Chapter 14
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Match of the Century
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It's rare for three dukes to gather in one place.
No, it's not just rare—it practically never happens.
There are ten dukes in the Empire total.
Three from the imperial family direct line.
And seven external title holders.
Three of them were now assembled in Krushtein territory.
A red carpet stretched out before the castle gates, flanked on both sides by ranks of knights standing at attention.
I watched the scene from a safe distance away.
My father, Duke Walter von Krushtein, was standing at the gates himself.
This was something you'd never see from him normally.
Welcoming guests was the butler's or a proxy's job.
Even for the most esteemed visitors, my brother Ernst would handle it as proxy.
But not this time.
He had come out personally.
That meant they were guests of utmost importance.
Two banners approached.
Emblazoned with crests.
A pattern of a book crossed with a tree.
House Sylvesta.
The second banner.
A golden eagle and a silver laurel wreath.
The imperial crest.
I swallowed hard.
The imperial crest?
I'd thought only Duke Sylvesta was coming.
The carriage came to a stop.
A servant hurried over and opened the door.
The first to step down.
A silver-haired elf.
Not particularly tall, but his presence... it was overwhelming.
His face was free of a single wrinkle, yet his eyes held the depth of ancient timber.
Duke Sylvesta.
The elf who had lived 1,800 years.
Dean of the History Department at the Imperial Academy.
And...
A living history book.
"It's been a while, Duke Walter."
Duke Sylvesta's voice was calm.
Father bowed his head.
"You've had a long journey. My thanks for your trouble, Duke Sylvesta."
The two dukes shook hands.
One more person stepped down from the carriage.
An elderly woman with a wrinkled face.
She looked to be pushing eighty, but her eyes were sharp as daggers.
"Duchess Clara has come as well."
A faint tension laced Father's voice.
Duchess Clara.
The current emperor's aunt.
And...
The core of the pro-emperor faction.
"Duke Walter, I trust you're well?"
"Thanks to you, I am. To what do we owe the honor, Princess?"
Princess.
Another title for Duchess Clara.
Daughter of the emperor two generations back and aunt to the current one—it wasn't wrong.
"I heard there was a child of exceptional talent, so I came to see for myself."
A child of exceptional talent?
No way... was she talking about me?
Had rumors about me reached even the imperial family's ears?
This wasn't good.
I slowly turned my head.
Ernst, my brother.
He stood among the knights.
Our eyes met.
And... he smiled.
A relaxed smile.
It wasn't the reaction I'd expected.
He should have been uncomfortable.
His face should have shown that.
But Brother's expression now was different.
As if to say...
'Just as planned.'
Unease gnawed at me.
My heart began to race.
Something was wrong.
I'd overlooked something.
"Young master."
Lize's voice came from beside me.
"Are you all right? Your face looks pale."
"...I'm fine."
I forced a smile.
But inside, everything was in turmoil.
What had I missed?
**
Inside the drawing room, the three dukes were seated.
Duke Walter, Duke Sylvesta, Duchess Clara.
I waited outside the door.
Sir Heinrich and Lize were with me.
Faint voices drifted out from within.
"What is the schedule for dungeon development?"
"It's not finalized yet. We'll need the experts to arrive..."
"The development rights will naturally go to House Krushtein, I presume?"
"Yes."
Formal conversation.
Weather talk.
Dungeon talk.
Territory management talk.
About thirty minutes of polite, empty small talk passed.
The door opened.
The butler bowed to me.
"They request your entry."
I walked in slowly.
Inside the drawing room.
The three dukes turned to look at me.
Father's face was expressionless.
Duke Sylvesta wore a gentle smile.
Duchess Clara... scanned me coldly.
"Adrian. Greet the two dukes."
"Duke Sylvesta, Duchess Clara. I am Adrian von Krushtein."
I bowed once more.
"I've heard many rumors. They say you discovered the dungeon?"
Honorifics.
True to the rumors, the man used them with everyone.
"Just luck."
"Luck? Hm."
Duke Sylvesta tilted his head.
"Was taking down those two counts luck as well?"
"...Sir Heinrich's aid was crucial there too."
"And the orcs at Granfeldt?"
"The canyon terrain helped. And Sir Heinrich was there."
I skipped Lize. Claiming a maid's help wouldn't convince anyone.
"Humble, aren't you."
Duke Sylvesta smiled.
But what lay behind that smile was impossible to read.
"In any case, discovering a First Age relic is a tremendous feat. As a historian, I offer my thanks."
I'd been gauging the timing.
When to bring it up.
This was the moment.
"Duke Sylvesta. I... have an interest in history."
In an instant, Duke Sylvesta's eyes changed.
Slightly.
But unmistakably.
"History?"
"Yes. And... I've studied the First Age ancient tongue."
"...You know the ancient language?"
Duke Sylvesta leaned forward.
I nodded slowly.
And recited the memorized line.
"The king of origins slumbers. His legacy rests in the depths..."
First Age ancient tongue.
The first line from the book in the dungeon.
Duke Sylvesta's eyes widened.
Duchess Clara paused mid-sip with her teacup.
"...Perfect. Pronunciation and intonation both flawless. Why learn such an obscure subject?"
I swallowed.
Now for the main point.
"Reading your books showed me how fascinating history is. I want to study it like you, Your Grace."
Duke Sylvesta narrowed his eyes.
"That's a bit tricky."
"...Pardon?"
"Don't misunderstand, Adrian. It's not that I don't want you enrolled."
"...Then?"
"It means we must follow proper procedure."
Duke Sylvesta set down his teacup as he spoke.
"The Academy isn't a place for nobles to sneak in the back door. There are exams, and you must pass them to enroll. Even if the History Department is dismissed as mere transcription, principles must be upheld."
I nodded slowly.
It was the expected procedure.
And I realized my words might have sounded like I was belittling history.
This needed correcting.
Time to draw on my past life's knowledge.
I recalled E.H. Carr's What Is History? from my previous life.
"I don't think history is just transcribing records."
"Hm?"
"Does Duke Sylvesta know the history from 10,000 years ago with absolute certainty?"
Duke Sylvesta's expression hardened in that instant.
"...What do you mean?"
"I've heard Your Grace has lived 1,800 years. But not 10,000. So the history you know from 10,000 years ago... where does it come from?"
"...From books."
"Who wrote those books?"
"Historians, presumably."
"Did those historians witness it themselves? Or were they passing down their predecessors' records?"
Duke Sylvesta fell silent.
I pressed on.
"Over 10,000 years, those books were copied countless times. Mistakes happened in the process. Intentional distortions too. Isn't there a saying that history is written by the victors?"
"...And?"
"So we can't rely on books alone. We must excavate ruins, uncover primary sources, and analyze them empirically. Like that book from the dungeon."
Duke Sylvesta's gaze shifted.
"Records written directly by First Age people. Untouched by anyone's interpretation—'raw' history. Of course, even that isn't perfect. They wrote it to their own advantage too."
"...Go on."
"But comparing that 'raw' record to the histories handed down through the ages... that's how we finally approach something close to the 'truth.' That's what I think history should do."
I knew it. I was spouting off modern historiography to a fantasy-world elf.
Might have drawn unnecessary attention.
But... I was desperate in my own way.
I had to capture that elf's interest somehow.
To evade Brother's suspicions, I needed to stake my claim in history as soon as possible.
Of course, I couldn't say that here.
Duke Sylvesta slowly spoke.
"I've heard your views on history. I don't care for back doors, but... you are a tempting student. When you turn fifteen—the Academy enrollment age—I can ensure your placement in History without fail."
Fifteen.
Five years from now.
But the key was the official declaration that I aspired to be a historian.
That would suffice.
"Then...!"
"One condition."
"What is it?"
"Right now, beat me at chess."
Chess?
Suddenly?
The duke's servant hurriedly brought a chessboard.
Black and white pieces were set on the board.
"Adrian, you play white. I'll yield the first-move advantage."
Duke Sylvesta spoke leisurely.
Whispers from the butlers nearby.
"The Empire's 300-year chess champion versus a ten-year-old young master..."
"They say His Grace has never lost once in those 300 years."
I swallowed hard.
"What will it be, Adrian?"
Duke Sylvesta asked.
His voice was mild, but the intent clear.
'Give up.'
I looked down at the board.
Black and white pieces, sixty-four squares, and a 300-year undefeated monster.
The butlers' whispers continued.
"Poor young master..."
"A game impossible to win from the start..."
Duchess Clara lifted her teacup, watching me.
A faint smile on her lips.
The expression of someone viewing a foregone conclusion.
Father remained expressionless.
I exhaled slowly.
And looked at the board once more.
White and black pawns.
Knights.
Bishops.
Rooks.
Queen.
And king.
A smile crept across my lips.
"You're on."