I'll Accept Only Your Heart
From that day on, Father threw himself into the mine development project in earnest.
"From now on, you will attend the meetings as well, Khtun. The time has come for you to take on the affairs of the house."
"I shall do my utmost."
I answered with a glad heart.
What? Don't I hate work?
But this was a family business.
Not a company that calls itself a family — an actual family company.
And the money earned from developing the mine would go toward making my life more comfortable.
That said, there still wasn't much for me to actually do.
"Lord Valt, if we are to survey the veins, we will need a prospecting party…"
"I have already looked into that matter. Do you recall Molt, who fought alongside us in the kingdom's war?"
"That drunkard? He is still alive?"
"Yes. The man has founded a trading company. He deals primarily in minerals and arms, and he apparently has experience in mining as well. I intend to make contact with him."
"Very well. Handle that side of things as you see fit…"
Father and Lord Valt took charge of all the complicated work, and whenever someone needed to go out as a representative of the territory, Bilheim would handle it.
So what was my role?
A totem.
Just sitting there and holding down a chair during meetings. That was the whole of it.
I was enjoying those peaceful days when Father summoned me one afternoon.
"Khtun."
"Yes, Father."
"Now that matters have settled somewhat, I believe the time has come to speak with you of something."
What could it be?
A secret of my birth?
But I already knew that one.
I tilted my head, but what came was not the birth secret I had been half-expecting.
"Come in."
Who was he calling?
I was still frowning in confusion when the door opened and two men walked in.
One of them looked familiar.
That's him. Zeke, was it?
Golgol's mortal enemy!
Golgol was howling from the basement!
Seething with a surge of vengeful fury, I reflexively gripped my sword — and then both men dropped to one knee before me.
"Young Master Khtun, please accept our loyalty."
"Please accept our loyalty."
Excuse me? Accept what, exactly?
I blinked in bewilderment, and Father spoke.
"I have looked into them over the past few weeks. They come from a fairly well-known man-at-arms mercenary company on the front lines. They have never received a formal knighthood, but… judging by their conduct in these parts, they appear to be men of some honor."
"Then…"
"It is this father's opinion that men of their caliber would not be a poor addition to the household."
As if in agreement, the Ancestor threw a fit.
Not a poor addition, my foot! Do you have any idea how hard it is to find swordsmen of that quality in this backwater mountain hovel?! Well, the fact that they are mercenary-company men and not even errant knights is a bit of a sticking point, but no one is born a knight!
Sensing the momentum, Zeke bowed his head even lower.
"Young Master. The moment you treated this lowly sellsword as a knight, I resolved to become yours."
"I stand with Zeke."
"Haha."
Father watched the scene with a strangely pleased look in his eyes.
And the subtle glances he kept sending my way made it clear he wanted me to take them in on the spot…
…Is this the romance of knighthood?
I almost felt like the hero of some epic.
But only for a moment.
I offered them a bright smile.
"I shall accept only your hearts."
"Ah! Thank yo—!"
"No. I said I shall accept only your hearts."
"…?"
"…?"
The two knights lifted their heads and stared at me in open confusion.
Father and the Ancestor looked much the same.
"What are you saying, my son?"
Descendant, have you lost your mind? Swordsmen of that caliber do not grow on trees!
Lost my mind?
If anyone here had lost their mind, it was these people.
What? Accept their loyalty?
Loyalty, he says…
I knew better.
The knights of this world were not the romantic figures people imagined.
That much was obvious just from looking at Father's own knight — Lord Valt, the territory's infamous money pit and the man renowned for drawing the highest salary around.
Whether Lord Valt truly earned as much as the rumors claimed, I couldn't say. But of this I was certain:
Whatever the figure, a knight was a money-devouring hippo.
"Young Master, the reason… might we know the reason?"
At Zeke's earnest question, I answered with a gentle smile.
"I am not yet qualified."
Well… money was a qualification too.
Once Khtun left the room, the baron followed him out, unable to hide his own bewilderment.
And so the two of them were left alone.
Zeke stared blankly into space, turning that single sentence over and over in his mind.
I am not yet qualified.
Not qualified?
"What do you make of that, Milo? Do you understand it?"
"I… haven't the faintest idea."
The opposite, they had heard plenty of times.
Wandering the battlefields with their mercenary company, whenever they found a noble they truly wished to serve, those nobles had laughed in their faces.
You think yourselves qualified? Lowborn sellswords like you?
It had been a humiliating treatment, but they had understood it.
They were non-bloodline ability users, and they had never been trained as squires under any renowned knight.
If Khtun had questioned their qualifications, they would have dusted themselves off and walked away without a second thought. It would have stung a little, but they were well accustomed to that sort of treatment.
But this was different.
"Qualified… what qualification could he possibly lack…"
"Perhaps he simply does not care for us and was refusing politely."
"Young Master Khtun is not that sort of man."
"Mm."
And how much have you even seen of him to say that?
…was what Milo wanted to ask, but he quietly lowered his gaze instead.
Because right now, Zeke's eyes were halfway gone.
Hmm. This is going to be a headache.
To be perfectly honest, Milo was not nearly as earnest about this as Zeke was.
He had been growing tired of the wandering life, and when Zeke said he had found a rather decent noble, Milo had more or less tagged along for the ride.
But with Zeke looking like that…
What now?
Milo racked his brain for a way to talk his comrade down.
And for good reason: after failing Viscount Hadion's commission, they had not only lost the remaining payment but had also had to pay a ransom, leaving their purses hanging by a thread.
They ought to have been out looking for work already, and yet…
Tch. If I had known it would come to this, I would have left with the others.
Their former comrades had gone off in search of new employment.
A few of them had even gone back to the Man-at-Arms company, or so he had heard.
It was while Milo was chewing over his own sorry lot that a sudden thought flashed through his mind.
"Ah — could it be that?"
"That what?"
"You know. That. The succession!"
"The… succession?"
"Exactly!"
Over the past few days, it had not only been Baron Falaon investigating them.
They, too, had looked into the lord they might serve and the territory they might call home.
And the results of that inquiry:
"Young Master Khtun has an older brother. And from what I gather, that brother has not made much of a name for himself. He is said to have awakened a reasonably fine talent at the Blood Awakening Ceremony, but… even in this last war, was it not Young Master Khtun alone who took the field?"
"It was. And what of it?"
"In a situation like that, if Young Master Khtun suddenly takes on two knights at once, how do you think that looks from the eldest son's point of view?"
"Well…"
It was simple enough.
He would feel threatened.
"So that was it. When he said he was 'not yet' qualified… Milo, you really are sharp."
"You're the one who's dense— ahem. Thank you for the compliment. Ahem. So what do we do now? From the look of things, he is in no position to take us in."
"That is…"
Zeke sank into thought, his expression darker than before.
Milo was right.
If the true reason for their rejection was the delicate web of power surrounding the succession, then there was nothing to be done about it.
But then—
"Milo."
"What is it?"
"Why did the baron — no, why did His Lordship introduce us to Young Master Khtun in the first place? Surely His Lordship is not unaware of this delicate situation?"
"Well, that is…"
"Perhaps, in His Lordship's heart, the matter of succession has already been decided?"
"Tha…"
Milo started to answer, then tilted his head.
Now that he mentioned it, it did make a certain amount of sense.
But is that really it?
Something about it did not sit right.
On the surface Zeke's reasoning seemed sound, but the atmosphere inside the keep had not quite matched that picture.
Ah, what did it matter either way.
Frankly, the succession politics of this tiny territory were none of their concern.
What mattered right now was finding a commission before their money ran out.
"Hmm. Even if that is the case, there is not much we can do about it."
"Why not?"
Milo cocked his head.
"…? What exactly can we do?"
"Listen carefully."
Zeke laid out his plan. And when he had finished telling the whole of it, Milo erupted as if having a seizure.
"Have you gone mad?! You want me to—!"
Milo was about to say more when a sudden chill ran down his spine and he flinched.
Zeke was looking at him with eyes that had gone just a little bit crazy.
"Milo. Did you just ask me if I had gone mad?"
"N-no, that is not — this is you who—"
"I believe we need to have a conversation. Milo, clench your jaw. Think it over while you take the hits. Whether you will do as I say, or not."
Watching the approaching fist, Milo thought to himself:
Shit. I should have just left.
He had stepped in it good and proper.
Meanwhile, in Baron Falaon's study.
In the middle of speaking with his second son, the baron grasped the boy's true reasoning, and he let out a long, deeply sorrowful sigh.
"So what you are telling me is… the reason you will not take those knights is because of money?"
"Yes."
"For something so trivial…?"
"Trivial? What could possibly be more important than that?"
Money was terrifying enough in the modern world, but by Khtun's standards, money was even more terrifying in a fantasy one.
After all, in the modern world, people did not kill each other over a hundred thousand won.
Baron Falaon, for his part, felt as though his heart were being torn in two.
"If that is the problem… then this father will support you. Until you can afford the knights' wages yourself. I can manage at least that much."
"Ah, no, that is quite all right."
He could not even secure a necromancer tutor — what business did he have taking on knights?
And besides…
We already have Lord Valt. Do we really need them?
Lord Valt already drew a hefty salary. Could he not simply do the work of two men — three, even?
Even ordinary modern office workers with neither mana nor superhuman gifts routinely covered two or three people's workloads without any additional hires. Surely their superhuman Lord Valt could manage even more. That was the faith Khtun held.
Of course, this was the thinking of someone who did not know any better.
A necromancer tutor?
They were looking for one.
After opening the mine development project and deciding to draw on the budget, the very first thing Baron Falaon had done was put out feelers for a necromancer instructor.
It was simply that no one suitable had turned up yet.
At any rate, the budget was not so tight that it could not cover two knights and one necromancer tutor.
And so—
"If that is all it is, then this father will…"
Baron Falaon opened his mouth once more to persuade Khtun, when a knock sounded from outside the door.
Knock, knock.
"My lord, it is Sir Zeke and Sir Milo."
"Mm. Show them in."
The door opened, and the moment Zeke and Milo stepped inside—
The baron flinched.
What in the world happened to his face…
Milo's face was swollen like a puppy that had been stung by a swarm of bees.
What on earth had happened? The baron was about to ask when Zeke shoved Milo's head down and bowed low himself.
"My lord, please allow us to become soldiers of the Falaon territory."
"…What?"
"If the young master is not yet qualified, then waiting until he is is the duty of a retainer. We beg you — do not refuse us this one request."
Zeke thought to himself:
When the day comes that you ascend to the seat of heir…
I shall be your strength.
Baron Falaon sensed at once that some misunderstanding was afoot.
"Now hold on. I think there has been some…"
And then—
"No, Father. When they desire it this earnestly, turning them away would be no less a failure of duty. I earnestly entreat you — please grant these two gentlemen their wish."
"What? Khtun, you…"
"Father, I beg of youuu—!"
Khtun dropped to his knees in a desperate plea.
Please do not say another word.
At the sight of it, Zeke secretly wiped away a tear.
Ah — so I understood my lord's true intent after all—!
In that moment, a grand design — a truly great picture — took shape in Zeke's heart.