Son-in-Law Suppression Is a Father-in-Law's Job - 2

We're doomed. No matter how hard I tried to spin it in a positive light, the conclusion refused to change. This is a disaster.

I never imagined Margarethe would drop to her knees right alongside me. I knew her follow-through was exceptional, but I never thought it would go this far.

"M-Mar! There's no need for you to do this too!"

"They say a husband and wife are of one heart and one body. For a wife to turn her back on her husband's suffering would be most un-Valenti of me."

With that, she settled onto her knees and dug in for the long haul. In truth, no matter how stubbornly Margarethe held her ground, hauling her back to her feet would have been simple enough—but only if she were willing to play along and go limp. Force someone upright who has no intention of rising, and something is bound to get hurt. I couldn't bring myself to pull her up too hard.

We were still squabbling when the Iron Blood Duke appeared—and the first thing those legendary eyes landed on was his youngest daughter, kneeling on the ground.

"...Come inside."

I saw it. In that fleeting instant, the emotion that flickered across the Iron Blood Duke's face.

It was the look of a butcher weighing how best to carve up a carcass so the neighborhood would hear he'd done a thorough job.

How long does a broken bone take to set again, anyway?

Even from behind, the Iron Blood Duke radiated pure displeasure. Trailing after him, I couldn't help but think it. That something was going to break was already a settled fact.

Still, the man was a professional at thrashing people. He could snap a bone cleanly enough. Setting it afterward would be simple. Or would he, out of sheer spite, grind it to powder? That would take longer to fix.

I absently rubbed my right arm, and Margarethe, walking beside me, carefully parted her lips.

"Karl, I'm s—"

But when I quietly took her hand, her mouth closed again. This was not a situation that called for an apology from her.

Honestly, Margarethe's little stunt had rocketed the Iron Blood Duke's irritation into the stratosphere—but the spark had been me from the start. If I had conducted myself properly, I never would have ended up kneeling at the ducal manor's gates, and Margarethe never would have seen it and dropped down beside me.

Besides, she had done it out of concern for me. The only reason things had gone this way was that my image with him was already terrible. If the Iron Blood Duke had thought well of me, this whole episode would have been shrugged off as a harmless farce.

"Don't take it too much to heart. Everything will work out."

Yes. Everything would work out. The mere fact that the Iron Blood Duke had invited us inside was a positive sign, wasn't it?

If he had truly lost his mind—if he would rather see the sky fall than grant this marriage—he would have started dancing with a sword right there at the front gate. And I would have spent the rest of the day dodging that dance and recording a Dark Souls speedrun. He was more than capable of it.

"Your brother-in-law is right. Don't worry yourself so."

And the one who backed me up was a noblewoman with the red hair that was the Valenti family's hallmark—the sort of face that made you think, This is exactly what Margarethe will look like when she's older.

While the rest of her siblings stuck close to the Iron Blood Duke, she alone had peeled off to walk with us. An odd one out.

"Still, Mar, giving Father a shock like that was a bit much. Shall we apologize later?"

"Yes, Sister..."

"There's a good girl."

She was the sister immediately above Margarethe—the fourth daughter. The age gap was a little wide to casually call them "sisters," but the nobility of this world tended to age well, so they looked the part well enough.

"You needn't fret either, Brother-in-law. Father may be rough around the edges, but he's a man of deep affection."

"Ah—yes. I'm well aware."

"That's a relief. My husband didn't know that, and he was rather frightened at first."

She chuckled softly, and I managed an awkward smile in return.

I could feel the Iron Blood Duke, walking ahead, glance back at us—and I pretended with all my might not to notice. Surely he wouldn't launch a chair at me while two of his daughters were right here.

"Hmm. Still, Brother-in-law—I never expected you to bring your other fiancées along to ask for a marriage blessing."

At that, my eyes flicked involuntarily toward the Iron Blood Duke. It hadn't been my idea. He was the one who had told me to bring the guests along.

"Once Father grants his blessing, will you be off to visit the other fathers next?"

The lively curiosity in her voice was pure torment. Seeing Luise and Irina flush scarlet, I couldn't find a single safe place to rest my eyes.

Maybe standing next to the Iron Blood Duke would be better...? At least then only my body would hurt when it was over.

I was finally liberated from that miraculous pincer—Iron Blood Duke in front, prospective sisters-in-law behind—thanks to the Valenti household's head butler.

When I first saw him sprinting toward us from a distance, I braced for a dressing-down from the Iron Blood Duke. A head butler who had failed to receive the guests. Worse still, in his absence the master of the house had been forced to greet them himself. It would have been entirely fair to call it a stain on the duchy's dignity.

But not a single person in the Valenti household so much as looked at him askance.

"Butler. Show our guests in."

"Yes, Young Master."

He simply issued the order as if nothing at all had happened.

Watching that, I roughly understood. The Valenti head butler was another pitiful creature drowning in overwork. Which meant no one was going to scold him for being a little late.

Are all head butlers like this?

To be fair, the Krasius family's head butler suffered from overwork as well. The post of head butler was, after all, the administrative linchpin of an entire domain.

Still, this was a little too sad. To see such a pitiful creature right in fr—

"You. Come with me."

Of course, the most pitiful creature present was me. I was in no position to be pitying anyone else.

"Yes, Your Grace."

At the Iron Blood Duke's summons, I fell into step like a steer being led to the slaughterhouse. I tried, casually, to peel off after the butler—and was caught as if he had eyes in the back of his head. I had hoped it would slide ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠by. No such luck.

And every time I took a step behind the Iron Blood Duke, one of his children brushed past and gave my shoulder a solid pat.

"Hmph."

In a certain light, it was a show of support for me. The Iron Blood Duke merely snorted under his breath and gave no other reaction.

What was that supposed to mean? That he was going to thrash me himself, so no one else needed to bother?

Just how thoroughly is he planning to wreck me?

There is a law of conservation of rage. When many people share the anger, each person's share is modest; when one man shoulders the entire total, the rage becomes colossal.

That was the Iron Blood Duke right now. The gentler the rest of the Valenti family looked, the larger his fury alone would grow.

"The Valenti prize blood above all else."

I was still walking, calculating the stance least likely to get me hurt, when the Iron Blood Duke spoke in a low voice.

Blood.

For a split second I pictured him driving a fist through an enemy general—

"Which is why, as the year draws to a close, the entire family gathers."

Ah. That kind of blood.

"Once gathered, the Valenti spend the New Year together—from the end of the year through the first of the next. Even daughters who have married out are no exception."

"I think it's a beautiful tradition."

"But before that custom took hold, brothers killed one another with grim regularity over the succession."

Oh, for— What kind of reaction am I supposed to give when you drop that out of nowhere?

"Even in the midst of that chaos, my grandfather held the bonds of family sacred. Our present tradition began with him."

Speaking in a voice that had gone faintly distant, the Iron Blood Duke stopped before a door. Unlike the others, this room stood alone, set apart—its door finished in elegant black, and somehow faintly ominous.

And above the door, in a graceful hand, a single inscription:

Cheerful name.

It sounded like the kind of place where you got fried with lightning magic on the spot.

"My grandfather's wish has been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠passed down through the generations. The charge I inherited must travel through my children and on into the future."

While I was busy inventing horrifying scenarios on my own, the Iron Blood Duke gripped the handle and looked back at me. Gone was the face full of irritation; in its place was something endlessly solemn.

"The Valenti hold family sacred. No matter how capable a man may be, if he is an enemy to the blood, we cast him out. No matter how lacking, if he is of the blood, we take him in."

The more he spoke, the clearer it became why he had found me so distasteful.

It wasn't simply that I was the scoundrel who had stolen his youngest daughter. It wasn't that I had brought other women into the picture while she waited.

"When you turned Mar away, she grieved—but that was the end of it. If you had been a man with no ties to us, there would have been nothing to concern ourselves over."

A refused match might ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still come together, or it might not. That alone was no reason for enmity.

"But you came back, even after you had pushed her away. You volunteered to become one of the Valenti."

Yes. That was the crux of it. I, who had once refused the Iron Blood Duke's proposal—I, who had turned my back on becoming part of the Valenti—had approached them again.

Which meant, from the Iron Blood Duke's perspective, I was no longer a man with no connection to them. He had to judge once more whether I was fit to stand among the Valenti.

"No matter how capable a man may be, if he is an enemy to the blood, we cast him out. No matter how lacking, if he is of the blood, we take him in."

And even if my credentials were excellent, if I mistreated Margarethe, I was an enemy. Conversely, even if I had flaws, if I became a devoted husband to Margarethe, I was family.

That was why the Iron Blood Duke had been so uncomfortable with me. I had declared I would join the Valenti family—and then formed no bond with Margarethe at all, only kept adding other women.

"Can you entrust half of yourself to the Valenti?"

The Iron Blood Duke asked. Could I become a true member of the house—a true son-in-law of the Valenti?

My answer was simple.

"Yes, Your Grace. Of course."

"A fine answer."

The Iron Blood Duke replied blandly, and turned the handle.

"Whether you mean it—we shall find out from this moment on."

The Room of Truth opened.

...He's not actually going to torture me in there, right?

I could only stand there blankly and watch Father disappear, hauling a sword along with him.

I had already provoked him without meaning to. If I forced my way in now, I might buy Karl a moment's reprieve—but Father's anger would not be spent.

"It'll be over soon enough, won't it?"

But my fourth sister said it with perfect calm.

"Most likely. Father isn't the man he used to be."

Even my eldest sister chimed in.

I was thoroughly confused. Father seemed extremely angry—and yet my sisters were speaking as if nothing of consequence was happening.

It didn't make sense. Father was so sensitive where family was concerned. This was the man who used to say that if a suitor fell short by so much as a hair, there would be no marriage.

As if she had read the turmoil on my face, my fourth sister gave a small smile and stroked my hair.

"Our Mar. Did it frighten you badly?"

"Ah—this is Mar's first time, isn't it?"

My third sister, smiling in the same gentle way, wrapped her arms around me from behind—as if to say there was nothing to worry about.

"Just think of it as a ceremony. He's always been like this. He did the same thing to all your brothers-in-law."

?

"My husband was the only one who really suffered, though. Father happened to be in peak condition at the time, so he threw him out a window."

??

"And then your eldest brother-in-law just climbed straight back up as if nothing had happened, remember? I think that was when Father finally gave his blessing."

???

I was more lost than ever. I could not make sense of a single word I was hearing.

A ceremony?

They went through this every time one of my sisters got married?

Thrown...?

Does that mean Karl might get thrown out too...?

Without thinking, I looked out the window—half afraid I would find him already sailing through the air.

No one.

Contrary to my fears, there was no one outside.

"Mar. Not that side. He'll be thrown out the other way."

At my brother's words I bolted for the opposite window.

Thankfully, there was no one there either.

...No—was that actually a good thing? At this point, I no longer ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠knew.