Chapter 50
Chapter 50
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Cligrove's Vassal
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Depord Empire, northern region.
Haban Castle, situated on the endless plains that were the elves' domain.
The castle's lords, House Haban, were an ancient lineage that had spent centuries subjugating elven tribes, preventing their incursions into the empire.
House Haban had clashed with the elves for so long that they could be called blood enemies without exaggeration. Yet today, dozens of elves gathered before the castle.
"What the hell is that?"
"Report it for now! It's elves!"
The sudden appearance of dozens of elves sent the soldiers on the ramparts scrambling down to the base of the walls. But the elves had no intention of attacking them.
These elves before the castle weren't clad in the crude fur garments or riding the shabby horses one might imagine. They rode glossy steeds and wore armor so sturdy it could pass for that of imperial cavalry or knights. And at their center stood a man dressed in opulent silk robes.
As the count and his soldiers watched from atop the ramparts, he stepped forward and shouted.
"The great Khan has sent a letter!"
Having come out upon hearing that dozens of elves had arrived at the castle gates, Count Haban snorted at the interpreter's words.
A great Khan among mere tribal barbarians at best? He decided to teach these impudent fools a lesson about knowing their place.
"Let them in."
The gates creaked open, and the elven envoy entered the castle with dignified poise. It was nothing like the awed or hateful reactions of past elves who had ventured into imperial territory and glimpsed imperial culture.
The moment he met the count, the envoy gave a slight bow—not overly deferential, just enough to observe basic courtesy. That alone irritated the count. A barbarian daring such familiarity...
"Greetings, my lord Count. I have brought a letter from the great ruler of the steppes, the Khan."
"Ha! Do you savages even have rulers these days?"
The term "great Khan" carried an ominous ring, but Count Haban paid it no mind. His house had defended this land against the elves for centuries, and he'd never once heard of them unifying. Tribes scattered and feuding for hundreds or thousands of years—how could they possibly unite? Of course, if they ever did... The count shook his head, dismissing the thought. His house had prepared numerous safeguards to prevent exactly that.
Pacify the barbarians, map their power structures, and cull any tribe that grew too strong to maintain the balance. This had been the practice of the houses before House Haban, and the kingdoms and empires before them that held this land.
Though nations and houses changed, one ironclad rule had been passed down through generations: Never let the elves unite.
'Come to think of it, we haven't spoken with the Elon tribe in a while. I should inquire what they've been up to.'
Finishing his brief reflection, the count decided to put this insolent elf in his place. A barbarian strutting in silk robes, failing to show proper deference.
"So, what does this so-called great Khan have to say?"
"Ahem! Mind your words. Such rudeness toward the exalted Khan..."
"Rudeness? Hah hahaha! The savage whelp grows bolder with an audience!"
With that shout, the count gestured to the soldiers beside him.
"Hey, you! Cut off this insolent savage's nose and ears!"
Caught off guard, the envoy's escorts drew their swords, but only five had been permitted entry. They resisted fiercely but were soon subdued by the count's soldiers and knights, forced to their knees.
"What is the meaning of this? To a diplomatic envoy! Have you no honor?"
The flustered envoy's cry only made the count bellow with laughter.
"Honor from a barbarian? Be grateful I'm showing mercy by not killing you outright—just sending you back with your nose and ears as a reminder. What are you waiting for? Do it!"
The elven envoy and his escorts, who had entered the castle to meet the count, were sent back to the plains with their noses and ears severed by his order, spitting curses as they went.
"Just a midsummer night's dream."
"A midsummer night's dream? What do you mean?"
"It's a thing."
I gave Willum a vague answer and recalled the recent events. Memories of the lady in that mansion at Sarisa Castle. Perhaps because it had happened so suddenly and impulsively, she hadn't shown her face to me since.
Willum shook his head at my dazed stare into space.
"I don't know what's going on, but chin up. Hasn't this day finally come? The investigation team accepted our evidence, so Sarisa Territory falling under our control is a done deal... Now we just need the vote..."
Willum was referring to the vote deciding who would receive Sarisa Count's territory, now ours. From a noble's perspective, gaining not just a manor but an entire territory with its own vassal was profoundly significant.
It meant Cligrove was ascending to the ranks of great nobles with vassals under them.
"Heh heh, who would've thought my liege would become a great noble. Never saw it coming."
About two weeks after capturing Sarisa Count as a prisoner and assuming governance of his territory, the emperor's investigation team arrived in Cligrove.
They eyed us suspiciously at first, suspecting we'd fabricated everything to swallow the count's lands. But the evidence was irrefutable.
Sarisa Count had started the first war, and despite our victory, Cligrove demanded nothing beyond reparations and demilitarization. Then there were the bandits rampaging near the territory, operating under the count's orders, plus testimonies from nobles who had already grasped the situation.
After weeks of uncovering it all, the team acknowledged our innocence and returned to the emperor. While chatting with Willum, Cligrove's nobles began gathering in twos and threes for the vote.
"Oh! Sir Lucas! Congratulations in advance!"
"Haha, Sir Lucas! Should we start calling you Baron Lucas from today? Or Viscount? Or even Lord of the Territory?"
The nobles who favored me seemed set on voting for me already, greeting me with excitement and playful banter about my new titles. Then a cold voice came from behind.
"Sir Lucas."
Turning, I saw the man. Middle-aged with dull blond hair and blue eyes tinged with gray. Though time had left its marks, he must have been strikingly handsome in his youth. Just like Edward's father, I suppose.
"Ah, Viscount Norton."
As a viscount and head of his house, I addressed him as "Viscount," not "Sir." But the hatred lingering on his face hadn't faded. Probably because I was an obstacle in the vote for this territory.
He'd been the frontrunner to receive it. This is why storytelling matters. A mercenary upstart was poised to shove aside a viscount.
"If you had any sense of honor, as you've heard, you wouldn't even participate in this vote."
"Isn't that for me to decide? Instead, I'll vote for you in this one, Viscount."
"...We'll see."
As the viscount and I glared at each other, the office door opened.
"Those gathered for the territory grant vote, please enter the office."
Right, Edward was a noble too. From Viscount Norton's position, he'd probably funnel votes to his son. Tough for two from one house to participate.
"..."
Entering the office, I spotted the lady. As if that day's memory were a lie, she completely ignored me.
"...Is everyone here?"
"Yes, Lady. All present."
With all the nobles seated, the lady spoke.
"Father has delegated full authority to me, so I will personally conduct this territory grant vote."
Nearly thirty nobles gathered in one place—it made me wonder if Cligrove had this many. Mostly knightly barons or actual barons.
The vote for Sarisa Territory's new lord proceeded by writing names on paper. You couldn't write your own; it had to be someone else's. Of course, even honorable nobles occasionally cheated.
Writing on paper and revealing later prevented grudges and retaliation. Much like on Earth.
Once the nobles placed their papers in the box, Edward spread them out on the table.
"We begin the vote now. Whatever the outcome, please accept it gracefully."
I didn't miss Edward's eyes flicking toward Viscount Norton. In my view, it was like a warning to his own father. And...
Edward Norton – 8 votes
Lucas Kyle – 20 votes
The vote ended in my landslide victory. A few abstentions, but they couldn't change the tide. At this moment, Sarisa Count's territory was mine. Well, not a countship anymore.
Receiving the territory filled me with complex emotions. From lowly serf to mercenary, to noble. Now lord of a territory. With the grant confirmed, the lady rose.
She fixed me with an icy gaze.
"Baron Lucas Kyle. Step forward."
"Yes."
Ching!
As I advanced, she drew her sword and extended it to me.
"Kneel."
It was for bestowing the new title, just like when I'd received my barony. I dropped to one knee in haste, and her sword swung.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
The blade touched my shoulders and head, then she intoned solemnly.
"Hero of Cligrove's domain war, braver and more honorable than any mercenary. Hero of the Cligrove-Sarisa War, noble sacrificer."
The lengthier epithets now adorned me, attesting to my deeds.
"And you, former vanguard swordsman captain of Cligrove, Baron Lucas Kyle, who has the support of Cligrove's nobles. I grant you Sarisa Territory and bestow a new title."
"I shall uphold Cligrove Count's grace!"
"I have no doubt of your loyalty, noble sacrificer. From this day, you shall be called not baron, but viscount. Prosper Sarisa Viscounty with your strength and repay Cligrove with fealty."