Chapter 107
Chapter 107
"It's finally begun."
"How long has it been?"
"Will they reach a conclusion?"
Murmur murmur.
The conference hall—one of the palaces in the inner city of Gran—was unusually crowded.
The Grand Noblesse, a gathering where the nobility of the Grandia Kingdom debated matters as old as the kingdom itself, was bustling with more attendees than usual.
For the past two to three hundred years, only high-ranking nobles of count status or above had been permitted to attend. However, due to the unexpected state funeral, the doors had been opened to all nobles.
With every noble in attendance, the sheer number of people made even simple matters like seating arrangements take an inordinate amount of time.
As a result, it wasn't until two hours past the scheduled start that the chancellor finally raised his gavel.
Thud. Thud. Thud!
"The Grand Noblesse will now commence. Please take your seats, esteemed nobles."
The conference hall was arranged like a coliseum, with seats fanning out from the central podium.
As the chancellor struck his gavel, the nobles split into two factions, sitting to the left and right of two men who bore a striking resemblance to each other.
Though no outright shouting or fighting had broken out yet, the air was thick with tension.
"Unfortunately, His Late Majesty Samuel von Grandia I passed without naming a successor. Thus, it now falls to us to determine the future of this kingdom. Those with opinions may speak freely."
With Chancellor Pluto Levine's declaration, the hall erupted into chaos—louder than a marketplace in the capital.
"Of course, His Highness Rohiter should—"
"Of course, it should be His Highness Romain!"
"What nonsense!"
Shouts and curses flew from all directions, turning the hall into a battleground in moments.
Logan's father, Patrick MacLaine, and a handful of neutral nobles watched the factional bickering with darkened expressions.
Logan himself observed the nobles' movements with barely concealed tension.
'I'd heard about this, but it's even more of a mess than I imagined. There shouldn't be any variables...'
Most nobles in attendance likely understood that this meeting wouldn't conclude in a single day.
And in his past life, it was on the third day of this conference that a brawl had broken out.
It had started when Viscount Hail Terrat of the First Prince Faction raised his middle finger at Jordan Waltermein.
That small provocation escalated into a full-blown melee among the lower and middle-ranking nobles, eventually drawing in even the superhumans and sparking the civil war.
The incident would later be mockingly referred to as "The Finger That Ruined the Kingdom."
Hail Terrat, the instigator, would forever be cursed by the refugees of Grandia.
'But given this atmosphere, anyone could have set it off.'
Even if the meeting proceeded without a brawl, neither side would accept the other's candidate as successor.
The tension in the air made civil war inevitable.
'It'll happen even without my interference. But...'
In his past life, the civil war had erupted from a simple brawl, but the first real battle didn't occur until a month or two later—once both sides had prepared.
If things proceeded as he remembered, without any major deviations...
'Bifrost could crush us during that preparation period.'
The civil war needed to break out now—before either side had time to prepare.
Logan's gaze shifted past the two princes locked in a fierce battle of nerves at the front of the hall, settling on a noble who had just begun speaking from the podium.
'Count Larry Clet...'
"The principle of primogeniture was abolished ages ago! Must we cling to such outdated customs? Especially when the difference in age is negligible—shouldn't competence be the deciding factor? In that regard, His Highness Romain, who proposed solutions to our trade disputes with the Empire, is clearly the rightful heir!"
"Well said!"
"Uoooooh!"
Each statement drew polarized reactions.
Though his face threatened to twist in anger, Larry Clet merely smiled, addressing only his faction—the Second Prince's supporters.
He himself was nothing more than a disgraced former finance minister turned clerk, but his family had produced ministers for nine consecutive generations across four reigns.
Even among the capital's nobility, his family was one to be reckoned with.
And if the Second Prince became king, they could extend that streak to five generations.
'Replacing that useless, lucky bastard Falun Davis.'
He fervently voiced his support for Romain von Grandia, the Second Prince.
The cheers from the Second Prince's faction grew louder, the jeers from the First Prince's side more vicious—but Larry Clet only had eyes for Romain, grinning ear to ear.
Watching from afar, Logan couldn't help but scoff.
'And yet, he'll defect to the First Prince's side later. Even maintaining his position until the Empire's occupation.'
Logan couldn't fathom what power such empty flattery held, but the man had proven it by surviving both the civil war and the Empire's invasion—his tenacity earning him the ninth spot on the Grandia Liberation Front's assassination list.
Codename: "The Parasite."
'Let's meet a little earlier this time, you worm.'
In his past life, Logan had been the one to sever that tenacious life.
The first day's meeting ended with both factions merely shouting at each other.
Chancellor Pluto, ostensibly neutral, declared an adjournment when voices grew too heated, postponing the session to the next day.
And the next day...
Logan "accidentally" bumped shoulders with Larry Clet as he entered the conference hall.
"Ugh!"
Thud.
"My apologies. Are you all right?"
"What the hell?! Watch where you're going!"
"My sincerest regrets."
Logan politely helped the fallen Larry to his feet, bowing again.
No one noticed the ring on Logan's finger leaving a tiny, imperceptible scratch on Larry's shoulder in the process.
The meeting resumed, another five or six hours wasted in fruitless debate.
"His Highness Romain has shown keen interest and achieved results in various aspects of governance. It is only right that—"
Just like the day before, Larry Clet passionately extolled the Second Prince's virtues.
Then, suddenly—
"It is only right that— Huh? B-Blood? What's— Ugh!"
Crash!
As he wiped at the sudden nosebleed, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed backward, tumbling down the podium steps.
"Count?!"
"Count Clet!"
"What in the—?! Fetch a priest!"
The hall descended into chaos in an instant.
Logan watched the commotion from the back with an impassive expression.
'The effect is perfect...'
Rete's Herb.
A rare medicinal herb famous for treating hair loss—but when dried for three days with an infusion of Force, its potency increased hundreds of times over.
So potent, in fact, that it became a deadly poison capable of rupturing blood vessels in the brain—if ingested by someone without even a trace of Force or Mana.
But this fact wouldn't be discovered until fifteen years later.
And even then, it was only stumbled upon by the Grandia Liberation Front while searching for ways to assassinate high-ranking Imperial officials.
Though useless against knights or mages and too expensive for widespread use, its lethality was undeniable.
'Farewell, Parasite Count.'
Logan silently offered a mock condolence to the man who had met the same fate in the same way as in his past life.
"It's too late. The brain damage is severe. I don't know what poison this is, but—"
The priest's words sent a storm through the already chaotic hall.
"Rohiter! You dare poison my subordinate?!"
Second Prince Romain von Grandia roared, accusing his brother.
First Prince Rohiter von Grandia, his face flushed with rage, shot back.
"You're one to talk! Who would fall for such an obvious farce?! What could you possibly gain by killing some sycophant?!"
"What did you say?! Sycophant?!"
But the princes weren't the only ones riled up by the sudden incident.
Nobles from both factions seethed behind their respective princes, their hostility quickly escalating into physical clashes.
Boom!
"Let's settle this today, Roxina!"
"I've been waiting, Chloe!"
The northern rival houses—more infamous for their feud than even Bifrost and MacLaine—were the first to clash.
The shockwaves from their long-standing grudge soon spurred others to summon Force and Mana.
While a third of the nobles present were bureaucrats with no combat ability, most of the territorial nobles, military families, and mage houses were either Force Users or mages.
The hall was instantly engulfed in violent energy, teetering on the brink of all-out chaos—
"Enough!!"
A thunderous voice cut through the uproar, drawing all eyes.
"Both Your Highnesses, calm yourselves. This matter must be investigated thoroughly before any conclusions are drawn. This is not the time for rash actions."
Sword Duke Felix Esperanza's timely intervention doused the flames—for the moment.
But the princes' tempers flared again, their voices rising.
"How much clearer does it need to be?! What 'thorough investigation' are you talking about, Duke?!"
"With no justification, you cut down a useful subordinate and stage this farce. I wholeheartedly agree with the Duke!"
"Ridiculous! You resort to underhanded tricks and then—what?! Call it a farce?!"
"Your refusal to agree speaks volumes."
The two handsome princes—both platinum-haired with emerald eyes—glared at each other with twisted expressions.
"What did you say?! Fine! Investigate! But if it turns out to be your doing, the throne is mine. You'll accept that, won't you?"
"Still scheming even now, I see. How childish."
"Hah! Resorting to dirty tricks and now backtracking?"
The argument only grew louder, with no compromise in sight.
"Your Highnesses. Please calm down and listen—"
The Sword Duke stepped forward, his face stern.
But then—
A gray-haired giant and a blue-haired archmage simultaneously took a step forward behind their respective princes.
Hummmmm.
Crackle—
The clash of auras between two of the kingdom's three dukes warped the space around the princes, drawing all eyes.
Thud thud thud.
"Stay out of this, Sword Duke."
"Even you would struggle against the two of us."
"...Do you even realize what you're doing right now?"
The Sword Duke's gaze turned icy as he addressed the dukes standing behind the princes.
"You know as well as I that this pointless meeting is going nowhere."
"Better to settle things this way."
"Ha. You madmen..."
Perhaps this had been inevitable—both sides merely waiting for a pretext.
Now, despite the Sword Duke's efforts, the situation spiraled toward the worst possible outcome.
"We'd prefer not to turn the royal palace into a battlefield, Sword Duke."
"We've no intention of making the capital a warzone either. So restrain yourself, Duke Felix Esperanza."
Faced with the combined pressure of the kingdom's second and third strongest superhumans, even the Sword Duke was powerless.
Then, sensing the moment had come, the Second Prince pointed at the First Prince and spat out in fury.
"You are no longer my brother, Rohiter. I'll prove with force who is truly worthy of the throne!"
"The feeling is mutual!"
The factions' conflict had finally escalated into an outright declaration of war.
As the Sword Duke looked up at the sky in despair...
The two dukes glared at each other before turning away.
Following their lead, the princes also turned and strode out of the hall—their respective nobles splitting into two streams behind them.
West and east.
Coincidentally mirroring their factional allegiances, they exited through opposite doors.
Only a handful watched their retreating backs with grim expressions.
"Master. There was nothing you could have done. Please, calm yourself."
Logan's consolation was sincere.
Though he had accelerated events, this outcome had been inevitable.
The ambitions of the two dukes, built over decades, were beyond what the Sword Duke alone could suppress.
"How can I face His Late Majesty now...?"
The Sword Duke could only stare at the sky in desolation.
And behind them, Patrick MacLaine—who had remained silent throughout the two-day meeting—watched his son with an inscrutable expression.