Chapter 140
Chapter 140
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 140
Chapter Title: Heir Selection
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A few days earlier.
Bacchus had summoned Ares, Mercy, and the Shield Family's Six Shields—Hexagon.
Everyone had gathered except for Jerome and Beskin, who had departed for the Dragon Mountains.
"Young master, have you heard anything about the agenda?"
The Knight of Flames, Hakaren, asked Ares.
Recently, every time all of Banten's executives had assembled, it had been about something involving the Third Young Master.
It had been ages since Bacchus had called everyone together without the Third Young Master present, so not just Hakaren but everyone perked up, listening intently to Ares's response.
"Sorry, but I haven't heard anything either, Sir Hakaren."
Unfortunately, neither Ares nor Mercy knew a thing.
How much time passed after that?
"Is everyone here?"
Bacchus and the Knight of Light, Arandal, entered the conference room.
"......"
Sip!
Bacchus sat without a word, simply savoring the prepared tea.
"......"
"......"
With the one who had called the meeting remaining silent, no one dared to speak.
After some more time passed and Bacchus finished his tea, he set down his cup.
Clink!
With the clear, resonant sound of the antique cup, Bacchus finally spoke.
"Ares, how long has it been since you took on the family's duties at my command?"
Ares answered Bacchus's out-of-the-blue question.
"Hm, you assigned me my duties right after I turned fifteen... So as of today, exactly 4,842 days."
Ares was twenty-nine this year, so it had been just over thirteen years by the calendar.
"...I see. Spot on."
Bacchus's gaze shifted to Mercy, impressed by the more precise answer than he'd expected.
"Mercy, how about you?"
"...I don't know the exact day like brother does, but roughly seven or eight years by the calendar."
Mercy was twenty-three this year, and compared to other noble houses, her tenure handling duties was quite long.
"Is that so...."
Sip!
Bacchus took another sip of tea, set down his cup, and spoke calmly.
"You've both grown into fine adults. In any other family, your successor would have been decided long ago."
"......!!"
Ares and Mercy's eyes widened.
"It's time to name an heir. I'll prepare a test soon. Whoever it ends up being, make sure you give it your all—no regrets."
Scrape!
"F-Father!"
"W-Wait a second!"
Bacchus wrapped up the matter curtly and rose without hesitation, pushing back his chair. Ares and Mercy called out urgently.
"What is it?"
"Father, what about Jerome... Is he excluded from the candidates?"
Ares asked, his expression hardening.
"I hate to admit it, but his achievements these past few years are downright dazzling. He did say in Elrunheim that he was giving up on succeeding Banten himself, but actually excluding him for real..."
Jerome was an outlier, but Ares and Mercy were no slouches either.
On the contrary, they were exceptional talents renowned not just in the kingdom but abroad.
They couldn't possibly fail to recognize Jerome's accomplishments.
But they hadn't expected Bacchus to truly remove him from contention.
"I agree with brother. What is this, handing out charity? You think anyone would be thrilled to have Banten's succession tossed like a scrap of meat to some mongrel?"
Her tone was as brash as ever, but Mercy clearly felt excluding Jerome was wrong.
Bacchus remained utterly unmoved by their sibling bond(?).
"You're misunderstanding something."
"......?"
Misunderstanding? What had they gotten wrong about Jerome?
"That boy is already looking beyond Banten territory. I'm not excluding him— he's the one jumping ship from Banten."
"......!!"
Ares and Mercy froze like statues upon hearing Bacchus.
"...He walked away from Banten... of his own accord?"
Ares recovered first—true to his position as eldest—and spoke with effort.
To the Shield Family heirs, Banten's vast lands were more than just territory.
It was the shield guarding the kingdom from the Dragon Mountains and the Holy Empire's foes.
A land of trials proving it the continent's foremost shield, a land of honor.
For the heirs of the Carviot countdom, Banten was their reason for living, the foundation of their very existence.
And Jerome had abandoned it all too easily.
"...That bastard, what the hell did he think this position was..."
Mercy flushed red, sharing the sentiment.
Bacchus sighed at his children's reactions.
'Just as I expected. Pride and honor are fine, but... their thinking lacks flexibility.'
Ares and Mercy were undoubtedly brilliant.
At their age, they'd shattered the Sword Expert upper barrier, boasting power nearly equal to Hexagon before their seals were released. Given time, they'd reach Master level—or beyond.
Perhaps even eye his own position.
If their Banten-centric mindset was a flaw, it was a minor one. Both possessed talent rivaling his in his youth.
They were more than worthy to inherit Banten and fulfill the Carviot role.
"You're off-base from start to finish today. I always intended Banten for one of you two."
"...Pardon?"
"Why?"
They stared at Bacchus, still unconvinced.
"Think back on what Jerome has done."
Opening trade with elves in the Beast Forest, quelling Philador Kingdom's rebellion...
"Those brought massive changes to the territory. Good ones. But those actions..."
Bacchus spoke with conviction.
"If you insist on labeling them, they're offensive, not defensive. Such a master doesn't suit this Banten."
Rapid change inevitably creates cracks somewhere, and enemies never miss those.
Thus, Banten needed ironclad rigidity above all—precise manuals and doctrines.
"Jerome is too aggressive. That's why he'll venture outward, not stay in Banten. Whichever of you inherits, link up with him to steadily fortify and advance Banten. That's an important duty too."
Ares and Mercy finally understood.
True, Jerome's moves since regaining his senses had been excessively radical.
No middle ground whatsoever.
"No more questions? Then the heir test will begin after Jerome returns. Prepare yourselves by then."
With that, Bacchus left without a backward glance, leaving silence in the conference room.
"...Ha! Jerome's words weren't just bluster—they were real. Unbelievable."
Ares laughed hollowly. At some point, he'd seen Jerome as a bigger rival than Mercy, yet the boy's gaze had been fixed elsewhere, beyond Banten.
Scrape!
Then Mercy shoved back her chair and stood.
"Where are you going?"
"Where do you think?"
Mercy eyed Ares, her gaze brimming with belligerence that spoke volumes.
"Without Jerome, all the better for me. I never intended to yield Banten to anyone."
Her eyes held a resolve to shove aside even her brother Ares.
"...What a coincidence. Same here."
Ares rose too, meeting her stare.
"Jerome dropping out is unexpected, but if that's his will, no choice. Well then, little sister."
Ares extended a hand to Mercy.
"You were my rival from the start. Let's have a fair fight—no regrets."
Mercy stared at his hand before turning away dismissively.
"Sorry, but I only fight without regrets when I win. For no regrets, I have to be the heir."
As if expecting it, Ares chuckled and withdrew his hand.
"Another coincidence. Truth is..."
Gazing at Mercy's back, Ares's eyes grew unusually serious.
"I'm the same."
After Jerome departed for the Dragon Mountains, on a day when autumn ended and winter set in.
The Shield Family announced the heir selection.
Whoosh!
A single ship cleaved through the sea, kicking up white foam.
"Heh heh heh, see? Told you listening to me was the right call."
Luna, the spectral woman at the prow, boasted smugly.
"...Gotta admit, this is seriously fast."
I had no choice but to concede.
Luna had given me an incredible gift.
The ship itself? Meh. Even southern kingdom shipyards could build something similar.
The real value lay in the captain and crew sailing her.
'Jean Paul's amazing.'
If the North Sea was perilous with sea dragons like Leviathans swarming, the West Sea route skirting the mountains to Elrunheim was treacherous due to its convoluted waters.
Reefs everywhere, currents shifting constantly—it could double or triple the land route's time if mishandled.
Yet Captain Jean navigated the bastard sea like a leisurely cruise.
"Jean, have you sailed the West Sea before?"
I asked, impressed by his pathfinding, but he shook his head without a second's hesitation.
"No, never, benefactor. But when I see the sea, I just know the way. No idea why..."
Thanks to Jean's insane talent, we reached near Elrunheim far quicker than anticipated.
As the Cismaria drew nearer the coast, elven figures appeared one by one in the distance.
Nocking arrows, they looked ready to loose if we approached further.
"Benefactor, what now? They won't let us dock like this..."
Jean had noticed too and asked cautiously.
Fair enough—strange ships warranted vigilance.
"Better head over before they turn our nice ship into Swiss cheese."
I kicked off the prow, leaping toward shore and unfolding Moonwalk to close in.
Whistle—whistle—whistle!
Arrows rained from elves unaware of my identity.
Longbows wielded by elf rangers packed serious punch.
But attacks like this no longer fazed me. Not even over open water.
I dodged effortlessly and landed on the beach, shouting,
"Jerome von Carviot of the Shield Family! Who's in charge here?"
"Jeez, what a prankster. Just hang the turtle flag next time. No need for games—makes folks embarrassed for nothing."
Ash grumbled, offering tea.
He'd come personally after the rangers' report from the shore.
"Haha, well, circumstances. This isn't even our ship originally."
"......?"
Elves hadn't joined this journey, so Ash didn't get it.
"So, from the north..."
From wyvern hunt to acquiring the Cismaria—I explained everything. Ash's face darkened progressively.
"...Why didn't you call us?"
"Huh?"
"Why exclude us from the wyvern hunt?"
I was dumbfounded by Ash's sudden anger.
Why snap now?
"Well... you guys just tangled with orcs last time? Didn't want awkwardness."
Too busy hunting wyverns to mediate elf-orc relations.
Plus, trade was already underway with elves—asking more felt like overreaching.
Especially with nothing to offer in return.
"......"
But Ash's expression stayed sour.
"...Aren't we friends?"
...Huh?
Unprepared for that, I froze. Ash flushed and grumbled curtly,
"Friends help without tallying. Call next time you need aid. Ahem!"
"...Thanks. Appreciate it."
He'd helped reclaim Millia before out of necessity, but Ash saw it differently.
As a warm fuzziness bloomed from his words, Ash cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Ahem! Anyway, the princess is ruling well. The queen's changed a lot since the incident two years back—must've learned something. You're busy now, Jerome, so visit when you have time."
Something off in Ash's words.
"Busy? Why would I be?"
Sure, prepping wyvern scales and Cyclops-forged weapons for trade kept me occupied, but not too much to skip seeing Millia.
Nothing urgent anyway.
Ash looked at me like I was the weird one.
"Banten traders said the Carviot countdom's in uproar selecting an heir. Did I hear wrong?"
...What?
Ash, what did you just say?