learned that dungeons were appearing more frequently in the north, I had not been especially concerned. Accelerated erosion from the Demon Realm made such things inevitable. Under normal circumstances I would simply have left the matter to Imelda Winchester and it would have been resolved in short order.
She really is that strong.
“For reasons we do not yet understand, the dungeon is expanding at an alarming rate. The situation is grave.”
The moment the words “growth rate of the dungeon” entered the conversation, everything changed.
This is definitely that old bastard’s work.
I pictured the senile old man I had killed hundreds—thousands—of times in the game.
Chapter Five boss.
King of Labyrinths, Labyrinthos.
He specialized in creating and remodeling dungeons mid-battle, a nightmare of a boss infamous among Korean players for the sheer time sink he demanded.
“So what exactly do you propose we do?”
“We must rescue His Grace, of course!”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You want to throw ordinary soldiers into a place even Lady Imelda could not escape?”
Everyone had their own opinion; the atmosphere in the hall began to stir and murmur.
Then Ainz, commander of the White Dragon knights—who had been watching in silence until now—spoke.
“Acting Duke. We cannot think only of His Grace. We still have to deal with the endless waves of monsters and the barbarians who constantly eye the north.”
He clearly carried weight here; the room fell quiet at once.
I had been wrestling with the same problem myself. I nodded and laid out my plan.
“I agree. That is why only one knight order—myself included—will enter the dungeon with a small support unit.”
The plan I had spent the entire night refining was cut short by the scrape of a chair being shoved back.
“If that’s the case, the Red Dragons are out.”
Renald, the Red Dragon commander who had been simmering with discontent from the start, rose to his feet.
“Renald! How dare you speak that way in front of Lord Taylor!”
“Spare me. The one I swore loyalty to is His Grace, not some green brat. I’d rather trust His Grace and fight the barbarians than take orders from that kid while searching a dungeon.”
“You—!”
—Bang!
Renald tossed out his insolent words and simply walked out of the hall.
“I-I apologize. He is still a young commander and lacks proper manners…”
“I understand.”
Many voices rose to criticize Renald’s attitude, yet just as many seemed to share his sentiment. The atmosphere made that clear.
A talentless heir.
So that’s the extent of their opinion of Taylor. This is worse than I thought.
Since arriving in the north I had found that ordinary people’s view of Taylor was not as bad as expected. But these were the core figures responsible for the territory; their evaluation of him as successor was clearly abysmal.
Well, one guy like that doesn’t matter either way.
For all his attitude, he was at least willing to defend the city. He still possessed a knight commander’s sense of duty.
If he said that much, he’ll handle it himself.
Besides, I had no intention of dragging a walking powder keg full of grievances into a dungeon. My plan remained intact.
Grateful that no one else had stormed out after Renald, I continued the meeting.
“Since the Red Dragon commander has volunteered to focus on barbarian defense, that leaves the White Dragons and Blue Dragons. Is there a knight order willing to volunteer for the search?”
While Rox of the Blue Dragons hesitated, uncertain, Ainz of the White Dragons stepped forward first.
“I and the White Dragon knights will join the search for His Grace.”
“……Then the Blue Dragon knights will devote ourselves fully to northern defense.”
“That settles it, then.”
“Please wait a moment!”
Just as I was about to end the meeting and begin preparations, Baron Conrad—who had consistently taken my side—suddenly blocked my path.
“What is it?”
“Searching for His Grace is fine, and having one knight order step away from defense is acceptable. But there is no need for the Acting Duke himself to enter the dungeon!”
It’s not like I want to go either.
I knew perfectly well Labyrinthos was inside that dungeon. No sane person would walk into a tiger’s den of their own free will.
But a boss that should not have appeared until Chapter Five was already running wild, and Imelda Winchester—a critical figure—was tangled up in it. That changed everything.
An ordinary boss would have lost its head to a single stroke of Imelda’s blade. Labyrinthos, however, was the sort of creature that could slowly bleed her dry. She had to be rescued.
And I know every one of Labyrinthos’s patterns and weaknesses. So of course I have to go. What other choice is there…?
Sending more knights would only create more lost souls inside the dungeon.
I could not explain any of that to Baron Conrad, so I was forced to invent a plausible lie on the spot.
“Baron. Do you know why House Winchester is respected by the people of the north?”
“W-what? Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”
“Is it because of our martial strength? Because we are a ducal house? Or perhaps because we have ruled the north for so long? —All of those answers are wrong.”
I poured every ounce of baseless confidence I possessed into my voice and spoke with absolute certainty.
“We are respected because whenever crisis struck the north, a Winchester always stood at the very front.”
Whether that was historically true, I had no idea.
But I felt every remaining gaze in the hall turn toward me. Holding those eyes, I drove the final stake that would make it impossible for anyone to reverse my decision.
“And right now, the one who has inherited that will of Winchester… is me.”
Leaving them speechless, I walked out of the conference hall.
Only after I heard the heavy doors close behind me did the tension begin to drain from my shoulders.
I actually pulled it off!
Both of my goals—personally joining the search and bringing a house knight order with me—had been achieved.
While I was still savoring the victory, Beatrix’s voice drifted into my mind, laced with suspicion.
“Boy. Were you truly thinking such noble thoughts?”
Uh… well… yeah? Haha…
Of course not.
“Hmph. You really are an impossible creature to understand.”
Under Beatrix’s dubious gaze I headed toward the place where my party members were waiting for the meeting to end.