Chapter 43
Chapter 43
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Cheers in the Capital
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"Whoa, that's the Poltus family, known for their service under the Sword Family."
"That crest is the southern Hamel family."
"Didn't the Hamels come in with the Graks earlier?"
"You idiot, that was Viscount Edwin's house. No wonder you're clueless after becoming a capital citizen."
The man scolded his companion, who scratched his head sheepishly.
"Hey, it's easy to mix them up. There are so many families flooding into the capital these days."
The Ikenia Kingdom's thousand-year capital, Edirne.
Edirne's streets were packed to the brim with spring outing crowds enjoying the warm weather and locals gawking at the procession of nobles from far and wide.
"The Sword Family's here!"
Someone shouted, and the citizens' heads whipped around in unison.
The Sword Family.
Sharp blades that judged the enemies of this land.
The sturdy right arm upholding the wise royal family of this kingdom.
In truth, the capital citizens had little reason to gawk at noble processions.
These were nobles they saw kicking around every day—what was so special about that?
But the Sword Family was different.
They weren't the kind of people the citizens saw often.
They were existences gazing down loftily from the pinnacle of the kingdom.
That was the Sword Family.
"Waaaaah!"
As the citizens cheered, the window of a carriage bearing the blue eagle crest slid down.
A handsome man waved to the crowd.
The cheers grew even louder in response.
The knight beside him quietly addressed the man inside the carriage.
"Young master, smile more. You look like you've just bitten into a bug."
The man lifted the corner of his mouth and grumbled at the knight's words.
"Damn it, why do they bother with this tiresome parade? This royal family really knows how to kill the mood."
The knight shifted to block the man from view.
Someone might read his lips, after all.
"Eldest young master, please mind your words. We are vassal houses, pillars of the kingdom. It would be disastrous if anyone overheard."
The man snorted at the knight's plea.
"Ha! Having to serve that inferior fool as my future liege—what a ridiculous twist of fate."
He treated Julius like something beneath his feet.
Yet even at such irreverent words, the knight only cautioned restraint, not denying the sentiment itself.
The man was more than qualified to speak that way.
He was the son of the Sword Family's current head, Braum van Dmitri.
Victor van Dmitri.
He didn't stop grumbling despite the knight's words.
"This childish nonsense—I've done it once before. Why send me again, Father?"
Lennon, captain of the Silver Eagle Knights soothing Victor, finally sighed.
"Eldest young master, how many times must I say it? This spring festival isn't just a social event for noble heirs."
Victor furrowed his brow at Lennon's words.
"I've heard that plenty, Lennon. Do you think I'm clueless? Do you really not know why I'm pissed?"
Lennon sighed at Victor's sharp retort.
He'd probably be just as prickly in Victor's shoes.
It was inevitable.
Victor was arrogant and dismissive of others, as befitted a scion of the proud Sword Family—and his talent backed it up.
"If Ares were coming, fine. But me, at this farce? Hah. Even Mercy, that little girl whose blood hasn't even dried, would make more sense."
That was it.
Victor had claimed the heir position early with his overwhelming talent in the Sword Family.
The only one he truly acknowledged was the Shield Family's eldest, Ares.
Of course, he didn't dismiss Mercy entirely. He belittled her as a girl, but her talent was on par with anyone.
But when Victor saw who the Shield Family sent to the spring festival, he doubted his own eyes.
A bug. Jerome.
Yes, a bug.
He'd known it since glimpsing the kid in early childhood.
A. This one's not like us nobles.
A trash heap who could never be seen as a descendant of a prestigious house on par with his own.
Even looking at Ares, of similar age and house, the one thing he'd envied was Mercy.
A blood relative with matching talent, always keeping him on his toes, relentlessly whipping himself forward.
His own siblings had yielded the heir spot early and submitted to him.
That had always been Victor's one regret. But after seeing Jerome, any envy for Ares vanished.
At least his siblings were useful as hands and feet.
That one? Not even that.
A trash heap that made him nauseous just existing.
By comparison, his siblings were splendid "tools."
They even made Victor grateful for his own position without him realizing it.
That was Jerome.
For a bug like that to attend the festival—and for Victor himself to be there too?
It was humiliation in itself.
"What was Father thinking...?"
"Eldest young master, no. The lord selected you because he values you above all."
A voice tried to soothe Victor's complaints, but hearing it only furrowed his brow deeper.
"Shut it, Wolfgang. I don't need advice from a useless mutt like you."
The man called Wolfgang bowed calmly at Victor's icy response.
Baron Wolfgang Lier.
The Sword Family's hunting dog, once bested by Jerome in a grain contest in Philador Kingdom's Nile territory.
"My apologies, eldest young master. But the Shield Family's third young master is hardly the rumor-monger you think..."
He tried again to convince Victor that Jerome wasn't what the rumors said.
"I've known that bug longer and better than you. Covering your own incompetence by hyping a pathetic opponent? Hiding it like that just embarrasses me."
He got only Victor's cold rebuff.
"......"
Seeing further talk would backfire, Wolfgang bowed silently and withdrew.
Victor and Knight Captain Lennon both dismissed the spring festival's importance since Jerome was attending.
But Wolfgang thought differently.
The Shield Family lord wouldn't send Jerome without reason. He knows the third young master has changed.
It was top secret, unrumored in the kingdom, but Wolfgang knew.
Jerome had resolved his elf trap.
How shocked he'd been upon learning that.
He'd thought it inescapable.
Even Ares or Mercy would struggle.
Yet the third son, Jerome, pulled it off.
Braum himself hadn't blamed Wolfgang for it.
He'd called the trap ingenious.
That's why he'd personally sent Victor—and Wolfgang to assist.
Wolfgang gave a wry smile at the sharp-tongued eldest son's reaction.
This won't be easy.
The Jerome he'd seen was no halfwit.
Treating such a foe—with whom caution and elimination were advised—so dismissively?
The eldest doesn't know about Julius and Jerome's bond yet. This elf incident will surely solidify their alliance.
So how to sever that bond?
As Wolfgang pondered, fresh cheers erupted behind the departing Sword Family procession.
The Shield Family must have arrived.
He didn't need to look.
In the current kingdom, only they could rival the Sword Family's cheers.
But Wolfgang was only half right.
It was the Shield Family, yes.
But the cheers surpassed even the Sword Family's.
"It's the Shield Family's Third Young Master!!"
"Waaaaaaaah!!"
In the kingdom's history of spring festivals, had anyone ever received such a massive welcome?
The roar was that enormous.
Twitch.
Even from afar, Victor couldn't miss the difference.
"...Lennon, you're sure Jerome's the one here for the festival?"
"...Yes, I confirmed it myself."
The citizens cheered Jerome relentlessly, heedless of the pair's discomfort.
"Thank you, young master, for delivering grain to His Highness the prince!"
"Blessings on the eternal friendship between the royal family and the Shield Family!"
Victor's brow furrowed deeper at the cheers.
"Chasing a few sacks of wheat like dogs— is that what proud Ikenia citizens look like? No better than beasts."
Lennon corrected him.
"That meager wheat is life itself to them. Nothing wins hearts better."
He then glared at Wolfgang.
"...Those cheers should have been for our house originally. If some fool hadn't botched everything."
"......"
Wolfgang bit his lip and bowed.
He knew why this happened but said nothing.
The grain theft was real, after all.
This can't go on. I have to drive a wedge between the royals and the Shield Family here.
If he achieved nothing again, he'd lose his place in the Sword Family.
Unseen by others, his clenched fist drew blood as nails dug in.
"Wh-what is this? Was your family always this big a deal?"
Saladin asked me, flustered by the overwhelming welcome from the capital citizens.
"What do you mean, Young Master Saladin? The Shield Family is one of the kingdom's top houses. This level of reception is only natural."
Before I could reply, Beskin answered instead, unable to hide his bursting pride in the family.
"St...still, this feels a bit..."
Saladin kept tilting his head skeptically.
When he'd attended the spring festival before, the Shield Family rep was Mercy.
She'd gotten plenty of cheers, befitting her status.
But nothing like this, he recalled.
I waved to the citizens through the carriage window nonstop, ignoring Saladin's doubts.
Each time, hefty cheers boomed back.
I had to reward them with an even brighter smile.
Prince Julius's doing, no doubt.
Unlike clueless Saladin, I had a good idea what happened.
Most would claim the grain procurement as their own achievement.
I'd be buried in the process.
Like how no capital citizen thanked Marquis Midas of Philador for it.
But judging by the reaction, Prince Julius chose differently.
He credited the achievement to me, not the Shield Family.
Father, with eyes and ears everywhere, wouldn't miss the capital's mood.
Perhaps.
Father sending me here might not just be about brother's and sister's plans.
No, it surely was.
Father had ruled Banten absolutely for decades.
He'd grasp the significance of elf trade.
He knew the Forest Queen's arrogance too.
He'd predict brother's and sister's schemes failing.
Which meant.
He sees this spring festival as priority over elf trade.
So what was his true intent?
And how should I act?
As I pondered...
Groooaaaan!
The royal castle's gates swung open.