Chapter 47
Chapter 47
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: The Gauntlet Thrown
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Hmph! Are you trying to pin your own screw-up on me? For an honorable noble like myself to deliberately crash into you? That's a pretty pathetic excuse to cover your mistake!"
Young Master Guren sneered at Gunter, the heir to Jackson territory, who was mounting a defense.
"Ah, well, I suppose. When you're idiots who don't even know what group you're part of. You might not even realize whose fault it was. Can't blame you for lacking judgment. Sorry about that. Let me apologize!"
"Pfft!"
"Heh heh!"
"Haha, Young Master Guren. Isn't that a bit harsh? Go easy on him, go easy."
Gunter bristled at the reactions from the other southern territory nobles, who pretended to rein him in while mocking him.
"You... outrageous...!"
"Enough. Don't."
The one who stopped Gunter from saying more was none other than the man Guren had shoved to the floor.
It was Charles, heir to Viscount Edwin's family and Saladin's younger brother.
"You...!"
"I'm fine. Really, I am."
Charles brushed off the spot where Guren had shoved—no, struck—him, stood up, and forced a smile.
"My apologies, Young Master Guren. I wasn't paying attention. I'd be grateful if you could generously overlook it."
He then bowed his head to the other southern territory nobles as well.
"For causing a disturbance in such a fine gathering, I apologize to everyone else too."
Guren couldn't say another word in the face of Charles's calm apology, despite having insulted him.
"...Hmph! No pride at all. Watch yourself from now on!"
With that, he stalked off to another table with the nobles who had tried to hold him back, as if dusting off his hands.
Even a fool could see what had happened in that exchange.
Sapin, Mano, and Jackson—the three southern territories—were clearly being ostracized.
And quite severely, at that.
'Even so, to show it so openly at an event hosted by the royal family.'
The reason wasn't hard to guess.
It was probably because they hadn't complied with the Sword Family's grain mobilization order.
'The Sword Family's southern nobles are more united than I thought.'
I'd once spoken to Knight Beskin about it after driving off the High Orc Hatan in the past.
He'd said the southern nobles harbored a lot of resentment toward the Sword Family due to their 'ambiguous' geographical position.
But judging from the current situation, the Sword Family had apparently quelled that discontent in some other way.
After all, there's no easier way to manage the inside than by creating an external enemy.
There were ten southern territories in total.
Rather than vaguely holding onto all ten, the Sword Family had chosen to solidly secure seven.
By branding three as 'traitors' to tighten the bonds of the other seven.
A glance at Victor showed him pouring wine for Guren, the one who'd insulted the heirs of those three territories.
'Ah, right. That.'
I was certain now.
Duke Braum might be the one who drew this picture, but Victor clearly wasn't opposing it.
'With Victor's personality, he'd absolutely do something like this.'
A man who'd lived his life high above everyone else since birth—he ruthlessly discarded anything he deemed unworthy of possession.
No noble here was unaware that these three southern territories had received my help.
If I stayed out of it in this situation, the Shield Family's Third Young Master would become a useless cripple who couldn't even lift a finger for his allies.
But if I intervened, they'd use it as an excuse to shake things up.
Too bad for them.
This situation was exactly what I wanted too.
'Shall we play along, then?'
Sitting idly in the banquet hall wasn't my style anyway.
I excused myself from the northern and eastern nobles who'd approached me and slowly made my way over.
Toward Young Master Charles, who had stood up and was brushing off the dust.
The three territory heirs flinched in surprise as I approached them.
"Oh? Young Master Jerome. Do you have business with us?"
Gunter was supporting Charles, so Cain, the heir of Sapin territory whose hands were free, asked me.
Just yesterday, these three had approached me first as if they had something to say.
Yet Cain now acted as if he knew nothing about it, perfectly calm.
Probably because in this delicate situation, he thought I might give them an opening if I said the wrong thing.
I appreciated the consideration, but whether to accept it was my choice.
"No, nothing like that. You just looked like you were in a bit of trouble."
The one who reacted to my answer wasn't Cain of Sapin, but the pig from Poltus territory. Young Master Guren.
"Oh? Young Master Jerome. I don't think this is something for you to step into."
As I looked at Guren, he puffed up with confidence, trusting his backers, and blustered on.
"As everyone saw, Young Master Charles, that idiot, splashed soup on my fine clothes. I merely reprimanded him for his rudeness. That's all."
He then eyed me with impure intent and asked,
"If Young Master Jerome sides with that idiot here... how am I supposed to interpret that?"
He seemed to think his solid backing made him untouchable.
But I ignored the pig—no, Young Master Guren's words entirely and looked toward Victor.
Whether he took the snub as an insult or not, Guren's face flushed beet red.
But that wasn't my concern. His family didn't have the guts to pick a fight with ours anyway.
Victor must have felt my gaze, but he didn't so much as glance our way, as if he had zero interest.
As if this whole affair had nothing to do with him.
But I knew better.
Even as he shared drinks with other nobles, his eyes and ears were on us.
He was probably using this pig—no, Young Master Guren—to gauge me.
'Wants to see how I handle this? Interesting.'
Victor, who was meticulous to a fault despite his arrogance. He was exactly the type to do this.
Well then, maybe I'd give him a little show.
"Sorry, but could you shut your mouth for a bit, Young Master Guren? Your breath is so bad I can't breathe."
"Wh-what?!"
I turned back to the fuming Guren and continued.
"This spring festival is for fostering harmony among the younger generation of nobles. Helping a noble in distress—how else could anyone interpret it?"
"Hmph! Sophistry, Young Master Jerome. By your logic, that means I deliberately humiliated that idiot and rampaged around!"
Pure nonsense. A blatant logical leap. Perfect logic for picking a fight.
In that case, I had no reason to yield here.
"That's right. You rampaged."
"Wh-what did you say?"
"Young Master Guren of Poltus territory. You deliberately bumped into him and threw a tantrum. Am I wrong? Want me to say it again?"
"Y-you...!"
"Pfft!"
"Heh heh heh!"
Young Master Guren of Poltus trembled publicly humiliated, shaking with rage.
For a split second, he glanced at Victor.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned back and muttered lowly to me.
"Young Master Jerome, you've insulted me here, in this sacred and official gathering of the kingdom's nobles. I can't possibly endure this humiliation."
With that, he yanked off his glove and threw it at me.
"Eldest son of Poltus Count Family in the southern territories, Guren de Poltus, challenges Jerome von Carviot to a duel of honor."
Young Master Guren declared the challenge as if overcome with massive fury.
But his eyes gleamed with smug triumph, utterly at odds with his furious tone.
As if he'd successfully carried out someone's order.
'As expected. Victor's doing.'
I knew all about it, but I wasn't about to play along like an idiot.
I bent down, picked up Guren's fallen glove,
and flung it aside.
Whoosh!
"Oops. What now? Sorry, but I have zero intention of accepting this duel."
"......!!"
Not just Guren, who'd challenged me, but all the nobles watching this spectacle with keen interest gaped in shock.
Refusing a duel?
Backing out of a challenge was an indelible stain in noble society—no one had expected me to choose that.
Not even Guren himself.
"Looks like the one to accept Young Master Guren's duel isn't me."
"...?"
Puzzlement flickered in Guren's eyes at my baffling words.
A brief exchange passed between me and someone.
And that someone now revealed himself in the banquet hall.
"Who the hell is that? Some no-name scum thinks he can accept my duel? Young Master Jerome, are you insulting me right now?"
Guren bellowed, his face red with disbelief at my words.
Refusing the duel was one thing.
Passing it off to someone else? Unheard of!
What kind of nonsense was this?
If there weren't eyes on him, he'd have drawn his sword ages ago.
"I've been hearing rumors about Young Master Jerome's recent exploits everywhere. Guess they were all hot air. No, wait—it's exactly the caliber you'd expect from the rumors."
Guren sneered, twisting my nickname into an insult.
Crack.
I could tolerate most provocations, but that one always made my blood boil.
I pressed down on the vein bulging in my forehead and answered his insolent(?) question.
"Haha, no way. But if you're challenging someone to a duel, the one directly insulted should issue it first."
Swish.
As I spoke, Saladin stepped forward and, just as Guren had done, picked up a glove and flung it.
Splat!
"Eldest son of Viscount Edwin's family, Saladin de Edwin. Young Master Guren, you insulted my brother. So if anyone's dueling you, it'll be me first."
The glove Saladin threw smacked right into Guren's face before dropping to the floor.
'That guy aimed for it.'
"Saladin?"
"Who's that?"
"Isn't he the eldest son of Viscount Edwin's family who got exiled and vanished?"
"Why's he with Young Master Jerome?"
The nobles began murmuring in shock at Saladin's unexpected appearance.
But no one in the banquet hall was as stunned as Charles.
"B-bro...ther...?"
Saladin gave a short reply to Charles's dazed question.
"We'll talk later. Later."
Then he stared straight at Guren, who was trembling with rage.
"What'll it be, Young Master Guren? You've probably heard the rumors about me. You wouldn't chicken out and refuse, would you?"
Guren's hands shook with fury.
"You bastard, that bastard...! Fine, if you want to die so bad, I'll kill you first!"
Saladin was second only to me when it came to that nickname(!). From Guren's perspective, it was enough to make his lid blow off.
Unable to contain his excitement, Guren drew his sword and charged at Saladin.
At that moment, someone wedged between Guren and Saladin.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh!
"!"
Guren urgently parried the suddenly flying hidden weapons with his sword and leaped back.
Blocking Saladin's path was none other than Mimi.
"What the—?!"
Guren shouted in panic.
"A puppet...?!"
"What is that? Wait, no way... That's...?!"
The nobles' murmurs, already buzzing from Saladin's entrance, grew louder.
Moments later, one of the southern nobles pieced it together.
"Puppet...? N-no way. One of the south's Black Lions, the Puppet?!"
"Black Lion?"
"Heterogenous Power?!"
"Viscount Edwin's eldest son wields that ominous power?!"
It was a massive bombshell.
The blood of nobles who would lead the kingdom's next generation wielded such an ill-omened Heterogenous Power.
And from a disowned heir, no less.
"What is all this commotion?!"
Just as the banquet hall's atmosphere turned strange, Prince Julius made his appearance.