Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Mission Selection
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There were eight chairs. One was empty. It had belonged to the guy who had become disabled in an unfortunate accident not long ago.
Six of the remaining seven were occupied.
All eyes were on me.
Silence.
A heavy, sticky silence filled the room.
I walked over to the empty chair and sat down.
Lize stood behind me. I could feel a slight tremor.
Each of the others had their own guards standing behind them.
They were all young. Squires, not full knights.
It made sense.
The knights from the knight order had sworn loyalty to House Krushtein. They couldn't serve a mere bastard.
So they had chosen the next best option.
They had selected the most skilled squires to serve as guards.
I scanned the faces of the guards.
Their eyes burned with fervor.
Faces dreaming of becoming the "next duke's confidants."
In other words.
Idiots.
My eldest brother was already a finished product. He had the talent, the legitimacy, the support base—everything.
Us, on the other hand?
We were nothing but spares, prepared in case of some unforeseen accident, and Father wouldn't bat an eye if those spares died.
Those squires.
They were among the best of the squires. In a few years, they could become full knights.
But a mere ordinary knighthood wouldn't satisfy them. They dreamed of being the duke's right-hand man.
That's why they were here.
Of course, I knew not everyone sought stability.
Some pursued ambition.
Gamblers who bet 99% on a 1% chance.
And everyone in this bastard assembly was like that.
Guards and masters alike.
They were all gamblers in the same boat.
The problem was.
I wasn't a gambler.
I just wanted to live quietly.
Reading history books, living ordinarily.
In short, I'd been dragged into this gamble against my will.
"You're late, little brother."
The man at the far end of the table spoke up.
I looked around the table.
Three men. Three women. And me.
Excluding me, everyone was between fourteen and eighteen years old.
The man at the far end was the oldest.
Next to him sat a black-haired woman.
To my immediate right was a boy with red hair and freckles scattered across his face. Excluding me, he was the youngest here.
The remaining three sat in between. All of them were observing me.
"I arrived on time. You older siblings just got here early."
"You like playing with words."
"I was just stating facts."
I didn't avoid his gaze.
Someone giggled.
It was the black-haired woman.
"Little kid Adrian. Lurking around Ernst's side pretending to be harmless... and now you finally show your true colors."
Without waiting for my response, she took a sip of her wine.
Incidentally, she was the only one sipping from a wine glass, so it seemed she'd brought her own wine.
Ah... so that's her concept?
Yes.
This gathering.
It was a meeting of chuunibyou patients.
Right in that middle and high school age.
The perfect age to delusionally think the world revolves around you.
Of course, that didn't mean I could look down on them. Each one had earned their own military commendations through their talents, whether in swordsmanship, magic, or something else. They were recognized in their respective fields.
The problem was that talent didn't scale with mental maturity.
There were plenty of geniuses. But how many of those geniuses had destroyed themselves because they couldn't handle their own talents? Talent didn't equate to wisdom.
And moreover, they were still young.
"If I just try, I can do it."
That was what their eyes were saying.
Eyes oblivious to the fact that their talents would lead them to ruin.
Somehow...
By any means...
I had to show big brother that I was different from these people.
But how?
"Alright, let's get to the main topic."
The oldest man tapped the table.
Valen.
Eighteen years old. He had earned his commendation subjugating monsters in the southern territories.
His swordsmanship was at the entry level of Expert. For an ordinary knight, it would be promising, but it was weaker than Ernst at the same age.
His talent in swordsmanship was seen more as that of a hardworking prodigy than a pure genius, but even so, he was the leader among this group.
All eyes focused on him.
"Please, go ahead."
The black-haired woman set down her wine glass.
"As it has been until now, Father will assign each of us a mission. To test and evaluate our abilities."
"The season has finally arrived."
"And through my aides, I've already found out what each mission is."
"As expected of big brother."
"Impressive."
Admiring murmurs rose from around the table.
Valen nodded with a satisfied expression.
"The missions don't overlap. So let's allocate them here in advance. Trades are free, of course. You could give up a good mission and get money in return."
He unrolled a parchment.
"First. Northwestern border defense mission. Responding to small-scale border skirmishes with the kingdom."
"Second. Eastern forest goblin subjugation. They've been breeding excessively lately and are threatening villages."
"Third. Northern orc reconnaissance mission. Confirming signs of further southward movement after the Granfeldt battle."
He glanced up at me.
I stared back with an expressionless face.
"Fourth..."
All of them were military missions.
Moderately dangerous, but successful completion would earn merit. Worth another commendation.
The bastards around the table's eyes sparkled.
Each calculating.
Which mission was the easiest while offering the greatest merit.
"And finally, the seventh mission. Mediating the mining rights dispute between two southern count families."
The red-haired boy frowned.
"Is that something we should be doing? We're not diplomats."
"It's a situation where House Krushtein has to step in."
Valen set down the parchment.
"Both count families are vassals within our ducal lands."
Low whistles sounded around the table.
The black-haired woman twirled her wine glass and smirked.
"Looks like a total political minefield. No matter which side you take, you'll earn the grudge of the other."
Valen nodded.
"Moreover... even if you resolve it, Father won't rate it highly. It's not combat; just handling one annoying political issue. So, I think the one who takes this mission... needs compensation."
"What kind of compensation?"
"For example, the one who takes it gets priority on a good mission next season."
"Or money?"
The red-haired boy cut in.
The black-haired woman snorted.
"Do you think there's an idiot who'd stick themselves between two count families for that?"
Gazes crossed over the table.
Everyone calculating.
Who would step on this trap?
No—who would they foist this trap onto?
I slowly raised my head.
And smiled inwardly.
Fucking perfect.
It was perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
If I took a military mission?
It would encroach on Ernst's territory.
"That bastard's trying to rack up military merits."
"He's aiming to threaten me."
That's how it would look.
I'd already earned merit at Granfeldt. If I added another military achievement on top?
To big brother, I'd look like a perfect threat.
But political mediation?
That was different.
A completely different realm.
The realm of words and negotiation, not swords and magic.
An area Father and big brother had little interest in.
Political negotiations weren't the concern of lifelong warriors like them.
They found it annoying, even.
In other words.
This mission didn't compete with big brother.
It wasn't a threat.
Any side income was a bonus.
A month passed.
I straightened my collar in front of the mirror.
A navy velvet doublet embroidered with silver thread. The Krushtein crest was engraved small but intricately on the chest.
Made by a famous tailor in the capital.
Overly lavish attire for a bastard.
But this time, it was fine.
"Wow... Master, you look so dashing!"
Lize's eyes sparkled.
She was wearing new clothes too.
A maid outfit, but different from her usual one.
A neatly tailored black dress with a white apron. The lace trim was delicate.
And most importantly.
The eyepatch.
Black leather embroidered with a small silver pattern. A luxurious item.
Not an ordinary eyepatch, but one enchanted with magic. It slightly corrected the wearer's vision.
Of course, it couldn't restore the lost eye, but it was better than nothing.
"This was... expensive too, right?"
It was an insane price for an eyepatch, but it didn't matter.
"We made some money recently."
"Huh?"
"Don't you remember the bastard assembly?"
"Oh!"
A month ago, after the mission allocation at the bastard assembly, I volunteered for the southern count families' dispute mediation.
Of course, everyone welcomed it.
A fool had appeared to take on the headache-inducing mission.
In return, I got 100 gold coins.
Money pooled together by the six of them.
New clothes, eyepatch, and sundries didn't even total 10 gold coins, so this level of spending was leisurely.
I looked in the mirror again.
Navy velvet, silver embroidery, high-quality boots.
Perfect.
Of course, it wasn't battle attire.
This was diplomat's clothing.
A politician's garb.
The attire of one who fought with words, not swords.
That was the key.
What would Ernst think if he saw this?
"I must have misjudged him. He's suited for the negotiation table, not the battlefield."
"Father won't pay much attention to a coward like that."
Exactly.
I wouldn't encroach on big brother's territory.
I wouldn't chase military merits.
A message that I wasn't a threat.
Of course, this outfit alone wouldn't be enough.
But at least it would send the signal.
"Alright, let's go, Lize."
"Yes!"
We headed to the mansion courtyard.
A carriage was waiting.
A black carriage emblazoned with the Krushtein crest. Pulled by four horses.
The coachman bowed in greeting.
I opened the carriage door.
Click.
Huh?
There was someone inside the carriage.
A middle-aged man in armor.
A familiar face.
Sir Heinrich.
The veteran knight I'd fought with at Granfeldt.
He was sitting inside the carriage.
Black armor. Longsword at his waist. Helmet on his lap.
Fully armed.
"...Sir?"
"You've arrived, young master. Let's be off."
Heinrich bowed politely.
I stared at him blankly.
"Sir, why are you in that seat..."
"I volunteered as your escort knight."