The Road to the Capital (4)
Bacon Castle was in utter uproar.
The count, who had drunk his fill at dinner while reminiscing about the past, found his rage only stoked by the liquor. Shouts continued late into the night without end.
The target was, of course, his eldest son—infamous as a wastrel.
Yet the eldest son himself remained unconscious, showing no sign of coming around.
Roy returned to his room and waited for the count to summon him. He would catch an earful, no doubt, but he had plenty to say. The one at fault was clearly the other party.
When he had Marek quietly sound out the situation outside, however, word came back that the count was too drunk to call for him that night.
But to think that bastard was the eldest son?
Roy was dumbfounded. Why were the eldest sons of the Greenhilt family—and everyone else's—all like this? Even the baron's own older brother, who had died of poison while trying to steal the Dragon's Breath, had been the eldest.
"Marek, please keep working hard. If we don't handle this problem properly, it could bring real trouble down on our territory. I'll talk things through on my end, so until then, dig up whatever information you can."
"Understood."
As Marek slipped out of the room, Misha—fresh from her treatment—bowed and said she would take her leave as well.
"Stay here, Misha. Your treatment isn't finished yet."
"What? It's all done. Look."
"Just stay still a moment. Remember the magic I called you in for experiments with before? I'll do that for you, so wait."
"What?"
Misha stared blankly at Roy, startled. Paying her no mind, he cupped her head in both hands and began to cast.
Silent Casting was unavoidable. Rumors that the lord's son could use holy magic were something he had to prevent at all costs.
Perched on the edge of the bed, Misha looked up unthinkingly at Roy's face as he quietly closed his eyes and concentrated. In that moment a flood of feelings crossed her mind. She hesitated, fumbling for something to say—when suddenly a golden light of holy power poured down over her head.
It was a far more powerful spell than the one he had tested on her before. Because she had already been treated, she could not check the ear hidden beneath cloth and bandages, but magic this strong was bound to work wonders.
"How is it?"
"...I-It doesn't hurt at all now! Wow, what is this? It feels worlds apart from the magic you used on my hand before."
"Of course it is. This is a much stronger spell."
"Thank you, Young Master. I'm the one who made the mistake... for someone like me to receive such treatment..."
Roy still held Misha's face in both hands. Staring straight into her eyes, he spoke.
"Someone like you? Misha, you're the person I chose. So don't even get hurt without my permission. That's an order."
"Young Master Roy..."
Misha's eyes went wide. She stared at him for a long while, then, as emotion welled up, began to tear.
"Ah—and this magic is an absolute secret. You know you can't tell anyone, right? Not even Father or Mother."
"Yes! Of course! Thank you so much. Earlier, too, you got so angry for someone as insignificant as me... and the other party was a high-ranking member of the count's family..."
"Misha. Let me say it again: you're my person. So stop putting yourself down. Nothing I have is unimportant. Your status doesn't matter. Keep that in mind from now on."
"Yes..."
Her eyes grew moist once more. Roy had no desire to watch her sniffle, and since the treatment was done, he promptly ordered her out.
The room fell silent in an instant. He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, replaying the moment he had activated his Golden Eyes a little earlier.
Monsters...
He had thought he had grown tremendously, yet the eldest son he had faced directly—and Chloe, the girl his own age—both carried monstrous reserves of mana coiled inside them. Through his Golden Eyes, Roy had felt the massive, thrumming pulse of mana nestled within the two of them.
Even as a mutant who drank the Elven Liquor, there was still quite a gap.
"Don't worry. Using my eyes, a difference like that is nothing."
"What are you crawling out for on your own?"
"Did you not call me?"
"Who called you? And I've been wondering for a while—can you read my thoughts too?"
"Not all of them. Just a little of the surface ones."
"Don't do that."
"Hehe. Understood. More importantly, I'm hungry."
"Not now. Take it when I fall asleep."
Noah leaned against the belly of the lying Roy and spoke.
"You used my ability, yet why is the look in your eyes so cold toward me?"
"It's not because of you. It's because I'm thinking about what excuse to give the count tomorrow."
"Is that really all?"
"Ha... I was thinking it would be nice if I could drink just one more Dragon's Breath. Happy now?"
"Hmph. Why do you only think about what you want to eat? I want to eat too."
"What?"
"What else? Mana, of course."
"I told you to take it when I fall asleep. And if you want it so badly, be quiet for a bit. Because of you, the sleep that was coming is flying away."
"Hmph. Cold-hearted guy."
With all those thoughts swirling, Roy finally drifted off late in the night.
The next day dawned in an instant.
Early that morning, Marek knocked on the door.
"What? A meal with just Count Bacon and me alone?"
"Yes. He says so. Since Young Master Roy must hurry and depart for the capital, there is no time."
"......"
This was a blow. Roy had hoped for a meal like the previous evening's—Count Bacon, his wives, various others. Especially Chloe at the table, so he could lean on her when they pressed him about last night's incident.
Do I have to face him alone without Chloe?
If his daughter stepped forward first and explained how the affair had unfolded, the count would view the matter more objectively. Alone with him, the story changed.
Does he have something else in mind?
Every sort of thought crowded in. Not only the gap in family rank, but the reality of a vast territory's lord versus a brat who had not even entered the Knight Academy yet. Already in a position where last night's events could be held against him in a dozen ways, the thought of facing the man alone without a single ally made his breath catch.
In his past life, Roy had risen to the rank of viscount with a special title for his contribution to the demon king's defeat—by imbuing the hero party's gear with powerful magic. Perhaps that was why he had never felt overpowered when dealing with his father the baron. This time, however, the man across from him was a count, the absolute ruler of a great domain.
Haa...
The sighs would not stop.
Get a grip. The one at fault is the other party, not Misha.
The empire had long since fallen, but a mere count of a kingdom raised on the far eastern fringe of the old imperial lands could hardly stand on equal footing with a contemporary viscount like himself.
Of course not.
Roy had to console himself that way, or the pressure would be too great for him to eat a single bite.
"I'm sorry. About last night's incident..."
"You have nothing to apologize for. I've heard the whole story. It was all my son's fault."
"......"
It had been needless worry. Count Bacon's forthright nature moved Roy so deeply he nearly teared up.
This gentleman seems better the more I see of him. Did Chloe take after the count to turn out the way she did?
"Thank you for saying so."
"No. I'm the one who's sorry. To become a lord and not even manage my own son. I'm terribly ashamed before you and Cliv."
Roy finally let out a breath of relief. Tension had kept the food from going down his throat, but the count seemed to have no intention of making a great issue of the previous night.
"More importantly, there are many things I want to ask you."
"......?"
Roy rounded his eyes and looked as if to ask what the count found so curious. He could hardly volunteer information first. Difficult questions might still come, but for now he played dumb.
It's not over yet. Stay sharp.
"According to those who were there yesterday, a red energy burst from your sword—is that true?"
"Yes. As Your Excellency knows, my master has expertise in that field, so I was fortunate enough to have magic imbued into my blade."
"Yes, I know. But they said it was a bit different. I was lucky enough to purchase a few myself, and our knights favor Geren's weapons as well. Yet the ones we bought glow blue, while yours is another color entirely—almost like the ancient artifacts found in dungeons..."
"That's because the materials used are different."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. I was told that the better the quality of the enhancement materials, the stronger the red light becomes. But then the weapons grow too expensive to sell, and the materials themselves are extremely hard to obtain, so he only crafts them in very special cases—according to Master Geren."
"I see. What materials does it require?"
"I don't know the details either. He's extremely thorough about such things... But he said he needs byproducts from powerful monsters like ogres, so even if he wanted to make many, he couldn't."
"Hmm... Ogres aren't that powerful... If I requested it, would he make one for me as well?"
So this was the purpose after all. But is he serious? If you're born with count-level mana, even ogres are nothing special?
Roy weighed his answer carefully. Depending on what he said now, complications could arise. He himself would simply leave for the capital, but Geren might be summoned here. Baron Greenhilt could serve as a shield, of course—yet that was currently impossible. Geren had recently taken leave and left the territory. That the reason was to find his fiancée was an absolute secret.
"It will be difficult for a while."
"Why?"
"He's currently traveling. When he returns, I'll make the request myself. Of course, on the premise that Your Excellency prepares the materials."
"You'll do that for me? That's the best news I've heard. I was told that sword shattered my eldest son's Aura Blade. Hearing that, I was so envious I couldn't sleep all night. Hahaha."
It would be four years before Roy accepted the count's request—the point at which even if a few high-performance magic weapons slipped into enemy hands, he could still perfectly protect himself and those around him.
In the meantime, I plan to drink at least one more Dragon's Breath.
"Well then, let's wrap up the talk about that sword..."
Phew...
Roy was greatly relieved that the conversation seemed to have ended well.
"...Next, let's talk about that earring."
Damn. It wasn't over yet.