A Noble's Justification

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"Doesn't this seem suspicious?"

Messi could hardly have missed that Ereb had sensed something off. The moment Taliss stepped away to see to the warhorses, he put the question forward.

"I figured you'd say that."

Ereb laughed.

"You mean the banquet invitation feels fishy, right?"

"You already knew?"

"Knew is a strong word. More like it left a nasty ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠taste in my mouth. When things go like this, they're usually plotting something..."

Ereb's instincts veered into the extraordinary at times. He never so much as twitched when someone he judged stronger than himself was hatching a scheme — but when the schemer was someone he considered weaker, he sniffed it out with almost eerie precision.

A sense, in other words, hardwired with contempt for the weak.

"I was going to ask you anyway. Why is it, do you think? Why does this leave such a foul taste?"

"Even if an agreement was reached, there's no way the Second Young Master would look good in House Thalen's eyes. And yet they're offering to throw a banquet for us. That's rather awkward, isn't it?"

"You're right."

"On top of that, a village's property is the governing lord's property. To hold a festival in the village, they sought permission through the land steward just the day before yesterday — because it costs money. And now they're offering to throw a banquet as well? That means deliberately spending a large sum twice over..."

"House Thalen isn't a wealthy family, either. Those bastards are pretty deep in debt to our house."

Ah. Only then did it make sense why House Thalen had swallowed Ereb's tyranny without a word. It hadn't been a negotiation at all. He'd had them by the throat.

"If a banquet had already been planned... it would have been common sense to send a formal invitation the day before yesterday. That way they could have canceled the festival and saved at least some of the expense. Why the change of heart only today?"

"Must be because I demanded the warhorses. The only thing that's changed in the meantime is that I sent that letter."

"...So everything they'd been swallowing finally boiled over."

The picture assembled itself readily enough in his mind. Count Thalen, patience finally snapped — and his retainers, grinding their teeth over how to repay the humiliation.

"Accepting so quickly was rash. You should cancel, even now."

"Heh heh. Cancel? Messi, that's a funny joke. This is a seat we have to take no matter what the other side does."

"If you know the burrow in front of you is a goblin den, what reason is there to charge in instead of avoiding it?"

"Ah... Messi. You don't understand the world of nobles at all. A fight between nobles isn't about whether to clash or to dodge."

"?"

"Nobles decide only one thing: whether to go, or not to go. Can you grasp the difference?"

Clash, or dodge. Go, or don't go. The outcome looked the same — it could easily feel like wordplay. But depending on the lens you used to interpret it, the meaning flipped a hundred and eighty degrees.

"...It's a question of what you hold as the greater value. The former is survival and safety... the latter is justification?"

"Exactly. Wondering whether to clash or dodge is a calculation that puts 'safety' and 'survival' on the scale. That isn't what it means to be a noble, Messi. For a noble, the only thing that matters is justification. You choose the path that benefits you, using justification as the measure. That's why a noble decides: go, or don't go."

Safety and survival were keywords that mattered to herbivores living under the law of the food chain. Had anyone ever seen a herbivore weigh justification? Of course not. For a rabbit, living was what counted.

Justification only meant something to a carnivore. A lion would walk into a fight to the death because it had a justification to uphold — that it was fit to be king of the pride. Justification sat above the criteria of survival and safety.

The world of nobles resembled that of carnivores. That was what it meant to be a noble in this world. It was that difference that allowed them to become rulers, and to believe themselves exalted.

"In this case, a choice like 'don't go' has no justification. If I refuse this invitation, I know exactly what those bastards will do."

Ereb laid out the future with the ease of a gifted prophet.

"They'll paint me as a shameless coward who marched private soldiers onto someone else's land, strutted around, and then had the gall to refuse even the lord's banquet invitation. It'll splash filth on our house's honor, too. What I'm saying is, right now the initiative on justification sits with them, not us."

"..."

One thing, at least, was certain. Messi's criteria for judgment and those of a noble like Ereb were not the same.

"I understand. I feel as though I've opened my eyes a little, thanks to you."

It had happened before. Ayla had pointed out that he didn't know nobles well.

"Then what do you intend to do from here?"

"There won't be the life-or-death struggle you're worrying about. At most, they'll have cooked up some cute little stunt to take me down a peg."

Messi agreed with that much. Go after Ereb's life over a handful of warhorses? The Count wasn't that kind of madman.

"Leave this one to me, Messi. I'll show you what a fight between nobles actually looks like. Heh heh."

A murderous light gleamed in Ereb's eyes.

Ereb looked at Messi and smiled, sly and dark.

At last, the party left Benuda Village behind.

A great many people came out to bid them farewell, and to the very last the Village Chief and his family stood at the entrance, waving them off.

Watching it, Leto felt something strange. For a crime committed as a teenager, he had been dragged all the way here, and had been forced to put down roots and live. In the end, it had taken thirty years to leave the village. Emotions that words like good or bad could not explain churned inside him.

Messi was no different.

I'm finally heading out into the world, Master.

If not for his master, he might have left this other world long ago. Instead, he was able to set out with far more preparation and resolve. For that, he was grateful.

The words his master had once spoken rose again in his mind. His master had always been right. In Benuda Village, Messi had been the one to approach the residents first — and they, in turn, had shared their feelings with him.

Now it was time to be the one who approached first — not in a village, but in the world.

Starting small, perhaps. Messi gently stroked the nape of the horse he rode.

"Good boy."

The warhorse snorted, a pleased huff of breath, even as it walked at a slow pace. He had ridden before — Benuda Village had a few plow ponies — but a warhorse was different from the first moment, in height and in the way it moved. And yet Messi felt at ease. It was strange.

...Kkyu? When did you get here?

Messi startled and looked around. To send a thought, she would have to be within a certain range. And there, in the distance, a figure in full plate armor was waving. That was... Kkyu?

What on earth is going on?

You could tell at a glance it was full plate from an older age — the design itself was nothing like modern armor. Today's armor was built to hug a knight's body. That suit was barrel-chested, and the plates themselves were thick. Thanks to that, the compact General Ant didn't look too conspicuous... but those antennae poking out — what exactly was the plan there?

To Tallen County. They're the nobles who rule this area.

Honestly, having the princess around had proven useful more often than not. Last night she'd slipped away at a perfectly timed moment, which had been a blessing... but.

Alright. Come with us.

Messi guided his horse out of formation, went to General Ant himself, and took her from the ant's keeping. When he peeled off and then came back, Ereb, riding at the very front, approached and asked,

"What's going on?"

"Ah, a friend who'd run off came back."

Messi loosened his pocket and showed him the princess.

"I thought something felt off, not seeing her around..."

Ereb's face scrunched up. But then a sly smile crept across it, and he clapped Messi on the shoulder.

"Don't bother hiding her in a pocket. Set her right up on your shoulder like this. Looks better that way."

"...That's a sudden suggestion."

Whatever he was thinking, it was a different proposal from anything before, and he rode off. Messi was bewildered, but the princess threw such a fit about being put on his shoulder that he had no choice.

They rode and walked for several hours, and at last a vast pond and farmland came into view — and beyond them, a massive castle. It was a moment of fresh realization: this really was a fantasy world that resembled medieval Europe.

The closer they drew to the castle, the more clearly its structure came into view. The walls were high, with embrasures at intervals well suited to archers. The tall towers looked useful for soldiers on watch — or for mages taking sniping positions.

Mages must be quite useful in this world's wars... which means their influence would be considerable, too.

As the column drew near, the castle gates swung wide open. Men who looked to be gatekeepers stood ranked to either side, receiving the party.

Messi, riding in the middle of the column between the knights and the mercenaries, made to enter with the rest. Then, suddenly, one of the gatekeepers pointed a finger at him.

"You there!"

At first he didn't realize he was the one being called. He kept ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠going — and the gatekeeper ran up and seized his horse's reins.

The horse screamed.

Yanking the reins of a horse someone else was riding was a dangerous act. Of course the horse startled, and Messi clenched both thighs hard to keep from being thrown.

Honestly, it was a feat only possible because Enzo Muete's physical capabilities had taken root in him. Without that, he would certainly have been thrown. Messi's face went cold. This was not going to be polite.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"That's what we'd like to ask. Who the hell are you, to dare try to pass through a Count's castle gate?"

"Are those knotholes for eyes? I am with House Ahental's party. That's why I'm in this column, entering with the rest, isn't it?"

Snickers rose from the gatekeepers standing behind. The face of the one in front of Messi went red.

"How dare — how dare a mere demi-human...!"

So that's what this was about.

It was the reaction both his master and Messi had long feared. The moment they confirmed that Messi, passing through, was a demi-human, their attitude had flipped — and they had done the unthinkable of blocking a member of the Count's guest party. A thick mix of hatred for demi-humans and a sense of superiority ran through it.

The mercenaries nearby tried to intervene, but the gatekeepers threatened them with spears. Ayla looked ready to burst forward — and Gaston could be seen holding her back.

"Get out of the column at once. Otherwise, you'll be severely punished under the Count's law, demi-human!"

"Once the column has all gone in, we'll inspect your belongings separately, confirm the purpose of your visit, and if there's nothing wrong, we'll let you in."

"Disgusting. Is that a bug on your shoulder? What kind of scheme are you trying to pull with that here?"

Even as the threats came, Messi looked at them with cold composure.

The gatekeepers must know I'm with House Ahental. But because I'm riding between the knights and the mercenary corps, they figured I was just some demi-human attached to the mercenaries. That would make me an easy target they could be rude to without consequence... and with Kkyu on my shoulder, I must have looked even more offensive..... Wait?

Kkyu on his shoulder had become a trigger for their disgust? And the one who had encouraged that was none other than Ereb. Placing Messi in the middle of the column, near the mercenary corps... that had been Ereb, too.

Then this is the Second Young Master's design?

The moment the thought landed, a well-drawn blueprint flashed through his mind. A sigh escaped on its own, and a bitter smile touched his lips.

What a thoroughly nasty human being... so this is what he was aiming for.

Messi understood what Ereb was thinking. He had just caught on to the Second Young Master's words — that even without a justification, he would manufacture one and fight.

This time it seems the Second Young Master has a plan of his own... I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠better play along.

Once his thoughts settled, he knew what he had to do. Messi furrowed his brow and slowly slipped into the act.

"You lot — I am a member of the party of House Ahental's Second Young Master, Ereb von Ahental, and his guest! You dare threaten me?!"

"Shut it. You, a guest? Don't make me laugh. One more word and I'll run you through."

The gatekeeper thrust his spear forward in threat. Messi timed it perfectly and yanked the reins hard.

The horse screamed.

The startled horse reared, lifting its forelegs.

Now. Careful, Kkyu!

Messi flailed as if gravity had won, tumbling from the saddle as ungracefully as he possibly could.

"Argh! Aaaagh!!"

He screamed as painfully as he could, and the gatekeepers sneered to their hearts' content.

And that was the moment.

"You bastards... have you all gone insane?"

It was Ereb, who had been first through the gates at the head of the column. He was coming back. His face was packed with fury and sheer incredulity.

"L-Lord Ereb! We greet you!"

The gatekeepers scrambled to salute, thrown into confusion. But Ereb's disbelief had not faded in the slightest.

"No... never mind the greeting... I asked you a question. Have you gone insane?"

"Pardon?"

"What do you mean..."

There was no need for more words.

Crack! Crack! Crack!!

An iron-gauntleted hand came flying. The gatekeepers' heads snapped violently to the side.

"Urghhh...!"

"M-my teeth..."

Something came clattering out of a gatekeeper's mouth. He dropped his spear and spat blood. He couldn't even stay on his feet, writhing in pain. Watching that spectacle, Ereb's eyes slowly filled with madness.

Thud. Thud-thud. Crunch!!

Wow. The bastard's acting is genuinely outstanding.

Sprawled on the ground, Messi watched the scene and marveled inwardly. Ereb's eyes had rolled white, foam at his mouth, stomping and raging. Knights and retainers of House Thalen came rushing out to try to stop him, but Ereb's switch was well and truly flipped. There was no chance he would stop.

And so began the legend of a madman — a rake of unmatched infamy.