I'll Develop the Magic Stone Vein
"I will develop the magic stone vein."
Father's bombshell of a declaration left me reeling.
This is all Viscount Hadion's fault.
That bastard had stuffed Father's head full of empty dreams.
So what was I supposed to do about it?
For days on end I went to him and pleaded that developing the vein might be a bit of a stretch — but Father's will was ironclad.
"When your brother returns, I'll tell him. Just wait."
Father, if Brother hears this, he might seize the title right then and there.
What was I supposed to do in this situation?
The answer came from the Ancestor.
"For now, go train. You've rested long enough as it is."
"Hah... yes, sir."
He wasn't wrong.
Even after the war, I'd taken a full week off. That was more than enough rest.
What? Why the sudden diligence, you ask?
Of course I have to get diligent.
After Father's declaration about developing the vein, I had bent to reality. Elevating Bilheim to baron would be far too unfilial — so I would simply leave the territory instead.
And if the territory sank under a mountain of debt?
I'd already gone independent by then.
So it would be fine, right?
Once I'd made up my mind to strike out on my own, I needed to grow stronger. Even in the modern world people said it was dangerous outside the blanket — but that was just a figure of speech. In this world, it was the literal truth.
Of course, it would be nice if Bilheim talked Father out of the whole thing before I had to leave home, but...
...I still have to prepare.
And so, fueled by the independent spirit Father had so thoughtfully planted in me, I threw myself into training.
Ah — and there was one piece of good news in all this.
What was it, you ask?
Gol! Golgol!
Our dear friend Golgol had returned from the dead!
"Golgol, is that really you?"
Gol!
"You're the Golgol who saved my life?!"
Golgoool!
As if to prove it was truly him, Golgol reenacted the exact way he had thrown himself in front of me that day.
It really was Golgol!
"Welcome back. Truly, welcome back!"
Golgol!
Someone might say, what's the fuss? A skeleton is a disposable tool you use and throw away.
But Golgol was no ordinary skeleton.
He was a comrade who had shared life and death with me — the savior who had pulled me from the blade of a merciless cutthroat!
"Golgol, if there's anything you want, just say the word. This big brother will take care of it."
Golgol!?
"What? Am I serious? Of course I am, you bonehead! Spit it out, come on!"
As if there was anything I wouldn't do for my brother Golgol!
Of course, if he demanded something outrageous I had fully intended to bury him forever in my heart — but fortunately, our loyal friend's wish was a modest one.
Gol, golgol!
"What, something over there?"
Gol!
"Bring it here."
Clack-clack-clack!
What Golgol fetched in a burst of excitement was a massive sword — the training greatsword Father sometimes used in practice.
A full meter and a half long, with a blade roughly a handspan wide by an adult man's measure. A genuine monster of a weapon.
"You want that? So you've got your eye on a greatsword, huh?"
Golgol!
"All right. Train with that for now, and this big brother will talk to Father and get you a proper one."
Gol!
I was glad he seemed happy — but part of me was worried. Could Golgol really wield a sword that monstrous?
In comics and novels, people swung blades the size of a human body like toys, but this was reality. Unless you had awakened a bloodline the way our family had...
"Huh. He's doing it?"
I stared at Golgol with round eyes. He looked like he was struggling a bit — but he was swinging the sword!
Of course, it wasn't without problems.
The mana drain... is pretty steep.
But what could I do? Look how happy he was.
And Golgol's joy didn't end there.
"Hmm. I'll take a look at that one's swordsmanship. If he's using a greatsword, there should be something I can work with."
Golgol?!
"It's payment for saving my descendant. No need to thank me."
Gol! Golgoool!
Well. Look how thrilled he is.
Seeing Golgol so happy made me happy too.
And so, under the Ancestor's direction, Golgol's sword training began. I claimed a corner of the training grounds and drilled my necromancy.
It felt something like this, didn't it?
My goal was to get comfortable with the Bone Armor I'd used during the territorial war. I'd cast it on pure instinct in the heat of the moment, so the details were still fuzzy — but I had a decent feel for it by now.
...How much time passed like that?
"The peace negotiations are fully concluded."
Around the time the full indemnity had been extracted from House Hadion — he returned.
Brother Bilheim.
Suddenly, a cinematic from a certain game flashed through my mind.
— Succession in progress. —
Ah, my poor father.
Just like the unfilial wretch in that cinematic, Bilheim made his entrance with a commanding stride.
Roughened skin. Bloodstains soaked into the fabric of his clothes, speaking of hard fighting. Judging by appearance alone, he looked less like a baron's son and more like a raving murderer — but he went straight to Father and offered his greetings.
"Father. I have returned."
"You're back. Well done. Was the matter settled cleanly?"
"Yes. Though I heard there was trouble at home."
"Mm. There was, yes. Come inside first."
Father led the unfilial son into the dining hall. Mother fretted over Bilheim with the usual questions — had he been well, his skin looked rough — and Bilheim answered each one with dry, colorless replies.
In that entire room, I alone could foresee that the baron's seat was about to change hands.
At any rate.
"There was a territorial war."
"Hadion, I heard."
"Yes, so you know. Viscount Hadion challenged us to a territorial war — on the most ridiculous pretext. And the result... well, you already know."
"Yes. I heard we won. And that Khtun's performance was remarkable."
"It was."
Father recounted my exploits with genuine pleasure — how bravely I had cut down enemy soldiers, how I had faced a wandering knight named Zeke.
When he finished, a chill ran down my spine.
...Is he smiling?
He was.
Bilheim was smiling.
That Bilheim — smiling?
"Well done, little brother. Truly my brother. You protected the family splendidly in my absence."
"...I merely did what needed doing."
"Many bear duties. Few discharge them properly."
Having delivered his praise, Bilheim turned to Father.
"I heard the peace negotiations went well. A considerable indemnity was extracted, was it not?"
"It was. Ten thousand gold. Even after paying the conscripts and the families of the fallen, a fair sum remains."
"That's good to hear. But why did Viscount Hadion challenge us to a territorial war in the first place?"
"Hmm. Where to begin..."
Father deliberately trailed off — but Bilheim spoke as calmly as if he had known from the start.
"Was it because of the magic stone vein?"
"...You knew?"
"Yes."
This bastard... a usurper who'd come prepared?
But no.
"I have a friend. A mage. He once mentioned that there seemed to be a magic stone vein in our territory."
"This is the first I've heard of a mage friend."
"I never mentioned him. He's not the sort who wants to be known to the world."
"Hmm. Fair enough. Mages are an eccentric lot. But wait — your friend knew?"
The atmosphere dropped in an instant.
Even an old lion on the verge of being driven from the pride is still a lion. A sharp light flickered in Father's eyes.
"Is he trustworthy?"
"Yes. He is not the type to go around letting things slip."
"Well, if you say so... Still, I can't help a bit of old man's caution. I'd like to meet this friend sometime. Could you arrange it?"
"Yes, easily. As it happens, he has been wanting to meet you as well."
"Me? For what reason?"
"It would be best if you heard it from him directly."
"Hmm... Very well. We'll revisit this later. Are you tired?"
"I'm fine."
"Good. Then I may as well say it now."
Father deliberately straightened his posture and stroked his beard.
I knew the moment had come.
Today, in this very room, the Baron of Falaon would change — from father to son.
"The surrounding territories have taken an interest in why Viscount Hadion started a territorial war. Why covet a worthless scrap of land, they wonder."
"I understand."
"And so, I have made a decision."
"I am listening."
Father spoke with a resolute expression.
"I intend to develop the magic stone vein."
How would Bilheim react?
Ah, I see. In that case, I shall inherit the title, Father.
...Something like that?
Or maybe...
But Bilheim's response was nothing I had expected.
"So you've finally made up your mind."
"...?"
"...?"
I tilted my head. Father tilted his head. Only Mother sat blinking, watching the situation unfold.
Father asked,
"Made up my mind? You knew? That I was preparing for this?"
Preparing?
This hadn't been a spur-of-the-moment decision?
Unable to follow the conversation, I looked back and forth between them — and Bilheim, who had somehow failed to evolve into a full-fledged unfilial son, answered calmly.
"Yes. I have long known you were stockpiling the territory's funds. I didn't know why — but when my friend told me about the magic stone vein, I began to suspect."
At that, Father laughed with genuine delight.
"Haha! Then this conversation will go quickly!"
No — a little too quickly, don't you think?
Perhaps sensing my feelings, Father looked at me and said,
"Hmm. Khtun seems out of the loop, so I'll explain. Here's how this all came about..."
According to Father, preparations to develop the magic stone vein were not a recent affair.
To be precise...
From the moment Grandfather first told him the vein existed.
Long ago, when Bilheim was still young — and before I had even been born.
That was why Father had gone to fight in the kingdom's war.
"I needed money. A sum so large that no amount of effort within our territory's means could ever produce it."
And so Father had gone to war and, by his account, achieved considerable merit.
How a man who, however skilled a knight, was merely a regional powerhouse managed to rack up such achievements among national-level powerhouses, I had no idea — but in any case, he had received a massive reward from the king himself.
At that point, I was stunned.
From the king himself?
Well, who he got it from wasn't the important part.
After that:
"It was a considerable sum, and there was no shortage of people who would covet it. So I spread a rumor that I had spent every last coin paying off the usurious debts incurred in my father's generation."
I was shocked all over again.
This... is Falaon?
Even for the sake of the territory — turning your own father into a debt-ridden incompetent?!
At any rate, Father had deposited the money in a bank run by the royal family and steadily accumulated additional funds while he waited for the right time to develop the magic stone vein.
Of course:
"Not every preparation is complete. But given how things have turned out, it seems better to strike first. That is why I decided to develop the vein."
Ah. So that was the story.
Still, I had a question.
"Father, would it be all right if I asked how large the budget is?"
"Of course. I'll tell you. Sir Valt, the documents..."
"Yes, my lord."
Sir Valt, who apparently already knew about all this, brought the papers without so much as a flicker of reaction and handed them to Father.
Instead of explaining in words, Father simply showed me the documents.
"Every amount written there is budget allocated to developing the magic stone vein."
I fumbled my way down the numbers. One zero, two, three...
"What in the world... Did your father take the enemy king's head or something? The royal family doesn't hand out this kind of money lightly."
I don't know. Please don't ask me.
Who was it again?
The little bastard who said Father had caught a case of entrepreneurial fever — that he was an old lion on the verge of being driven from the pride — and started fretting about title succession!
"Father, I always believed in you."
Bilheim. Fancy the title, do you?
Consider this a warning.
That seat is far too good for the likes of you — go find yourself another one!