Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: The Lord's Resolve
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Swish, swish.
A day that had begun with a meeting and ended in turmoil no one could have anticipated.
Bacchus returned to his study as if nothing had happened, sorted through the documents awaiting his approval, and polished his shield just as he always did.
His demeanor was the very picture of the unshakeable lord of the Shield Family.
"Lord, you've polished that shield so much it's gleaming brighter than ever—it's going to wear right through at this rate. Why don't you take a break and share your thoughts? I'm dying to know."
Arandal, the Light Knight who had always stood by his side, seemed to see things a bit differently.
"What thoughts?"
"You saw the Third Young Master earlier, didn't you?"
Thud.
Bacchus let out a sigh and set his shield down. Judging by the look in his eyes, Arandal wasn't going to let up until he got his say.
"Well, he fights well. Mercy might still be a bit green, but his instincts are sharper than Ares's, that's for sure."
"That's not what I'm asking."
Arandal thumped his chest in frustration as he spoke.
"The Third Young Master's movements. That was definitely Pankration. And at a pretty advanced level, too. When the hell did he train in bare-knuckle fighting...?"
Bacchus chuckled at Arandal's words. They'd spent years together—he knew Arandal as well as Arandal knew him.
"That's not all you're wondering about, is it? Earth, that cultivation method, right?"
"Well, I won't deny it. A secret technique that no one but our founding ancestor ever mastered—how on earth...? Did you teach him, my lord?"
It was a question tossed out in the assumption that it must be true. Earth was notoriously difficult, and more importantly, it didn't suit the family's constitution.
Arandal had figured the lord must have spotted the Third Young Master's potential and personally guided him through it with care.
But contrary to Arandal's expectations, Bacchus shook his head.
"Not at all. I didn't teach him a thing. If anything, if he'd told me he was learning Earth, I would've tried to talk him out of it. A boy who hasn't even fully mastered Wood Spirit—it's hard to expect him to handle that method properly."
Bacchus's eyes sparkled for the first time in ages.
"That's what makes it so intriguing. How did he learn Pankration? And how did Earth reach that boy?"
Bacchus recalled the conversation he'd had with his third son just moments ago.
-Your movements while sparring with Mercy. If my eyes didn't deceive me, that was definitely Pankration.
His third son hadn't offered a single excuse in response to the question.
-Yes, that's right. And the mana circulation I used was Earth.
'Hoh, Earth combined with Pankration. Interesting. How did you come up with that?'
...He'd wanted to ask.
But in the end, Bacchus held back.
An heir aiming for the lordship of the Shield Family had to find his own path.
Those who needed everything spoon-fed to them could never become masters of this land.
"From what I hear, even Beskin was completely won over."
"Well, that was predictable."
"I never imagined he'd capture the heart of that proud bastard on just his first mission... So, what do you plan to do?"
Arandal's question was brief, but its implications were weighty.
"What else? He's proven his worth. A bit of friendly rivalry only gets better the fiercer it burns."
Bacchus gazed out the window at the chill seeping in from outside.
Banten Territory in the north of the Ikenia Kingdom saw winter come early, and before long, snow was beginning to fall.
Which meant winter was fast approaching in earnest.
"The candidates for head of the Shield Family. The three of them will keep competing from here on out."
Bacchus's curt declaration was also an acknowledgment of the third son, who had thus far only caused headaches.
Half a year had passed since Jerome's return. Much had happened, and much had changed, as his first winter drew to a close.
The Ikenia Kingdom was said to possess national strength approaching 40% of the Holy Empire's.
In other words, even the Holy Empire, which dominated the continent, would have to brace for heavy losses to reduce Ikenia to ashes.
The reason the Ikenia Kingdom—leader of the continental alliance standing against the Holy Empire—shone so brilliantly was thanks to the royal family and two great houses.
The Carviot Count family: Ikenia's left arm and shield of protection.
The Dmitri Duke family: Ikenia's right arm and sword of judgment.
And the Ikenia royal family: the crown of wisdom, Ikenia's head.
Within the kingdom, the Dmitri Duke family held sway, while the Carviot Counts stood firm at the borders, both offering absolute loyalty to the crown.
As a result, the Ikenia Kingdom had grown steadily for a full millennium.
In the capital city of Edirne, a metropolis steeped in a thousand years of history and culture.
At its heart stood Audra Palace, home to the core bloodline of the Ikenian royals.
In the center of the grand throne room, a man sat listlessly, propping his chin on his hand.
This was the most noble figure in the Ikenia Kingdom: King Horn van Ikenia, the Wise King.
Groooowl.
Even his stomach rumbled with regal authority, the thunderous growl echoing through the hall.
"Damn it, the rice worms in my gut are howling for food."
As King Horn patted his belly and smacked his lips,
Bang!!
The doors to the throne room flew open, and a man strode boldly up to the king.
It was behavior rude enough to warrant instant execution, but neither the king nor the man seemed particularly bothered.
"Father! You haven't been eating properly again, have you?!"
And rightly so—this was Julius van Ikenia, the king's only second son and the prince who would inherit the throne.
"Tch. You'll shatter my eardrums, boy."
King Horn plugged his ears, clearly fed up with his son's nagging.
"Why do you keep doing this at your age?! If you're that close to kicking the bucket, just hand over the crown now, Father!"
"Son. That line's dangerous. In more ways than one."
Whether due to the risky words or something else, King Horn lowered his hand from his ear and eyed Julius.
"What choice do I have? Signs of famine are cropping up everywhere. Reports of poor harvests are pouring in from all sides—how can a king gorge himself while his people starve? How would he empathize with their suffering?"
"There's Philador Kingdom! They hoard years' worth of grain. They must have enough to tide us over."
King Horn slowly shook his head at Julius's words.
"Tch tch, son. That's exactly why I haven't passed the throne to you yet. Does Philador have no people? This famine won't spare just us. The other alliance kingdoms will be starving too—think Philador has surplus grain lying around?"
"...Then buy up whatever extra grain the southern territories have! Not as much as Philador, but surely the south has some reserves!"
"Think that damned Dmitri will leave the south alone?"
"...!!"
Julius could only grit his teeth at the king's retort. Since when had it started?
The once-ironclad bond between crown, sword, and shield beginning to crack.
Or more precisely,
The Shield Family guarding the north was fine, but a deep rift had formed between the crown and the Sword Family in the center.
Truth be told, it was only natural.
Ikenia's geography boxed it in—no expansion north or east. West and south ended in the sea, but that sea belonged to the Punish Archipelago.
A millennium of built-up power was bursting at the seams. The fact that nothing had boiled over yet was the real miracle.
Up to here, it could pass for typical power struggles between king and vassals.
But the problem was that the crown was losing ground to the Sword Family. And by a wide margin.
In this ongoing uphill battle, if they fell behind even in managing famine-stricken public sentiment, the collapse would be irreversible.
Watching Julius's reaction, King Horn slowly spoke.
"Do you want to beat the Sword Family that badly, boy?"
"Beating the Sword Family is a given! The royal family, heart of the kingdom... how can we let ourselves be dragged around by vassals?"
Julius bit his lip, unable to hide his anguish.
How many of his wise and benevolent father's ambitions had been thwarted by that wretched Braum van Dmitri, head of the Sword Family?
Had those plans come to fruition, Ikenia could have leaped to even greater heights.
Julius pitied the years his father had wasted on petty power games.
"Son, there's something you can do."
"...?"
Julius looked up to see his father's expression.
It was no face of surrender.
"Go north. Meet the Third Young Master of the Carviot Count family."
"The Carviot Count family's Third Young Master...? You mean that family's worm? Why meet him?"
King Horn gave Julius a stern reprimand.
"Hey now, watch your tongue. From what I've learned, it was the Carviot Third Young Master who outfoxed the fox of Philador—Marquis Midas—and snatched up all of Nile's grain, leaving the Sword Family high and dry."
"...What? How is that possible?"
"It's solid intel. Doubting what's already happened is for fools."
King Horn rose from his throne and issued a command to Julius, his regal authority impeccable.
"I command Prince Julius: go to the Carviot Count family. Negotiate with the Third Young Master for grain. And confirm with your own eyes whether they remain loyal to the crown... or if they've joined the Sword Family in scorning us."
Julius placed his right hand over his heart and bowed briefly.
"Your will be done, Your Majesty."
"My lord, we've secured surplus grain from five southern territories, including Hamel and Graks. We should be prepared for famine across all our vassal lands before winter hits."
Wolfgang, known as the Sword Family's hunting dog, bowed politely to the man before him.
In all the Ikenia Kingdom, only one man warranted such deference from Wolfgang.
Unlike Bacchus of the Shield Family, he was a middle-aged man of average build—not too tall, not too short.
This unassuming figure was Ikenia's pride: the superhuman Braum van Dmitri.
Braum stroked one side of his neatly trimmed Kaiser mustache as he scanned the documents Wolfgang offered, then frowned at one section.
"I distinctly ordered you to procure grain from all southern territories... Why are Mano and two others missing from the report?"
At Braum's question, Wolfgang bowed apologetically.
"They... owe a debt to the Carviot Third Young Master. They wanted to repay the favor first this time, in case it put them in a bind."
"Ah, right. That mess you botched."
Twitch.
Wolfgang's shoulders jerked slightly, but whether Braum noticed or not, he muttered on.
"You let a golden opportunity to weaken the crown slip away over that. Hmm. While a mere 15-year-old boy hunted a High Orc and claimed Nile's grain... my so-called hunting dog accomplished nothing."
Twitch!
"...When a hound outlives its usefulness, you stew it for meat, no? What do you think, Wolfgang?"
Thud!
Wolfgang dropped to his knees and kowtowed to Braum.
"Please, give me another chance, Your Grace! I have a new plan!"
Braum's eyes gleamed with curiosity.
"Oh? I hate to say it myself, but old Bacchus is a knight through and through, loyal to the kingdom's core. He'll likely send Prince Julius to Banten Territory. Do you have a way to secure the Shield Family's grain ahead of the prince?"
"No, Your Grace's insight is spot on—if the Shield Family meant to yield grain to us, there'd have been no contest to begin with."
"Hmm, so?"
"But our goal was to use the grain as an excuse to weaken the crown's power. So we just need to diminish their strength somehow."
Wolfgang whispered something into Braum's ear.
Braum's lips slowly curled into a grin as he listened.
"Hahaha! Excellent, Wolfgang. Rise. I'll forgive your last blunder."
As Wolfgang stood, Braum dismissed the others and chuckled coldly to himself, murmuring cryptically.
"Heh heh heh! This'll be fun. Very fun. What choice will you make, Bacchus?"
Braum could hardly wait to see what the Shield Family would do next.