Chapter 13
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Guest Invitation
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Dungeon exploration was halted.
There were two reasons.
First, carelessly sending knights or mages into a dungeon of that scale only to have them die would be an enormous loss.
Second, it wasn't merely a dungeon brimming with magic items or resources—it held historical value.
Conclusion: Stand by until the experts arrive.
Three days after returning to the mansion.
The bastard sons' gathering took place.
The difference from the last meeting... was the atmosphere.
They had taken 100 gold from me and dumped a "tedious political errand" in my lap.
And the results?
Execution of two counts.
Discovery of a First Age dungeon.
No one said it outright, but everyone wore expressions of burning envy. Even Brother Balen, who could be called the host of this gathering, felt the same.
But unlike them, I didn't think much of this fame.
Fame.
It was a double-edged sword.
The strategist who repelled 500 orcs without a single casualty.
The schemer who toyed with two counts like playthings in the palm of his hand.
The discoverer of a First Age dungeon.
Only good things were being said, but the problem was that His Grace, my eldest brother, was hearing them too.
Ernst von Krushtein.
The firstborn son.
The future duke.
And... the one person I absolutely must never cross.
"And as Adrian predicted, Duke Sylvesta himself is coming straight from the capital. Lucky you. Everything from one to ten is right in the palm of your hand."
What do you know—the academy actually accepted my request?
I'm saved!
Upon returning to the mansion, I headed straight for the study.
Lize was already waiting there.
An ancient tome inscribed with archaic script from the dungeon lay open on the desk.
"Young master! Why are you grinning from ear to ear like that?"
"Duke Sylvesta is coming."
"That person you've always talked about?"
"Yeah."
I pulled up a chair and sat down.
Duke Sylvesta.
Head of the History Department at the Imperial Academy.
The foremost authority on ancient history.
And...
The pinnacle expert in a field my eldest brother has zero interest in.
Perfect.
"Anyway, let's keep studying."
"Yes!"
Lize pointed to a section of the book.
"Young master, read this sentence."
I read it slowly.
"In the beginning... the king... slumbers...?"
"That's right! Good job!"
Lize clapped her hands.
Her face beamed with a radiant smile.
I smiled too.
Over the past three days, I had clung to Lize, learning ancient tongue. Three or four hours a day, copying her deciphered notes and drilling grammar.
The reason was simple.
If I picked up at least the basics of ancient tongue before the academy delegation arrived?
A ten-year-old reading ancient script!
The reaction was obvious.
Adults are all the same.
They overhype even the slightest hint of talent in a kid.
That's when I'd drop the bait.
I want to enroll in the academy's History Department.
That would free me from my eldest brother's scrutiny while taking a step toward my dreams.
A perfect plan.
And with that "living history book" coming in person? It was perfect beyond perfection—super perfect.
"Lize."
"Yes?"
"I'll take you to the academy too."
Lize's eyes widened.
"M-Me?"
"Yeah. With your ancient tongue skills, you could enroll as a student."
Lize's mouth fell open.
It was only natural.
In this world, the "academy" was for noble children only.
"But... I'm not... a noble..."
"I'll cover the tuition."
"Y-Young master..."
Lize's eyes reddened.
Hiccup.
A small sound escaped.
But this time, it wasn't trembling... it felt like.
She'd done so much for me; this was the least I could do.
Lize, fluently reading First Age ancient tongue.
With that level of talent, tuition wouldn't even be an issue.
But...
History.
A field undervalued in this world, just like my past life.
In my past life, it was the "history" among the "hopeless trio of humanities: literature, philosophy, and history."
Jobs? Forget about it.
This world was no different.
Sword auras flying everywhere.
Fireballs exploding left and right.
Who'd abandon that for history?
"Studying something utterly useless?"
"You won't even build connections there."
"That kid has no ambition."
That's how it'd look.
No scholarships for standout commoners either.
But...
This was exactly the picture I wanted.
The moment I enrolled in History, my eldest brother's gaze would soften, and his wariness toward me would ease.
No job prospects?
I was a freeloader anyway.
Honestly, with what I'd already done for the house, they owed me a lifetime of support.
I'd nipped the orc unrest in the bud early on.
And the rebellion of those two counts? Cut off at the start.
On top of that, a good boy with no greed for the dukedom.
Brother Ernst ought to be handing pocket money to Adrian hand over fist.
With that allowance, Lize fluent in ancient tongue and me researching history.
Paradise.
Heh heh heh heh...
Just thinking about it made me laugh.
"Young master, seeing you so happy... you really admire Duke Sylvesta, don't you?"
Lize said with her usual bright smile.
Ah, right.
Lize seemed to think my laughter came purely from excitement at meeting Duke Sylvesta.
No need to correct her.
"No, Lize, I'm laughing because I'm thrilled at the thought of slipping out of His Grace's surveillance net."
I couldn't say that.
Hm.
Of course, I did respect him too.
But...
The real reason I wanted to meet him was something else.
"He's a living history book."
"A living history book?"
Sylvesta.
He had many epithets.
But most nicknames weren't used much in practice.
People called him by his most direct trait.
The Elf Duke.
Elves active in the human world were rare.
Most elves lived in their own forests, keeping distance from human society.
Elves operating in the Empire were even rarer.
Especially an elf holding a title and active for centuries?
Moreover, one bearing the rank of duke, second only to the emperor?
There was only one.
Inside the carriage.
Duke Sylvesta slowly read down the report.
Battle of Granfeldt.
Execution of two counts.
Discovery of a First Age dungeon.
And the final page.
"Adrian von Krushtein requests Duke Sylvesta's personal visit."
Sylvesta set the report down, a smile playing on his lips.
"Impressive."
"What is, Master?"
The elderly woman seated opposite asked.
She was Sylvesta's aide.
She had served him for fifty years.
Aide in title only—no superior-subordinate dynamic. She simply insisted on being his adjutant out of respect for her teacher.
She was a duchess too.
Of course, her title wasn't hereditary. Only her husband's countship was.
Handing hereditary duchies to every prince and princess would flood the Empire with dukes.
She was Sylvesta's disciple.
And the current emperor's aunt.
But her face was more wrinkled than Sylvesta's.
Elf and human.
Two races where time flowed differently.
"That the child specifically asked to meet me."
Sylvesta picked up the report again.
"A ten-year-old bastard son?"
"Indeed."
"That must be the Knight Slayer's scheme. To inflate the bastard's value for a political marriage."
"Well, it could be. Speaking of which, Your Highness still dislikes him, I see."
"...Of course."
Her voice grew icy.
"Duke Krushtein is an emperor loyalist. His Majesty appointed him personally, and we all agreed."
"I know that."
"But he's expanding his territory too quickly. Checking other great nobles is fine. But he's becoming a new great noble himself, Master."
Sylvesta nodded.
His disciple was not wrong.
Territory.
Productivity.
In those terms, Krushtein lands couldn't compare to other duchies.
Some vast counties were even superior.
But if limited to "military power"?
Was there any noble in the Empire who could defeat Walter von Krushtein and his army?
No.
If facing only troops from his direct territories? Could even the Imperial House win?
And if the dungeon was developed?
The domain's stature would grow too.
"Honestly, I think we were too hasty. Making the Knight Slayer a duke, Master."
Sylvesta fell silent for a moment.
Then slowly shook his head.
"At the time, it was the best choice, Your Highness."
The elderly princess didn't deny it.
She had been there too.
"Enough about the duke. What interests me now is his son. His record screams classic schemer. But in all my life, the number of self-proclaimed schemers who were genuine can be counted on one hand."
"In all your life?"
"Yes, in all my life."
1800 years.
The span of his life.
"What do you think is the essence of strategy and tactics, Your Highness?"
"No idea. I've swung a magic wand my whole life."
Sylvesta nodded.
"I believe it's adaptability. Many humans study military arts. But few apply those arts aptly, with true improvisation."
"I see."
"The rest were merely commanders good at fighting by the book, or fools who threw around schemes only to produce worse results."
"Better if that's the case."
The elderly princess said coolly.
Sylvesta looked at her.
"And if not? What then, Your Highness?"
"...What do you mean?"
"If this Adrian is truly a ten-year-old genius wielding improvised schemes at will."
The princess fell silent.
Then answered firmly.
"I'd kill him. We can't hand an ogre a club."
The elf who had lived 1800 years merely smiled at his disciple's words, neither agreeing nor objecting.
The carriage pressed on.
Toward Krushtein territory.