Chapter 104
Chapter 104
"Prince Logan and Baron Patrick MacLaine have arrived."
—Let them in.
Creak.
As the office door opened with an old, grating sound, Logan's eyes fell upon a middle-aged man gazing blankly out the sunlit window. The golden hair that had once defied age now bore noticeable streaks of silver, and deep wrinkles had settled into his once-taut forehead.
Though only a few months had passed since they last met, his master looked as though he had aged over a decade. Logan froze momentarily in shock.
"Master?"
"Yes. Sit."
"What... happened? Your face—"
"An old man is merely catching up with the years he'd been avoiding. Don't make a fuss."
Despite his words, the Sword Duke's exhaustion was unmistakable.
For an Aura User's complexion to be like this...
"You've been investigating His Majesty's affairs while still recovering from the shock—"
"Louis."
"My apologies, Your Grace."
"It's nothing to worry about. Focus on your own matters— Ah! Look at me forgetting myself. Then this must be..."
As the Sword Duke turned his gaze toward Patrick, who had been silently observing beside Logan, Patrick bowed respectfully.
"Patrick MacLaine. I've heard my inadequate son has been imposing on you. It's an honor to meet the man I've long admired."
"Yes. Indeed. Baron, I apologize for not receiving you properly. Given the circumstances..."
"Not at all. Merely being granted an audience in these times is an honor. If anything, we may be intruding on your busy schedule."
"No. Not at all. The past week has only made this old body realize its limitations. There's little left to keep me occupied now. Please, sit."
Felix Esperanza, the Sword Duke—the most revered knight in the Kingdom of Grandia—spoke with self-reproach, his tone bleak.
No one present could easily muster a response.
"Ah, I've made the mood heavy again. Hmm, where was I? The MacLaine family..."
"Master. Before our family's matters, I'd like to know the current state of the capital. We've only just arrived today and know little."
"Ah. Yes, that would be better. Sigh..."
His master was clearly not in his usual state.
The man who had always stood like an unshakable pillar now seemed broken—an awkward and painful sight.
"If you're tired, we can—"
"No, no. The state funeral will begin soon, and what must be done should be done immediately. What was the question? Ah, the capital's situation. It's bad. Jordan, Juan, those damn bastards..."
Rare profanity from the Sword Duke.
But the explanation that followed justified his frustration.
What Logan's group had seen upon entering the capital was merely the tip of the iceberg.
Even before the official state funeral rites began, factions of the First and Second Princes had gathered in the capital, engaging in thinly veiled hostilities that poisoned the atmosphere.
And the nobility had begun openly clustering by faction, ostracizing their rivals.
Though swords remained sheathed, the kingdom teetered on the brink of war.
That was the Sword Duke's assessment of Grandia's current state.
"At this rate, the kingdom will split in two. The two dukes, who should be restraining their factions and maintaining balance, are actively fueling the discord. And worse—"
He paused, grinding his teeth as if recalling something infuriating.
"They've even dared to pressure me to join their petty squabbles. Those bastards."
Grind.
His fury was palpable.
"Master, haven't you always said you wouldn't involve yourself in the succession conflict?"
"Yes. I did. But those insolent— They're threatening me with the Third Prince's life."
"What?!"
Patrick jolted in shock, but Logan remained composed—he had already anticipated this.
"So the Third Prince, with his succession rights, has become a thorn in their side. Especially since you're his guardian until he comes of age..."
"Yes. Those arrogant wretches dared to threaten me with his life. 'Join our faction if you want him to live.'"
His eyes burned with fury.
Though he restrained his aura, the air in the room grew frigid.
"What do you intend to do?"
"What can I do? Do you think those fools would dare act on their threats? If they tried to force me, it would only benefit their rivals."
A reasonable stance—but Logan saw it differently.
"The Third Prince is in danger."
"...What?!"
"You, Master, wouldn't act on mere threats. But the Third Prince—who has you as his guardian—is a legitimate heir. And he'll soon come of age."
"...Even in the countryside, I'd heard rumors that the late king favored the Third Prince."
Patrick added grimly.
"Your friendship with the late king, your role as guardian... To the First and Second Princes, His Highness is an unavoidable obstacle."
"If I keep refusing their demands..."
"They'll try to eliminate him. By any means necessary."
The Sword Duke's expression darkened at Logan's words.
The logic was sound, but it had a fatal flaw.
With the king's sudden death, another royal dying so soon would draw the entire kingdom's attention.
If evidence implicated any faction, it would be a devastating blow—so both sides should be cautious.
But.
'Yet it still happened.'
Logan recalled the Third Prince's attempted assassination in his past life and hardened his expression.
There was no need to repeat history.
In fact, preventing it entirely would save precious time.
Especially for what he planned next.
That was the main reason he had sought this meeting—and fortunately, his master was listening carefully.
"A plausible concern. Sigh. Damn it..."
The Sword Duke stood, pacing restlessly.
The MacLaines remained silent until he spoke again.
Finally, after a long pause—
"Louis."
"Yes."
"Bring the Third Prince to the estate. He'll stay with me for a while."
"Understood, Your Grace."
"That's a stopgap, Master."
"Hm?"
"Even if you keep him close, you can't be with him at all times."
"My knights will handle that. It's still safer than the royal palace—"
"Then change your approach."
"What?"
"Frankly, the First and Second Princes aren't wary of the Third Prince."
"...What? Ah!"
"Exactly. They're wary of you, Master. They fear you'll become his backing and form a third faction."
"Sigh. You're right. Then..."
"Declare outright that you won't interfere in factional disputes. You've already said you wouldn't involve yourself in the succession conflict—just extend that stance further."
The Sword Duke had lived his life by his word, staking his honor on every promise.
That reputation gave his words weight—enough that no one would doubt him.
And that was exactly what Logan wanted.
'Master mustn't mediate the factional strife.'
The civil war would happen regardless. If it couldn't be stopped, it was better to hasten it.
"But that's easier said than done. If their conflict escalates into civil war—"
"Such an outcome would be regrettable, but even then, Master, you couldn't stop it. A single statement could save the Third Prince's life. Think of it that way."
The immediate reaction came not from the Sword Duke, but from Patrick.
"Logan! Then our family—"
A natural response from Patrick, who feared Bifrost's retaliation after the funeral.
But Logan cut him off firmly.
"Our family's affairs are ours to handle, Father."
"..."
"Hah. Well. If you say so. My apologies, Your Grace, for showing such an unsightly side."
Patrick abruptly stood and bowed to the Sword Duke.
The Sword Duke sighed and shook his head.
"Not at all. I was too stubborn to see the bigger picture. Thank you, Logan. If a single word can fulfill my duty, nothing could be better. The kingdom's fate was never mine to decide."
His face looked even more haggard, shadows deepening.
But Logan clenched his fist unseen.
Unlike in his past life, his master wasn't declaring neutrality under pressure—he was actively choosing his stance.
That wasn't just an emotional victory—it would yield tangible benefits.
The Grand Noblesse, to be held after the funeral.
This would accelerate its arrival far sooner than before.
And there was an unexpected bonus.
"Stay in the capital for a while after the funeral. I'll speak to Jordan directly. He won't want to deal with you himself right now..."
"Thank you, Your Grace!"
Patrick brightened at the offer—the Sword Duke would personally intervene with Duke Jordan Waltermein, leader of the Second Prince's faction, to which Bifrost belonged.
But Logan interjected.
"Your kindness is appreciated, Master... but as I said, we'll handle it ourselves."
"Oh? Logan, overconfidence isn't wise."
"It's not overconfidence. It's entirely possible."
The Sword Duke studied his disciple's unwavering expression before finally chuckling dryly.
"Very well. But if things go awry, come to me. My door is always open to you."
"Haha. Does that mean you'll grant any request?"
A lighthearted joke to lighten the mood—
"What? Hah. Fine. Anything. I owe you this much. If you think of something, ask. I'll do what I can."
The Sword Duke, now oddly detached, said what he never would have under normal circumstances.
An unexpected windfall—but one too large to swallow carelessly.
"Hmm... I can't think of anything yet. But if I ever do, I hope you'll consider it carefully."
Rather than risk choking on this sudden boon, Logan chose to set it aside for later.
Just as his master nodded weakly—
"Your Grace! Two Transcendents have arrived at the estate!"
A startling announcement came from outside the door.
"Transcendents?"
"Marquis Wycken Calria and Marquis Luther Kyle! Given the tension between them, you should meet them immediately!"
The urgency in the attendant's voice spurred the room's occupants into motion.
"I didn't expect to meet you here, you lumbering oaf."
"I was about to say the same, you twig."
"Did you come to get beaten by the Sword Duke again? He has no interest in factions."
"Hmph. Mind your own business."
"Hmm. Then it's about MacLaine?"
"Sigh. You too?"
Crackle.
The air between the two men—one a near-giant whose massive frame defied belief, the other lean to the point of gauntness—seemed to spark with tension.
The space between their chairs warped unnaturally, emitting an eerie sound.
The Sword Duke's servants trembled but held their ground.
After what felt like an eternity, the door opened, and the master of the estate entered.
Thud.
"Seeing you two spewing hostility in my home, I assume you've come for a rematch? Wycken. Luther."
The moment the door opened, a razor-sharp presence flooded the room.
The two men sprang to their feet and bowed.
"Ah! Your Grace, it's been too long."
"An honor to see you again."
"...You forget your place, picking sides like this, yet you're still polite to my face. Do you still have business with me?"
"Your Grace, how could we? Even this dull body hasn't forgotten the lesson you taught me last time."
Luther Kyle, the Aura User nicknamed "Half-Giant," replied with eloquence unbefitting his appearance.
"Then?"
"This time, I've come not for you, but to meet the MacLaine family—guests in your estate. Hearing they were here, I couldn't send a subordinate. I came personally."
"Logan?"
"I'm here for the same reason. I'd never dream of displeasing you, Your Grace."
Wycken Calria, known as "The Storm Blade," echoed the sentiment.
The Sword Duke's eyes narrowed.
"Oh? Is that so. Disciple, care to handle this?"
"If I may, it would be my honor."
Logan stepped forward promptly from behind the Sword Duke.
"Logan MacLaine. It's an honor to meet two figures I've long admired."
"I've heard much about the Sword Duke's disciple. But..."
"I'm also pleased to meet such a talented young man. But..."
"I came to speak with the head of the MacLaine family."
"I came to speak with your father."
The two Transcendents smirked at each other before turning their gazes to Patrick MacLaine behind Logan.
The corner of Logan's mouth twitched imperceptibly.