Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: The Chosen Heir
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“An honor…….”
Even though a man said to have died two generations ago appeared suddenly in perfect health—and looking just as young as before—Baron August merely looked a bit dazed rather than panicked.
He was still a little groggy from sleep, and on top of his dementia, he took strong medications daily for various chronic ailments, leaving his mind somewhat foggy.
But the young man before him speaking of distant past events known only to himself as if they had happened yesterday was proof enough.
Moreover, back in his youth, the baron had heard peculiar tales from his wife Roana about the first Duke of Sion.
There had been rumors that his grandfather never seemed to age at all.
He had laughed it off at the time as nothing serious, but astonishingly, it turned out to be true.
Feeling a strange excitement as if he had returned to his own youth, Baron August said,
“Why have you sought out this aged son-in-law of yours, Your Grace, the Duke?”
“Well, about that…….”
Sion carefully recounted the events that had transpired here, firm in tone on the crucial points.
However, he made no mention of Anserman August’s involvement in the poisoning of the previous Duke of Sion, Brian.
Having lived for so many long years and witnessed countless deaths, Sion could tell that Baron August did not have much time left.
At best half a year, and likely just one or two months before he passed.
He did not wish to see his soon-to-depart son-in-law—who had lived contentedly without causing any special trouble while his granddaughter still lived—end his days in regret and remorse.
“……And so it happened. Everything else was more or less fine, but it seems I failed in raising my son.”
“I have no words to offer, Your Grace. It is all my fault…….”
Baron August apologized with labored, wheezing breaths.
Sion took hold of the baron’s wrinkled hand.
“It is not your fault. In this world, nothing is as unpredictable as one’s children. As you know, Baron, I too have wronged my own son.”
Having roughly explained matters concerning Baron Kilburn and Fiott as well, Sion’s meaning was clear to Baron August.
“Even you, the hero of the world…… Do you harbor regrets as well, Your Grace?”
“Of course. If I could go back in time, I would smack my foolish head.”
“Ha… haha…….”
The aged son-in-law could not help but laugh at the all-too-human self-reproach from the legendary hero he had regarded as a figure floating high among the clouds.
“To leave no such regrets behind…… I must follow Your Grace’s will.”
“I am grateful that you see it that way.”
“No, Your Grace. If anything, I thank you. In the end, you will…… look after me and my house, will you not…….”
A serene smile graced Baron August’s face.
“Lyle…….”
“Will you promise? In the name of Sion…… to look after my descendants and house?”
The first—and perhaps last—request from his son-in-law, who had accepted his will.
Sion, who had already intended as much, gripped the baron’s hand tightly and nodded vigorously.
“I swear it upon my name. House August shall find peace and prosperity under Sion’s wing.”
“Thank…… you, Your Grace.”
With a satisfied smile, Baron August accepted the documents Sion offered.
He pressed his signet ring at the bottom, then personally wrote a few lines with a quill pen before signing.
This would prove that the lord had made the decision of his own volition.
“Rest well, my son-in-law. Thank you…… for taking good care of Roana.”
“Y-Yes…… When I soon meet Roana…… I shall convey Your Grace’s words.”
Baron August’s eyes slowly closed after his labored final words.
Sion stood silently for a time, listening to the steady, soft breathing.
Watching someone he knew grow old and die was still a wistful experience for him.
* * *
“The baron delegated all authority to that man?”
“Yes, Lady Baretti. When he regained his senses, he summoned me and the other retainers several times to confirm it.”
“Ridiculous!”
Lady Baretti slammed her teacup down so hard it nearly shattered.
As Baron August’s second wife, she was also Anserman’s mother.
The news that the territory’s forces had been annihilated—and that her son Anserman had been beaten by a collateral royal—had shocked her so badly she had briefly fainted.
But her opponent was the grandson of her youngest daughter, whom the royals and the legendary Duke of Sion cherished.
Neither House August nor her own modest natal family—which was even smaller than the August territory—could utter a peep.
Most crucially, her side had committed a grave error first, under her son’s orders.
Even so, Lady Baretti only felt indignant and wronged by the current situation.
“They ran the territory like it was their own before the lord even permitted it! This makes no sense. It’s a clear overreach and abuse of power.”
“You’re not wrong, but…….”
The retainers glanced at Lady Baretti’s expression and trailed off.
Frankly, with only Anserman removed, they themselves had suffered little loss.
Captain Sailun had adjusted tax rates and some policies, but they had not harmed the August territory’s retainers.
Some retainers were even favorably inclined toward the occupiers now, expecting the territory to finally function properly.
Of course, as retainers of House August, they had not been pleased or free of resentment when the incident first occurred.
However, since their lord Baron August—when in his right mind—had repeatedly stated he would delegate everything to Captain Sailun, they had no choice but to comply.
Moreover, had it only been the royal Captain Sailun, they might have entertained other thoughts, mobilized connections, and sought merely to weather the immediate storm.
The problem was Fiott Sion Kilburn.
Unless the August territory suddenly relocated over a hundred kilometers away, they could not act freely under the name of Sion.
With a territory ten times larger and population many times greater—a quasi-nation worthy of being called a duchy—the local thug next door left them no choice but to mind their manners.
“That…… Sir Sion will soon enter the dukedom, and if we cause a needless uproar, our territory will…….”
“Sion, my foot! That brat is Kilburn!”
“That’s not entirely wrong, but no one sees that young man as Kilburn. Everyone believes he is Sion.”
Even the people in the lord’s castle treated Fiott as a direct descendant of the Sion ducal house and accorded him due respect.
“Hmph! I won’t accept it. Let’s see what happens.”
No matter how much Lady Baretti raged, the situation would not change, but for some reason, her words “let’s see” stuck with the retainers.
“‘Let’s see,’ you say? What do you mean by that, my lady?”
“I sent a letter to my natal family. They know exactly what’s happened to my son’s territory.”
At Lady Baretti’s response, the retainers exchanged glances and soon looked relieved.
Her natal family was modest—even for a lordly house—and lacked influence over events here.
Reading their expressions, Lady Baretti snapped venomously,
“And I told my father to inform the royal palace of everything.”
“Hmm.”
Even if the palace knew, it seemed unlikely to change anything……
“Oh, and do you all know? My mother’s family is House Bettisect.”
“Pardon?”
House Bettisect? Where did that come from?
Some nobles with pull at court?
“And House Bettisect, my maternal family, is on very good terms with Count Rundle’s house.”
“Eeek!?”
The retainers’ dubious faces instantly paled.
No matter how ignorant they were of court affairs, they knew the king’s in-laws.
“Hmph! Now ‘let’s see’ sounds a bit scary, doesn’t it?”
Lady Baretti’s expression turned triumphant as she watched the retainers break out in cold sweats.
But she did not know.
That she had just committed not a mere blunder, but a colossal one.
* * *
Sion’s next move after receiving official delegation from Lyle August was to select a “proper” successor.
Here, “proper” was synonymous with “someone I can use as I please.”
But having resolved himself and accepted Lyle August’s request, he could not exclude a direct descendant of House August.
Fortunately, Anserman had many children.
The problem was that, despite having a proper wife, he had dallied with castle maids and various other women, fathering over ten children—but that posed no issue for Sion, unlike others.
“Quite the opposite. It’s perfect.”
Anserman’s children with his proper wife were all three daughters, who had married off with handsome dowries—so pass.
His proper wife had long since given up on Anserman and had been carrying on an affair with one of the territory knights (the one killed by Stelmann’s mace), so she raised no objections to Sion’s decision.
She even felt slightly grateful to Sion for legally disposing of her lover, who had recently started making excessive demands bordering on blackmail.
With the proper wife fully compliant, Sion examined all of Anserman’s other children and made his decision in a single day.
She was a castle maid who had become pregnant after Anserman assaulted her on the day of her coming-of-age ceremony, bearing his bastard child and raising it thus far.
“Soon, the Sion ducal house will send a tutor for your son, madam. You need only continue raising him as you have, alongside that tutor.”
“Y-Yes!”
The still-young maid, whose status had skyrocketed from maid to madam, trembled with her shoulders shaking as she bowed frantically before the noble prince (direct or collateral meant nothing to her; to her, Sion was simply a prince).
“Your life will become much easier now, madam. And the moment your son comes of age, we shall build you a residence wherever you wish and provide a lifetime pension. Remarriage will be possible then as well.”
Of course, any remarriage partner would be thoroughly vetted.
Ideally, an ordinary territory commoner with no ties to House August.
“A-As you wish.”
Though terrified, the maid vaguely grasped that her life would change completely from before, and her heart began to race a little.
At the same time, she sensed she would rarely see her son henceforth, and not at all once he came of age.
‘But that’s fine.’
He was a son from an unwanted pregnancy.
She had raised him thus far because he was the child of the lord deputy from her own womb, but she held no particular affection for him.
At her young age, raising a rambunctious five-year-old was too burdensome, and honestly, had he not carried the lord deputy’s blood, she would have sent him off to someone else’s house or a monastery long ago.
“Then.”
At Sion’s glance, the castle underlings led the maid away.
Sion felt a touch of bitterness watching her retreating figure, her steps inexplicably light.
“At least she didn’t starve or beat the child and raised him decently until now. That’s fortunate.”
It was no fairy tale where the lord’s bastard received special care in the castle.
A castle maid had so many duties that she likely lacked time to tend a child.
Yet that maid had managed to raise her son adequately.
“There are many other older bastard children of Anserman August—why choose this maid’s child in particular?”
Fiott, who had been watching silently, asked.
He fully supported replacing Anserman with someone else as the August territory’s next lord, but selecting a snot-nosed five-year-old out of all those candidates struck him as odd.
“The others are either too old or their mothers already have ambitions blooming like flowers.”
Those old enough to discern good and evil—even without a coming-of-age ceremony—were a bit problematic.
And if the mother harbored undue ambitions, even more so.
Thus, Sion’s criteria for a new lord successor were:
“Children aged four or older but under eight. And mothers who would naturally relinquish parental rights without coercion and be content with the handouts we provide.”
The maid from moments ago and her son were the only ones among Anserman’s bastards who fit the bill.
“I see. So when we return to the Sion dukedom, you’ll select someone suitable to send as the child’s tutor?”
“Exactly. Of course, we can’t just leave him be until then.”
“Pardon? Won’t the castle maids look after the child?”
“That’s one thing. But until we depart, someone needs to at least give the child basic instruction.”
“Hmm. He’ll need at least minimal learning. The August retainers might get ideas, so they won’t do. Uh…… This is tricky.”
Fiott furrowed his brow briefly in thought, then smacked his lips and looked up.
Sion smiled faintly and said,
“Tricky? There’s a perfect tutor right here.”
“Pardon? Who?”
“You.”
“……Pardon?”
“You can read and write, you’re skilled in martial arts. No ties to House August. And at your age, the child won’t feel distant.”
Decisively, you are ‘Sion.’
“It won’t be for long. Teach him moderately while getting close. Make sure he develops good feelings toward you.”
“Whaaat???”
And so Fiott—thrust into an unwanted role as tutor (and nanny)—diligently instilled friendly feelings (toward the Sion ducal house) in the five-year-old through crash education.
Three days later, a group arrived at the August lord’s castle.
They were people from the Sion dukedom, bearing the splendid triple-headed eagle banner at the fore.
(To be continued)
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