Chapter 308
Chapter 308
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 308
>Chapter Title: The Difference in Respect is a Hair's Breadth
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A chilling silence descended upon the banquet hall.
‘What the... fuck...?’
'What did he just... say?’
The nobles blinked in disbelief, unable to process the crude profanity they had just heard.
The shock was so profound that Count Erzin's earlier rudeness had long faded from their minds, and even Count Erzin himself let out a hollow laugh, utterly dumbfounded.
“Truly... what an insolent fellow.”
It was right then that Aster let out a snicker.
“Your Highness.”
“...Speak.”
“This old man's lecturing on rudeness. What shall we do?”
What kind of nonsense was this?
It was saying that the one who messed up first was nitpicking everyone else's faults. In proper terms, hypocrisy.
Bellrose, grasping the implication, steadied her dizzying mind and turned to Count Erzin, opening her mouth.
“Count, are you the one lecturing on rudeness?”
“Heh heh, Your Highness. I won't make excuses for my own rudeness. However, before judging my crime, might you hear me out?”
“Very well. Speak.”
With Bellrose's permission, Count Erzin bowed his head in gratitude and took in his surroundings.
In other words, as Aster interpreted it, the count's words boiled down to this.
“This old man may guard the frontier, but I've heard no small rumors from old friends... however...”
...Omitted.
‘While digging for gossip out of boredom, I caught wind of something I couldn't just let slide.’
And what was that news?
“...That Your Highness has taken a grand archmage into your fold? And that you've allied with his group as well. Of course, this is cause for celebration...”
...Omitted.
‘Teaming up with some no-name nobodies.’
So, what was the worry?
“...I'm simply concerned whether Your Highness has been swayed by unsavory elements, and my worries are far from few...”
...Omitted.
‘Did he grease his tongue or something...?’
Ah, that wasn't an interpretation.
Just Aster's weary impression while listening.
In any case, stripping away the flowery rhetoric and buildup from his eloquent speech, the core was this.
- Are these guys you've allied with really trustworthy?
And...
- Is that guy actually a grand archmage?
Fair concerns, to be sure.
‘If he were a loyal retainer.’
But the Count Erzin that Aster saw could never be a loyal retainer. The reason lay in his subtle word choices.
Phrases slipped in like ‘from my ties to the late emperor...’ or ‘the young princess from my childhood memories flickering before my eyes...’—all of it belittling the princess as some mere child or granddaughter.
At this point, the count's true intentions, what he was really after with this farce, no longer mattered.
Bellrose seemed to have realized it too.
“I never knew your loyalty ran so deep, Count. Truly... astonishing.”
“You flatter me, Your Highness.”
At the repulsive reply, Bellrose fanned open her fan to cover her mouth. She could barely contain her trembling lips.
Meanwhile, the nobles in the banquet hall wore moved expressions.
And rightly so—the picture was perfect.
Ties passed down from generations ago, and unwavering loyalty!
A beautiful tale straight out of a fairy tale book.
Of course, not everyone was fooled by the count's inner motives. Those who saw through it watched the third princess's reaction with gleaming eyes.
This was the moment of truth.
For the third princess's qualities.
Bellrose knew it well, which was why she hesitated to speak.
But.
Silence was like that.
Sometimes it became the sharpest blade to threaten one's foe, but other times, a noose tightening around one's own throat.
In this case, it was clearly the latter, and Bellrose didn't have much time to think.
Not much time...
[Speak.]
‘...?’
Bellrose tilted her head at Aster's message spell.
Speak what?
[Tell them you're entrusting everything to Sir Wyvar.]
Entrusting all this to him...?
[Or just trust me and go wild.]
‘What exactly is he planning?’
The count's rhetoric was so cunning it left no room for rebuttal. He'd admitted his rudeness himself, but even that was wrapped in loyalty.
Not enough prestige or force to crush him outright, and far too sly to counter with words alone.
But.
Bellrose decided to trust him.
She couldn't see him through the perception-blocking spell, but Aster looked utterly confident.
Having made up her mind...
“...How amusing.”
Bellrose feigned a sneer as she looked down at Count Erzin.
“You've dressed it up so neatly with your slippery three-inch tongue, but in the end, aren't you just saying you don't trust me? Tell me, Count. Do I still look like a naive little girl in your eyes?”
“Your Highness, that's not—”
Count Erzin faltered at Bellrose's firmer-than-expected tone, but a voice chimed in.
“Your Highness, he's interrupting again?”
“If that's not it, then what is it? Speak plainly.”
“This old man speaks only from pure loyalty...”
“Your Highness, making excuses again?”
Count Erzin's eyelids twitched. His eyes captured Aster. But only for a moment.
Count Erzin swallowed his pride and bowed his head.
“Please... forgive this old man's rudeness.”
“Forgive...”
Bellrose smirked at the count's sudden shift. But Aster had no intention of stopping there.
“Your Highness, is that bastard ordering you to forgive him? Did I hear that right?”
“......”
“......”
Count Erzin fell silent.
This time, Bellrose stayed silent too.
And for good reason—the words were far too casual for addressing an imperial princess. No, it wasn't just the words. That... blatantly sycophantic attitude.
But Bellrose, with some immunity to such things, composed herself and glared at the count with a piercing gaze.
“Count.”
“...Yes, Your Highness.”
“So, what exactly do you propose? That the 72nd Council isn't trustworthy? That Sir Wyvar isn't a grand archmage? Do you have some way to verify it?”
Count Erzin's eyes lit up right then.
“I have no way to verify the 72nd Council right now, but...”
“Hah, what's the difference between spouting off without a plan and straight-up bullshit?”
Crunch.
“Ah, my apologies. Muttering to myself—got a bit loud, huh? Go on.”
Count Erzin glared at Aster with burning eyes before regaining his composure and continuing calmly.
“I have no way to verify the 72nd Council, but I believe there's a way to verify that man, Wyvar.”
“Verify him? How?”
Count Erzin swallowed a triumphant smile.
“Though my realm is humble, I too have touched the wall of transcendence. If that Wyvar truly is a grand archmage who has reached transcendence... he should be able to handle someone like me.”
The process was clunky, but this would end it anyway.
And from the start...
This had been Count Erzin's goal.
As Count Erzin suppressed a grin, Aster gaped at him with an ‘ooh’ expression.
“Scared or something?”
Aster replied.
“No... your realm really is pathetic.”
Count Erzin fell silent.
Bellrose fell silent too.
Only one person present.
Mysern stared at Aster with a twisted face, genuinely, truly wondering.
‘How the hell did he hold that in?’
All this time?
* * *
A space was set up in the garden behind the banquet hall.
The nobles from the hall stood in a circle outside the lawn, watching the center, where an old man and a young man faced each other.
Naturally, the old man was Count Erzin.
The young man was Aster.
“Mehod, bring my sword.”
“...Yes.”
Count Erzin raised the sword handed to him by his grandson Mehod to eye level and half-drew it.
So well-maintained was it that his face reflected clearly on its surface—it was no ordinary blade.
Infused with special minerals that dispersed magic and enchanted with ‘Anti-Magic,’ it was a weapon made for battling mages.
And that was just the start.
Clink, clink.
After checking the sword, Count Erzin examined the bracelets on his wrists. Artifacts enchanted with protective spells.
Necklaces, cloaks, even scrolls sewn into his clothing linings...
Despite his unassuming appearance, Count Erzin was armed to the teeth with anti-mage gear, showing just how prepared he was.
In contrast...
“Hah, old geezer. Pathetic and thorough to boot.”
Aster, picking his ear while eyeing Count Erzin, was utterly defenseless.
His clothes were just plain formalwear, no artifacts, save for the mask on his face.
“What insolence.”
Count Erzin maintained his calm amid Aster's taunts as he inspected his gear.
Pathetic as it looked, per Aster's words, not a trace of shame crossed his face.
Combat remembered only the victor, after all.
Lose, and the finger-pointing was inevitable, but Count Erzin was certain of victory.
‘...Transcendence? Ridiculous.’
Transcendence wasn't handed out like candy.
From the intel passed by the second prince's side, he was a decent mage, but no transcendent.
A transcendent archmage beating a dark mage to a pulp with his fists?
Impressive how he'd cowed the nobles at the inauguration with sheer presence, but that didn't mean transcendence. He could do as much himself.
And even if he were transcendent, so what.
Preparation and resolve.
And...
Up to the battlefield itself.
Everything favored him.
The lawn was wide for sword swings but far too narrow for spells— a disadvantage even for an archmage.
Above all...
‘...No, I won't need this.’
Preparations complete, Count Erzin assumed his stance and looked at Aster.
“Ready?”
“Asking me?”
“Seems so.”
Count Erzin ignored the retort and glanced at Mehod.
Mehod stepped forward, performed the duel formalities, then flipped a coin onto his finger.
“Very well...”
Ting!
The coin soared into the air, spinning to its peak. Count Erzin timed its fall, ready to draw.
No room for carelessness.
Full preparations or not, a potential archmage. He'd go all out the instant combat began.
The coin hit its apex and began to drop.
“Hup...!”
The count's aged body tensed like oiled rope. Muscles contracted and expanded precisely where needed.
When the coin hit the ground...
‘...Huh?’
The count, about to draw, furrowed his brow.
For... just before touching ground, the coin had frozen midair.
A split-second pause undetectable to ordinary eyes, but to the count—senses razor-sharp, poised for the strike—it was a long, breath-disrupting eternity.
That fleeting moment passed.
Thud.
The coin landed on the lawn.
“Hup...!”
The count steadied his breath and drew—or tried to.
“...Gah!”
A brutal impact smashed into his face.
Aster grinned as the count clutched his face and staggered back.
“The difference in respect is a hair's breadth.”
This was an old-man attack.
But... infused with respectful intent, couldn't it become a respectful strike? It all depended on mindset.
“I'll slap you respectfully with both hands.”
Aster gripped his right wrist with his left and unleashed a full-force second blow at the count's face.
...Mysern thought.
‘Should I... retrain?’
In any case.
The battle had begun.