Chapter 106
Chapter 106
Beneath the phoenix banner soaring toward the sky, the nobles who should have united as one instead split into two factions, their movements as divided as mourners separated by the coffin.
According to the state funeral rites, territorial nobles were assigned seats by region. But since most factions were already split between east and west, the seating arrangement ended up clearly delineating factional divisions.
Even the First and Second Princes, who should have at least pretended to grieve, were too busy glaring at each other from the center of their respective noble factions.
Only the few remaining queens and the Third Prince maintained somber expressions that might have passed for mourning—though their gloom likely stemmed more from anxiety about their own futures than genuine sorrow.
The chaotic, restless atmosphere felt less like honoring the deceased and more like an insult to his memory. Logan summed it up in one word:
'What a shitshow.'
Even Logan, a fellow noble, felt his face burn with secondhand embarrassment. So when the Archbishop hesitated before reading his prepared eulogy, it hardly seemed out of place.
The disorder peaked as the Archbishop began reciting the late king's achievements.
"His Majesty Samuel von Grandia, from his days as crown prince forty years ago..."
Logan wondered just how long this eulogy was supposed to be if it was starting forty years in the past. Already, many of the restless nobles began turning their attention away from the podium, their expressions twisting in impatience.
If things had ended with idle chatter, it would have just been another embarrassing display of the kingdom's nobility.
But of course, someone had to go out of their way to annoy Logan.
And of course, that someone was seated right next to him.
"One week left, MacLaine. Enjoy it while you can. No point wasting what little life you have left moping around."
A low voice laced with mocking laughter.
Count Roger Vifros smirked, taunting Logan and his father.
Logan didn't need to respond—his father remained stoic, unfazed—but...
'This eulogy is hell.'
Since the Archbishop had only just reached events from thirty-nine years ago, Logan decided to kill time by engaging in this mess.
"Ah, you haven't heard yet, have you?"
"I understand wanting to cling to life, but—"
"I received a recruitment offer from your faction."
"What...?"
"Who knows? We might end up on the same side. So maybe watch your tone, Count."
"What nonsense—!"
"If you think it's nonsense, go ask Marquis Luther Kyle yourself."
Roger Vifros' face visibly stiffened as his gaze landed on the towering figure of Luther Kyle, unmistakable even from a distance.
"Pfft."
"Just kidding."
"You little—!"
"Or maybe not, depending on you."
"Hmph."
Watching Vifros' face cycle through shades of red and blue was downright entertaining.
But then—
"Your Excellency, the Marquis would never do such a thing. Your standing within the faction is far too significant."
An irritatingly familiar mustache suddenly popped up from behind.
Max Peretta—the man who had fled MacLaine to grovel under Vifros' protection. He stood before the Count, rubbing his hands together like a decades-old sycophant.
"Just a scared dog barking—"
"Enough!"
A sharp, quiet voice cut off Max Peretta's excessive flattery.
Roger Vifros had already hardened his expression, lost in thought.
'Would've been funnier if he just blew up.'
Bored now, Logan turned his attention back to the podium—only to catch his father subtly raising a thumb in approval.
"Thirty-eight years ago..."
The minor incident faded into the background of an eulogy that showed no signs of ending anytime soon.
"Thus concludes the first day of the state funeral rites."
By the time the royal guard's monotone voice echoed through the palace square, the sun had already set.
The biggest time-sink of the morning's ceremony was, without question, the Archbishop's eulogy.
The only ones who had wept, laughed, or been moved by that endless speech were the Archbishop himself and Sword Duke Felix Esperanza, who had bowed his head at the forefront of the nobles.
So when the ceremony finally ended, groans erupted from all corners of the palace square.
As most nobles hurried to leave, Logan and Patrick found themselves facing yet another unwelcome guest.
"Baron Jeremy Falson, under the patronage of Duke Walterheim. Lord Patrick MacLaine, might I have a word...?"
"Gino Levinson, retainer of Duke Douglas. Baron, if I could trouble you for a moment..."
The reaction was markedly different from Logan's last visit to the capital.
No longer just the Sword Duke's disciple—now, faction recruiters lined up for MacLaine.
And standing right beside them, Roger Vifros' expression grew increasingly terrifying as he watched the scene unfold.
Even after Patrick and Logan declined most offers and left, Vifros' face remained frozen in that same chilling glare.
Only much later did his adjutant, Lentor, cautiously speak up.
"My Lord, we should return now..."
"I must see His Grace."
"Huh? Ah—yes. I'll arrange it."
Even after Lentor disappeared, Roger Vifros' gaze remained fixed on the spot where the MacLaines had stood.
And then—
"No one who touches what's mine walks away unscathed. Not now, not ever."
A sinister glint shone in his eyes, unnaturally bright even in the darkening palace square.
"You have no intention of using the factions?"
After barely managing to fend off envoys from both factions and escaping the palace, Patrick spoke in a grave tone.
"Are you worried?"
"Frankly, if things continue like this, our house is in danger. Shouldn't our top priority be leveraging some faction's power to stop Vifros' imminent invasion?"
"Which faction do you think would be best, Father?"
"Given our history with Vifros... if we must choose, the First Prince is the rightful heir, so... Hmm. You don't plan to join any faction, do you?"
Logan laid out his thoughts.
"Correct. In our current situation, the risk of our house being exploited as a pawn in the worst-case scenario is too high."
Of course, his father wasn't easily convinced.
"But that's a problem for later. If we don't stop Vifros now, we can't guarantee there will be a future a month from now."
"In the absolute worst case, we could rely on Master's influence. Though ideally, we'd resolve this ourselves first."
"You can resolve it yourselves?"
"Yes."
At Logan's short, firm reply, Patrick fell silent, studying his son before sighing deeply.
"What's your plan? If you've thought this through, I need to hear it this time."
"You'll know once the mourning period ends."
"...If you're planning something, consult me first. Without fail!"
"...Understood."
The Tomodo occupation had clearly left cracks in their trust—but those could be mended in time.
This matter, however...
'I can't possibly tell him.'
Even Logan found it unpleasant. If his father knew, he'd oppose it without question.
"Philip Claude. It's been a while, my Lord."
"Ah, Philip. It has been a while since we met in town. But I heard you were swamped with work?"
"Well, His Lordship requested..."
Back at the mansion, Philip—summoned to the capital by Logan's order—exchanged awkward greetings with Patrick.
Then Logan spotted him and approached with a welcoming smile.
"Philip! You're here!"
"Good to see you, my Lord. Apologies for the delay."
"No, you're right on time. This is perfect. Come this way..."
Logan subtly guided Philip away from his father's gaze.
"About the item you requested... May I ask what you intend to use it for?"
"No, you may not."
"..."
At Philip's deflated expression, Logan chuckled and added:
"Same reason as with the Imporic. You know what I mean?"
"Ah..."
"The fewer people who know about this, the better. Don't worry—I'll tell you eventually."
"Leave the sales to me. Absolutely!"
"Hmm. We'll see."
Logan grinned, fiddling with the object in his hand.
'Not exactly something to sell, though.'
At this point in time, it was utterly unfamiliar. Yet to another version of Logan, it was all too recognizable—stirring complicated emotions.
'Never thought I'd use this again.'
Regardless, the preparations were complete. Now, all that remained was to wait for the right moment.
The state funeral rites continued as scheduled.
Day two. Day three. Day four.
As the excruciatingly tedious ceremonies dragged on, forcing attendees to endure unbearable boredom, the atmosphere around MacLaine gradually shifted.
After the initial influx of faction recruitment offers on the first day, the envoys kept coming—though their attitudes began to change.
"Got lucky in some backwater and suddenly thinks he's hot stuff."
"Right? Acting all high and mighty just because the timing worked out. Let's just humor him and get this over with. He's just playing both sides anyway."
The voices of Baron Clopher and Baron Federson—from opposing factions—drifted through two separate doors, reaching Logan's ears from afar.
Their attitudes had been suspicious from the start, and sure enough, their true feelings were leaking out.
'No wonder they're half-hearted.'
Those reluctantly pushed into envoy roles couldn't possibly be as invested as their superiors.
But for rival factions to be having this kind of conversation in this political climate?
'Playing both sides... Well, they're not wrong.'
If MacLaine appeared to be fence-sitting, it made sense for them to become a common enemy.
A little unsettling, but perhaps inevitable.
Just as Logan was about to dismiss it—
"Count Vifros was right all along. From the start..."
An unmistakable name caught his attention.
"Roger Vifros..."
Pfft.
Logan had no interest in factions, yet his enemy was desperately scheming alone.
Like a child panicking over losing his share of the pie.
The man who once seemed like an overwhelming threat now looked small—reduced to petty tricks. It was almost laughable.
"How pathetic."
Not that it would change anything.
What did bother Logan was something else entirely.
"Hey there, son-in-law. Long time no see."
"It's been a while, Father-in-law."
"The times are troubled, but I requested this meeting since we're both in the capital. Why come alone? Shouldn't we set a date for the engagement—or even the wedding?"
"Ah. Hahaha. It seems you haven't heard from Lady Ellen. There's been... an incident in our territory recently."
"Oh, I heard. She's fine. But given the circumstances, shouldn't we hurry? Announcing our families' union would help deter Vifros, no?"
'It wouldn't help. That man's already lost his mind.'
Hiding his true thoughts, Logan sweated bullets as he tried to placate Count Roberts Floyd.
And he had to work hard to ensure his father didn't run into the man by chance.
It wasn't like he couldn't marry Ellen—he'd have to eventually if he wanted to keep her.
But now was not the time.
'I can't afford to waste time on marriage right now.'
Fortunately, Ellen must have smoothed things over, as Count Floyd didn't press further.
Whether due to Vifros' meddling or Logan's firm stance, no more faction envoys approached for the rest of the mourning period.
But as the funeral rites neared their end, Patrick's unease only grew.
Until—
"For the future of this kingdom, we shall convene the Grand Noblesse."
The Grand Noblesse—the assembly where all of Grandia's nobles would gather.
Two weeks earlier than in Logan's past life, when the Sword Duke hadn't declared neutrality.
At last, the moment Logan had been waiting for had arrived.