Chapter 84: Discord
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 84: Discord
Mornings in Count Consilus’s territory always began with the rhythmic beat of military cadences echoing through the air.
“Hup! Hup!”
“One, two! One, two! Sound off!”
“Behold, we have arrived!”
“I can’t hear you!”
“Forward! Forward! To the final line of defense! There is nowhere left to retreat! Use your wife as a shield and march on today! Forward! Forward! Once you’re a hero, go find a new bride!”
The morning song rang out as the soldiers circled the castle.
While they ran along the fortress walls every morning, the difficulty of the drill varied wildly depending on who was leading it. Among the officers, Arwen was known as a stickler among sticklers—the most by-the-book man in the entire regiment.
Ugh, damn it. He could’ve let us stop after half a lap.
It’s pure agony every time this knight is on duty.
Not only were they forced to sing throughout the entire run, but Arwen also led them through winding paths and added extra sectors under the guise of "patrolling." The distance they covered was easily double the standard two laps.
“Good work, men! Get some breakfast and prepare for your morning duties!”
“Ugh…”
“Where’s your spirit? Do you want another lap?”
“No, sir!”
“Then dismiss at the speed of light! Anyone I catch lingering stays for another round!”
Terrified of being singled out, the soldiers scrambled to disperse.
As Arwen wiped his sweat with a towel, the gatekeeper approached and offered a sharp salute.
“Reporting, sir. Officer of the Watch, you’ve worked hard this morning.”
“Is something the matter?”
“Well, sir, there is a knight here from Valdrova Castle. He says he wishes to see the Officer of the Watch.”
Valdrova Castle.
There were only two knights stationed there. Of those two, only one would come looking for him. Arwen frowned reflexively.
“Where is he now?”
“Hey, Arwen!”
“Never mind. I see him.”
There was no need to ask; the man was already approaching, waving a hand. Arwen continued wiping his face as he observed the newcomer—a man with brown hair and a refined, handsome face.
“It has been a while, Sir Jed.”
“Yeah, long time no see. You doing well?”
“I didn’t expect to see you here. Is something wrong?”
“Nothing major. I just came to ask if you’d let me tag along for some knight’s training.”
“Knight’s training… you?” Arwen’s eyes widened at the request.
“What, are nepotism knights not allowed to train?”
“It’s not that it’s disallowed. In fact, those who get in through connections need training the most. I just didn’t think you would be the one asking for it…”
“Tell me about it. I didn’t think I’d be doing this either,” Jed admitted flatly, scratching his head.
Looking at him, Arwen felt a strange sense of concern. Didn't people say that when a person starts doing things they never used to do, they're about to die?
“Did something happen?”
“You know about the wolf monsters that appeared in Halim, right?”
“Yes. I heard the Regent played a major role there. The Empire is buzzing about it.”
There were two main reasons for the stir. First, that seven wolf monsters had been summoned inside the city. Second, that despite such a catastrophe, there wasn't a single casualty.
“I heard you played a part as well. They say you toyed with the enemies with movements like a Sylph to buy time.”
“Toyed with them? My ass. I was sweating bullets the whole time because one slip meant death.”
“So what’s the problem? The prestige of Lady Valdrova’s name has increased, and you’ve gained a new story to use when flirting with ladies, haven't you?”
That was the impression Arwen had of Jed’s character. To Jed, being a knight was simply the best profession for lying; a single exaggerated tale of heroism made seducing noblewomen as easy as taking candy from a baby.
“When one of those wolf bastards charged at the Regent, I stepped in to block it.”
“It charged at the Regent, and you blocked it. And?”
“And I couldn't stop the damn thing. I hit it once, and my body just went flying. I was tossed aside like a scrap of wood.”
Arwen shrugged. “Isn't that only natural? Most knights can't withstand a frontal assault from a monster.”
“Can you?”
“I can.”
“And that’s the problem. Other people can do it, but I can’t.”
“I am a knight who has undergone formal training and rigorous selection. I shouldn't be compared to a layman.”
Arwen meant it as a consolation, but Jed only scowled as if he regretted asking.
“So, you’re saying you want the strength to stop an opponent in a head-on clash?”
“Even if it’s not a head-on clash, I want to gain something I can actually do in a situation like that.”
“You mean in terms of swordsmanship or self-defense?”
“Yeah.”
“I suppose I could teach you… but Jed, how old are you?”
“Twenty-seven. Almost twenty-eight.”
“Isn't that a bit late to begin such training?”
“I’ve been keeping my body in shape for a long time. I’ve spent a fair amount of time as a mercenary and in actual combat, too.”
Arwen was well aware that Jed’s combat skills were excellent. He had noted his prowess during the operation to rescue President of Escoleia.
“It’s not just a matter of physical conditioning. Withstanding an attack from something like a monster belongs to the realm of Aura manipulation. That requires years of consistent discipline. You’re at an age where it’s difficult to grasp and apply those concepts.”
“Aura… you mean this stuff?”
Jed clenched his fist and focused. A flickering blue light surged and wavered across the surface of his skin. Arwen gasped in surprise. Though it erupted as unstably as a solar flare, it was unmistakably Aura.
“How are you able to use that?”
“I told you, I was a mercenary. You meet all sorts of people in that line of work. So? Can you do it or not?”
“If we correct your flow and train you, it should be possible. Being able to manifest Aura at all means you’re already halfway there.”
However, Arwen offered a stern warning.
“It will still be difficult. Habits are hard to break, and the older you get, the harder it becomes to change your ways. In the worst-case scenario…” He paused, his expression turning even more serious. “You could end up as a total wreck, unable to even lift a sword.”
Becoming an invalid was a miserable fate. For men like Jed who lived in the moment, the horror of becoming a living corpse was a reality that could not be ignored.
“I’ve already braced myself for that,” Jed replied instantly, as if it were nothing.
“Is it really worth that much to you?”
“I don’t want to feel like that again when the moment comes that I have to protect something.”
Only then did Arwen see what was dwelling in Jed’s eyes. It was the regret born of helplessness. It went beyond simply failing to protect Ferda.
At those words, Arwen smiled. Jed scowled at the grin.
“What are you smirking at?”
“Nothing. Well then, let’s start with some light physical conditioning.”
“What kind of conditioning—”
“Let’s run five laps around the castle and then we'll talk!”
“Five laps?!”
“To be a knight under Count Consilus, you need at least that much stamina. And we don't have years to waste, do we?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Then let’s run.”
Arwen began to sprint, and Jed followed behind him. Arwen thought that perhaps he might actually be able to become friends with this man.
“Oh, Jed. Could you help me with something after training?”
“With what?”
“I need to write a letter, but I can’t seem to find the right words. I figured with your… skills, you might be able to help.”
“What use would my writing be…” Jed started to say, then realized. “Wait. Is it that lady who was giving you those heated looks during the Grand Council?”
Arwen looked back, his face asking how he knew.
“Well, yes…”
“You talk all that big talk about chivalry, but you’re just another guy in the end! Since when have you been in touch?”
“A letter arrived three days ago. She said she was impressed by my service in the Far East.”
“So she likes you. I’ll help you as much as you want. Just say the word. I’ll even teach you exactly how I used the wolf monster story to pick up women.”
“Right, then… wait, the wolf monster?”
“Yeah, the wolf monster.”
“Isn't that a very recent story?”
“It is.”
Arwen blinked. “You had the energy to flirt while wallowing in such existential dread?”
“Well, you see…”
Jed hadn't really wanted to. But he had a reason he couldn't avoid.
— Why! Why won't you do it! You promised! I used my magic, so you promised to let me drain your energy! The harem buffet! You promised!!! Liar! Liar!
He had simply succumbed to the legitimate demands of Penelope, who had been throwing a tantrum and hitting him with a pillow. Not wanting to explain that whole ordeal, Jed gave a short answer.
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
“…”
“A man’s gotta eat, right?”
“…Ten laps.”
“What? Why?!”
* * *
Stephan had returned.
His joy at the success of his mission was short-lived, replaced by a lingering unease as he sat in the carriage. Ferda’s words kept echoing in his ears.
— Then you would be of no value to me.
If he couldn't secure the Pascal Trading Company, he was worthless? Was the only reason he had been recruited because Ferda coveted the company’s value?
If he became independent, he could grow sufficiently on his own. Not just grow, but achieve explosive success. Ferda had been Regent for less than a year. His knowledge of economics was superficial at best. There was no way he could understand how aggressive and groundbreaking Stephan’s strategy was—that it would make the Pascal Trading Company look like a common turnip in a field.
What’s the point in even saying it?
Stephan just wanted to catch his breath. He wanted to sit at his desk and lounge, even if just for a moment.
“Welcome back, sir.”
“Yeah, I’m back. But why is the atmosphere so tense?”
“That’s because… he is here.”
“Me? You guys are this tense just because I’m back?”
“No, sir. Not you…”
Only then did he understand. He knew exactly who could make the atmosphere this suffocating.
“M-my brother?”
The secretary gave a small nod. Realizing the situation, Stephan became just as tense as the rest of them. His brother would have received reports on everything that happened in Halim and would know exactly what the situation was.
“…Could you tell him I had to go somewhere else?”
“I cannot, sir.”
“No, then at least let me change my clothes before I meet him or something…”
“Director.” The secretary grabbed the rambling Stephan by the shoulder. “You have to go.”
Stephan’s heart screamed that he didn't want to go. He forced his feet toward the stairs. He peered inside the room as cautiously as if he were opening the door to an execution chamber.
Sitting at his desk was a familiar, muscular man.
“Stephan, it’s been a while.”
The man offering the thuggish greeting was Stephan’s older brother, Murchit Pascal. Stephan’s eyes were drawn to the bulge of his biceps, which looked ready to burst through his silk shirt. He swallowed hard.
“It has… been a while, Big Brother.”
“Don't call me 'Big Brother' so formally. Just call me 'Bro,' you punk. I’ve got over a hundred guys calling me 'Big Brother' out there; blood relatives should be a bit more friendly, don't you think?”
“…No, Big Brother. How could I…”
“Tsk, you’re as stiff as ever.” Murchit gave him a smirk. “I heard you went to Halim?”
“Yes.”
“For what reason?”
“An exhibition was scheduled in the Far East, so I provided support for it.”
“Wasn't that the place Father told us to wash our hands of? You’re still hanging onto that?”
“Yes. I supported it because it has sufficient business value.”
“So you’re saying your eye for business is better than Father’s?”
“How could I ever insult Father like that…”
“You still have no backbone, kid. Just speak your mind. Stop being so frustrating, damn it!”
Murchit slammed his hand onto the desk. The desk, which hadn't budged even under mountains of paperwork, cracked under the single blow. Murchit looked down at the crack and scratched his head.
“Ah, damn. Hit it too hard. I’ll pay for it later. Anyway, I heard everything. I heard you even opened up trade with Lord Ahmed?”
“Yes.”
“You know that’s a place I’ve been putting a lot of work into, right?”
“Yes, I am aware.”
“So you knew your brother was clearly targeting the South, and you still tried to gulp it down? That choice piece of meat?”
Stephan hurried to explain. “It wasn't intentional.”
“You knew, and yet you took it.”
“I had no reason to refuse. Above all, this deal was led and successfully concluded by Regent Ferda.”
“Right. So since I was just standing by, I have nothing to do with it?”
“It’s not that you have nothing to do with it, but…”
His voice trailed off. Murchit looked at him with a dissatisfied expression, then sighed.
“Well, what can I do? It’s not right for family to be at each other’s throats too much.”
Was that the end of it? Unfortunately, his hope was not granted.
“Your brother isn't asking for much. We just need to share the trade of goods that go through Halim. That much is fine, right?”
“Do you mean… you want it to be under joint names?”
“Yeah. We’re one family running one business anyway. You can do that much, can’t you?”
The road to Halim was a road to a gold mine. Even if they shared it, there was more than enough to make them both filthy rich. All it would take was a small step back, a small concession.
However, for some reason, the current Stephan did not want to do that.
“That is…” Stephan opened his mouth. What came out was the first shot signaling war. “It is my business.”
Murchit’s face hardened instantly.
“Hey, Stephan.”
“Yes.”
“Are you saying you won't even lend your brother a road or a carriage? Is that what you’re saying?”
It was like being glared at by a tiger. Stephan’s legs began to tremble. Murchit never hesitated to use violence. And once the violence started, it only ended when something was broken. Having always been the target, Stephan was terrified of the pain.
But what was even greater than that fear was losing his trust.
Ferda’s trust, who had believed in him as a merchant without question. He had already disappointed him once by withdrawing from the succession struggle. At that time, Ferda had said this:
A merchant who gives up and compromises on what they already have is not the kind of merchant the Archduchy needs. That is what common, mediocre merchants do.
Compromise. Compromise was a good tool for mediating conflict. But only now did Stephan realize what the "compromise" Ferda spoke of truly was.
It was exactly this. Like a camel that sticks only its head in at first, but eventually takes over the entire tent. It was a process that did not stop until it had stripped you of everything.
Stephan could no longer disappoint the one who believed in him.
And I can’t disappoint myself either…
Therefore, he took a step forward.
“The Halim deal… I will be keeping it for myself.”
“…”
Murchit stood up. He was scary enough while sitting, but standing, his physique was truly menacing. Fear that a fist might bury itself in his stomach at any moment enveloped Stephan.
“Fine. If that’s how you feel, then so be it.”
“…”
“But since you aren't going to do us any favors, don't expect any more favors from us either.”
Murchit patted Stephan on the shoulder as he walked past him.
“Let’s see how well you eat and live without me.”
With that, Murchit walked out. As soon as he realized the storm had passed, the strength left Stephan’s legs. It was the first time. The first time he had stood up to his terrifying, seemingly invincible brother.
“Whew…”
Ferda had promised to make Stephan the master of the Pascal Trading Company. What was needed to become the master? Herman Pascal’s seal of approval? Or wealth and connections that surpassed theirs?
What was needed most was having the heart of a master.
The ability to protect what was his. To claim his rights without yielding to external pressure.
And so, Stephan forced the words out.
“I did the right thing.”
Even if it meant creating a path that led into a painful thicket of thorns, that was what he believed.