Chapter 7: I Am Curious Too
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 7: I Am Curious Too
Ferda sat in the guest room, focused on his studies. He looked up, wondering if he had misheard.
“Meet the lords?”
“Yes,” Ruri nodded. “Do you know why my master is called the ‘Archduchess’ of Valdrova?”
“I do. She killed the Black Dragon, Godwin, and the Arken Empire granted her the title in recognition.”
The Black Dragon, Godwin.
He was the Aspect of Darkness and the source of all evil—a creature of pure malice who craved chaos across the continent and had even aided in the birth of the Demon King. The one who had dealt the decisive, fatal blow to him was the Red Dragon, Valdrova.
“I heard that’s how she earned the title of Archduchess and came to rule the territories on the Far East Front.”
“Indeed. You are more knowledgeable than you look. Do you know exactly how many territories are under Lady Valdrova’s rule?”
“Is it not fifteen? If you include the outlying villages, it totals one hundred and eight.”
“...And the total population?”
“The last census count was 5,256,532, though I wouldn't know the recent birth and death rates.”
Upon hearing his answer, Ruri’s expression soured visibly. “You know quite a lot for someone who claims to have no interest in power.”
Her disgust was tinged with a faint hint of Dragon Fear. Ferda merely shrugged.
“What could be more shameful than a future husband knowing nothing of his partner’s affairs?”
“You certainly have a way with words.”
Ruri didn't believe him for a second. Her suspicion that he was hiding something only grew stronger. In truth, Ferda hadn't studied those facts for the reason he gave.
It’s because I’m bored.
After forming his Circle, he had nothing to do. When he had been struggling to reach that stage, a whole day hadn't felt long enough, but now he was drowning in leisure. There was no point in over-studying things he already knew, so he had turned his attention to the records of Valdrova, figuring he might as well learn about her domain.
“Regardless, what do you think about meeting them?”
“I’m not interested. I don’t want to go unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Even if you aren't interested, once you marry my master, you will officially become her consort. If the master handles external affairs, the consort must manage the internal ones.”
“So I am to be the mistress of the house, then.”
“Yes.”
A man as the 'mistress.' In the world of nobility, such a term implied the man was incompetent—a disgrace so deep it was considered a humiliation.
But... it’s not really something to feel humiliated about.
He was to be the spouse of Valdrova, a woman feared as a tyrant. Since her very race put her in a different class entirely, the current Ferda had no hope of standing on equal footing with her. Even so, being able to manage the internal affairs of her household was a significant feat in itself.
Managing the lords myself, huh...
Ferda pondered for a moment before giving his answer. “Fine. I’ll meet them.”
“Then I shall summon them.”
Ruri gave a polite bow and departed. Ferda, ever observant, noticed the unusual glint in her eyes. He had seen through her intentions long ago.
She still doesn't trust me.
'Seeing is wanting.' Even a naturally good person might be tempted to grasp for power once it’s placed before them. And once someone tastes power, they never want to let go. That was human nature.
But I am curious too.
Just as Ruri didn't know him, Ferda didn't fully know himself either. What choices would he make now that he wasn't consumed by a thirst for revenge? He decided to treat this as a test—to see what path he would choose in the arena she had prepared for him.
“Very well. Let’s see what they’re like.”
* * *
There was a common joke about the nobles of the Serdes Continent.
The further a noble lived from the capital, the more 'fat' they had to give up. While central nobles were generally plump, those on the front lines usually stayed lean. The constant anxiety of monster attacks and the need to remain in combat readiness meant they simply couldn't afford to put on weight.
However, the lords of the Far East were a complete contradiction to that joke.
“Lord Bosh! Your belly has grown quite a bit!”
“Ho ho! I’ve had so much on my mind lately that my throat is always parched. I find myself eating constantly just to cope!”
The Far East Front Alliance Hall.
Fifteen lords were gathered there, their double chins wobbling as they spoke. It had been a long time since they had all assembled in one place.
“But why this sudden summons? Things have been quiet for the past few days, so there shouldn't be anything for her to interfere with...”
“You really ought to keep up with the world. Didn't you hear the Archduchess took a fiancé recently? We’ve been told to meet him.”
“A fiancé?”
A lord hearing the news for the first time gasped in shock. “What kind of madman would get engaged to the Archduchess?”
“Exactly. Unless he’s a complete fool, he must realize that 'engagement' doesn't mean what it usually does in her case...”
“They must have dug up the greatest idiot among idiots.”
Naturally, they were curious about who had accepted such a fate.
“I heard he’s the third son of the Rosnova family.”
“Rosnova? The family of the Guardian Knights of the Arken Empire? I heard everyone of that bloodline is exceptional...”
“Apparently, the third son is the exception. Word is he’s weak—not just compared to his family, but even compared to a common soldier. That’s why his own father cast him out.”
“Weaker than a common soldier? Then he really is a defective product.”
“Hmph! To think I have to waste my time meeting a piece of trash...”
“And the brat has the nerve to be late, on top of everything...”
The elderly lords wore sour expressions. The thought of a young whelp acting important made their blood boil.
“So, what’s the plan, everyone?”
“About what?”
“He’s the Archduchess’s consort... he’ll have a title. How are we going to treat him?”
The oldest lord among them replied, “He’s destined to be torn apart by Archduchess Valdrova anyway. Why should we bow our heads to a man like that?”
“Agreed.”
“Why indeed?”
The atmosphere was one of unanimous disdain.
“Lord Ferda Rosnova is entering!”
The lords straightened their clothes, putting on serious, dignified faces. They were lords who ruled over people on the front lines; they intended to crush this newcomer’s spirit right from the start.
The doors to the conference hall swung open following the guard’s announcement.
Gray hair and blue eyes. As befitted the consort of the Archduchess, he wore a red formal uniform embroidered with the gold-trimmed crest of Valdrova.
That much they had expected. What they hadn't expected was the aura Ferda himself exuded.
I thought they said he was a defective product...
He’s a very handsome, intelligent-looking failure.
He might have been considered physically weak by the standards of a martial family, but his gait was refined, showing that etiquette was ingrained in his very bones. However, what struck them most was his gaze.
It wasn't the arrogant, rebellious look of a child. His eyes were like a deep, still lake. His composure and atmosphere, far beyond his years, caused them to tense up instinctively.
Ferda spoke.
“Tell me.”
His voice was that of a young man who had just stepped out of adolescence, yet it carried the resonant weight of a man who had weathered many storms.
“I am the man who will soon become the consort of Archduchess Valdrova.”
Ferda placed his hands behind his back. His blue eyes swept over each of them slowly. It was an incredibly rude gesture, yet no one spoke up.
No—they couldn't.
How can a brat have eyes like that...?
What on earth is this boy!?
It felt as if they were facing a predator. To a man, they found themselves overwhelmed by his gaze, unable to resist. Only after being confronted with the reality of his presence did they realize the truth.
The 'idiot' who had gotten engaged to Valdrova was no defective product.
* * *
About thirty minutes prior.
Ferda had arrived at the Far East Front Alliance Hall. Since he was traveling on official business, he had taken a carriage. He checked his watch.
“We’re quite late.”
Ferda tended to be strict about punctuality. Even a minute’s delay annoyed him; ten minutes was practically a capital offense. However, Ruri, the culprit behind the delay, replied with professional indifference.
“You clearly don't understand. A ten-minute delay is the basic requirement for establishing dominance.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“It is a fundamental skill for dragons and the most important moment for establishing a hierarchy.”
“Even if I’m not particularly interested?”
“Please keep in mind whose consort you are becoming.”
The consort of Valdrova. Hearing that made him reflect on his position once more. Ruri followed a step behind him. As they walked along the red carpet, a thought occurred to Ferda.
If I become the Archduchess’s consort, where exactly do I fall in the hierarchy?
The world of nobility was complex. For central nobles, rank followed office. But in the outskirts, where the sword was closer than the law, those who had served the longest were given the most respect.
As her consort, I’m officially equivalent to a king, but that won't be enough...
Ferda was currently eighteen. To the world, he was young and inexperienced. If a sudden fiancé appeared and started acting like a king, the lords would inevitably rebel.
Lost in thought, Ferda reached the entrance of the hall. He saw fifteen seats arranged in a circle. The seat directly across from the door was empty—that was Valdrova’s seat. In other words, it was where Ferda was supposed to sit.
Instead of going there, Ferda stood in the center and looked up at each of them.
“Tell me. I am the man who will soon become the consort of Archduchess Valdrova.”
It was a genuinely curious question.
“In that case, should I address you with respect, or should I speak down to you?”
Ferda met their eyes one by one, gauging where his position should be. All the lords looked down at him with tense faces. They glanced at each other, hesitating to answer.
Ferda scratched his head. “Hmm, was my question too difficult?”
“A-Ah, no...”
“It’s just...”
The reason they couldn't answer was simple. The moment they chose one or the other, a line would be drawn. Who would have guessed that the kid who came as a fiancé would force them to pick sides immediately?
The oldest lord finally spoke up. “We are lords who dwell under the light of Archduchess Valdrova. It is only right that we address her future consort with respect.”
“Is that so?”
“However, the lords here are all men who have been loyal to the country and dedicated to their people. It is only right that the consort treats them with appropriate courtesy in return.”
It sounded like an answer, but in reality, he was throwing the question back at Ferda, implying it depended on how Ferda behaved.
Hearing this, Ferda asked him, “What is your name?”
“I am Ulvera Consilus.”
“I see. Count Consilus? Is that how I should address you?”
“It is.” The old lord gave a slight smile and a small nod.
“And so?”
“Pardon?”
“So, should I use formal speech or informal speech? You didn't actually answer my question.”
Ferda narrowed his eyes and stared at him. The old lord, looking troubled, finally answered.
“It is right for you to speak down to us.”
“I see. That answers it. Count Consilus, if I had spoken to you with respect first, it would have made you quite uncomfortable, wouldn't it?”
“Y-Your speaking to us like this now is more than enough.”
Ferda was new to politics, but he could clearly see what was happening. He had successfully seized the initiative.
I didn't actually intend to make them submit.
Feeling the need to clarify, Ferda spoke to them. “Don't worry. Nothing much will change just because I’ve become the Archduchess’s consort. I have no great interest in what you do. So, continue as you have been—whether you choose to exploit your people or show them mercy.”
“Exploit? What a thing to say!”
A man stood up, unable to let Ferda’s words slide. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and had a fierce expression. He was relatively young and wore a mage’s seal on his chest.
Ferda realized his mistake. A slip of the tongue.
“I meant no malice. It just came out that way.”
“It seems you’ve grown arrogant just because you’re engaged to the Archduchess, but you’d best mind your manners, young fiancé! If we stood mage to mage, you would be bowing at my feet!”
“What!”
“H-How can you say such a thing!”
The old, fat lords broke into cold sweats as they tried to restrain him. Everyone held their breath, as if watching a candle flame flicker in front of a fuse.
“Hmm...”
Ferda wasn't particularly angry at the rudeness. Instead, he was curious about the man’s claim.
Can I beat this man?
Having awakened as a mage, Ferda could now see mana with his own eyes. The amount of mana the man named Thesalos possessed was extraordinary. Tapping his temple with his index finger, Ferda asked him, “What is your name?”
“I am Thesalos of the Wolcher family!”
Ferda turned the name over in his mind. Thesalos Wolcher... He had heard that name somewhere before. It wasn't important right now, so he moved on.
“What Circle have you reached?”
“The 4th Circle. I am a mage capable of casting 4th-tier magic.”
“Hmm, decent.”
“...Decent?”
To Thesalos, a 4th Circle mage, this was absurd. A 4th Circle mage was highly respected wherever they went.
Consort or not, should I just kill him?
Thesalos felt his blood boil. If the boy weren't the Archduchess’s fiancé, he would have already cursed him out and blasted him with magic.
“I’ve taken an interest in you. So, may I ask a favor?”
“You show such insolence and yet you have the nerve to ask something of me?!”
His face turned bright red, and seeing that, Ferda nodded.
“You’ll probably like this. Duel me.”
He had trained enough; it was time for a real fight.