A Calculated Rampage
Taliss von Thalen had rarely, in all his years, faced a crisis worthy of the name. He was the son of a rustic border noble, yes — but his house was a five-hundred-year-old native power, and within those lands they had always commanded real weight. It was fair to say the greatest crisis of his life had just arrived.
"What, you think puffing yourself up in this backwater means you can snub another house's guest? Huh? You think you can beat them bloody too?!"
"E-Ereb, my lord! Please, calm yourself! Our gatekeepers must have... misunderstood something...!"
"Misunderstood? So if you misunderstand, you get to beat people?"
"N-no... I mean those ignorant fools didn't know what they were doing..."
"They didn't know? And that makes it all better?!"
"No, that's not... I-I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? Then why the hell did you do something you'd have to be sorry for?!"
"I'm sorry!"
"Say 'I'm sorry' one more time and you're dead."
"..."
"Oh? So you're not sorry anymore?"
"N-no, that's not it!"
"You're doing this on purpose to fuck with me, aren't you."
"I... I'm not..."
"Not? We're outside, you little shit! I asked you a question!!"
What kind of browbeating was this? Every answer only dragged him deeper into the mire. Before he knew it, the gatekeepers' offense had become his own.
Why? Why was he the one being held to account? Taliss wanted to ask the gatekeepers that himself. Why the hell had they done something no one had ordered them to do?
But he couldn't push back. The gatekeepers were House Thalen's men-at-arms, and that meant their failures were his to answer for.
When Ereb seized Taliss by the collar and started shaking him, the knights of House Thalen went pale.
A house we can't afford to cross, and a madman we can't afford to handle...
They didn't dare draw their swords. The man before them was the second son of House Ahental — and a notorious wastrel at that. Escalating this would only make things worse.
"You little shit... you can't even keep your face straight, can you?"
"I... I'm not. I'm really not."
Taliss was still barely more than a child — perfect for Ereb to toy with. He had already started trembling at the mere meeting of Ereb's eyes.
"You know why I came all the way out to this shitty little town? Huh? I came all this way to escort that man, and these sons of bitches had to pick a fight with the one person they shouldn't have touched!!"
Thwack!
Ereb left Taliss alone and instead drove his boot into the gatekeeper crumpled beside them.
Taliss hadn't even been the one hit, and still he flinched. It felt like a message: I want to do this to you. I'm just holding back.
The gathered retainers of House Thalen watched Ereb's rampage, then turned their eyes on Messi.
Just who is that other-race, that he'd go this far?
A moment later, Ereb spat on the fallen gatekeeper — and then, in a complete reversal, escorted Messi into the castle with the utmost courtesy.
Was this really the same man who had been raving just seconds ago? The way he carefully attended to his honored guest was dignity itself — the very picture of a proper noble.
Messi leaned in and whispered.
"You might have given me a little warning."
"Heh. If you'd known, it wouldn't have looked natural."
"Haa."
What was he supposed to do with this black-hearted man? Messi let out a sigh.
"Don't sigh. You can't be tired already — we've still got another round to run in the guest hall."
"Another one?"
"If I have to, I'll do it dozens of times. Heh. Been a while since I cut loose like this. Stress is melting right off. Don't stop me today. I'm going to put on a proper sword dance."
"Are you sure that's all right?"
"It's fine, it's fine. My gut's telling me. These bastards are all small fry."
Ereb smiled, sly and wicked.
"If they lay a finger on me? That same day, the debt collection starts, and I'll show them what central power tastes like. Heh. We left the borderlands alone because it was a hassle — not because we couldn't touch them. I'll teach them the difference."
...Messi almost felt sorry for House Thalen.
They were shown straight to the guest hall. There, Ereb, Messi, and Ramang were received by Count Thalen.
The invited nobles and retainers gathered around the Count edged backward, reading the room.
Count Thalen had already heard the news, and he was on edge.
Damn it all. I just wanted to take that brat down a peg, and now look. They laid hands on a guest of House Ahental... Taliss, you idiot...
"Ah... a pleasure. I'm Count Thalen. Your father still keeping well?"
"..."
He held out his hand for a handshake. Ereb only stared down at it, his face twisted in a scowl.
From the very first moment, Count Thalen was thrown off.
"...I've heard what happened. Our gatekeepers were a bit rude, I understand?"
"I know they were extremely rude. 'A bit rude' is a new one to me."
"Ahem. Yes... they were very rude. I'm sorry. I apologize."
"The people in this house are strange. You all seem to think an apology settles everything..."
This insolent brat! The Count couldn't hold his temper and raised his voice.
"You... just what kind of manners are those?! When an elder and the head of a house steps forward to apologize, you ought to have the grace to accept it! Because of you, even the other nobles who came to enjoy the banquet are offended!"
Ereb's expression went a little blank. Then, as if a revelation had struck him, he muttered,
"The nobles are offended...? Ah. Can't have that..."
"Yes! Now you understand?"
"I was in the wrong."
"Finally, we can have a proper conversa—"
"Ah, I was in the wrong!!"
"..."
"Ah, I nearly made a terrible mistake. Wow, our Count is really something. Oh my, a mere second son of House Ahental almost offended these distinguished borderland lords. I was wrong. I was so, so wrong, I truly was!"
Bang!
Ereb kicked the fine hardwood table in front of him and sent it flying. Foam flecked his lips as he roared.
"I was in the wrong!! Huh? Our House Ahental went through hell to find this guest, and some random gatekeeper in this dogshit backwater laid hands on him! Huh! And I couldn't hold my temper, so I offended these noble lords!! I was wrong! I was in the wrong! Huh?!"
"Y-you... calm yourself!"
"Don't you dare offend the nobles, you son of a bitch!!"
Bang! Bang!
Ereb's eyes had rolled back. He climbed onto the wreckage of the hardwood table and stomped it to pieces, twisting his boots into the splinters.
Crunch. Crunch! Shards flew in every direction. The nobles' faces went deathly pale as they scrambled out of the way, as if they had just seen a genuine madman.
Good heavens... they said he was a wastrel... the rumors were true!
He's insane. A real lunatic has shown up!
"Y-you there! Anyone! Restrain the young lord at once!!"
"Try it. Lay one finger on me!! That's a declaration of all-out war with my house!!"
The knights and nobles who had started to move at the Count's command heard that and immediately bowed their heads.
House Ahental was not a house Count Thalen could afford to cover for. On top of that, rumors were rampant that the Count had borrowed thousands of gold coins from them.
"S-stop! Please, stop this! Will someone do something?!"
Crash!
Ereb smashed every expensive piece of furniture in reach, and that notoriously foul-tempered Count Thalen could do nothing but wring his hands. From the retainers' and visiting nobles' point of view, the situation had gone completely off the rails.
Then it happened.
"Please, stop!"
Someone dropped to his knees in front of Ereb. Only then did the frenzy-soaked Ereb cease his rampage and wipe the sweat from his face.
"Ah, fuck, the sweat... who the hell are you?"
"I am the eldest son of House Thalen. Talmud von Thalen."
"Talmud? Wise name. And?"
Talmud's mind was already working. This mad wastrel was not simply angry. If a truly precious guest had been injured, he would have demanded a healer first. He hadn't said a single word of the kind. The way he flew into a rage as if possessed — it was as if the rage itself were the point. Which meant he wanted something else.
If I tip Father or my brother off to what I've noticed... they'll just take credit for cleaning it up and shove me aside again.
Every retainer and every noble of influence in the region was in this room. It was the best stage he would ever have to distinguish himself.
"A soldier of our house committed a grave offense against a guest of House Ahental."
"I know that. But you only figured it out after things got this far?"
Ereb kicked a splinter of hardwood from under his foot and sent it flying into Talmud's face.
Even as the corner of his eye split and blood ran down his cheek, Talmud did not stop. He rose, walked to Messi, and knelt before him to apologize.
"To the honored one who suffered the injury himself, I offer this apology on behalf of my house."
"..."
Messi regarded the man kneeling before him, still bleeding, and decided he was no ordinary person.
"If I may... might I know the honored one's name and station? I must know whom we have wronged if I am to offer an apology befitting them."
He was asking for Messi's exact identity.
Everyone else had been swept up in Ereb's frenzy; it had not even occurred to them to ask who Messi actually was — the man at the center of all this. They had not yet coordinated a story. Ereb started to step in and handle it, but Messi moved first.
Light bloomed from his hand and closed the split wound on Talmud's face in an instant.
Inherited a noble and pure bloodline? Closer to the origin?
That kind of language was the sort royalty used when they spoke of legitimacy. At the very least, it meant a prince.
Surprise flickered across every face in the room. They knew other-races came from the forest — but they had never met one who claimed to stand apart from the rest. The fluent court speech coming from his mouth only made it more convincing. It meant this other-race was someone who had received a higher education.
And then there was the healing magic. Heal was not a particularly remarkable spell, but an other-race who could use magic felt special. And the light of the Heal made him seem, just a little, sacred.
Of course, all of it was Messi's lie and performance.
It has to be at least a prince, or no one will understand why the second son made such a scene. And... I never actually said I was a prince. They just decided that on their own.
Ereb was smiling, clearly pleased.
What a sharp kid.
He hadn't even been told, and he'd handled it perfectly. How could Ereb not be proud?
"I... I see. To have given offense to one such as yourself — Lord Ereb's fury is more than justified."
"Finally, someone I can actually talk to."
"I offer my apologies to this exalted personage, and to House Ahental, which sought to receive him. Is there anything you desire? I do not ask out of the cowardly wish to buy forgiveness with material compensation — only out of genuine remorse."
Talmud locked eyes with Count Thalen. The Count nodded.
He no longer wanted to display his own helplessness in front of his retainers and the visiting nobles. If it would end this, he would do anything.
A grin spread across Ereb's face. The kid in front of him was pretty sharp. Ereb had figured he'd need at least another hour of wrecking the place to get what he wanted. Having someone this quick on the uptake made things easier.
Ereb answered with practiced nonchalance.
"Ah, well... I'd like a proper apology first, I suppose."
"Ahem. I am truly sorry — to you and to your house..."
"That was a quick apology. Count, shouldn't that be directed at him rather than me?"
"Mm. I am sorry."
Desperate to wrap this up as fast as possible, he apologized even to Messi without the slightest hesitation.
That was a good sign for Ereb. It meant the man was ready to accept anything. Ereb decided it was time to put the real terms of the deal — the ones he had planned from the start — on the table.
"Very well. And I intend to bring this man to the capital and guarantee his status as an honorary citizen of the Asiris Kingdom. The trouble is, if I alone claim he is of noble blood, my own standing is too modest — the influence would be weak. What if Your Lordship, as Border Count, were to make up that deficiency?"
"M-me?"
Messi's status had always nagged at Ereb. Even before he decided to take the man as a confidant, he had kept turning over the problem of his being an other-race. He knew the discrimination and hatred toward other-races ran deeper than most people imagined. He himself had been no exception.
If he brought Messi into that world, it would create all kinds of trouble for Messi — and it could put Ereb himself in an awkward position as a noble. Strange rumors might spread that he was collecting other-race slaves. The aristocratic social circuit was especially quick with filthy gossip.
To solve this, he needed at least a house head of count rank or higher to guarantee Messi's identity and shut the mouths around them. And as it happened, a suitable noble was standing right in front of him.
Hmph. Me, guaranteeing that other-race? The second son of House Ahental is in on it too, so it shouldn't be a major problem...
"He's a guest of your house. Can't you simply ask Viscount Ahental? Why must I be the one to do it?"
"Of course my father will do so as well. But the Forest of Resentment and the Ahental Territory are a fair distance apart, are they not? Anyone can see that a guarantee from a border count would carry more weight than one from us claiming he is royalty."
"That's true enough."
"If you help me, I will extend the deadline on your debt repayment."
The Count started.
The moment those words left Ereb's mouth, everything proceeded at a breakneck pace. The Count even readily agreed to hand over Leto, the herb gatherer of Benuda Village who was under a forced-settlement order.
Ereb's grin threatened to split his face. The look he shot Messi all but said, Well? That's me.
Even Messi had to concede this one. For something dressed up as a grand noble conflict, it had been a cheap, deranged move that only Ereb could have pulled... but it had been undeniably effective.
And two high-ranking nobles guaranteeing me means I will never again face official discrimination in the kingdom just for being an other-race. Did the second son think this far ahead when he started all this...?
Official settings only, of course. But even that was something.
A desk was brought in to replace the shattered table. Upon it, Count Thalen wrote out a letter of status guarantee and stamped it with his seal. Ereb tucked it into his coat.
"Apology accepted. I'll forget today's discourtesy."
"...That other-race really is royalty, yes? I wrote it out of apology to you, but still."
"Do you think my house treats just anyone as a guest? I'm escorting him myself."
"That's... true enough."
Count Thalen could not be allowed to harbor doubts. He was one of the pillars guaranteeing Messi's status — and a man in that position needed conviction, not suspicion.
Ereb summoned the gatekeepers he had beaten. The moment they saw him they nearly had a fit, but Messi healed them in an instant.
Under Messi's Heal, a twisted jaw snapped back into place and teeth grew in anew. It seemed to help the mind as well; much of their terror melted away.
The borderlands were a place that saw trauma often, and the Count knew the limits of Heal well. His eyes went wide. What was unfolding in front of him was in a completely different league from the earlier healing of Talmud.
"The Heal of the Forest Tribe — at least, the kind we possess — is a little special."
"Remarkable... At that level, it's no different from a priest's miracle. House Ahental is right to receive him as a guest."
The lies rolled off their tongues.
Ereb and Messi smiled, sly and knowing.
All of it — every last bit — had been accomplished without a single word of prior discussion.