Chapter 204
Chapter 204
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 204
Chapter Title: The Departure from Banten
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Spring, when life begins to sprout. Though humans call the Dragon Mountains the Demonic Realm, this place too is part of nature.
The fresh greenery sprouting beneath the melting snow—excluding the eternal glaciers—forms a magnificent spectacle when viewed from afar, such as from Banten.
The moment when that beautiful mountain range is slowly dyed red by the sunset.
Behind Banten's grand banquet hall, the servants of the Carviot Count family were bustling about to entertain the envoys who had gathered from all corners of the land.
But unlike the busy servants of the count family, the banquet hall—which should have been the most jovial spot in all of Banten—carried a strangely subdued atmosphere.
The Vulcan Marquis family of the Osiris Kingdom.
The Midas Marquis family of the Philador Kingdom.
The Wendinel Duke family of the Fran Kingdom.
And the Sharon Royal family of the Sharon Kingdom.
The families that had come to Banten couldn't exactly be called country bumpkins, but they paled in comparison to those four great houses.
Moreover, with the exception of the Sharon royal family, every other house had sent their top heavyweights in person.
"Hmph, they're still dragging their feet. How long ago did the banquet even start, and they haven't shown up yet?"
Thus began Set, grumbling roughly as he tore into a lamb's hind leg.
"Young Master Set, you still seem to hold dignity at arm's length."
Aria, chiding such Set.
"Hohoho! These youngsters are overflowing with youthful vigor! Good, that's the spirit!"
And even Marquis Midas, bursting into hearty laughter as he watched the two bicker.
In such a situation, which noble could relax and enjoy the banquet?
As if sensing the nobles' unease, the grand banquet hall's firmly shut doors—which hadn't opened until now—slowly creaked apart.
Thud, thud!
Leading the way was Bacchus von Carviot, the shield of the era who stood against the Holy Empire's invasions, followed by his wife, Elena von Carviot, then Ares and Mercy. Trailing them were Hexagon, chief mage Sir Merlin, Baron Geibel, and the rest of the family's retainers.
The nobles couldn't help but inwardly marvel at the sight—not a single knight, mage, or even administrator among them showed the slightest disarray.
This flawless discipline was surely the driving force behind why the Carviot Count family was hailed as the North's Shield.
Bacchus, standing tall upon the dais, addressed the nobles in the hall with a resonant voice.
"All of you, thank you for braving the long journey to celebrate my son. The barren north offers scant hospitality, so I beg your indulgence. With that, enjoy your time."
With his brief address concluded, Bacchus and Elena took their seats and gave a nod. Right on cue, a young man entered, following the same path the Carviot family had taken.
Wearing unassuming light armor and gauntlets, along with a perfectly tailored black uniform that left no gaps, the impeccable youth strode forward with his glossy black hair swaying.
Snap!
The young man—Jerome—arrived before Bacchus and slowly dropped to one knee.
"Jerome, congratulations. Though your body may depart from here, you are a proud son of the Shield Family. Never forget that fact, and make Olivia prosper for the sake of the kingdom."
"I am at a loss for words before the royal family's grace, which so highly values this foolish son's meager achievements. I shall do my utmost not to bring shame upon the family name."
As the formal pleasantries and humble words were exchanged, the rigidly tense atmosphere began to thaw bit by bit.
"Congratulations, Baron!"
"Haha, thank you."
As I started tiring from responding one by one to the surging waves of well-wishers, some familiar faces approached.
Marquis Midas, Set, and Aria.
"Haha! Thanks to you, I can head home with my face intact. Much obliged."
"Come now, you can't thank me already. I haven't given my answer yet."
"What? Hahaha!"
Marquis Midas seemed to dismiss it as mere jest, apparently not suspecting I'd ask for anything more. But he was mistaken.
"Jerome, thanks to the world tree root you sent, my mentor's condition has stabilized—no further decline. I wouldn't even know where to begin repaying this favor. If there's anything the Vulcan Marquis family can do, just say the word."
Oh my, Set had walked right into it without needing a summons.
"Lady Aria, long time no see. Care to glance over there?"
"Long time indeed, and straight to the point with wha— Huh?! Th-that person. C-could she be?!"
Aria had inwardly pouted at my abrupt suggestion without proper greetings, but the moment she spotted the woman standing behind me, every trace of sulk vanished from her mind.
"That's right—Ikenia Kingdom's magical genius, Princess Seira van Ikenia. Allow me to intro—"
"I, uh, excuse me for a moment!"
No point in offering introductions after all.
The banquet had barely begun, and yet things were proceeding smoothly, just as Dwayne and I had planned.
"Congratulations, Young Master. Or should I say, Baron now."
Finally, a knight with a familiar face approached, offering a slow smile and his greetings.
"Ah? Sir Yorn! You're Sir Yorn, aren't you?"
"Haha, yes. I'm honored you remember."
The knight was none other than Yorn, the one who had desperately tried to protect Prince Peter during the Holy Empire's raid.
"I heard King Peter van Sharon has ascended the throne. I should have gone to offer my congratulations in person."
"Hahaha, no need. His Majesty surely knows your sentiments. Once more, my heartfelt congratulations."
We exchanged handshakes and well-wishes. Amid the natural flow of pleasantries, a single sheet of crisp white paper slipped into Yorn's grasped hand.
Yorn's eyes gleamed faintly as he felt the paper's texture, but he smoothly tucked it into his pocket without a hitch.
"I do hope we maintain 'frequent' exchanges going forward, deepening our bond."
"Of course, haha."
Sir Yorn concluded with brief greetings and well-wishes before naturally drifting away. With him being from the royal family, drawing extra attention already, lingering too long might spark needless suspicions and rumors.
As the banquet hall's atmosphere gradually ripened—each step carefully painting the picture per Dwayne's plan—an unexpected guest arrived at the grand hall.
Creeeak!
Having entered right as the banquet was hitting its lively stride, the gazes of every noble present naturally converged.
"……!!"
The nobles' eyes widened to their absolute limit upon identifying the guest.
Thud!
Just a single step forward, yet everyone in the hall could hear it—as if it echoed right beside their ears.
A silence so profound that even a dropped spoon would reverberate through the hall. There were many reasons for this hush.
The guest's status was far from lowly, but more than that, no one could have imagined this person showing up here as a mere 'guest'. Of course, the guest's own formidable reputation played a part as well.
The guest said nothing, simply walking onward. Yet, as if by prior agreement, the nobles ahead parted to either side like a splitting sea.
It must feel something like this when the waters part. And at the end of that path stood my father.
"…Well now. An esteemed guest graces us."
Father too began walking slowly toward the guest.
The two met at the center of the grand banquet hall.
The guest and father embraced fiercely without a word.
"Haha! Count Carviot, I'm wounded. A joyous occasion like this, and you didn't invite me? Have we grown so distant?"
"It's been too long, Duke Dmitri. I trust you've been well?"
The guest's identity was Braum van Dmitri—the lord of the Sword Family.
Click!
As the man standing before the puppet moved like a scene from a dance painting, the two puppets—which could pass for the world's most priceless dolls—wove graceful arcs through the air.
Once the man's dance concluded, the two puppets softly settled to either side of him.
"Hmm…."
Saladin, the man who had finished his dance, furrowed his brow as if something dissatisfied him.
"That was flawless to my eyes. What's not to like?"
Even to me, the movements had been perfection itself, yet I couldn't fathom why he'd been like this since yesterday.
"After sprinkling that much salt and operating them, Mimi's right knee joint creaks just a tad. Olivia's coastal, so it'll be humid and salty—gotta practice ahead of time."
…That flawless display had been under salted conditions?
'Just how much money did he pour into this?'
When it came to Mimi and Nene, Saladin's obsession was downright terrifying. Both the fixation and the funds he lavished on their improvements.
"Enough already. Time to get ready—we're leaving soon."
At my words, Saladin halted whatever he was doing(?) to Nene's knee.
"Ah, already? Time flies when you're resting, sniff."
"No incidents even during the spring festival. You've lazed enough—time to work, man."
"Who lazed?! It was because you insisted on calling the princess… Mommy!"
Saladin, who had been dawdling to avoid preparing, freaked out and hurriedly scooped up Mimi and Nene before bolting from the training ground.
His reaction alone told me who had arrived behind me.
"…Princess, aren't you bullying Saladin a bit much?"
"Oh my, Baron. But it's so entertaining. Don't you tease Young Master Saladin all the time too?"
I couldn't help but chuckle at the princess's retort. It was an irrefutable fact, leaving no room for rebuttal.
"Well, fair enough. Anyway, have you finished your preparations, Princess?"
"Of course. Lady Aria and I have already planned out the lab setup."
The two, whom I'd introduced at the banquet, had stayed up all night chatting magic like they'd been friends for life.
Aria had naturally dispatched a messenger to the Wendinel Duke family, requesting to continue her research alongside Princess Seira.
Set had agreed to tag along without complaint. In a way, he seemed excited to blow off the stress he'd endured back in the Osiris Kingdom right here.
'Marquis Midas and Sir Yorn must have arrived by now.'
I'd sent letters to both Sir Yorn and Marquis Midas. The actions were the same, but their reactions would differ sharply.
Sir Yorn resolute, Marquis Midas exploding in frustration.
Stepping out the inner castle's main gate alongside Princess Seira, I saw that our group was no longer the modest party from the spring festival—instead, a large contingent was preparing to depart.
Prance!
Beskin, the Ice Knight, led over two horses with a steady gait.
"Baron, Princess. Please mount."
"Mm."
"Hehe! Thank you."
From horseback, I scanned Beskin and the Blizzard Knight Order.
Every one of them radiated a sharpened edge to their presence. By now, they understood why we'd endured those endless, inexplicable shipboard drills on Lake Dozmarie for so long.
Trusting solely in me, no less. For such men, a word of praise was the least I could offer.
Beskin, meeting my gaze last, nodded as if reading my intent.
"Blizzard Knight Order!!"
My booming shout drew every eye from the knights.
"Thank you for faithfully following those baffling drills without question! I'll prove it—your choice to follow me was never wrong! And I promise you this—your name shall echo across the entire continent!"
"Waaaaah!!"
I shouted as I rode past the Blizzard Knight Order roaring their cheers in response.
"Let's go! Away from Banten, to the new stage where we'll make our name shine! Hya!"
Thundering hooves!
Led by Jerome, the procession bound for Olivia streamed out through Banten's outer walls in orderly ranks.
From every corner of the inner castle, many watched their departure.
"Jerome, so you're the one forging ahead first, after all."
Ares smiled as he gazed out the window, momentarily setting aside his mountain of documents.
"As Father says, I'm too rigid and inflexible. I could never match your bold ideas."
Twirl!
Tearing his gaze from the window, Ares sat before the pile of papers and took up his pen once more.
"But when it comes to holding Banten together, I'll do better than you."
Thus, he would lead Banten flawlessly. A sturdy pillar ready to support his brother's audacious strides at any moment.
Scratch, scratch!
In the vast office, only the sound of Ares's pen echoed.
"Hmph. Hogging all the dramatic flair right up to the end."
Mercy snorted from where she lay sprawled, dust-covered, in the training ground—having heard Jerome's shout.
"Haha, Second Miss. Tired already?"
Arandal, leaning casually on his scabbard before her with a leisurely smile, asked in return.
"Well, if you're worn out, we can call it here for today. But at this rate, it'll be hard to keep up with Third Young Master—no, the Baron's—proposal, won't it?"
His provocative words flipped Mercy's glare.
"Damn it! Here we go again, you old geezer!"
"Ah, old geezer…."
Mercy charged once more, her words striking a deeper wound to Arandal's heart than to his body.
"…He's gone."
Elena von Carviot glanced out the window, leaving behind the room filled with intricate geometric diagrams.
Through her third son, she had realized just how much her narrow perspective and preconceptions had caused her to overlook.
And that small epiphany had guided her long-stagnant circle to a slightly higher realm.
"…I need to wrap this up before returning to the Magic Tower. This family must remain at the pinnacle, always."
As the home she returned to from the tower—and the haven her son would come back to.