The Die Is Cast
Meeting the Count proved far less difficult than expected.
Then again, the moment I revealed my identity, they ushered me straight in.
So this is the weight the Falaon name still carries?
I'm ashamed, my descendant.
Gah!
You're ashamed of Falaon?!
This is the house you founded.
Regardless, I strode forward with all the proud bearing of a Falaon and went to meet the Count.
And so I arrived at the reception hall.
"His Lordship will see only Young Master Khtun. The rest of you, this way, if you please."
"I'll see you all later."
"Yes, Young Master."
I entered the reception hall alone.
And my first impression of the Count? How to put it.
He's a carbon copy.
Hmm. So he is.
An evolved version of my fake brother, the eldest young master Ahen Tar, if you will.
Give Ahen Tar another twenty years and he'd probably look exactly like this.
Anyway.
"I present myself before the lord of Merlin. I am Khtun Falaon, second son of Baron Falaon."
"Sit. You've come a long way. It must have been tiring."
"Yes, my lord."
I took my seat, and presently the servants brought out tea and refreshments.
"Have some. It's a new shipment—not half bad."
"Yes, my lord."
I found myself more at ease than I'd expected.
The tea was good, too.
A touch bitter, but the aroma was excellent.
As the warm tea loosened the last of my tension, the Count spoke.
"I've heard a great deal about you. I understand you made quite a name for yourself in Hadion as well?"
"Ah—it was nothing of real consequence."
"No need for false modesty. You've accomplished all this less than a year after your Blood Awakening Ceremony. Baron Falaon must feel secure indeed, with two sons like you to shore up the house."
"You flatter me, my lord."
I finished sizing the Count up.
A good man.
What?
Wise, clear-headed, and just—a true ruler.
You have got to be kidding me…
Well, of course. A man who'd spent his whole life swinging a sword was never going to have a refined eye for people.
In any case, I felt a warm swell of respect for this kind and benevolent Count rising in my chest, and I smiled.
"That said."
"Ah—yes, my lord."
"What brings you here? Coming all this way, it must be something important."
"Ah, well…"
In that instant, the eyes of the Count—who until then had looked nothing but genial—flashed sharp as a blade.
So this was the presence of a great house, a true high noble!
I swallowed hard without meaning to—and then the Count spoke.
"I'll say this first. Ellie's betrothed has already been decided."
"…Pardon?"
"You don't seem particularly quick on the uptake. Of course I understand how you feel. Losing one's heart is hardly unreasonable—she is my daughter, after all. But this marriage is a pact between houses. It is far too grave a matter to overturn for the whim of a young hero."
What on earth was he talking about?
Wise and clear-headed, was it?
I understood at once.
The Count was a hopeless daughter-doting fool.
From that point on, the Count launched into an endless stream of praise for his daughter, thinly disguised as lectures.
When is this going to end.
How should I know, you idiot.
Hah. No choice, then.
I would have to commit the rudeness of cutting him off.
"Still, the fact that you came so boldly is worthy of a young hero, but—"
"My lord—forgive me for interrupting, but I believe there has been some misunderstanding."
"What misunderstanding? Surely you're not about to tell me my opinion of my own daughter is wrong?"
It's less the opinion itself and more the entire way of thinking that's the problem… I swallowed the words and continued calmly.
"Your daughter, Young Lady Ellie, is without question beautiful and brilliant. But I have no desire whatsoever to overturn a pact between houses."
"Even if that means your elder brother inherits the house?"
"Yes."
If anything, that was what I wanted.
The house?
Of course Falaon was precious to me.
I hadn't known my father or the Falaon name for very long, but this place had become my home.
But taking it on and leading it…
…That's a completely different conversation.
As I'd said before, my dream was retirement.
Just five years.
Work myself to the bone for exactly that long, then enjoy my freedom. That was the goal.
Even at the absolute maximum, I intended to be fully retired by twenty-five.
And he wanted me to inherit the house?
That was a lifetime appointment.
Not a chance.
"No ambition for succession… Interesting. Then what do you live for?"
Out of nowhere?
I tilted my head, but the Count's gaze was utterly serious, so I answered without further fuss.
"Retirement."
"Retirement?"
"Yes."
"…And what exactly is it that you do, that you need to retire from?"
"Nothing in particular. But my dream is to withdraw from every front line by twenty-five at the latest and live in peace."
"Hah."
Perhaps I'd been too honest.
The Count's face twisted into a peculiar expression.
It wasn't long before that twist settled into a smile.
"You're a madman."
"Pardon?"
"I said you're a madman. You truly live for that? Then how is it any different from living in order to die? Not to achieve something—but to let go of everything."
"Well…"
"No—enough. You needn't say more. I understand your intent well enough. Now tell me the real reason you came."
"Ah… well. Yes, my lord."
I had no idea what he meant by understanding my intent, but I laid out the main point regardless.
Why I had come to see Count Merlin.
Of course, explaining that required starting with the Apostle Council's presence surrounding the South—but fortunately, the Count already knew of the Apostle Council's existence.
So the explanation went more smoothly than expected.
I left out my encounter with the 7th Apostle and the information I'd gained from him, of course—but still.
"I understand well enough that the Apostle Council has some purpose in targeting the South."
"Yes, my lord."
"And so the reason you sought me out is…"
"Unite the South under your banner."
"Unite?"
"Yes. I ask that you become the overlord of the South."
The die was cast.
And I already knew that no matter what number came up, the Count would accept this proposal.
After all, strengthening Merlin's hold over the South had long been one of the house's dearest ambitions.
And yet—
"I refuse."
"…Pardon?"
"I said I refuse."
The Count's answer was rejection.
But why?
I simply could not understand it.
What?
That Merlin sought to expand its influence over the South was common knowledge.
Just look at the recent Pixer's Egg affair. Hadn't they tried to use that information as a leash on the southern lords?
And yet he refused?
Was it a matter of justification?
No—the justification is more than enough.
Falaon had made the request, and Hadion would support it.
True, Falaon and Hadion's influence was negligible when measured against the South as a whole—but the fact that houses other than Merlin had put them forward as overlord still carried weight.
"Might I ask the reason—"
I had just opened my mouth when—
Knock, knock.
"My lord, Young Lady Ellie has arrived."
"Show her in."
The Count acted as though he hadn't heard me at all.
It was a polite refusal to answer.
So I closed my mouth and greeted Ellie.
"There you are. Young Master Khtun is here, so I called for you. You're already acquainted—no need for introductions, I trust?"
"Yes. It's been some time. I hope you've been well."
"Yes, Young Lady Ellie. Quite well, thanks to you."
"I see."
Honestly, I barely remembered the conversation that followed.
Only a hazy image of myself laughing along and making agreeable noises under the Count's lead remained in my mind.
And no wonder—I was in shock.
The Count refused?
It is unexpected, I'll grant you—but is it really that shocking? If Merlin becomes overlord, Falaon would have to bow its head and fall in line… In a way, this might even be for the best.
Gah!
Ancestor, do you know why Falaon collapsed so thoroughly after your death?
Because you never practiced pragmatic politics.
That damned pride!
You threw everything away over a scrap of pride without even checking whether it was dung or soybean paste!
But this pride of Falaon—this genius necromancer Khtun—is different.
I can read the tide of the times. I can judge what benefits Falaon.
Look.
The 7th Apostle said it, didn't he? The South has many purposes for them, but the most important is the magic stone mine in our territory.
He did. But even that 7th Apostle seemed to have washed his hands of the South.
No.
What I realized from meeting the 7th Apostle this time is that the Apostles of the Apostle Council each operate independently.
They belong to the same fence called the "Apostle Council," but their goals and values are entirely their own.
In other words, the 7th Apostle's will is not the will of the Apostle Council.
Therefore—
The crisis in the South isn't over. At this rate, other Apostles will start shaking the South to its foundations… And if Merlin becomes overlord when that happens, what do you think follows?
I haven't the faintest idea.
Of course you don't.
Then this genius descendant will enlighten you.
The Apostle Council would have to strike Merlin before they can touch Falaon. Why? Because as long as Merlin stands strong, even if they occupied Falaon, they'd still have to contend with Merlin's interference.
Oh?
Do you understand now?
I do. You're saying we put a crown on Merlin's head and set them up as the shield that protects Falaon!
Exactly.
Even before I knew the Apostle Council's true purpose, we needed an overlord. Now that I know it, the need is even more desperate.
Because the overlord—the alliance itself—would become the shield that protects Falaon.
And yet, of all things—
The Count had refused.
So what now?
I was turning these worries over as I headed back to my quarters when a voice called me to a halt.
"Young Master Khtun."
"…?"
It was Ellie.
"Might I speak with you for a moment?"
"Ah—I'm a bit tired today… If it isn't urgent, would tomorrow be all right? Or after the meal, at least."
At my words, Ellie glanced around as though something were chasing her, then said,
"It will only take a moment."
"…Very well, then."
At my answer, Ellie dismissed the servant who had been escorting me.
The place we chose for our conversation was a quiet corner of the Merlin estate gardens. Once again, Ellie kept scanning the surroundings as though pursued.
What on earth was she so nervous about?
I was tilting my head in puzzlement when Ellie finally spoke.
"The favor I asked of you before—will you grant it?"
"A favor…"
"My ring."
The ring?
Ah—right. There had been that.
She'd asked me to call forth the residual soul sealed in the ring of Merlin's founder.
"Young Lady, I'm sorry, but my conditions remain the same as before."
"You wanted to know what I intended to do with the ring."
"Yes. And if I decide it's something I want no part of, I walk away. Are those terms still acceptable?"
"…Yes. That's fine."
"Ah—and one more thing."
"…?"
"Labor is sacred, and all labor deserves fair compensation."
"You want a reward."
"Yes."
Ellie looked at me with eyes that had gone strangely cold, then nodded.
"Very well. I promise you that as well."
"Hmm. Good. Then shall we start with the reason?"
"Yes. Well…"
Ellie checked the surroundings once more, then carefully opened her mouth.
"I want to find the legacy our founder left behind."
"A legacy…?"
"Yes."
"What kind of legacy?"
"I don't know. But he was one of the founding heroes of the Heorn Kingdom—so I imagine it must be something remarkable. Something like… yes, like the sword and shield your own founder used."
Sword and shield?
Something that could rival Vilheim's giant blade Cresher and my shield Kracion?
I glanced instinctively at my ancestor, and he answered.
Hmm. Come to think of it, that fellow did have a few exceptional pieces of armament.
…!
Now that was a rather appetizing prospect.
And yet—
Ellie hurriedly added,
"O-of course, if such things truly exist, the ownership is mine. I can't hand those over. B-but I will provide compensation equal to the service."
…Who did she take me for, a thief?
But how hard could it be to just… quietly pocket one?
Oh, for heaven's sake, you idiot.
I'm joking.