Chapter 75
Chapter 75
"...That bad?"
"There's worse."
"What?"
I wondered what could be worse than high-ranking nobles brawling during a State Council meeting.
"It started when Falun Davis of the First Prince Faction was promoted to Minister of Finance. His rival, Larry Clet of the Second Prince Faction, reported Falun's corruption to the king."
"Count Davis is unfit to serve as Minister of Finance—a position that demands integrity!"
Falun retaliated by exposing Larry's corruption, and soon, the accusations escalated into a vicious cycle of mutual destruction.
The absurd part? In the process, numerous nobles from both factions were implicated in intertwined scandals.
Immediately, the two men retracted their accusations, claiming it had all been a joke made in jest, and exchanged apologies—while conveniently destroying all the evidence they had presented against each other.
Effectively, they had played the royal court for fools in their factional squabble.
"...Absolute idiots. And the royal court just let it happen?"
"What could they do? They lack power. Though, the king seems to be benefiting from the rivalry between the two factions. Not a bad move from the royal perspective."
"I suppose you could see it that way."
Come to think of it, Roger Vifros's actions could be interpreted similarly.
At least the king himself wasn't the problem—but that didn't bring much relief.
The path ahead still seemed daunting.
'Of course, the only decent one—the Third Prince—has no power. That's the real issue.'
Logan couldn't help but sigh.
The current king had no heirs in his youth, and as he approached middle age, the nobles persuaded him to take concubines—which immediately caused problems.
As if the wishes of the two dukes—who sought to secure their power by producing royal heirs—had reached the heavens, their daughters, taken as concubines, became pregnant almost simultaneously and both bore sons.
That alone foretold future turmoil.
Then, nearly ten years later, nineteen years ago, the queen—already past forty—conceived and gave birth to the Third Prince.
A legitimate heir, born to the queen—yet with no maternal family to support him.
Anyone could guess that his birth was far from blessed.
Worse, as the Third Prince grew, his martial talent and character proved so exceptional that rumors spread he might be the reincarnation of the founding king.
And his two elder brothers—hot-tempered, arrogant, and constantly causing scandals—only made him shine brighter by comparison.
Naturally, whispers spread that the Third Prince was the only one fit to rule.
Of course, the king doted on him, but the two dukes—maternal grandfathers of the First and Second Princes—wouldn't leave him alone.
They found every excuse to block him from expanding his influence.
The king tried to bolster the Third Prince's standing with his own power, but even that had limits.
Had the king lived longer, things might have turned out differently—but he died suddenly just before the Third Prince came of age last winter, plunging the kingdom into civil war.
For the Third Prince, it was a cascade of worst-case scenarios.
The First Prince had the backing of his grandfather, Duke Juan Douglas—a 6th-Circle Archmage.
The Second Prince leaned on the might of his grandfather, Duke Jordan Waltermein—the kingdom's most powerful noble and its youngest Transcendent.
With no faction strong enough to oppose either, the Third Prince was the first marked for elimination—until:
"By the late king's will, I shall spare the Third Prince's life—if you swear to become the new king's blade."
That declaration from the leader of the neutral faction—coveted by both sides—barely saved the Third Prince.
Of course, he was confined deep within the palace, never to step outside again.
And so, the First Prince and Duke Juan Douglas, who ascended to power through civil war, purged every noble who opposed them, draining the kingdom's strength to its lowest point.
Their tyrannical rule continued to ruin the nation until the outbreak of the Imperial War five years later.
That king even exploited Ronian as a disposable shield, abandoning him to defend Gran while fleeing himself—betraying even his own family.
'I won't let that bastard become king.'
The history of his past life could never repeat.
Which meant he had to twist the existing course of events.
'The Second Prince is no better than the First. If anyone should rule, it's the Third Prince.'
Of course, it wouldn't be easy—but it had to be done.
The three-year war between the First and Second Prince Factions had to end quickly, before it devastated the kingdom.
And to achieve both goals, there was much work ahead.
Not that he hadn't already thought it through...
"...Guess I'll have to work myself to death."
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Good work. Wrap things up in Imporik and come to the Sword Duke's estate. I'll be staying there for a while."
"Wha—?"
"I'll tell you what comes next after that."
Leaving a bewildered Philip behind, Logan led his group toward the Sword Duke's mansion.
"Your identity has been verified. Please follow me."
At the knight's words, Logan nodded and followed.
Henderson and the other knights couldn't stop looking around in awe—this was the estate where the Sword Duke spent most of his time—but Logan didn't scold them.
'Any knight of Grandia would react the same.'
After all, even he had been like that in his past life, arriving with nothing but Imporik in hopes of forming a connection.
Though—
"Young Lord, wouldn't it help the family if I got along with one of the duke's maids? That pretty one over there—could you introduce me? Ow! My hand! It was a joke, I swear!"
—Rick, distracted by other attractions, needed some discipline.
They hadn't walked far when someone approached from the opposite direction.
A gentle-faced man in his thirties, wearing a knight's uniform that suited him well.
After acknowledging the knight's salute, he bowed slightly before Logan's group.
"Young Lord Logan? Please follow me. His Grace is expecting you. The rest of you may proceed with Sir Erman."
He hadn't been here during Logan's last visit—yet something about him felt strangely familiar.
And the moment Logan got a good look at him—
"Ah...!"
He let out an involuntary gasp.
"Is something wrong? Have I offended you?"
"N-No. You just... remind me of someone I know. Might I ask your name...?"
"Ah, my apologies! I forgot to introduce myself. Louis Hyon, adjutant to Duke Felix. Please forgive my rudeness."
"I knew it..."
"Hm?"
"Never mind. Lead the way."
"Of course."
With a soft smile, Louis turned—and Logan watched his retreating back with deep emotion.
The Louis Hyon Logan remembered bore little resemblance to this refined man.
The first thing that came to mind was the two long scars that crossed his face in an X—the mark of a warrior who had turned the tide of battle.
'Commander Louis. So this is where you came from—no wonder you never spoke of it.'
Logan's thoughts leaped across time, unfolding a memory in his mind.
"What use is there in speaking of my origins? I failed to protect my lord. All that remains is to devote my life to Grandia's independence. Isn't it the same for you?"
Back then, Logan couldn't bring himself to deny it.
Unlike himself—driven by vengeance—Louis had been a leader of ideals, guiding the Grandia Liberation Front.
And the last time he'd seen him—
"I need your help. You're the only one left who knows ancient tongues. Memorize this. Burn the book if you must—but pass its contents to someone worthy. And if even that fails..."
Along with the Divine Sword Secret Art, he had handed over something else...
'Huh? Something else?'
Zzzzt—
"Ugh!"
"Young Lord! What's wrong?"
Louis, walking ahead, turned in alarm and steadied Logan.
The warmth of his touch and the sound of his voice drowned out the old memory—and whatever had been surfacing vanished instantly.
"Ah..."
"Are you all right?"
It had felt important—but as the headache faded, so did the memory, wiped clean like a blank slate.
"Ah, thank you, Commander—er, Adjutant Louis. I must not have slept well."
"...Youth is no excuse to neglect your health. What seems fine now will haunt you in old age. Take care of yourself."
Far in the future—or perhaps the past?
However one defined that previous life, those had been Louis's frequent words.
Hearing them now from a much younger Louis, Logan realized it must have been a habit of his.
Strangely, hearing them now cleared his dazed mind.
'Whatever that memory was, it belongs to the past. In this life, I'll make sure it never happens.'
There was no reason to dwell on it—no need to force himself to remember.
With a light sigh, Logan shook off the lingering thoughts and followed Louis again.
Unaware of the strange pulsing reaction from his Force Core.
"Then, I'll see you later."
"Of course."
Before Louis could finish his farewell, a sharp voice rang out from inside.
"What are you waiting for? Get in here!"
Pfft—
Barely suppressing a laugh, Logan opened the door to the Sword Duke's study.
Creak—
Inside, a golden-haired middle-aged man—who was actually in his seventies—beamed beside his heavily pregnant wife.
Both looked radiant. Especially the old man, who seemed even livelier than before.
"It's been a while. I'm glad to see you in good health."
As Logan bowed politely, the Sword Duke's wife responded first.
"So you're Young Lord Logan. My husband speaks of you often. We owe you a great debt."
The duchess—round-faced and gentle—blushed faintly as she spoke.
Though Logan knew she was nearing forty, her bashful demeanor still carried a girlish charm.
"A pleasure to meet you, my lady. Truly, you're as beautiful as they say. Now I understand why my master boasted of you."
"Oh my? Is that so?"
She glanced skeptically at her husband, who flushed and barked,
"Enough flattery! You wouldn't have come if not for my act, you heartless brat."
"Ah, I would've—just not yet."
As master and disciple exchanged glares, the bewildered duchess watched—until both burst into laughter.
"Pfft—ha! So, how did Roger look?"
"You should've seen it. Absolutely priceless. Heh."
This was only their second meeting.
Their master-disciple relationship had been formed through one-sided magical communication—yet the impact they'd had on each other's lives made their bond deep despite the short time.
"Anyway, congratulations again on the heir. Ah, is the child's gender...?"
"Well..."
"Does it matter? Boy or girl, this child has healed our sorrow. We'll cherish them."
The Sword Duke simply smiled warmly, stroking his wife's hand.
For a noble of Grandia—where male heirs were fiercely preferred—such words were rare.
But the sincerity in his expression was undeniable, and the duchess looked equally happy.
'A good outcome.'
What he'd done for his own ends had brought unexpected joy—a strangely moving realization.
'Though in the end, maybe it's all the same?'
His goal was to save his family and preserve his house.
Achieving that alone would likely make this kingdom's people happier than in his past life—where they were sold into slavery or left to wander as refugees.
A new perspective. That small epiphany brought a smile to his lips.
The Sword Duke and his wife's happiness seemed to reassure Logan—You're doing well. You can succeed.
"Truly, your thinking is exceptional. You're remarkable, Master."
"Tch. Enough flattery. Your skills improve daily, yet your attitude as a knight withers. If you seek greater heights, align your habits accordingly. And speak less."
The hopeful moment was short-lived—the Sword Duke's admonishment stung.
"In that spirit, Young Lord, I have a request."
"Hm? Ah, of course, my lady."
"Would you name our child?"
"...What?!"
Logan's eyes widened at the unexpected question.
"My wife and I have discussed this. Since everything is thanks to you, we thought it fitting for you to open this child's destiny. Well? You won't refuse, will you?"
In Grandian culture, naming a child was said to "open their destiny."
The kingdom believed a name held power—shaping and illuminating the path of the child's life.
Naming was so significant that nobles sought out esteemed figures to bestow names immediately after birth, even holding a "Naming Ceremony" celebration.
And they wanted him to do it?
Even if the child owed its existence to Logan (in a way), this was practically a gift.
A gift that would elevate Logan's standing in noble society.
Daunting—but there was no reason to refuse.
"Of course."
Relief bloomed on the couple's faces as Logan's stiff expression softened.
"Good. Thank you. My dear, you should rest now. I told you not to come out."
"But it's only proper..."
"This 'favor' is really our gratitude... Ugh, I'm no good with words. Let's speak through action."
"Hm?"
"I'm amazed at how much you've improved in such a short time. Show me your skills first."
As the Sword Duke's aura flared, Logan grinned in response.
"Yes, sir!"