Chapter 665
Chapter 665
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 665
Chapter Title: Reborn as the Plum Blossom Swordmaster in a Count's Family
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“Princess Aileen! Why did you stop me? Do you really think I’d lose to that snot-nosed kid? He’s no Margrave Prucus. Even if he were the Margrave, I wouldn’t back down!”
Duke Sen Heights vented his frustration at Princess Aileen. She swallowed a sigh and spoke calmly.
“I’m well aware of Duke Sen Heights’s power. Excluding the royal family, you hold the greatest force in the current Rapelli Kingdom.”
In terms of sheer troop numbers, Duke Sen Heights was unmatched. His ducal title was no empty honor. However, wars in this world weren’t decided by numbers alone. Strategy and tactics. Terrain and equipment. Mages and knights. And above all, a hero with overwhelming might. The duke had the numbers, but he lacked in several key areas.
Aileen gripped his weathered hands tightly in both of hers. The duke, who had been fuming, gradually regained his composure.
“...Did you doubt my abilities, Princess?”
“Not at all, Your Grace. The timing simply wasn’t right for a territorial skirmish. The kingdom is at war and in the midst of a national funeral. What would the other nobles think if we started infighting now?”
“Hmm. You have a point.”
“Your Grace, opportunities abound. It won’t be too late even after the war ends and I ascend as queen.”
“But that brat... Baron Prucus is far too arrogant. If we don’t nip him in the bud now, he’ll keep getting in our way.”
Aileen partly agreed. Yet Baron Prucus wasn’t some weed to be pulled. He was a towering oak, not something you could chop down on a whim.
“The chance will come, Your Grace. Please endure for my sake and yours, just a little longer. I beg you.”
“Sigh. If you insist so earnestly, Princess Aileen, I shall hold back. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”
“...Yes. Thank you, Your Grace.”
Aileen managed a reply. She and Duke Sen Heights shared a special bond.
A promise for the future.
More precisely, once she claimed the throne after everything was settled, she had agreed to marry his grandson. The duke sought power rivaling the king’s, and Aileen had drawn him in to secure her own claim. Of course, she had no intention of actually marrying his grandson. She planned to purge House Sen Heights before that day came.
Aileen soothed the duke a few more times before sending him off. Her gaze shifted toward the back, where Baron Prucus stood.
Baron Prucus hadn’t bowed to Duke Sen Heights. In Aileen’s mind, there were two reasons. First, confidence. The baron truly believed he could defeat the duke.
The second was the nobles around him. His faction was newly formed, practically from scratch. He needed to show strength to those followers. By standing firm against Duke Sen Heights, his nobles would now look up to him.
‘Baron Prucus has money. And with the war ongoing... he’ll only grow stronger. How do I stop him?’
Aileen pondered. The simplest way was assassination. Without Baron Prucus, Prince Aiden would be powerless. But thinking of the woman at his side made it impossible.
Her worries deepened, but no easy answers emerged.
???
The funeral procession began.
The knights at the forefront billowed their black cloaks as they led the column, followed by carriages and soldiers marching in silence.
I gazed out the carriage window. The capital’s citizens had all come out to watch. Dressed in black, they mourned. Instead of cheers ringing high, somber sobs were swallowed by the carriage wheels.
The procession soon left the capital behind and picked up speed. To tour the entire kingdom, dawdling wasn’t an option.
‘Now it’s a forced march. Except for sleep and meals, we’ll be moving nonstop.’
It wasn’t tourism, so it would be tedious and grueling.
Even if a carriage wheel broke or someone fell behind due to an accident, the column wouldn’t stop. Stragglers had to catch up later or be left behind. That rule applied even to princes and princesses.
‘Prince Aiden or Princess Aileen would have to catch up no matter what. Failing to see the funeral through would brand them unfilial.’
A perfect chance to tarnish reputations. Princess Aileen would try to make Prince Aiden lag, and I’d do the same to her. All discreetly, of course.
I drew the curtain over the window. The ceiling lamp kept the interior lit. My eyes met Yuria’s across from me. She smiled seductively.
I spread my arms, and she climbed onto my lap. Her perfect weight sent my spirits soaring.
Before me were her full breasts, wrapped in fabric. I loosened the strings at her lower back. A white bra came into view. I tugged it down with my lips.
Plump. Her breasts jiggled into sight with a bounce. I fixated on the pink tips. Untouched, her soft nipples hardened perfectly for sucking. I latched on and suckled noisily. Yuria clutched my head.
“Haah... Master... Ahh!”
Even without Sexual Sensitivity Boost, she reacted intensely. I slipped my hand under her skirt to check her panties. As expected, they were soaked.
I pulled away and looked up at her. Flushed cheeks, misty eyes. Her warm breath escaped parted pink lips.
I lifted her chin, and she kissed me eagerly. Her tongue slipped into my mouth.
“Mmm... Slurp...”
With Yuria here, even this dull funeral would be fun.
???
Ten days passed.
The funeral continued smoothly, save for a few noble stragglers. My daily routine was simple: mornings, I’d rally the nobles and lay down the law, then spend the rattling carriage ride having sex with Yuria and the knights. Time flew by until nightfall. Then more sex before sleep.
‘No different from my mansion days.’
Plans were set. Now, just wait.
That was the idea, until trouble hit at the afternoon dinner. Drunk Prince Aiden caused a scene. I headed over with Yuria and Floy in tow.
“Y-You damn thing! I told you I didn’t do it! I didn’t assault that woman—she threw herself at me!”
“Can’t you see my wife crying? Even if you’re the prince, I can’t forgive this!”
“Sob... Hic... Sob...”
It was chaos.
Prince Aiden reeked of booze, jabbing a finger and yelling at a young noble. In the noble’s arms, a woman wept pitifully.
‘He’s not that drunk.’
Not blackout levels. Aiden loved drink but held his liquor well.
I eyed the young noble. Mid-to-late twenties, short brown hair, sharp eyes. Tall and muscled. Without the black noble attire, he’d pass for a mercenary or knight.
I glanced at Yuria, unsure of his identity.
“Baron Dordol. Vassal of Duke Sen Heights. It’s been less than a year since he inherited his title.”
Most young inheritors meant one thing: the previous lord died.
“Sen Heights’s man, huh. Figures.”
A cheap ploy to smear the prince’s reputation. Already poor, but keep pushing, and calls to disqualify him as heir would become official.
‘Princess Aileen’s influence too, probably. Annoying, but I’ll handle it.’
I strode forward. Nobles and soldiers turned to me.
“Oh! Baron Prucus! Glad you’re here!”
“...Tch. Stay out of it, Baron Prucus! This is between me and His Highness! You’ve no right to interfere!”
He eyed me warily. Habitually, I scanned the woman in his arms. A beauty with pale yellow hair and brown eyes. I smirked.
“Seems there’s a misunderstanding, Baron Dordol.”
I addressed him casually. Same rank, but I had a faction. Scum or not, it was a faction. As its leader, I wouldn’t defer to some underling. Nor did I want to.
“Misunderstanding? What misunderstanding?! His Highness, drunk, molested my wife! If I’d been a moment later, who knows how far it’d go! Look—my wife’s sobbing!”
“Sob... Hic...”
“Even if His Highness lacks decorum, this is the king’s funeral. With all eyes on him, he wouldn’t harass a woman.”
“He’s drunk! That bottle in his hand is booze! Can’t you see?! Drinking at a funeral... Even for a prince, that’s beyond unacceptable!”
The more he spoke, the surer I was someone backed him. No matter Aiden’s reputation, a prince outranked a mere baron.
“Y-You...!”
Aiden trembled at being singled out. I raised a hand before he could erupt. He glanced at me and backed off.
“His Highness drinks to drown his grief. Baron Dordol, you’ve lost your father too—surely you understand.”
“I didn’t touch a drop when mine died. Nor did I chase other women—let alone a married one!”
“He wasn’t drunk enough to chase. See? He reeks, but his eyes are clear. From where I stand, your wife looks like she seduced him like a whore, eyeing his status.”
“L-Like a whore?!”
My slur ignited his fury.
“Judging right and wrong here isn’t ideal. Let’s settle it quick and clean. I’ll stand for His Highness. You for your insulted... wife.”
I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket, infused it with mana, and flung it at him.
Thwack!
He flew back like struck by a rock.
“Kyaaah! Darling!”
Baron Dordol scrambled up. Nose broken, blood pouring, his twisted face looked demonic.
“Was the duel challenge too much? So, will you fight? Or slink away—no apology needed.”
Duels to settle disputes... Medieval fantasy at its finest.
“Think I’ll back down?! I accept! I am Baron Markba Dordol!”
“Baron Eugene Prucus. By kingdom law, noble duels forbid killing. But the victor’s demands must be met. If I win, you forfeit an arm or leg, apologize to His Highness, and leave.”
“If I win, His Highness and Baron Prucus kneel and apologize to me! You forfeit an arm or leg!”
“Deal. No takebacks.”
I took a sword from Yuria. He sent his wife aside and grabbed one from a nearby soldier. His stance was decent—properly trained.
That was it.
‘Idiot. He knows I’m from House Prucus and still accepts... Heard the rumors? Or thinks I’m still the wheezing heart patient?’
I lunged with my right foot forward, feinting. Hyped up, he fell for it, charging with both hands on his sword.
Crack.
I grabbed and twisted his right wrist with my left. His sword clattered down. Without pause, I smashed the pommel into his head. He crumpled.
“Arrrgh!”
The duel ended in my absurdly easy victory.
“Baron Dordol. Time to pay up. Your right arm will do.”
“Kyaaah! No!”
His wife rushed forward and knelt before me.