Chapter 42
Chapter 42
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Spring Festival Intrigue
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'These guys have really put their heads together.'
As expected of my blood kin who vied with me for control of the Shield Family in my past life.
They're not planning to just roll over and hand it to me, huh.
Of course not. If they had any brains, they wouldn't just sit on their hands sucking their thumbs in a situation like this.
The Spring Festival isn't some short affair, given its purpose and the caliber of attendees.
While I'm wasting time on this pointless event, they'll methodically turn the tables.
And damn it, they even have the justification locked down.
They've already attended the Spring Festival in the past.
This time, they'd argue, the youngest needs to make his debut in high society.
Plus, they're volunteering to clear out monsters on the pretext of securing trade with the elves—a potential feather in the cap for the little brother.
On the surface, how righteous does that sound? No grounds to refuse.
Of course, the real goal is to cozy up to the elves while approaching the Beast Woods and quietly snatch the trade deal with Minerva out from under me.
"Well, pioneering the Dragon Mountains sounds like a hassle anyway. Think of this as a nice vacation during the Spring Festival."
Father watched my reaction closely even as he spoke.
He was dying to know how I'd respond. Fine, I'd give him one.
"If big brother and big sister are going out of their way to look out for their little brother, how could I refuse? I'll gladly go."
In the spot where the third son had departed, Bacchus gazed out the window at Jerome slipping out through the first floor.
"Heh, the Third Young Master never acts the way we expect."
Arandal, the Light Knight guarding Bacchus, predictably brought up Jerome as always.
"You've been taking a real interest in Jerome lately."
"Haha, caught me? But it seems you're just as intrigued, my lord."
Arandal's nonchalance made Bacchus's brow twitch ever so slightly.
"Hmm... His reaction tells me he knows exactly what the eldest or second wants. It's not ignorance."
When Bacchus had told Jerome to attend the Spring Festival, he'd watched the boy's response with keen interest.
Even when others were already revising their opinions of Jerome, Bacchus's test hadn't ended.
Had the third son seen through the hidden motives of his elder siblings' scheme?
And if so, how would he act?
Jerome had reacted to Bacchus's test in a completely unexpected way.
Bacchus hadn't missed the brief furrow in Jerome's brow.
That meant he'd definitely caught on to his brother and sister's plan.
But the frown lasted only a moment. Jerome accepted with surprising ease and announced he'd head to the capital.
That ambiguous attitude kept piquing Bacchus's curiosity.
"Can't figure him out at all. Not one bit."
Bacchus grumbled, but a smile danced in his eyes.
Leaving Father's study behind, I headed straight for the training grounds first.
"Hyaah!"
"Urrah!"
At the training grounds, Beskin was drilling the Blizzard Knight Order hard.
My knights always looked so reliable, no matter when I saw them.
And among the knights training with Beskin was one showing slightly unfamiliar movements.
"Grrraaah!"
200 gold... no, it was Baukarak.
"Hahaha! Excellent, just excellent! So this is the power of a lycanthrope!"
As Beskin, thrilled by the new stimulus(?), swung his sword again—
"Oh? Third Young Master!"
Knight Sherry One spotted me and greeted me warmly.
I wasn't sure if it was because he was happy to see me or just relieved to catch a break from getting pummeled like dough by Beskin's blade.
Sherry One's shout halted training momentarily, and Beskin approached to ask,
"Third Young Master, did your business go well? By any chance..."
Beskin trailed off, unable to finish, but I fully understood his concern.
"Yeah, it's all sorted. Don't worry—just prepare to depart for the capital. Time's tight before the Spring Festival."
"In the end..."
Beskin frowned upon hearing about the festival, but I just gave him a sly smile.
"...Do you have some kind of plan, perhaps?"
Noting my demeanor, Beskin asked cautiously.
"Plan? Come on. Why turn down big brother and big sister handing the little brother a golden opportunity on a platter?"
I just played it coy.
Sensing something in my attitude, Beskin nodded curtly before turning to the Blizzard Knight Order and bellowing,
"Blizzard Knight Order! All hands, prepare to move out! The Third Young Master heads for the capital's festival!"
"Grr? If humans go, I go too!"
Baukarak barked back in response to Beskin's command.
Next stop: the guest quarters.
I sought out Miron first.
"Miron, I'm heading to the capital soon. Keep up your training with Frenzy even without me. Stick with it, and you'll be strong enough to protect your sister like you want."
Miron shook his head quietly.
"Young Master, my growth is thanks to you. I want to follow you."
"Kid."
I ruffled Miron's hair enthusiastically for his loyal words.
As I pulled my hand away, Miron smoothed his tousled locks and asked tentatively,
"But what about my sister...?"
Miron was still all worry for Misha. His sibling devotion brought an unwitting smile to my face.
"Don't sweat it. After the capital, I'll swing by the Beast Woods and pick her up. Provided you've trained diligently, of course?"
Miron's eyes lit up at my words.
"Y-Yes! I'll train till my body breaks!"
Ah, no need to go breaking yourself.
Saladin, in the room next door, peeked out at my voice, then quietly turned to leave.
But I wasn't letting him slip away. I grabbed his shoulder as he turned.
"Where you off to?"
"Uh, no. Just got a sudden flash of inspiration for improving Mimi and Nene. Haha."
"Haha."
Saladin and I faced each other and laughed. I didn't release his shoulder, though.
"Let go already?"
"Nah, later."
I dragged him along, gripping his shoulder.
"You bastard, why do you keep dragging me around like this? I'm busy tweaking Mimi and Nene!"
"Oh?"
"What 'oh'? You rotten punk! I'm swamped!"
"Ah."
"Kyaaah!!"
The road to the capital is long—can't leave our cute Saladin behind.
Why does making him suffer feel so damn good?
Ah, thrilling.
Time is fair to everyone. No matter how harsh the trials come one after another, they eventually pass.
This truth held for the Ikenia Kingdom as well.
After a brutal winter that starved the crops, spring arrived right on cue in the capital, Edirne.
Or perhaps because the winter had been so agonizing, it felt even more welcome.
To soothe the people's hearts, Ikenia rolled out especially warm policies this spring.
One was expanding the annual festivals to grand spectacles.
The national treasury opened wide for once, and the populace praised the royal family.
In line with this, the Spring Festival—a gathering for noble heirs—was being prepared on an unprecedented scale.
"Hey, you! That chandelier's crooked! Get your heads in the game!"
"Yes, sir!"
At the festival preparations, royal officials wrestled with workers to ensure no detail escaped scrutiny.
The reason was simple: the overseer this year was different.
His Majesty the King was the most noble, but next was this person personally handling it all.
"How's the prep coming along?"
"Argh, can't you see we're swamped? Who—Gasp! Y-Your Highness!"
The prickly low-ranking official checking the site whirled at the tap on his shoulder, then dropped to his knees in shock.
"Haha, no need for that. Just checking in. Thanks for working so hard—it's like it's your own affair."
Prince Julius von Ikenia took the official's hand and helped him up personally.
"Not much time left—keep pushing, alright?"
He left warm encouragement before moving to the next site.
"Your Highness...!!"
The official, visibly moved, bowed deeply toward Julius's retreating back and shouted,
"We'll make it perfect, I swear!"
This scene repeated wherever Julius went in the palace.
The low-ranks swelled with emotion at the prince gracing their grueling work with encouragement.
But for Julius, it wasn't just motivation.
This Spring Festival was 'special' enough to warrant his personal oversight.
Publicly, it was just a celebration for the famine-weary masses and nobles.
Internally, it was more about flaunting the royal family's enduring strength.
Thus, the royals spared no effort, with Julius at the helm.
"First time since winter reports... a few months now? Hope he's well."
Politics aside, Julius thought of one boy—no, young man now—in that ambiguous position.
"What a heartless friend. Not a single letter all winter."
And after scarfing down that much gold, the nerve.
The Shield Family's reply listed their attendee for the festival.
Julius eagerly anticipated reuniting with his benefactor—the rather troublesome one.
But the excitement faded as his brow furrowed.
"Tch. Just hope that idiot doesn't screw things up."
Thinking of the one who always caused chaos at these festivals gave him a headache.
Julius prayed fervently for a trouble-free event this time.
"No, something's bound to blow up. Whatever it is."
Saladin chuckled with a look of resignation.
"Heh heh. Now you're assuming trouble as the baseline."
"Obviously. That's why I'm dragging you along."
"Are you actually insane?"
Compared to the journeys to Philador Kingdom or Mercador, the road to Edirne was practically a pleasure cruise.
No marathon monster brawls like to Philador.
No time crunch like to Mercador.
That's why Saladin had said,
'This trip should be smooth sailing.'
Fat chance.
In some ways, it might be the trickiest trek yet.
"Whatever, handle it your way. But seriously, you good?"
Saladin asked with uncharacteristic gravity.
"The Spring Festival drags on forever. What if your siblings pull off the elf trade while you're gone?"
As Viscount Edwin's son, Saladin saw through our siblings' scheme.
"About to have the soup snatched from under your nose, and you're this chill?"
True. It was the obvious play. The issue was we couldn't refuse on principle.
But I hadn't agreed just for that.
"That soup won't be so easy to steal."
"Hm?"
I recalled the Forest Queen Minerva. Another name for her: simply,
"You're underestimating the elves' queen. She sees anyone not worthy of her acknowledgment as bugs."
Her loftiness let her rule those barren lands for decades, centuries with her kin.
"Even Father—top genius of the Shield Family—struggled for her approval in his youth. Think my siblings can manage it in the short Spring Festival window? Dream on."
I grinned mischievously.
"Mark my words: brother and sister will bust their asses for nothing on my behalf. We'll just waltz back and use the path they've paved."
Saladin stared at me like I was the devil incarnate.
"Whoa... Satan himself would weep. Wait, hold up."
Suddenly curious, Saladin asked,
"If you're right, the elf trade's safe. So why expect trouble?"
I stared back at him.
"You've been to the Spring Festival. You really don't know?"
"...Ah, right."
Saladin nodded as realization dawned.
The wise king of our era, Horn von Ikenia, had two children including Prince Julius.
Seira von Ikenia.
A genius mage who hit 4th circle in her twenties, heir to the royal blood's wisdom.
But her image clashed wildly with the upstanding Julius.
The wild second princess with a rap sheet including singeing Father's beard and Sword Family head Braum's hair at a kingdom banquet as a child.
No noble heir at past Spring Festivals escaped her pranks unscathed.
They hushed it up for noble face, but Saladin's sour expression showed he remembered something.
"But how do you know about Princess Seira when you've never been?"
"Who among Ikenia's nobles doesn't know her stories? Word gets around."
"Fair enough..."
Saladin bought it and moved on.
Truth was, I knew her for other reasons.
Now Julius was the royal pride, Seira the headache.
But crisis reveals true nature, they say.
In my past life, shortly after wise King Horn's futile death in the power struggle with the Sword Family.
While Julius handed the kingdom to the Holy Empire's monster emperor Ibarella and crushed the Sword Family in the worst bargain,
wild-child Seira stepped up as the royal core, leading resistance to the Holy Empire till her final breath.
Her moniker then: Thunder Mage.
Peer to Viscount Wendinel, the Crimson Flame Mage who killed me.
Not in my Stigma Mercenary Corps, but she led a resistance rivaling it.
How could I leave such a powerhouse alone?
One issue, though.
'No clue what crazy stunt she'll pull.'
Even in her wild days, her forces' paths crossing mine nearly spelled disaster more than once.
Plus, this Spring Festival was off-script from original history.
No way it'd pass without incident.
But who am I?
I overcame famine and elf woes.
This'll sort itself too.
See? That clear sky mirrors my bright future ahead...
BOOM!!
"Ah, fuck. Nearly jumped out of my skin."
"A bolt from the bluest sky—what gives?"
Saladin and Beskin griped.
Hm.
Coincidence, probably?