Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: The Proxy Lord's Folly
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“The lord is Lyle August......”
Ignoring the five-plus middle names like Molver Cashin and whatnot, Sion tapped on the report he had finished reading.
“This guy latched onto Gedeh...... I saw him briefly long ago, but he seemed utterly worthless. Never thought he’d become a lord. How strange.”
When his grown grandchildren were getting married, Sion naturally didn’t attend in person.
By then, he was already considered dead, so the only wedding he had attended as himself was that of his firstborn grandson, the late third-generation Duke Sion, Byron, who had passed away two years ago.
However, Sion had secretly attended some of his grandchildren’s weddings in various disguises, and Lyle August’s was one of them.
“Roana... was it? Right, Roana.”
With five children and over twenty grandchildren from them, Sion couldn’t immediately recall the name of the granddaughter who married Lyle August.
“Correct, Lady Roana Sion Averin August. According to our investigation, Lady Roana played a major role in her husband becoming lord.”
Jenna, who had investigated the August family per Sion’s initial orders, added.
“I seem to recall hearing that he was under her thumb. Anyway, Roana passed away ages ago, and this guy must be pretty old now too, but he’s still alive.”
Maria was quite a bit younger than her siblings, so her youngest son was only in his fifties, while most of the other children’s direct descendants had already died.
“He’s 66 this year. His health has been poor since last year, so it seems he’ll soon pass the title and territory to his eldest son, Anselm August.”
“Then the current state of the August territory might be largely due to this Anselm guy. Maybe even involving my great-grandchildren.”
“We haven’t investigated that far yet. My apologies. We’ll finish as quickly as possible.”
“It’s recent events, so no helping it. Anyway, from what I see, the mess in the August territory right now looks like that Anselm’s doing. Check with the prisoners.”
“Yes.”
Jenna bowed her head and headed to where the prisoners were gathered.
“Sir Sailun! All sorted!”
“Good. Let’s move out again.”
“Yes! Move out!”
At Stelmann’s booming shout, the mercenaries began marching once more.
Watching Jenna board a supply wagon while dragging one of the prisoners, Sion muttered softly.
“With my granddaughter long dead, there’s no reason for me to show you mercy. I pray you’re not involved.”
But if, by any chance, you had even the slightest hand in the deaths of my firstborn grandson and great-grandchild, you will pay the price.
* * *
The August Barony was a mid-sized territory, one of the most common and abundant in this world.
It spanned an area roughly the size of a county in Korea, with a population around 20,000, and among the territories bordering Duke Sion’s domain, it was the poorest and most insignificant.
But when Sion’s grandson and granddaughter tied the knot with the August Baron family, they managed to scrape by.
In essence, they had become one of the subordinates of Duke Sion’s domain.
‘But that was back when Theo was alive.’
After his eldest son Theo died, followed by Byron and great-grandson Brian taking over, it seemed everything had changed.
‘I should have paid more attention.’
Blaming his own negligence once again, Sion clicked his tongue inwardly.
“The castle’s in sight, Master.”
At Stelmann’s report, Sion snapped out of his thoughts.
Beyond gentle hills scattered chaotically with hundreds of olive trees lay grayish-white castle walls and the jagged spires rising within.
It had been ages since he last saw his grandchild’s in-laws’ home, but Sion fixed the August Baron’s castle with a cold gaze and spoke.
“From here on, I’ll handle things. Until I give orders, no reckless moves—keep discipline.”
“Understood.”
Stelmann replied crisply, turned back, and gestured. The mounted Janstrick mercenaries swiftly and precisely reformed their ranks.
“Piotr, to my side.”
“Yes, sir.”
Piotr, somewhat tense, rode up beside Sion.
“Remember this. From here on, you are not just the son of Baron Kilburn first and foremost......”
“I’m the grandson of Maria Sion. I’ll act with pride, without bringing shame to the Sion name.”
“Excellent.”
Smiling, Sion patted his great-grandson’s back, gripped the reins with one hand, and reached behind the saddle with the other.
“Here you go.”
Misca quickly handed over the long object she was holding. It was a lance about two meters long.
At that moment, a wind sweeping over the hills and through the olive groves came to greet Sion as if on cue.
Flutter!
The Sion Duke family banner attached to the tip of the lance fluttered vigorously in his single hand.
* * *
Anselm August lounged half-reclined, his obese body sprawled as he gaped his mouth to receive food from the maids.
As the only son of Baron Lyle August, he had wanted for nothing since childhood.
Though he had three older sisters, they had married off by the time he was toddling, so they had no claim to the title.
Being the late-born eldest son, his father, Baron Lyle August, could only dote on him, and the retainers had no desire to displease the lord’s sole heir.
Thus, it was natural for the boy, designated as the next lord even as a snot-nosed kid, to grow arrogant and spoiled.
And now, decades later, on the cusp of forty, Anselm August had become an incompetent, lazy, selfish adult—and a powerful one at that.
“Proxy lord! Proxy lord!”
“What? I said don’t bother me when I’m resting. I already worked three hours this morning—my head’s killing me.”
Three hours wasn’t long, and that schedule only happened once every five days, half-asleep at that—it was an open secret.
“Big trouble, sir. There’s a visitor at the east gate with armed troops......”
“With armed troops?”
Even upon hearing that heavily armed forces had crossed the territory like it was their own and reached the lord’s castle, Anselm asked nonchalantly. The retainer barely suppressed a sigh and continued.
“They’re flying the Sion Duke family banner.”
“......What?”
Anselm, who had been listening indifferently, squinted one eye as if he’d misheard.
“The Sion Duke family banner.”
“Wait, hold on. You’re saying guys with the Sion Duke family banner showed up at the east gate, not the south gate?”
“Yes.”
“Beat the crap out of all the east gate guards and arrest those bastards right now.”
“Pardon?”
The retainer blankly parroted back at Anselm’s utterly unexpected response.
“Are you an idiot? Why would people from the Sion Duke family, south of our territory, show up at the east gate? It’s fake! Fakes! Nobility impersonators! And it’s obvious you should thrash the parasites standing guard without even grasping that simple fact?”
“B-but, Proxy Lord, the troops at the east gate......”
“Arrest them now! How dare they impersonate a ducal house? I’ll interrogate them myself. Set up the torture tools in the central hall. Been a while since I’ve worked up a sweat.”
As Anselm flailed his massive bulk, maids hurried over to help him up.
“Capture them all. Kill all but a few if they resist.”
“......Yes, Proxy Lord.”
* * *
“......And for those reasons, we demand you disarm immediately and submit to our control.”
The retainer from the August Baron family, accompanied by knights and soldiers from the castle, declared to Sion and Piotr as if issuing an ultimatum.
“......”
The sheer absurdity left not just Piotr but even the mercenaries lined up behind them momentarily stunned.
During the journey here, they had faced all sorts of bizarre demands from nobles and lords.
But back then, the group (especially Sion) hadn’t revealed their identity, and once they learned of Sion’s status and destination, most parted on good terms.
Of course, there were those who had lived their whole lives cooped up in their territories and thought insane things like, “Royal collaterals? Aren’t they basically title-less half-nobles if you nitpick?”
No, actually, there were quite a few.
With royal law (and force) so distant, southern and central lords who had never felt that force were a dime a dozen.
But even they, after a taste of that force—precisely, a glimpse of Sion and the Janstrick mercenaries—repented their folly and groveled.
Paying “travel expenses” as atonement was par for the course.
In any case, they had erred because they didn’t know who the group was at first meeting—but now was different.
For the first time since starting the journey, Sion had openly displayed the crest of the family he himself had founded.
Though Piotr was the nominal bearer, the weight of the Sion Duke family’s three-headed eagle crest didn’t lighten for it.
At least in this region, the Sion Duke crest held more power than royal law.
Or so it seemed not to be the case before the August Baron’s castle right now.
“......”
Piotr swallowed dryly, stealing a glance at Sion.
He hadn’t imagined such a situation arising at the August territory, the gateway to entering the duchy.
‘But their claim has merit. If a ducal banner appeared without warning, I’d suspect it first too.’
Moreover, in similar past incidents, Sion had always explained patiently and resolved things amicably.
The Sir Sailun de Obla that Piotr had seen so far was exceedingly rational......
“Did you not hear me? Get off your horses and drop your weapons now! You scum unfit to be fried in shit-water dare impersonate nobility!?”
One of the knights who came with the retainer bellowed with murderous fury.
“Ah......”
He’d endure it.
The August Baron family was relatives of the Sion Duke family, weren’t they?
This was a place where the first impression of a descendant visiting his father’s maternal home after decades might be set, so the rational Sir Sailun would surely handle it properly.
Look, Sir Sailun was smiling, wasn’t he?
Even when they encountered that lord’s son who demanded 10,000 diens in tolls, royal connections be damned, he had worn that kindly smile......
“Ah!”
“Ah......? You damn nobility-impersonating bastard, where do you get off......”
“Beat them.”
“Huh?”
“Eh?”
For a fleeting moment, everything froze as if by magic, and in that brief gap, Sion turned to lock eyes with Stelmann and said.
“What are you waiting for? I said beat them. Subdue if possible, kill if the situation calls for it.”
*This is real? For real?* the thought flashed.
“...Yes, sir! Beat them! Charge!”
Stelmann, whose trust in Sion had peaked over the past month, shouted on reflex.
And thanks to Sion keeping his promise of splitting all loot precisely half, the mercenaries—fully cured of their financial woes—fell into a collective hallucination where the August troops looked like piggy banks and charged.
(To be continued)