Chapter 205
Chapter 205
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 205
Chapter Title: Braum's Warning
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Inner castle reception room. In that very room, built to offer the finest view of the Dragon Mountains' majestic peaks, two men watched Jerome depart.
Clink!
Among the two men sharing tea in silence, the one with the particularly prominent Kaiser mustache—Duke Braum van Dmitry—was the first to set down his cup.
"Hahaha! What a stirring speech, truly heartwarming. Your third son has grown into quite the fine young man. A model for child-rearing, if ever there was one."
Unlike the other envoys, Braum had remained even after Jerome's celebratory banquet had concluded.
It was an unusual move, rare for typical envoys, yet no one questioned his actions.
Braum was the sort of man whose deeds themselves became justification.
"……."
The man across from Braum, Bacchus, offered no reply. He simply sipped his tea in silence and glanced out the window.
"Tsk tsk. Here I am, an old friend visiting after so long to celebrate your son's milestone, and you won't say a word. Is this any way to behave?"
He sounded almost like a child sulking, revealing a casual demeanor, but Bacchus wasn't fooled by Braum's facade.
He knew Braum's true intentions far too well for that.
"…If you'd truly come to celebrate my son, I'd have welcomed you with open arms."
After a long silence, Bacchus finally spoke.
Their manner of conversation differed greatly from the formal tone at the banquet hall days earlier.
Publicly, they were the two pillars upholding the kingdom, but privately, they were irreplaceable friends and comrades who had shared ideals since their youth.
"Oh dear, how hurtful. My desire to congratulate Jerome is utterly sincere, without a shred of deceit."
"Sincere, you say…."
At Braum's words, Bacchus finally set down his cup.
"Then why did you do it?"
The question carried layers of meaning.
"Hmm, I'm not sure what you mean."
"……."
Braum feigned ignorance, but seeing Bacchus's unchanged stern expression, he chuckled softly.
"So many deeds, it's hard to pinpoint. Which one? Kidnapping the elf princess and handing her over to Mercardo? Or smuggling a drake into the capital to assassinate Baron Carviot during the spring festival?"
The drake incident had been hushed up by the royal family at the time, but Braum assumed Bacchus knew—of course he did. Like Braum, Bacchus had his own intelligence network. There was no hiding it, so better to address it head-on.
"All of it. Without a valid reason, I can only assume you're treating me as an enemy."
Rumble…!
The air in the reception room grew heavy under Bacchus's aura.
Most would struggle to even breathe, but Braum was no ordinary man.
"Goodness, I truly have no idea why you're so angry."
Braum calmly lifted his teacup, which trembled faintly under the pressure, and took another sip before speaking evenly.
"I do regret using you to trap the royals. But that Baron Carviot thwarted my plans time and again. The Philador wheat imports, rescuing the elf princess… and he even humiliated my eldest son."
"For merely obstructing your schemes, you tried to kill my son? A friend's son!"
"Merely that was reason enough!"
Thud!
Braum slammed down his cup, cutting off Bacchus's outburst.
"More than sufficient cause for punishment. Who do you think I am? Have I ever spared those who interfere with my work?"
Braum's eyes gleamed coldly, devoid of the warmth and love for the kingdom that had once filled them in his youth.
"…Braum. Why have you changed like this? You weren't like this before."
"That's just the folly of our ignorant youth."
Braum averted his gaze from Bacchus's sorrowful eyes.
"Two pillars propping up the throne—fine words. But pillars can never become the roof. You're nothing but a meat shield buying time for the royals' escape. I'm just a butcher's knife to carve away their threats. Why must we settle for that? We, who surpass the royals by far—why!"
"Braum."
"Enough. My resolve was set long ago."
Swish!
Braum cut Bacchus off and rose to his feet.
"You asked why I came to Banten?"
"……?"
"To assess the 'enemy.' When it was just your son, I held back out of friendship. But now he's claimed a fief and built his house—he's Baron Carviot, head of a noble family."
Bacchus's face hardened as he grasped Braum's implication.
"Let me be clear: the south is my domain, marked by my influence. If Baron Carviot interferes again, I promise you—as one family head to another—I won't let it slide."
"Braum!! Are you truly ready to make an enemy of me?!"
Braum remained composed despite Bacchus's shout.
"No, you can't move while the Holy Empire looms. You must protect your precious kingdom. If you step away, their radiance will sweep south, won't it?"
Turn!
Braum pivoted toward the door, speaking his final words without looking back.
"Focus on guarding this grand kingdom of yours. Come to think of it, don't we share the same goal? Making this land more prosperous. That's my greater cause as well."
"……!!"
As Braum departed, Bacchus stared blankly at the door.
"…That's not it, Braum. The prosperity you once envisioned wasn't this."
The prosperity of their youth meant the royals and two pillar families uniting to enrich the land—not a sword family lording over the throne in tyranny.
Braum's congratulations to Jerome had surely been genuine.
But afterward, he'd called him 'Baron Carviot.'
A deliberate distinction, treating him as separate. Bacchus understood the intent all too well.
"…The old you wouldn't have treated Jerome that way."
When Jerome was young and talentless, Braum had worried over him like a father—more than Bacchus himself.
Bacchus couldn't hide his bitterness at his changed comrade.
How long did he sit there?
When Bacchus opened his eyes, resolve burned within them.
Braum thought he could touch Jerome without repercussion, assuming Bacchus wouldn't move. True—for the man he'd been.
"Touch my son, and you'll pay dearly. Without fail."
With Karma and Lampang, Braum couldn't easily threaten his son even if he tried. Still, Bacchus resolved: if needed, he'd wage war on the sword family.
Time changed more than just Braum.
How long had they galloped along the well-maintained highway toward Elrunheim? Soon, the road's end and Elrunheim's border came into view.
Checking just in case, he scanned for blockades on merchant traffic like last time—none. If anything, passage seemed smoother than before.
'The elders must have turned over a new leaf after the incident.'
Naturally so—they'd been scolded by the World Tree and lost dear friends akin to brothers after eons together.
"My, this spring's warmth has the herbs in excellent condition. We can offer a higher grain ratio than usual."
"Grain's fine, but thin clothes this time. The spring weather suggests a hot summer ahead."
"Ho, indeed. Then, as you say, Elder… Huh?"
At Elrunheim's border, a young man—Met, Junior Baron—negotiating trade items with a red-haired elf spotted him.
"Baron! What brings you here…? Ah, you're already departing. My apologies for not noticing sooner."
Everyone in Banten knew Jerome was heading to Olivia. Met berated himself for forgetting.
"No matter, Junior Baron Met. It means you've been diligently at work. Impressive."
"Haha! I'm just grateful you see it that way."
As their brief pleasantries ended, the red-haired elf before Met joined in.
"It's been a while, human. Or rather, Baron Carviot."
"Elder Tristan, good to see you. I hope you've been well?"
The red-haired elf was Tristan, the elder who'd most vehemently advocated Elrunheim's isolationism.
Jerome hadn't expected him handling trade personally.
"You've taught this old elf much. I heard you're heading south. Rest assured, we'll ship goods to your territory without delay."
Extend!
Tristan offered his hand—a clear handshake gesture. Startled by the drastic change in such short time, Jerome hesitated briefly.
But he grasped it firmly. Tristan's eyes revealed genuine inner transformation, not mere show.
"Your words reassure me greatly, Elder. Though the distance grows, let's maintain our good relations."
"Of course. The ships stocked along your west coast? Elder Ibein checks them daily—prime condition, ready to sail anytime."
'Even an elder managing the ships personally?'
Ibein, the one who commanded supreme water spirits.
Managed by her, no need to inspect further.
"Oh, before you go, stop by Alfheim. The princess has surely missed you."
With the Sharon Kingdom matter pending a request anyway, Tristan even assigned a guide—thoughtful as ever.
"Safe travels. I have more to discuss with Junior Baron Met."
Tristan returned to Met.
Seeing the elder's complete turnaround, Jerome felt confident about Banten-Elrunheim trade.
With quiet relief, he reached Alfheim, where Millia and Ash greeted him.
"Welcome, Young Master Jerome. Or should I say Baron now?"
"Jerome, you've risen high. Congratulations."
Jerome waved off their teasing.
"Agh, just more work. You climbed up there too, Millia—surely you get it."
"Hohoho, can't argue with that."
With great power comes responsibility. Even with elders supporting her actively, Millia couldn't slack.
"I'm sorry to burden our busy princess further…."
"No, please, Baron Carviot—just let me hop on a ship and go?"
Millia grimaced at his leading words.
"Not a bad deal for you, Millia. Especially you, Ash—you'll love it."
"…What're you on about?"
As curiosity piqued them, Jerome laid out the first sketch of his plan.
"Remember the Sharon Kingdom?"
"……!!"
Millia and Ash's faces stiffened.
"…Of course. Not a fond memory."
"Prince Peter, who helped you then, has ascended the throne."
"…Prince Peter?"
Millia's frozen expression softened with wistful longing.
Elves relied on merchants for external news, blind to events beyond Banten.
"King Peter now. And he wants to dismantle Mercardo, the source of your bad memories."
Grind!
Ash's teeth ground at 'Mercardo.'
Millia's vulgar auction display was trauma for him.
"Will you help?"
At Jerome's calm query, Millia gave a hollow laugh.
"Sneaky, Baron. Bringing this up and asking? You know my answer."
Her gaze turned to Ash, who replied instantly.
"Ranger unit ready to deploy anytime."
"I'll ask the Lycanthropes too. Baukalrak owes Mercardo as well."
Millia nodded in agreement.
"Right. Baukalrak would feel left out. He's been grumbling about Death Valley's confines daily."
Ah, right—Lycanthrope chieftain Lugal had sent the young ones to the Dragon Mountains' north.
'They must be much stronger now.'
"Coordinate schedules with the Lycanthropes and let me know. You're already planning, right?"
"Haha, naturally."
"Heading north right away then?"
"No, first…."
Jerome shook his head slowly at Millia's question.
"I have some loose ends to tie up."
In the central region just above Elrunheim—the orcs' land now.