Our Lord Has Gone Mad (2)

Silence settled thick over the room.

Cassian Leonhardt furrowed her brow, turning the word I had thrown at her — catastrophe — over in her mind. After a moment, she parted her lips with an expression that mixed suspicion and a thin edge of scorn.

"A crisis. You're saying a crisis is going to strike this continent? In six months, no less?"

Right. In truth it wouldn't be a mere "crisis" — it would be a great catastrophe that would erase more than half the continent's population and push entire nations to the brink of collapse. But there was no need to spell all that out and get myself branded a complete lunatic.

I read her face. Open disbelief. And beneath it, contempt for me.

She's laughing at me.

The corner of Cassian's mouth twisted upward — faintly, but unmistakably.

A soft snort of derision slipped out.

Those eyes, usually so carefully composed, narrowed without bothering to hide their disdain.

"Darkest. Do you even understand what you're saying? Where's your evidence? Neither the Imperial Mage Association nor the Imperial Observatory has issued a single report. So where exactly did you dig up the information for this absurd claim?"

"The evidence… I can't reveal. But the information is solid."

I knew how shameless that had to sound.

But it was the truth.

I could hardly tell her the basis was a game scenario.

Cassian stared at me as if she couldn't believe her ears.

Her gaze raked me from head to toe.

In that silence, I knew exactly what she was thinking. Not about the content of my words — about the state of my mind.

As if she were examining some rare insect.

This was open contempt. In noble society, it was the kind of act that ground another person's honor underfoot. The old Ian Darkest might have lost his temper right then and there and demanded a duel.

No — he would have had to. That was what a noble's honor meant. A value they were taught mattered more than life itself.

But I was different now.

Fantasy-world romance?

That noble suicide culture of choosing death over dishonor?

Don't make me laugh.

To someone who had recovered the memories of a modern life, that kind of value system was fit only for the dogs. Better to roll in a dung heap and stay alive than die for pride — and honor never put food on the table anyway.

Once my mindset changed, the world looked different.

The old me — chained to the trauma of being a bastard, clinging desperately for the family's recognition, shrinking endlessly at the Academy under the eyes of other noble heirs — now struck me as pathetic.

So what if my fief was small and poor?

So what if I was a bastard?

Weren't all those high-and-mighty noble lords just lucky enough to be born to the right parents?

That shamelessness — or rather, that realistic way of thinking — was what held me up.

Thanks to it, I could meet Cassian's blatant contempt without flinching.

"Watching you fall this far is enough to make me sick, Darkest."

That was her verdict, and she began packing her bag.

…Just as I'd expected.

I'd tried to leverage my Academy connections out of sheer desperation, clutching at straws — but nothing had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠changed.

Of course not.

Even if, by some miracle, someone believed me, they'd only move to protect their own territories.

But I couldn't back down like this.

If there was even a one-percent chance, I had to grab it.

"Cassian. Think it over one more time."

"……"

"This isn't some baseless worry. If what I'm saying is true, your fief won't come through unscathed either. You need to prepare."

"……"

"And my territory is in even worse shape. Even the smallest bit of help would do. Could you lend me even a handful of your family's troops — just for a few days? Naturally, I'll pay a proper price. Mining rights to the veins buried in Seorigol's mountains, even a portion of them…"

Before I could finish, Cassian couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing.

"Ha! Darkest! You've truly lost your mind! A continent-wide catastrophe? Monsters? And now you're dangling mining rights to pull a scam? You want me to believe this groundless nonsense and send our family's precious soldiers to that forsaken scrap of land? You must have gone completely soft in the head from being on the brink of bankruptcy. Or are those troops just for chasing off your creditors?"

She looked me up and down with eyes full of contempt, as if she were staring at filth.

"Approaching me was a mistake in itself, Darkest. Go find some other idiot. Or better yet, spend that time worrying about your debts. The slave traders might be knocking on your fief's door any day now."

As if I were no longer worth the breath, Cassian gathered her papers and spun on her heel. Over her shoulder, I caught a few students still lingering in the lecture hall snickering as they watched me.

A waste of effort.

After Cassian turned me down, I went — just in case — all the way to the Academy administration's emergency support office. The result was the same. They wouldn't even accept the paperwork.

"Emergency disaster support can only be reviewed after Imperial Command officially issues a threat level of three or higher, and only when accompanied by a formal request from the local lord and a projected damage report. A student's claim is… I'm sorry, but it fails to meet the requirements for filing."

The administrator looking at me over the documents wore the same expression Cassian had. Some lunatic wandered in spouting nonsense — that was the face.

In the end, I left the Academy building empty-handed. Dragging my exhausted body, I collapsed onto a campus bench. The bright weather and the lively students around me felt unreal.

"Hey, look — it's Ian Darkest."

"He was hilarious during that presentation earlier. Did he say his debt was fifty million rené?"

"Want to know what's even funnier? He says the world's going to end! Pffhahaha!"

"Is he insane? They should expel trash like that already."

"Shh, he'll hear you. But did he seriously come here to beg? I heard he's been lying to people again."

Why did the weather have to be this nice? Every scrap of gossip landed straight in my ears.

Just rain already.

I slumped back against the bench as if I might topple over.

Of course it was never going to work.

Cassian Leonhardt.

A five-star hero who would one day raise her fief to greatness through cold, data-driven management.

But right now her abilities were still low — a late-bloomer type.

I'd thought she was the most likely candidate to recruit. Maybe that was exactly why it had been so hopeless.

"Haa."

I slowly tipped my head back and looked at the sky. Beyond the Academy's spires, a dazzling blue stretched out — a landscape of perfect peace.

"Six months from now."

Soon that sky would be stained the color of blood.

My heart sank cold in my chest. And yet, strangely, I wasn't afraid.

Maybe it was the numbness forged through nine hundred ninety-nine bad endings. Or maybe it was the strange calm that came from having nothing left to lose.

That was when it happened.

"Hey."

Something bright blue flashed right in front of my eyes.

Ack—!

An ambush?

While my eyes were still reeling from the sudden assault, a peal of giggling laughter rang in my ears.

"You're so boring."

The light terrorizing my vision vanished, replaced by a face.

Silky ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pink-blonde hair that fell like fine silk. Eyes tilted up sharp as a cat's. A small mouth curled into a full, mocking smile as she looked at me.

Roella Amelia.

The youngest daughter of the Amelia family — a house that happened to be bitter rivals of the Darkests.

With our families at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠each other's throats, friendship was never an option.

Just look at her — no greeting, just shoving a glittering gemstone in my face.

"Look. First time seeing a mana stone this pretty, right?"

There was a sad fact about our relationship.

Unlike me, a bastard, Roella was a legitimate child — and the Amelia family was doing far better than the Darkests.

That was why she got to bully me one-sidedly.

On the surface she looked like any noble young lady delighted by a sparkling stone — and that bright, beaming beauty was exactly why I refused to take the bait.

"If you came to mock me, get lost. I'm not in the mood."

"Seeing me puts you in a bad mood…? What?! Wh-what kind of way is that to talk to a lady!"

"What lady? You're a schoolyard thug."

"A th-thug? You— youuu…!"

Roella's face flushed red, then purple.

I pointed at her hand.

"See? Told you. Thug."

She had been clenching her fist so hard it shook — and now she startled and hastily uncurled her fingers.

"Th-this is…!"

Apparently deciding that simply accepting it would mean defeat, Roella raised a finger, opened her mouth, chewed her lip — hunting for a way to strike back.

Too late. You already lost.

Give it up, Roella.

"Anyway!"

So she was just going to pretend none of that happened.

She shoved the glowing ore at me again.

"Look! A mana stone from the mine behind my fief! Your territory doesn't have anything like this, does it?"

I couldn't pretend not to notice — it really was a high-purity mana stone.

Ordinary mana stones only gave off a faint haze of light. This one was glittering on its own?

Commercial-grade. Top quality.

Damn it. That stings.

Why didn't anything like that come out of the hills behind my fief?

I could almost understand why Roella was so excited to show it off.

"They say our territory has mountains of these buried underground!"

"Ah. Right."

Ignoring her, I started gathering the things I'd left beside the bench — a few books borrowed from the library.

Introduction to Monster Ecology

Basic Fortification and Defensive Strategy

Militia Operations in Crisis Situations

"Hey! Don't ignore me! I already heard you were going around spouting nonsense again! What was it? A catastrophe is coming?"

Roella snapped, her voice sharp with irritation.

"If you really think a catastrophe is on the way, why don't you go beg that wonderful Darkest family of yours? Oh, wait. You're a bastard, right? I wonder if the main house would even bother."

"……"

"Huh? No answer? That's weird."

Roella circled around me, tilting her head.

"You've changed a little, haven't you? The old you used to fall apart the second anyone mentioned your family — acting like a total idiot. Like a dog terrified of being abandoned by its master."

She wasn't wrong. That was exactly who I used to be. Chained to the complex of being a bastard, desperate for the family's recognition, always watching the main house's mood.

But now, with a modern soul inhabiting this body—

The family's recognition meant absolutely nothing. What mattered was what I actually had.

Protecting and building up Seorigol — meager as it was, yet wholly mine.

That was the only way there would be a future.

In this damned dark fantasy world.

"So what's your angle this time? Using a catastrophe as an excuse to squeeze money out of someone again?"

I let Roella's mockery slide in one ear and out the other as I finished packing the books.

"Look at you, clinging to that scrap of pride."

At the sneer in her voice, I turned toward her without meaning to. My sharp gaze made her flinch and take a step back.

"…Hiek! Wh-what! Why are you looking at me like that!"

Trembling, yet still glaring at me with poison in her eyes.

Should I try asking her to lend me soldiers?

The thought melted away like snow.

I'd be better off entrusting a sheep to a wolf.

Her family and the Darkests were mortal enemies. If they ever sent troops, it wouldn't be to help Seorigol — it would be to dance on its burning ruins.

"Hah. Forget it."

I spat the words out short and turned away.

"No — say it! If you've got something to say, say it! What other nonsense were you about to spout! Fine. I'll listen, okay?"

Roella chased after me, screeching.

Yapping away. So damn loud.

No need to take on more baggage. It was time to return ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to Seorigol. Six months. Long if you thought about it one way, short if you thought about it another.

"Forget it. Get lost."

"If you were thinking of asking me for a favor, go ahead and try!"

Roella crowed, full of herself.

"…If you got down on your knees, I might even hear you out! Watching you break that pathetic pride of yours would be pretty entertaining! I might even listen to whatever nonsense you've got! Ehehehehe!"

"…What? Nonsense?"

I stopped walking before I realized it.

I turned back to look at her.

"Hic—?"

She hiccuped.

Apparently startled that I'd spun around so suddenly — not that I felt like cutting her any slack.

I strode straight up to Roella and seized both her shoulders.

"Wh-wha… whaaat…!"

Her face flooded red — from shock and anger, most likely. Whatever cool composure she usually wore was gone; her pupils were shaking wildly.

Thump. Thump.

We were close enough that I could hear her startled heartbeat.

…Still. I should at least say this.

Enemy house or not, it would be better for the continent — and maybe even for me — if her fief somehow held out rather than becoming a ruin. The more people who survived, the more pieces I'd have to play someday.

I looked into her trembling eyes and spoke, each word deliberate and firm.

"Protect it well. Your fief."

"…What?"

Roella made a stupid little sound.

"Pour every resource you have into it if you have to. No matter what."

That was all I left her with before releasing her shoulders. Then I turned without a shred of lingering attachment and walked toward the Academy's main gate.

"Hey… hey! You're just leaving like this?! When are you coming back next!"

Roella was shouting something behind me, but I paid it no more mind.

My battlefield wasn't the Academy anymore.

It was the small, shabby fief I had to keep alive through the coming catastrophe.

Seorigol.