Chapter 50
Chapter 50
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: A Brother's Plea
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"……."
Sharro must have taken my prolonged silence as a refusal, because he continued in a desperate tone.
"I-I'm not just asking for help for nothing! In return, we'll offer a quarter of all the minerals from Miraj's mines to the Shield Family going forward. So please…!"
I looked down at Sharro, who was kneeling and bowing his head once more, then slowly shook my head.
"I'm sorry, but I can't grant this request."
"……!"
At my words, Saladin's eyes widened as he glared at me.
He'd apparently expected me to help deep down, but I had my own circumstances to consider.
"If the Sword Family is the puppet master pulling the strings on those other seven territories, they won't just sit idly by while we support three territories. It'll only give the Sword Family an excuse to pour massive support into those seven. And that means all-out war."
A war with the Sword Family.
That was something we absolutely had to avoid.
I didn't like the Sword Family any more than the next guy, but they were still one of the kingdom's most vital forces.
In our already dire disadvantage against the Empire, we couldn't afford to waste such a precious asset like this.
"……."
Sharro wasn't some fool who couldn't understand my point. He was Viscount Edwin's successor, after all—the younger brother of Saladin, former vice-captain of the Stigma Mercenary Corps, and a man known for his shrewdness.
Sharro gave a wry smile.
"I see… Understood. It's unavoidable, then. My apologies for today. Please forget my rude request."
With that, he rose and bowed politely to me.
"In the future, please continue to look after my brother."
Sharro turned to leave the room with a courteous farewell.
And as he did, Saladin shot me a pleading look like a dog desperate to go out.
I could understand the Count Carviot family's position, but since it involved his own family, Saladin naturally wanted me to help.
-You owe me one for this.
I sent a quiet telepathic message to Saladin and stopped Sharro just as he reached the door.
"…Well, this is from the perspective of our family's position."
He froze.
"……?"
Confused by my sudden words, Sharro turned back to me with an equally baffled expression.
"But if I'm helping you personally, that's a different story."
Hope began to bloom on Sharro's face.
"Th-then…!"
I extended my hand toward him.
"Let's find a way together."
"Th-thank you! Master Jerome!"
The overjoyed Sharro grabbed my hand.
"Brother."
"Pardon?"
"Call me brother. You're Saladin's brother, which makes you like a brother to me too."
Father probably hadn't foreseen all this when he sent me to the banquet hall.
But somehow, I was starting to understand why he'd specifically chosen me for the Spring Festival.
Spring Festival, Day Two.
The sky was gradually darkening with sunset after the chaotic duel had concluded.
And using the sunset streets as a side dish, Victor was drinking.
The liquor he was downing was Sapphire Dragon—the finest brew in the Ikenia Kingdom, said to be passed down exclusively in the royal family.
Yet Victor tossed it back as casually as cheap street booze.
Thud!
It was well deserved. The Sword Family was a prestigious house with roots stretching back to the kingdom's founding.
In their long history, it was only natural they wouldn't have just one or two bottles bestowed by the crown.
Leaning against the window and silently sipping his glass, Victor had a rotund, scar-covered man trembling on his knees before him.
Shiver, shiver!!
The man's name was Guren, heir to the Poltus Count family—the one who'd suffered a humiliating defeat at Saladin's hands.
"V-Victor, Young Lord…!! Pl-please forgive me…!"
"Hm?"
Victor tilted his head in genuine confusion at Guren's plea.
"Haha, what are you talking about, Young Master Guren? What makes you think forgiveness from me is even relevant?"
Guren's face drained of color even further at Victor's bemused laughter, as if he'd spouted utter nonsense.
'If this goes on, I'm done for.'
Guren knew it.
Victor was planning to abandon him.
Thump! Thump!
Still on his knees, Guren slammed his forehead against the marble floor repeatedly.
"Pl-please forgive me! Give me one more chance!"
"Ahaha, really now. I have no idea what you're going on about."
Tinkle!
Victor shook a bell with a troubled look, and Lennon, waiting outside the door, entered to grab Guren by the scruff.
"It's late, Young Master Guren. You must be exhausted from the duel. Time to rest."
"N-no, that's not… Gr-Great Young Lord! Please, just one more chance! I beg you!"
Even as Lennon dragged him out with his powerful grip—too much for the injured Guren, who was far below him in skill—Guren pleaded to the end.
But Victor stared out at the street view as if he heard nothing.
It was no surprise Guren couldn't resist Lennon's hold in his wounded state.
Thud!
The door shut after a brief moment.
"Lennon. With the Poltus Count's heir in such a state, don't you think the family's future looks precarious?"
Victor's quiet mutter was all it took.
"I'll dispatch a messenger to Verun territory immediately."
Lennon replied curtly.
By the time the Spring Festival and summer passed, the Poltus family would likely have a new heir.
Having calmly sealed one man's fate, Victor turned to Lennon.
"Lennon, could you fetch Wolfgang for me?"
"…Yes, understood."
Lennon said nothing more at Victor's impassive request.
A moment later.
Knock knock.
"You summoned me, Great Young Lord."
The voice followed a short wait.
"Come in."
Victor permitted Wolfgang's entry without fuss.
Wolfgang cautiously opened the door and stepped in, but Victor kept gazing at the sunset, ignoring him.
Finally, Victor murmured softly.
"Wolf. Yesterday, you said we need to kill Jerome, right?"
"Yes, that's correct."
Wolfgang answered without hesitation.
Only then did Victor's sunset-fixed gaze slowly shift to him.
"Tell me more about that plan from yesterday."
"You mean…?"
At Victor's expectant question, he bared his white teeth in a smile.
Victor's eyes curved merrily, but there was no mirth in them.
"Yeah. Let's do it your way. Jerome—that bastard. Let's kill him."
The Spring Festival was a time-honored event held once a year, gathering the kingdom's future noble leaders in one place.
With its deep traditions, the festival's scale and duration dwarfed ordinary banquets. To summarize:
The first three days were relaxed, social gatherings for mingling with nobles from distant regions.
The following week featured monster-hunting competitions where young nobles could showcase their martial prowess and bravery.
And the final week hosted debates on the kingdom's future.
Guren of the Poltus family had picked a fight with Sharro yesterday—the second day—only to get utterly crushed by Saladin.
Today was the third day, the banquet's final one.
Nothing had changed about the event itself.
Factions remained divided, and I still drew plenty of attention.
But one major difference from the first two days:
Someone else was pulling just as much focus as me.
None other than.
"Young Master Saladin, how did you acquire your Heterogenous Power?"
Saladin, who had firmly etched his presence into the nobles' minds.
"Young Master Saladin, when do you plan to return to the Edwin family?"
"If you ever visit our territory…"
"Young Master Saladin, by any chance…"
Amid the barrage of questions.
"Ha, haha. Right now, I'm just enjoying life alongside Master Jerome. As you know, he's been getting a lot of attention lately, so it's fun sticking by him."
Saladin, finding it tedious, dumped any lengthy explanations or sensitive topics onto me.
"Hm, so the Edwin family has ties to the Shield Family."
"Makes sense. They wouldn't help defeat a High Orc without some connection."
"Is the Shield Family gathering those with Heterogenous Powers?"
That choice only sparked endless suspicions and rumors among the nobles.
Fortunately, the nobles' view of Saladin's Heterogenous Power wasn't as negative as I'd feared.
Of course, yesterday there'd nearly been an uproar over him wielding it.
But Prince Julius's open support, plus Saladin helping carry Guren afterward, had turned things positive.
Crucially, the term "Puppet" carried a heroic image in the southern regions—as a righteous savior of struggling commoners.
It hardly matched his current vibe, but good results were what mattered.
'Good thing I chose that idiot as our first impression.'
As I'd told Prince Julius over drinks, improving the Black Lions' image was a gradual process—but this worked too.
Saladin's life trajectory made it easier to dispel the nobles' prejudices.
Thud!
After sweating through a long chat with the nobles, Saladin flopped exhausted into the seat beside me, grumbling.
"What a hassle."
"Damn bastards. You knew it'd turn out like this and shoved me out front, huh? Screw revenge for my brother."
I shrugged, getting a little payback for yesterday.
"Who, me? I just saw someone shaking with rage while his brother got insulted and laid out the stage for him."
Saladin trembled like willow leaves in the wind at my words—just like today.
"You damn punk, really…"
"His Highness Prince Julius and Her Highness Princess Seira are entering!!"
Right as I tuned out Saladin's rant, the herald's booming voice announced the royals' arrival.
Step, step.
Prince Julius strode boldly to the central dais, scanned the nobles, and called out.
"Futures of the Ikenia Kingdom!"
Gathering all eyes as planned, he began speaking of the upcoming monster-hunting contest.
"I know you've been enjoying the banquets leisurely. But noblesse oblige demands that those who enjoy great privileges must possess the civil and martial virtues to protect the realm accordingly. Thus, I've prepared a stage for you to display your martial might!"
Prince Julius glanced at Princess Seira behind him. She nodded and channeled mana.
The orb at the dais's center lit up, projecting an image of a forest.
An artificial woodland modeled after the Beast Forest.
For this event, the royals had captured monsters from various regions—especially the north—and released them there.
Of course, with participants being the nation's elites, safety came first; most were low-threat beasts.
"For the next week starting tomorrow! Nobles from each house will hunt monsters in this forest!"
Despite the Holy Empire looming to the north, the Ikenia Kingdom had endured a millennium because…
"If overwhelmed or in peril, you may ally with others!"
…of the nobles' noblesse oblige spirit.
"Experience it. Confront it. Fight and triumph!"
The monster hunt was an excellent tradition for awakening that spirit in the kingdom's nobles.
And so…
Throughout the kingdom's long history, "unfortunate" "accidents" had "coincidentally" occurred time and again.
"…Looks like a pain."
Saladin whispered beside me.
I fully agreed.
Ever since the hunt was announced, a piercing, razor-sharp aura had been emanating from Victor's direction.
'Yeah, after scraping his pride like that, it's about time he reacts.'
For a prideful man like Victor, publicly humiliated, it was only natural.
Those "coincidental" historical accidents.
I couldn't shake the feeling one might befall me too.