The Heir's Arrangement
And so he arrived at the study.
"You've come. Well then — how is your body?"
"I'm fine. More importantly, Father…"
"He's on his way. Yes, I've heard the story. You repelled a demon, did you? And a rather powerful one at that."
"Yes. I was lucky."
That was the only way he could put it.
Zeke and the Ancestor had both fought hard for him, but without that sudden flash of insight that had struck him at the last moment, it would have been their side crossing the river of death — not the demon's.
In any case.
"As for House Merlin…"
"If you mean the survivors, they're safe. The problem is… there are only the two of them left."
"That's serious."
"It is. From what I hear, their escorts were no ordinary fighters. There was even a Bloodline Knight among them."
"Huh."
According to the old veteran Herben, Merlin wouldn't send anyone stronger than Sir Valt out of consideration for Falaon's dignity — but apparently that hadn't been the case after all.
Well.
Our dignity is one thing. To them, their own blood comes first.
Of course, the intent to apply pressure hadn't been entirely absent either.
But look at it this way.
"So… that means we defeated a demon that even their Bloodline Knight couldn't handle."
"Exactly. And our strongest force never even took the field."
"Hmm."
The situation had grown more complicated than he'd expected.
Merlin's pride will be smarting quite a bit…
This will only deepen their wariness toward us. They've just lost a card they could have played in a crisis.
How would Merlin respond in a situation like this?
He had no idea.
Perhaps sensing his concern, his father spoke.
"You needn't worry too much. We've already agreed to a marriage alliance, so the fact that our strength exceeded their expectations isn't entirely bad news for them either. That said… they'll likely want to take a closer look at what else we might be hiding."
"Hiding, sir?"
"I mean they'll want to see whether we have any more cards up our sleeve."
"Hmm."
This could get troublesome.
Tell me about it.
How long they spent discussing the Merlin matter, he couldn't say.
"Father, I'm coming in."
Bilheim entered.
"Ah, yes. Have a seat."
"Yes. Khtun — it's been a while. I've heard the story. Well done."
"Ah… yes."
"I have many questions, but I'll hear the details later. Now then… Father, if you would."
"Yes. Of course."
What was this?
Had the two of them already spoken about something?
Had they, while he was unconscious, twisted the conversation to their own advantage…?
Hmm. Fifteen is young for a wedding, but more than old enough for a betrothal.
Hell no!
The Confucian values running through his blood would not permit that — not that.
What was he supposed to do?
He fretted on, but in the end, every last one of those worries proved completely pointless.
"We finished the discussion while you were out. Your brother Bilheim will be the one to marry."
"What?"
He whipped around to stare at Bilheim in shock.
That block of ice had actually agreed to this?
"Of course, that would mean the succession of House Falaon must also pass to your brother. Khtun — would that still be acceptable to you?"
"Well…"
It was what he'd hoped for, but things had fallen into place almost too neatly.
He couldn't find the words to answer.
His father added,
"If you wish it, we can still yield the marriage to you — and the succession of Falaon along with it. Even then, your brother would remain a steadfast ally at your side. If you want the heir's seat, even now…"
"No. Absolutely not."
He rushed to add,
"I've always believed the succession of Falaon belonged to my brother. If he becomes the heir of Falaon, then I, in turn, will be as steadfast an ally to him as he would have been to me."
He meant every word.
The heir of Falaon?
No.
What he needed wasn't honor.
Just a modest fortune — enough to eat well and live well on his own.
"Brother. This younger brother of yours will serve you with everything he has."
"Hahaha."
His father laughed, clearly delighted by the sight of him.
And Bilheim…
What the hell? Why does he look like that?
For reasons he couldn't place, Bilheim's face had gone rigid.
Anyone could see he was in a foul mood.
Could it be…
Did Bilheim not want the succession either?
Or maybe he hated the political marriage so much he'd rather give up the heir's seat than go through with it.
But there was nothing to be done about it now.
He wasn't changing his mind.
Absolutely not.
After a few more matters had been discussed,
"Then I'll take my leave."
"Yes. Get some rest."
Khtun returned to his room, grinning from ear to ear.
It was only after he'd gone that the Baron of Falaon turned to look at his eldest son.
"Bilheim."
"Yes, Father."
"You don't look particularly pleased. Is something the matter?"
"…"
"Speak. Is it the marriage? Because this father of yours tied the succession to it?"
It was possible, he supposed. By right of primogeniture, the heir's seat had always belonged to Bilheim.
Bilheim had long claimed he cared nothing for the succession — but a man's true heart was never easy to read.
But that wasn't it.
"Whether I become the heir or not makes no difference to me. If the responsibility falls to me, I will simply bear it."
"Then why? There's no problem, is there? Khtun didn't seem particularly interested in the succession either."
The Baron of Falaon was no fool.
How could he not know that Khtun had no designs on the heir's seat?
So there should have been no issue.
And yet…
"The succession may be one thing. But the marriage is another matter entirely, is it not?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that Khtun may have taken a liking to the young lady of Merlin. But with the succession hanging over it, he may not have been able to show his true feelings."
"What?"
For a moment, the Baron of Falaon felt as though he'd been struck hard across the back of the head.
Why hadn't he thought of that?
Khtun might have no attachment to the succession — and yet still have developed feelings for the young lady of Merlin!
"So you're saying that considerate boy of mine… may have set his heart aside because of the succession."
"That is what I believe."
"May I ask what makes you so certain?"
"I heard things from the soldiers and from Sir Zeke."
"What things?"
"Even in that hellish fog, he never gave an inch of ground — but the moment the doppelgänger took the young lady hostage, he flew into a rage and charged. And when he fought the shadow demon, he was ready to die without hesitation… yet even then, they say, his eyes kept seeking her out."
"Hmm?"
The Baron of Falaon tilted his head.
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"…?"
That was really the end of it?
"Son… I think you simply don't know him well enough. Khtun is a brave boy. Even in his first battle, he was howling and flying about the field. And as for watching over the young lady — wouldn't that simply be because she was a hostage?"
"That may be so."
"To my eye, that seems the likelier explanation."
"But we cannot know what is truly in Khtun's heart, can we?"
"No…"
Heart or no heart.
As far as the Baron of Falaon could see, that really was all there was to it.
And then,
"Even granting your point a hundred times over — what exactly are we supposed to do about it? They will naturally want a marriage with the heir."
"That is only because Falaon's standing does not yet match theirs."
"Yes. That's true."
If their prestige had been roughly equal, they could have secured an alliance without marrying off the heir.
But with the gap as stark as it was now, that was difficult.
Either way, they had no real options…
"Then Falaon simply needs to grow stronger."
"…How?"
"What we need is time. And for that time, I ask that you postpone the matter of the marriage alliance. Just five years. In five years, I will raise this house to a position Merlin can no longer look down upon."
"That's easier said than…"
"Please. I ask this of you."
With that, Bilheim turned and left the study at once.
The Baron of Falaon's eyelid twitched at the sight.
"No."
Postpone it for five years?
"How?"
Of course, it wasn't impossible.
They could finalize the marriage alliance itself, while leaving the identity of the actual parties deliberately vague.
But possible or not —
"This… this isn't right."
The Baron of Falaon left the study to set his eldest son straight before the boy did something rash.
Fortunately, it didn't take long to find him.
"Son, I think you may be misunderstanding something…"
"Shh, Father. Quiet for a moment, please."
"…?"
The Baron of Falaon tilted his head but stilled his presence all the same.
He approached where Bilheim stood and followed his son's gaze.
"Do you see them?"
"Hmm…?"
The faces there were familiar ones.
Khtun and Ellie, the third daughter of Merlin.
But what was this?
…Just as the thought crossed his mind, Ellie seemed to say something to Khtun — then spotted them, flinched in surprise, and promptly led Khtun away somewhere else.
The whole scene looked exactly like…
"…A secret tryst?"
"It seems Khtun is not the only one with feelings."
"Good heavens."
The Baron of Falaon sighed.
Things were growing considerably more complicated.
"What will you do?"
"…Very well. I'll delay it as long as I can, as you asked."
A political marriage was unavoidable.
But at the same time, another thought took hold.
I don't want him forced to set his heart aside simply because our house is too weak.
Of course, when reality finally arrived, such resolve might prove powerless — but until that day came, he would do everything he could.
Whether Khtun truly has feelings for the young lady remains to be seen. But I will do my best.
The Baron of Falaon made that silent vow.
Meanwhile, Khtun — having been led away by Ellie — found himself facing an unexpected situation.
"You brought me all the way out here to say…?"
"Forgive the impropriety of a first meeting, Young Master Khtun. But this is a matter that must not leak out."
"Very well. I'll keep your secret — so please, go on."
"First, as I said earlier — thank you for saving us. We owe you our lives. But, shameless as it may be, there is a separate request I wish to make of you. That is why I asked for a private word."
And what might that be?
Khtun waited patiently for Ellie to continue.
Not because he was cowed by the authority of a count's third daughter — but because he was, by nature, a patient man.
So what did Ellie want?
Nothing other than this.
"I've heard you are a remarkable necromancer. That you defeated a rather high-ranking demon."
"I was lucky."
"I saw that demon. And I watched with my own eyes how our knights fell to it. That was not something luck alone could accomplish. It must have been possible only because your talent and skill in necromancy are exceptional."
"Very well, let's say that's true. And so?"
"There is someone I wish to meet."
"Pardon? Then why not simply go and meet them… wait. The person you wish to meet is…?"
"Yes. Someone who has already passed on."
"Ah. Necromancy isn't quite that simple. You need an object or a place with deep ties to the deceased…"
"I have a keepsake. Here."
What Ellie produced was a ring.
It was remarkably crude — neither something one would call a woman's ornament, nor anything that looked particularly valuable.
Whose could it be, to make her so desperate?
Remarkably enough, the Ancestor already knew the answer.
That belongs to the Cowardly Merlin.
What?
Their ancestor, I mean.