Southern Nobles' Meeting - 3
“The true beast of the South is you, Lord Mueller.” Marquis Greenuch closed his eyes.
“I am merely acting as my father taught me.”
This was a savage world wearing the mask of noble aristocracy. One could never afford to appear weak. Even weakness itself could become a pretext. Above all else, the number of commoners one commanded, their faith, and their loyalty—these things shifted the balance of power. Even if the change was not dramatic enough to be seen at a glance, it accumulated steadily until it became an eternal, unyielding force. The Franz family, the Bahnia family, and the Brinear family were prime examples.
“The South, the capital, and perhaps this entire kingdom will be dragged into it.”
“Even so, I will not stop.”
The moment this meeting began, I had already been pulled in. Other nobles might hesitate, but Count Tot, at least, would not stop. Starting with him, many lords would begin purging the Red Blood within their territories.
“Many innocent commoners will be caught up in it.”
“They are not my people.”
I answered firmly. Protecting those innocent commoners was, after all, a noble’s duty…
“A noble who slaughters his own innocent commoners—can such a person still be called a noble when he has failed to fulfill his obligations?”
“Haa…” Marquis Greenuch let out a long sigh at my words. “You truly are the son of the Golden Lion… of Franz. Is that your goal?”
“That is part of it, but I never intended things to go this far in the first place.”
I was not like my father, a man obsessed with war… though that might be putting it harshly. In any case, I was no warmonger.
“Then what exactly…”
“I am still thinking it over. I will explain the details next time.”
When I smiled, Marquis Greenuch seemed to realize he would get nothing more from me. He took a sip of tea and changed the subject. Though he was a capital noble, he appeared to be playing the role of a neutral mediator to the fullest.
The real reason he had come all this way—
“The capital and the royal court wish to make use of you, but regardless of that, talk of granting you a title has been circulating for some time.”
“A title, you say.”
Not a knightly title like Alina Earthrain’s, but a true peerage. The Marquis reached into his robes.
“There are several reasons, but both Franz and Boraeng have been cooperative. This time, things proceeded quite smoothly. …This is the royal decree.”
“By the name of the great Brinear, the eternal and immortal victor, I proclaim: Leoric Franz, second son of the Golden Lion of victory and glory, the blue blood who rules the iron-walled land protected by the blue shield—receive this decree.”
“In the name of Bastian Brinear, I bestow upon you the rank of Count.”
—Thud!
At those words, I rose from my chair and knelt with proper reverence.
“I accept.”
From the box he produced, the Marquis withdrew the decree. Even the document itself was extraordinary. Written on paper mixed with magic stone dust, it carried the king’s own mana. The King of Brahms. The ruler of the Brinear bloodline. The Iron-Walled King. The Stubborn Dwarf. The Unbowed Brinear.
“In the name of Bastian Brinear, I grant you the rank of Count.”
—Boom!
The mana embedded in the decree trembled, and a hammer of steel fell to the floor. I spread my palm over it and cut my skin. Blood infused with my mana dripped steadily onto the hammer.
—Vwoom!
The steel hammer vibrated once, then slowly began to rise. The surrounding Brinear mana gathered back into the hammer before flying toward Marquis Greenuch, who still held the open decree.
—Vwoooom!
With a strange sound, the steel hammer settled onto the unfolded decree and gradually sank into it. Once the hammer had completely disappeared into the document, the Brinear mana lingering in the air faded away. In the now-quiet room, Marquis Greenuch, who had watched the decree until the very end, nodded.
“…It is done.”
“Thank you.”
At his words, I stood. Bowing my head to the weary-looking Marquis, I offered my gratitude. With this, the investiture would be complete once he returned the decree to the king.
“As Duke Earthrain has likely informed you, this is only a provisional title for now. If you wish to receive a new domain, you will eventually need to come to the capital.”
“Yes. I will do so.”
Originally, I should have gone earlier and received the Count title directly from the king. The coming-of-age ceremony and the Red Blood incident had delayed things, and given the unstable situation, the decision had been made to grant the title first. Honestly, I still had little desire to go. A new name, a new title… If I simply declared them myself, those around me would accept it. I was only going through this formality because there was no need to deliberately worsen relations with the capital—especially the royal family.
My mana, now that I possessed a domain, had grown strong enough that claiming the title of Count would cause no issues. Watching me, Marquis Greenuch spoke with a hint of regret.
“I pray there will be no great turmoil.”
I quietly bowed my head at his worried words. But, Marquis, saying that while looking at me will do no good. The die has already been cast.
* * *
After Marquis Greenuch departed, Alina Earthrain appeared.
“You received the title?”
“I am now a Count.”
“Hmph.”
In private, she immediately dropped the formal speech and sat across from me. She remained as beautiful as ever. Just as I had done for the Marquis, I prepared tea for her.
“I prefer wine, though.”
As she said this, she licked her crimson lips in a seductive manner. Her words suggested she wanted to drink in broad daylight, but…
“Please bear with it.”
“Well, if you insist.”
She took a sip of tea and nodded. It seemed to suit her taste.
“So, for now, you are still Leoric Franz, Count?”
“That is correct.”
“Haha. A new bloodline is born. How many years has it been? The birth of a new noble has always been accompanied by chaos throughout history.”
By chaos, she simply meant war and the accumulation of merits.
“His Majesty will grant you a new family name. If you have any preferences, I can mention them to him in advance.”
“Hmm, it is fine. I have not thought of anything in particular.”
Helios, Apollon… such words flashed through my mind, but… why bother? If it were any other modern person, it would be embarrassing.
“But now that you are a Count… there is little difference between us. Why not speak casually in private? Our relationship is not so distant.”
…What relationship, exactly? Even under my gaze, Alina smiled playfully. She did not seem particularly sensitive about such things, so it probably did not matter. In reality, she was someone who maintained her mana independently, much like me. Though she belonged to the Earthrain family, she acted alone, detached from the household. Furthermore, her honors and knightly title were such that even becoming a Count would not be strange. Given the strength of her mana, she might even aim for Marquis. If she possessed territory, she would have pursued a higher rank long ago.
“Then, in private, I will speak more comfortably.”
“Good.”
She smiled, seemingly satisfied with my answer. That aside, while other nobles were gradually departing, she remained here.
“If you intend to stay longer, I will prepare a suitable residence in the inner castle.”
“No need. The place I am staying now is not bad. And… you said to speak comfortably, did you not?”
At her words, I gave an awkward smile.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
She looked slightly hurt, her expression darkening. I shook my head. That was not it…
“It is because you are my senior.”
Speaking casually to an elder felt awkward. Especially since she was not a commoner, but a fellow noble.
“……………”
“W-wait, Lady Alina! Your mana—please calm your mana! Aack! The building is collapsing!”
* * *
After finally calming Alina Earthrain, who seemed genuinely angry, we agreed that I would speak casually to her in private. I never expected to gain another older sister besides Grace. The eldest one, perhaps? …This was information best left unsaid.
“Lord Leoric?”
“Ah. You are back. So, how did it go?”
After the coming-of-age ceremony and before the meeting began, I had secretly dispatched Zeke. He was not alone. Serin, Portia, Lian, Yumi—and not only them, but also trustworthy commoners recommended by Triana and adventurers who had worked under Isabel. The most important qualities were discretion and competence. I had thoroughly tested and selected this group before sending them out.
Their destinations varied. The territory of Viscount Kuleto. The domain of Baron Larson. And other nearby territories, where they blended in naturally. The knights primarily conducted covert operations, while those without mana entered the cities openly to gather information.
And the result—
“We found traces in the Aslan and Larson territories.”
“Is that so?”
As expected. They had discovered suspicious individuals.
“But we cannot say for certain…”
“I know. The important thing is the clues themselves.”
The moment those people sensed anything amiss, they would abandon the branch. They were like cockroaches, truly.
“Report. Exactly where, and which place is the most suspicious?”
There was only one place I could target at a time. The quality of the soldiers was unknown, but I could not forcibly increase their numbers. So tell me which location to provoke.
“……Gulp.”
Under my gaze, Zeke’s face stiffened slightly as he whispered quietly. Hearing it, I nodded.
* * *
“You bastard! Leoric Franz!”
Baron Aslan, lord of the Aslan territory and its long-time ruler, slammed his desk with the face of a vicious demon.
—Crack!
His fist, infused with blue mana, struck down, and the desk collapsed with a thunderous noise, unable to withstand the blow.
“This bastard! How dare he! A greenhorn brat! A mere brat dares—!”
“M-my lord!”
The retainers gathered in the office, their faces pale, looked at the letter Baron Aslan had been reading moments ago.
“…Furthermore, Count Leoric Franz, newly appointed as Count, has stated that Robert Georg, now a loyal vassal of Mueller, tearfully appealed to him. He claimed that the Georg Basin within the Aslan territory—originally part of the Georg family’s lands—was unjustly incorporated into Aslan through the vile schemes of the Aslan family. Upon hearing this, the Count took pity on his vassal and expressed his desire to reclaim the Georg Basin under legitimate pretext. Baron Aslan, you must heed this…”
“You bastard! Leoric Fraaanz!”
* * *
On the map—on a detailed map of the southern region—I placed hand-carved chess pieces. Tipping over the pawn on the Aslan territory with my finger, I smiled.
—Tap!
“Pretexts can always be manufactured.”
Now then. It is time for war.