Chapter 217: Except for Him… (1)
Chapter 217: Except for Him… (1)
The knighting ceremony concluded without a hitch.
There was a minor incident where someone, glaring at Patrick with eyes full of resentment and hatred, accidentally got poked in the eye, but it wasn't a major issue.
Then, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment, Turanta rose from his seat.
"As the Chief of the Red Rock Tribe, I issue an order. My son, Tutan, step forward."
At his command, Tutan emerged from among the Orc warriors. Turanta continued.
"As the Chief of the Red Rock Tribe, I hereby exile Tutan from our tribal lands."
Tutan gasped in shock.
"Father! What are you saying?"
But Turanta didn't even blink.
"Furthermore, any warrior who wishes to follow my son is free to do so."
The young Orc warriors began to murmur excitedly.
Calling it an "exile" was merely a formality. In reality, this was…
"Chief, are you splitting the tribe?"
"I am. The land we currently occupy is too small. Therefore… you young warriors shall seek out new lands and settle there."
Anticipation filled the faces of the young Orcs.
Born as warriors, this was a peerless opportunity for them to prove their worth and expand their influence.
"I, Tonta, shall follow Tutan!"
He hoisted a massive stone blade into the air and roared. Immediately, young Orc warriors all around raised their weapons and echoed his cry.
"Guranta shall also follow Tutan!"
"Apata shall follow Tutan as well!"
"Batan too…"
Most of the young Orcs shouted their intent to follow Tutan and strike out on their own.
Suddenly, Tutan found himself the leader of a massive host of young warriors.
Having gained his own faction so grandly, Tutan’s grin stretched from ear to ear.
In Orc culture, leading other warriors was an honor reserved only for the strongest and greatest. There wasn't an Orc in the world who would dislike such a thing.
Patrick approached Tutan and draped an arm over his shoulder.
"Must be nice, Tutan."
"Big brother…"
"See? Good things just fall into your lap when you listen to me, right?"
Tutan nodded vigorously.
Seeing his lips curled up so high, he was clearly over the moon.
"Did you arrange this with my father, big brother?"
"Of course. Now, Tutan, you’re going to lead your subordinates (for my sake) and become a great Orc (pushover) who leaves a legacy by bravely pioneering the Great Forest."
"Big brother…"
Tutan looked at Patrick with eyes full of deep emotion.
To think he would provide such a grand opportunity for him. What a magnificent older brother he was!
This was truly the magnanimity befitting a great warrior.
Patrick patted Tutan’s shoulder and then turned to address his knights.
"We will also assist the young Orc warriors so they can establish a new home within the Great Forest. We shall…"
For the first time, Patrick voiced his true objective to his people.
"We shall pioneer that Great Forest and create an even vaster territory."
* * *
Go all in when the tide is in.
That had been the Radiant Dragon Hero’s motto since his previous life.
It wasn't just born out of impatience. It was a philosophy forged by necessity.
In his past life, whenever he tried to get something moving, his Master would…
[Ho ho ho. Why harbor such greed?]
[It is fine. This Master has enough as it is.]
[This task is too great for us. How can I give my permission when I know you will overexert yourselves?]
He would back out like that every single time.
Because of that, it was difficult to get anything done even when an opportunity presented itself.
Life is a gamble. You have to bet big to win big. Or you go bust…
Having missed countless opportunities due to his Master’s braking, the Radiant Dragon Hero grew to prefer a "strike first, deal with the scolding later" approach.
And that method of handling things hadn't changed even after he became Patrick Schneider.
"Pioneering the Great Forest, you say…"
"Father, I can explain."
"You're going to pioneer the Great Forest."
"Well, you see, the thing is…"
"Hmm…"
‘Ah, this is driving me crazy.’
After the knighting ceremony, Patrick found himself on pins and needles as he sat alone with his father.
Sure, he had gone ahead with it without any prior explanation.
He had acted entirely on his own, excluding his father, who was the clear master of this territory.
So, the fault was definitely Patrick's.
‘If you’re going to scold me, just get it over with.’
He had prepared thirty-two different excuses for his father’s interrogation.
However, his father just sat there with his arms crossed, lost in deep thought, muttering to himself.
Finally, he spoke.
"Do it."
"First, I'll need the King's permis—huh?"
"I said, do it."
Patrick was actually the one taken aback by his father’s easy approval.
He had considered many scenarios, but this was completely unexpected.
As Patrick stared with a stunned expression, Viscount Schneider let out a small chuckle.
"What? Did you think I would stop you?"
"Yes. That’s exactly what I thought."
"And why is that?"
"Usually, someone with a timid personality like yours, Father, would get scared and back out the moment a massive project is mentioned, wouldn't they?"
"Yes. It is as you say. This father of yours is a timid coward, incompetent and indecisive."
"No, I didn't mean it quite that far…"
What does that make me, then?
And why is he acting like this today?
Patrick felt uneasy, like a monkey dancing on someone's palm.
Viscount Schneider looked at him and said, "Son, as you know, I haven't been a very competent lord."
"Well, you were still a good lord, weren't you?"
"A good lord… Yes. That was the only thing I could be."
Viscount Schneider smiled self-deprecatingly.
He wasn't a fool; he knew his own limits. He was never a particularly talented man.
Despite being the master of a territory bordering the Great Forest—a place where one had to live fiercely—he lacked the strength to protect his people and the resourcefulness to make them prosperous.
The only thing he could offer was to be a "good" lord.
He couldn't bring himself to impose heavy taxes on people who were already struggling to survive against monsters. He couldn't live a life of luxury by squeezing them dry.
So, he simply tried to be a good man. That was the only thing within his power.
‘But my son is different.’
Unlike him, Patrick had both talent and ambition.
Viscount Schneider placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.
"Son. I believe in you."
"……."
"So, do as you wish. Give it your all."
Faced with his father’s gaze, which was filled with absolute trust, Patrick spoke somewhat bashfully.
"This is a bit different from my Master."
"What is?"
"Just something."
Patrick shrugged.
"Then, I’m really going to do it. I’m going to blow this up into something huge."
"Yes. Go as far as you want. Whatever you do, I will support you wholeheartedly."
Viscount Schneider thumped his chest as he made the promise. He might lack talent and ambition, but he vowed that he would at least never be a drag on his son.
Yes. That was certainly his intention.
* * *
A short while later.
Guests arrived at the Schneider territory.
Or more accurately, a crowd of guests.
"Greetings. I am the one who holds the First Seat among the Seven Sages of the Tower of Truth. You may call me the Fifth Sage."
"I am Kilios Evergreen, the newly inaugurated King of the Elves. We have come to share our lives here in the Schneider territory."
The two men introduced themselves, followed by a large retinue of mages and elves.
Viscount Schneider’s jaw dropped at the sight. He turned to his son.
"Patrick."
"Yes, Father?"
"What on earth did you do?"
"Why? You told me to go for it."
Viscount Schneider was learning the hard way that trusting and supporting his son required a heart of steel.
"Whoa… Mages."
"Real mages! I’ve never seen a mage before."
"Who are those mages with swords on their hips?"
"Are they Magic Swordsmen?"
The residents of the Schneider territory gathered in droves, watching the mages with fascination.
Despite the recent miraculous developments, the Schneider territory was still essentially the countryside. Where else would these people have seen a mage?
Men with long robes, staves, and thick beards exuded a mysterious aura, drawing the curious gazes of the villagers—especially the children.
"Mister Mage! Can you turn me into a frog?"
"Can you turn this pebble into candy?"
"Can you show us some magic?"
Some of the more curious children approached the mages with strange requests.
When the good-natured mages performed simple tricks, the children squealed with delight.
However, their pure joy likely didn't compare to the reaction of others.
"Elves! Real elves!"
"Wow… How can they be so beautiful?"
"Truly the race of beauty…"
"I think I’m going to see them in my dreams."
The young bachelors and bachelorettes of the village were dazed, completely enchanted by the elves' appearance. The arrival of a race so beautiful it felt like a hallucination made it impossible for the humans to look away.
Patrick clicked his tongue at the sight and suddenly remembered something.
"By the way, Kilios."
"Yes…?"
"Didn't you elves usually cover your faces with hoods when traveling outside?"
When they had participated in the Arcana before, the elves had certainly done so. But now, every elf was showing their face without reservation.
Kilios replied.
"That rule has been changed from a mandate to a matter of personal choice… sir."
"Just speak casually."
"Ahem, how could I…"
"I’m ordering you as the successor of the World Tree."
"Well, fine… Anyway, we elves have decided to take a path that brings us closer to the world."
"Was that your decision?"
"It was. More importantly, this is to be our new home. I thought it best not to build walls between us if possible."
"Right. Well… the intention isn't bad."
Except for the fact that the hearts of my territory’s youth are melting into puddles.
Patrick kept that last part to himself.
Romance was everyone's own business, after all.
‘Not my problem.’
Just as Patrick had that thought…
"Lord Patrick! I missed you!"
Someone burst out from among the elves and threw themselves into Patrick’s arms.
"…Oh? You came too."
"Yes, of course! I missed you so much."
"Ah, I see."
"You missed me too, didn't you?"
"Uhh… well…"
"You missed me, right?"
"It’s not that I didn't miss you, I guess…"
"You missed me, right?!"
"…Yes."
This was one of the top five people Patrick found most difficult to deal with.
Elione, the Elven Knight and now a Princess of the Elves. She was one of the few people capable of striking fear into the heart of the great Patrick.
Seeing this, the young soldiers—no, the newly appointed knights—whispered among themselves with envious eyes.
"Now he’s even got an elf…"
"A Princess, April, and now this. He’s going to hog every beauty in the world."
"I’ve decided I hate the Young Master."
"Me too, me too."
These punks…
Patrick gritted his teeth as he listened to the knights whispering, completely ignorant of his plight.
Sure, it might look like that from a distance.
But would you like to experience it up close? Do you have any idea how terrifying a woman with swirling vortexes in her eyes can be?
Fortunately, someone arrived to rescue him.
"What do you think you're doing? Get off him."
"Tch."
"Did you just click your tongue at me?"
"You must have misheard."
"Do you realize that acting like this toward a nation's princess is a diplomatic incident?"
"Oh my, I’m a Princess of the Elves now too. My Lord Patrick made me one, after all."
"I don't care, just get off. Don't link arms with someone else's fiancé in broad daylight."
"So it’s okay at night, then?"
Shring.
Isabella finally drew her sword.
Elione snorted and summoned a spirit, while April came charging in from a distance, her maid skirt fluttering in the wind.
"Crazy women are prohibited from approaching the Young Master!"
"What did you say?"
"Rip them apart, April!"
Patrick turned his eyes away from the chaos and looked up at the sky.
‘Let’s just get to work.’
There was no other answer.