Chapter 77
Chapter 77
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 77
Chapter Title: The Prince's Summons
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After returning to Banten, Miron and Saladin came to see me before they could even shake off their travel fatigue.
"I want to get stronger."
"Young Master, how can we get stronger?"
Though the phrasing differed slightly, their words—bursting out simultaneously—carried exactly the same intent.
"...You two rehearsed this?"
They exchanged a glance for a moment before Saladin, the elder, spoke up as their representative.
"We couldn't do a damn thing."
His voice brimmed with barely concealed frustration.
The helplessness of having accomplished nothing seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders.
"Alright. Let's do it."
After sorting through my thoughts, I nodded at Saladin and Miron's pleas.
'I should bring Beskin along too. He's someone who's going to fight by my side.'
The more strong allies, the better. Beskin himself had barely escaped a meaningless death on the battlefield alongside my father in the past.
"Understood."
"...That easily?"
I had approached Beskin cautiously, mindful of his pride, but he accepted without hesitation.
"I know there's great purpose in what you wish to do, Young Master. I may not know the exact details, but as a knight..."
Thud!
One of the ice-cold knight's knees hit the ground.
"How could I call myself a proper knight if I failed to live up to my lord's will?"
Beskin flashed a toothy grin.
The continent's greatest shield, the impregnable fortress, the iron-blooded citadel.
The Carviot Count's family—known by many such grand titles—spanned territory far vaster than the ducal houses or even royal families of the Five Nations Alliance, despite the "count" in their name.
Among it all, the family’s training grounds stood out, boasting an overwhelming scale thanks to their unique geography and strategic positioning.
And at the heart of those grounds, shockwaves flew in every direction as if a war had broken out.
"Haaah!!"
Even in the scorching summer heat that baked the earth, the training grounds were drenched in blood and sweat, oblivious to the swelter.
"It's great to see everyone's skills improving by leaps and bounds. Man, I feel like I'm the only one stuck in place—it's frustrating."
At my words, Saladin muttered in disbelief.
"That bastard's at it again with his bullshit. Who do you think turned into the biggest monster these past two years?"
Well, fair enough. I'd grown a lot too.
'I've nearly recovered the power from my past life.'
Regaining the strength of my previous life was no small feat.
The pinnacle of the third stage.
For a Black Lion, reaching the end of the third stage meant the same as attaining the Master realm among aura users.
To climb to a Master-equivalent level before even turning twenty? I doubted there were many knights, mages, or even Black Lions who had reached the third stage's peak at this age.
'Still a long way to go. Not enough to take on the Three Dukes yet.'
Two years ago, the clash between my father and Minerva had been utterly shocking.
"Hey, what're you daydreaming about? You coming or not?"
Saladin shouted from the training ground's exit, snapping me out of memories of the past.
"Nothing. Coming now."
"Tch, boring."
Saladin was meticulously inspecting Nene, whose body had been scraped up off the ground(?) thanks to my pull.
I called out to the back of his head.
"Where's Sir Beskin?"
"Sir Beskin's busy. You think he's some lazy bum like you? He's already wrapped up and headed to the lake for training with the Blizzard Knight Order."
"I see."
I nodded at his response. Sir Beskin and the Blizzard Knight Order had declared their intent to accompany me to Olivia.
A diligent man like Sir Beskin would naturally prepare meticulously.
Olivia territory differed from chilly Banten—it was warm, coastal land.
With frequent clashes expected against the Punish Archipelago, naval training was essential.
Training at sea would be ideal, but for inland Banten, even seeing the ocean was a distant dream.
For now, they were steadily acclimating to water via the lake.
"Oh."
Saladin added belatedly, as if it had just occurred to him.
"Maid Bori said a letter came for you. Go check it later. Don't pull that 'I didn't know' crap."
A letter?
"From where? The royals?"
"Yeah, pretty much. Who else has been desperately waiting for you to show up?"
As he tucked the whip dangling from the floor into Nene's inner arm, Saladin's face suddenly soured.
"Shit, this one's gotta be completely replaced. Do you know how hard it is to make these? ...Damn, even ramming the knight order wouldn't wreck it like this."
He turned and glared at me.
"...Hmm, no separate word from Baukalrak?"
I averted my eyes and changed the subject, prompting Saladin to roll his eyes before sighing.
"Aish, that son of a... Never mind, I shouldn't say it."
After two years of ignoring Saladin's complaints, he was finally reaching enlightenment. A very good sign.
"He just contacted us not long ago—what more news could there be? The Dragon Mountains are in chaos after splitting in half. You think it'd wrap up that quick?!"
"Just checking. The tide could turn. Guess no new variables."
Two years ago, Baukalrak had returned to his clan in the mountains' southern region.
-Kruk, Jerome. After this, I'm heading back to my clan.
A sudden decision.
Baukalrak said watching me and Hatan's mock battle had taught him much.
-Running away changes nothing.
With that, he'd rejoined his kin and steadily reported on the Dragon Mountains' situation.
As if proving the elf-o rc war was just the beginning, the mountains were in massive upheaval.
Hatan, having witnessed my father and Paulo's fight, seemed to grasp something profound. He'd expanded orc territory at a blistering pace.
Pushing north, ever north, and for the past half-year, locked in a back-and-forth war with the cyclops tribes in the central-north.
"Monsters are monsters. An orc tangling with cyclopes? Hell, was that guy even an orc to begin with?"
Saladin, whose first encounter with Hatan had soured him badly, always griped extra about the High Orc.
"Hatan is a bit of a monster, yeah. Hmm, struggling against cyclopes is a little surprising, though."
"...You don't even know what cyclopes are, do you?"
Saladin stared in disbelief at my assumption that Hatan would win, but nodded in quick understanding.
"Ah, right. You're a monster too. Okay, fair enough."
"What makes me a monster?"
"A kid not even nineteen getting Master-level power—who else is a monster?!"
Saladin bellowed.
"While we're on it, spill it. What's your deal, really?"
His expression turned serious.
"Me, Beskin, Miron—we're growing decently fast, but yours isn't normal."
"What about me?"
I played dumb, but Saladin pressed on.
"Don't play me for a fool. Three years ago, you were a laughingstock across the kingdom—no, the continent. Now you're brushing Master level. Heterogenous Powers are irregular, sure, but that doesn't make 'em easy to master."
His point was valid. Without a teacher, Heterogenous Powers were arguably harder to grasp than aura or magic in some ways.
"And it's not like you're some genius either... Your plans have holes sometimes, y'know?"
Hey, this guy?
"If I had to put it... It's like you're retracing a path you've walked before. Like you already know the answers while solving the problem. That's the vibe."
"...What kinda nonsense is that? If you're gonna spout crap, go train more. Things'll get busy once we head to Olivia. Lag behind, and I'll leave you."
Unlike my past life, this Saladin was a total pushover, fun to tease.
But every so often, he'd drop these eerily spot-on insights, reminding me he was the Saladin.
"Ugh, listen to this rude mouth. Anyway, that's how it is. You're a real weirdo up close."
"I'm just a genius. Carviot blood doesn't lie."
"If you inherited the Count's blood, you'd wield aura like Ares or Mercy. Not this brute-force stiffness... Gah!"
And there he went, inviting punishment with one more jab.
The kid just couldn't help himself.
Leaving Saladin howling behind me, I headed to check the letter that had arrived.
"You're back, Young Master. A letter from the palace."
Bori was cleaning my room in the residence.
"Bori, you've gotten awfully devoted these past three years?"
"Hee hee hee, what do you mean, Young Master? I've always been your faithful maid."
Forgetting her old talk of retirement, Bori cleaned diligently. The sight made me chuckle.
Her attitude always showed how my standing in the family had completely shifted from three years ago.
"All talk. Where's the letter for me?"
"Hee hee, on the table."
Following her finger, I saw an ornate letter sealed in gold leaf on the table.
-To my dear friend, Jerome von Carviot. -Julius van Ikenia.
As expected. If the royals were summoning me, it could only be him.
'Just a check-in? I haven't seen him since skipping the Spring Festival. Over two years now.'
We'd overcome the food crisis, and trade with the elves was progressing steadily.
In this peaceful era without major incidents, I opened Prince Julius's letter without much thought.
But inside...
Was content that was a little—no, very—unexpected.
-My friend, Jerome von Carviot. How have you been?
I'm swamped refining Olivia territory to make your handover smoother.
You won't appreciate the effort, you heartless bastard.
The opening was a playful scolding from the prince.
'Guess he's miffed I keep skipping the Spring Festival.'
After the Victor mess two years back, the very idea of the festival turned my stomach.
I'd given up Banten succession, and with Olivia as my sure domain ahead...
No need to play dutiful heir like my siblings. It was only natural.
And crucially, it was a hassle.
The letter shifted from whining to graver matters as it went on.
-...(excerpt)... Anyway, I'm contacting you—who's been building strength until adulthood—for a favor.
'A favor? What could the prince want from me right now?'
Past memories flashed by.
But post-great-famine, no major upheavals had surfaced on the continent.
So, one of two things: Either I'd altered history again unknowingly, or this was some undercurrent I never knew.
For Prince Julius to request me personally in this calm time, it was no light matter.
And my hunch was right.
...(excerpt)... Intelligence shows rebellion stirring in Philador Kingdom, one of our alliance nations.
As you know, Philador is the alliance's treasure trove, handling supplies. Indispensable against the Empire.
'Rebellion? Excluding that Osiris Kingdom guy, no alliance nation rebelled in my memory.'
Before the Holy Empire war, no internal revolts in the alliance.
Philador's case wasn't rebellion—the whole nation betrayed us, so betrayal fits better.
-It's summer now. Crops are growing vigorously.
A revolt now, mobilizing troops, would wreck this year's food supply again.
Philador plans to secretly eliminate the ringleaders by inviting key alliance figures to an event as a smokescreen.
I'd like you to attend.
'Why me...? Ah.'
I grasped Prince Julius's intent.
Yes, I'd earned merit in the food crisis, but that was over two years ago.
Olivia handover was two years out.
Humans forget. He worried the Sword faction nobles would resist fiercely by then.
Philador would handle the suppression. Inviting alliance notables was likely for witnesses.
Seemed simple enough—probably a chance to solidify the territory grant by sending me.
'Hmm, not a tough mission... Huh?'
-The suspected ringleader is the lord of Nile territory, called the golden lands even in bountiful Philador.
As I read, assuming a routine request, the name at the bottom jumped out.
-Suspected to be Marquis Midas.
Marquis Midas.
Lord of Nile territory, the Philador powerhouse who'd enabled my massive wheat haul via the Sword family duel over two years ago.
'Him rebelling? Why?'
Of course, I'd targeted Philador—especially Nile—for wheat with reason.
Most prosperous on paper, but in my past life, Midas had struck the alliance's back hardest in the Holy Empire war.
Prime culprit among Philador's betrayers who flipped the war.
But.
'That doesn't mean he's incompetent. He's no fool. No reason to rebel in this peaceful time.'
That betrayal came after war broke out.
Currently, Midas had zero motive to bare fangs at Philador's royals.
Plus, he'd betrayed alongside them—why rebel now?
I froze.
'No way...?'
Suddenly, a conversation from the food contest flashed back.
-A weapon's true strategic value is its deterrent power when unused.
Midas had chosen not the Gift Ring, but our family's old mana cultivation method, Flower Wheel.
He'd shown intense fixation on deterring some threat.
No time to dwell then.
'Damn, who knew scratching the Marquis's itch would bite back like this.'