Chapter 155
Chapter 155
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 155
Chapter Title: The Shield Family's Send-Off
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"Do I really have to wear something this cumbersome?"
The journey to the Empire's capital, Vatican. From the very start of that journey, I was frowning.
A black uniform. Over that uniform was layered a silver lightweight armor, meticulously crafted by the family blacksmith.
And what about the right side of my chest?
A golden turtle symbolizing the Shield Family. The brooch, shaped like its carapace, intertwined red and blue threads, exuding an innate air of luxury.
With all of this donned and the gauntlets made of pure gold and orichalcum equipped, I looked every bit the scion of a prestigious house. Well, I actually was one, after all.
In any case, it was an outfit utterly befitting the representative of the Shield Family's delegation.
Yet, despite all that, the simple reason I was frowning remained unchanged.
It was uncomfortable.
Extremely so!
"Armor like this is just cumbersome and uncomfortable..."
No, seriously—for someone who turns their whole body into a weapon with Steel, why the hell did I need armor anyway?
Bang!
"Put it on. It'll definitely help."
My mother, Elena von Carviot, appeared through the open door, as if she'd anticipated my grumbling.
Once my attire was straightened out a short while later, she dismissed the attendants and spoke.
"I heard from your father that you've mastered Earth and Pankration."
Her hands personally adjusting my uniform felt strangely unfamiliar—I'd never imagined her doing such a thing.
"Pankration is a martial art that pushes the body to its absolute limits, so I understand why you'd find armor cumbersome."
In truth, it was because of Steel, but of course, she couldn't know that.
The fact that I'd awakened to a Heterogenous Power was a secret known only to Saladin and Beskin.
The fewer who knew about a trump card, the better.
"Still, wear it. The priests and holy knights in the Empire's Church all wield divine magic. This armor can withstand up to 5th-circle spells, so it'll be a huge help in an emergency."
Ah, I see. If it could block up to 5th-circle magic, that was definitely a big help... Wait.
"...Mother, you're saying this armor can deflect divine magic?"
"The Empire's magic is mostly based on incantations, so as long as you understand the mechanism of those incantations, it's simple enough."
'Holy shit!'
Divine magic was indeed simpler than the traditional magic used in the Alliance.
No need to weave complex formulas one by one—just recite the incantation with faith-born divine power, and it worked.
Naturally, that made crafting anti-magic armor easier too, but the key point was that she'd made this all by herself.
'Should've asked Mother for dispel weaponry if I'd known.'
As I was lost in such thoughts, Mother spoke again, noting my silence.
"Have I made you feel neglected all this time?"
"...?"
Oh no. My quietness must've made her think I was upset.
I opened my mouth to reply, but her words came a bit faster.
"You might find it hard to believe, but... I love all three of you children equally."
"...?"
Eh? I'd never heard those words in my past life—my mind froze for a moment.
"Ares and Mersy spurred each other on through rivalry. I pushed them even harder. It might seem harsh discipline, but I don't think it was wrong."
She checked my reflection in the mirror now that my attire was perfect, gently patting my shoulder.
"You took it the hardest. No matter how much I scolded or pressured you, seeing you make no effort filled me with so much disappointment. But I never imagined you'd grow into such a fine young man on your own."
Stepping back slightly, Mother bowed her head politely in apology.
Not as parent to child, but as one person to another.
"Please come back safely."
It was a curt, emotionless phrase, but I could feel the sincerity from the mother who'd silently prepared this armor over the past three days.
"Don't worry."
In response to her heartfelt words, I made my own vow with equal sincerity.
Creeeak!
As the mansion's doors opened, Father stood at the forefront, flanked by the Hexagon knights and the full knight orders they commanded, all lined up in formation.
"Why are they...?"
They were supposed to be dispatched to various regions of Banten.
"To see you off on your departure."
From Father's calm tone flowed words that carried far heavier weight.
There was a tradition of knight orders turning out to cheer on family members heading out on important missions, but seeing every single knight order of Banten assembled like this? It was a first in my life.
Even back when Jerome had gone out before, it had always just been Beskin and the Blizzard Knight Order.
Before I could ask what was going on, Arandal spoke in a quiet voice.
Though soft-spoken, his voice rang out crystal clear, as if whispered right beside every knight's ear, issuing a brief command.
"Hexagon elites, all knight orders—draw swords."
"Draw swords!"
Shing!
A wave of gleaming silver blades filled my vision.
Hakaren's Inferno Knight Order.
Beskin's Blizzard Knight Order.
And the full Shadow Knight Order once led by Darkan.
All present.
"Hexagon elites, all magic corps—staves at the ready."
Merlin, now an elder too old to serve in the Hexagon but still the highest-ranking mage among the vassals alongside Arandal, cast a message spell. In response, the mages drew their staves and formed mana orbs.
Raik's Thunderbolt Magic Corps.
And Kamit's Storm Magic Corps.
The Shield Family's entire main force had gathered here to see me off.
"...Father, what is all this?"
I could understand the perfectly tailored uniform. Representing Banten to the Empire meant I couldn't show up in rags.
The armor made sense too. Who knew what dangers lurked in the Empire? Prioritizing safety was natural.
But turning out the entire count's household vassals just to see me off to the Empire?
I'd never even considered it.
At my reaction, the corners of Father's mouth lifted ever so slightly.
"You still lack awareness of your own standing. Do you have any idea how much you've done for Banten so far?"
Well, if I had to quantify it, quite a bit... but it was all necessary anyway.
"Even if you're not the heir to Banten, no one here denies that you're a direct descendant of the Carviot count family. So... return in one piece."
"...!!"
Not as lord, but as father—his words brimmed with concern.
Today, more than ever, they weighed heavily on me.
"...Yes, Father."
That was all I could say.
Clop, clop!
A servant brought my horse—a flawless black steed without a single blemish.
We weren't using a carriage because they made easy targets and were hard to defend against ambushes.
Large groups also slowed movement and made tracking a breeze.
Thus, heading to the Empire with a small elite unit was the smarter choice.
I couldn't bring Beskin. Less than a year remained until the march on Olivia.
So Beskin had to accelerate the Blizzard Knight Order's naval training with Jean Paul from the Empire.
The other knight orders were precious assets too. Better to avoid unnecessary risks.
Thus, my companions were already decided: not family forces, but bonds I'd forged myself.
"Damn it, damn it... crazy bastard. Always picking on me..."
Saladin, the grumbling captain whose complaints I'd actually miss if he stopped.
"Take care of me, Young Master Jerome. Hehe!"
Luna, who was also the reason for this journey.
And one somewhat unfamiliar face.
"Sis, you sure you're okay?"
Miron kept glancing back, fidgeting like a puppy desperate to poop.
At a glance, he seemed to be muttering to thin air behind him, but look closer: two slender hands wrapped around the log-like waist of Miron.
It was Misha, Miron's sister. Cured of her long-suffering mana reversal using Elrunheim's world tree with elven aid.
"Don't worry. I'm healthy now, right? And I can protect myself these days. Isn't that so?"
Misha sought agreement from empty air, and something translucent responded to her question.
From the vigorous nodding, it seemed affirmative.
A spirit.
Fully recovered from mana reversal, Misha had gained extraordinary affinity with spirits—whether from the world tree's influence or her innate mana sensitivity.
Thanks to that, she'd awakened the rare spirit summoner talent thought impossible for humans.
"My deepest apologies, Third Young Master, for not joining you. We should all be going on a journey like this..."
Beskin shot me lingering regretful glances, but it couldn't be helped.
"Don't worry. You'll have plenty to do with the Blizzard Knight Order when we head to Olivia. Bear with it this time."
"...Understood."
"Hyah!"
Clop clop, clop clop!
And so, leaving behind a send-off grander than I deserved,
I spurred my horse toward the Holy Empire's capital, Vatican.
My goals: stuff a heap of humiliation down Ibarella's throat and rescue Luna's mother to pull Luna into the Alliance.
First stop: Fatima, the gateway to the Empire.
In a quiet forest of the Yak Kingdom, an old man sat blankly before a crumbling shack, staring at his sugarcane field.
"Mm, mm. Yeah. Ah, that Rascal kid's getting too cocky? Tsk tsk, got it. I'll give him a good talking-to."
It was peculiar.
Just a sugarcane field before him, yet he spoke as if carrying on a conversation with someone.
One might dismiss it as senile ramblings, but his eyes were far too clear and bright for that.
"Hm?"
Mid-conversation(?) with the sugarcane, the old man's gaze suddenly shifted to the forest edge.
"Oh dear, I see. But what can be done? It feels like the time to part ways with you all is drawing near."
Shortly after he voiced this baffling lament, a woman appeared in the sugarcane field, her hands caked in blood.
"Master, big trouble."
Her voice held no trace of pain despite the blood dripping from her hands.
It couldn't— the blood wasn't hers, but others'.
"...They've caught your trail?"
"Yes. These damn pests. How the hell do they keep finding us?"
"Well, holding out for two years isn't bad. You've hidden well this time."
Unlike the old man chuckling lightheartedly, the woman struggled to contain her rising fury.
"Veras, that son of a bitch I'd devour whole. I won't forgive him, never. To stab you in the back...!"
Years had passed, but the mere thought still boiled her blood.
They'd both become wings representing the Black Lions, but diverged in purpose.
When that priest reached out, wanting to reconcile and change his mind, how overjoyed she'd been?
But the meeting born of full sincerity had returned only bitter betrayal.
The old man soothed her.
"Calm your anger, Rampang. Your Heterogenous Power mustn't be fueled by hatred...!"
Gulp!
"Master!"
Blood trickled from the old man's mouth, prompting Rampang to rush to his side in alarm.
Grit!
Seeing the blood, she clenched her teeth so hard they nearly shattered.
"...Veras, that bastard... I'll kill him myself. I swear it on the name of the White Wing."
Had anyone overheard her vow, they would've been stunned.
White Wing Rampang.
One of the three absolute beings among the Black Lions who wielded Heterogenous Powers.
No one could've predicted that she, who shared the throne with Black Wing Veras, would hide in some rural fief of a minor kingdom.
"Don't worry... about me. It's not time to die yet. More importantly, we'll have to move again. Where to this time?"
Changing the subject to ease her, the old man asked about their next plans.
"...Thinking of heading to the Empire. They despise Black Lions to the extreme, so even a mad dog like Veras won't dare act rashly there."
Wiping the old man's mouth, Rampang looked north, picturing one city.
The Empire's closest city—a forward base for devouring Alliance nations, where the Church's influence rivaled even Vatican.
Fatima.