Support for Hadion
The misunderstanding was cleared up without much trouble.
"Well… I think I may have been mistaken. I overheard merchants talking in the market, lost my composure, and that was that."
"Hmm. Is that so."
"Yes, that's what happened."
"Very well."
Father believed me.
And it wasn't entirely a lie, either.
Kon is a merchant, after all.
It was true that I'd formed a misunderstanding based on something I'd picked up from a merchant.
Anyway.
"Then, regarding Young Master Shuren here…"
"He has come requesting support."
"Support?"
"Yes. He asks that we save Hadion, which is suffering under demons and their cultists."
"Hmm."
Even though Shuren, the squire of Hadion, stood right before us, we continued the conversation as if he weren't there.
Frankly, he had no right to speak in the first place.
Of course not.
Hadion, of all places, requesting reinforcements?
If they had any shame at all, they wouldn't dare open their mouths — not even with ten of them.
The real problem was what came next.
They're a detestable lot, true enough, but this isn't something to decide purely on emotion. Hadion has long been one of the trade routes connecting Falaon to the central regions.
In other words, if Hadion fell, Falaon would suffer as well.
Lose one trade route, and Falaon becomes that much more isolated.
Of course, Father already knew this…
"I'll be direct, Young Master Shuren."
"P-please speak, my lord Baron."
"Regrettably, our people have yet to heal from the wounds of the territorial war with Hadion. And now you ask those same people to shed blood for Hadion's sake? That is far too cruel a request."
"Th-that's…"
Shuren bristled as if he couldn't accept it, then squeezed his eyes shut.
Emotionally, he couldn't understand — but rationally, he knew.
It had been an absurd request from the start.
But he didn't give up.
"My lord Baron, I beg you to show mercy. If things continue as they are, the people of Hadion will suffer at the hands of demons and cultists. Even at this very moment…"
"Enough."
Father cut him off.
Then he spoke.
"I understand your feelings well enough, young master, but Falaon is also suffering under demons that swarm from every direction. What right do I have to force sacrifice upon my people when I cannot even properly govern my own territory?"
It seemed Father had made up his mind.
Naturally.
But this left me in a rather awkward position.
Kon told me to be careful of Hadion…
If we left things like this, it'd be like raising a bomb next door.
And even without Kon's advice, having demons overrun the neighboring territory was hardly ideal.
There was an old saying for this: when the lips are gone, the teeth grow cold. If one of two interdependent parties falls, the other inevitably suffers.
In other words, Hadion's collapse could drag Falaon down with it.
But.
For now, let us trust your father.
Yes.
I decided to trust Father, just as the Ancestor advised.
Unlike me, who kept a quiet contingency plan of abandoning Falaon if things went south tucked away in a corner of my mind, for Father this land was everything — his entire world.
And so the meeting adjourned.
On the way back after the meeting, a voice called out to me.
"Khtun."
"…?"
It was my original brother, Bilheim.
"Let's talk for a moment. Ren, you go on ahead."
"Sure thing."
Ren waved and disappeared, and I moved to a different spot with Bilheim.
"Let's walk a bit."
"Yes."
Bilheim set off somewhere.
He only opened his mouth as we were leaving the castle grounds.
"It wasn't that I didn't call you to the meeting."
"Pardon?"
"I looked for you, but simply couldn't find you."
"Ah, I see."
I'd roughly figured as much.
But why bring it up now?
He seems worried you might feel slighted.
Hmm.
Really?
Did Bilheim even possess that kind of sensitivity… that F-type MBTI energy, if we were talking twenty-first-century Earth?
I had no idea.
"By the way, what is that floating thing beside you?"
"Ah, this."
I explained the Vessel to Bilheim.
Starting from how Ahentar — Merlyn's squire and my fake brother — had gifted me a Mystery Token, through my meeting with the mystery merchant Kon, all the way to obtaining the Vessel today.
After hearing the whole story, Bilheim's eyes lit up with interest.
"I see. You've received quite a fine gift. But that spatial storage box belonged to these 'mystery merchants'?"
"Yes. Oh, and Kon said the one who killed his junior was 'Rohan'… do you know anything about that?"
"Hmm."
So he doesn't know either.
Or so I thought for a moment — but Bilheim's "hmm" meant something different from what I'd assumed.
"It's true that the cultist who orchestrated the Hamstone village incident was the apostate Rohan. But if a mystery merchant possesses power like this 'Kon' you describe… I find it hard to believe that the apostate Rohan could have killed one."
Is that so.
For my part, all I could think was, Well, if he says so, I guess that's how it is.
That was only natural — the combat prowess of people like Kon, Ahentar, and Bilheim was a realm of the unknown I couldn't even begin to imagine.
It was like asking someone who knows nothing about the military to compare a tank and a fighter jet.
"In any case, you've received a precious gift. From the Grand Duke's heir, and from the mystery merchant."
"Indeed."
"Though… it seems the Grand Duke's heir is quite fond of you."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. He spends more time with you than with his own blood relative, Young Lady Ellie."
"Hmm."
Now that he mentioned it, that did seem to be the case.
"You, too, have spent more time with him than with me. Your own elder brother."
"Hmm…"
To be precise, Bilheim wasn't exactly my blood brother either, was he?
Ancestor, how does the family tree work in a situation like this? Can Bilheim and I really be called blood brothers?
We were originals, sure, but was it a relationship that warranted the word "blood"?
In times like these, just say, "You're the best, big brother."
Pardon? Do I have to?
Just do it.
"You're… the best, big brother?"
"Hmm."
Drop the question mark, you fool.
"You're the best, big brother."
Under the Ancestor's rather forceful command, I had no choice but to remove the question mark.
This wasn't like soothing a sulky child.
There was no way someone like Bilheim would get upset over something like this.
And even if he had, it wouldn't be resolved this easily.
And yet, somehow…
"Someday I'll give you a gift better than any Mystery Token or Vessel. Let's head back."
"Ah, yes."
Bilheim said this and abruptly turned on his heel.
As if this had been his only business from the start.
"Oh, and how about having tea with Mother sometime? She's been talking about you a great deal lately. She must be curious."
"Hmm."
At times like these, say, "Yes, of course."
I nodded and followed the Ancestor's instructions.
"Yes, of course."
"Good. Let's go."
For some reason, Bilheim's footsteps on the way back seemed much lighter than before.
And so Bilheim and the Ancestor were deepening the bonds of ancestor and descendant through me as their intermediary.
I was nothing more than a messenger.
Greet Mother with "How have you been?"
Yes, Ancestor.
That evening.
As if to prove my faith hadn't been misplaced, Father summoned us and made an announcement.
"We will be sending reinforcements to Hadion."
It was a complete reversal from just a few hours earlier, but no one seemed particularly surprised.
"I see."
"Then I'll begin preparations."
Bilheim and Sir Valt nodded calmly, and Ren, too, looked as though he'd expected as much all along.
Seems everyone saw this coming.
Indeed.
For the record, I had never once doubted Father.
But why had he suddenly changed his mind?
It was simple.
"Just a short while ago, Shuren came to me with a promise. If we help them weather this crisis, he will guarantee non-aggression for the next fifty years, and during that time, spare no military or administrative support for Falaon."
Frankly, it was astonishing.
Call it "non-aggression" and "support" all you like — in practice, it was no different from bowing his head and swearing fealty to Falaon.
On the other hand, another thought crossed my mind.
People were dying, and here we were looking after our own interests a little too carefully.
Perhaps sensing my expression, the Ancestor spoke.
On the contrary, it takes something of this magnitude for the justification to hold. The soldiers and the townsfolk will only accept it if the terms are this substantial. It can't be helped.
Ah.
Well, put that way, it made sense.
As expected of Father.
Whether it was the mine development or this — my faith in him was on an unbroken winning streak.
Now all that remained was personnel assignments.
Who would go to Hadion?
Gathered here were myself, Bilheim, Sir Valt, and Ren.
Bilheim was ruled out first.
"It would be best for Bilheim to remain in the territory. The Grand Duke's heir and the Third Knight Order have been unexpectedly amicable, but one never knows. I trust you understand."
"Yes, I understand."
"For the same reason, Sir Valt will also remain. Someone must command Falaon's forces."
"Yes."
That left Ren and me, naturally.
"Khtun."
"Yes, Father."
"I'm going to need you to take on this burden. It will be a hard road, but we don't have many capable people in the territory right now."
"I understand."
Father made the request with a touch of apology in his expression, yet firmly, and I accepted it without hesitation.
I'd wanted to go to Hadion anyway.
Demon cores are… a useful resource, after all.
And just by stepping in, I could save the lives of dozens of ordinary soldiers. For me, that was a welcome prospect.
Of course, this was a bit of a detour from my goal of a single glass of Crimson Sunset beer — but I'd decided to take the long view.
Falaon needs to stand firm for my retirement life to be comfortable.
Even if I worked myself to the bone for the next ten years, I'd only be twenty-five.
Retiring at twenty-five wasn't bad at all.
Of course, I wouldn't be going alone.
"Sir Ren, I'd like you to accompany my second son and share the hardship."
"My lord Baron, I've already tied my fate to Falaon."
"I'm grateful to hear you say so."
Ren the curse mage.
His combat ability had already been proven at Hamstone village — whatever human Ren might be like, mage Ren was a truly reliable asset.
With the leadership assignments settled, it was time to assemble the soldiers…
"For this mission, I suggest bringing Zeke and Milo along. They've grown considerably since Hamstone village."
Father nodded at Sir Valt's words.
And so twenty standing troops, Zeke and Milo, and three knights under Sir Valt's command joined the expedition.
It was a small force, if one wanted to call it that — but with Ren the curse mage and myself, we'd manage somehow.
I'm a proper necromancer now, after all.
And we didn't need to do all that much.
"Your task is to track down and eliminate the cultists summoning the demons. But remember this well: the place you fight is not Falaon."
In other words: if things go south, run.
And so, the next day.
We set out for Hadion without delay.
Ah, and of course, Hadion's squire Shuren came along as well.
"You're Young Master Shuren, correct?"
"Y-yes."
"How old are you?"
"I'm twenty-two this year."
"Ah, I see."
What?
He was older than Bilheim?
"Is… is something the matter?"
"No, nothing."
And that was the end of the conversation.
For reference, K-Confucianism is the philosophy of the strong — a lofty and dignified value that those weaker than me cannot even begin to enter.
Shuren was far too lacking to step within the bounds of K-Confucianism.