Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Grand Duke's Heir, You've Run Away
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My father is the great Iron-Blooded Chancellor, but he's the type who couldn't eat it even if you shoved it in his mouth.
The servants, having already finished preparing lunch and dressed neatly in their uniforms, lined up on both sides of the corridor, bowing toward me. They all wore delighted expressions.
I patted each of their shoulders and stomachs in turn, greeting them warmly.
"Hey there. Great to see you all again like this. Hope you've all been well."
The servants exchanged glances, clearly flustered. It was the first time they'd seen me act this way.
But I didn't mind. Honestly, I felt more affinity for commoners and slaves than nobles. In the era of ruin, shunned by nobles and knights, I'd roamed the battlefields with these folks, sharing life and death.
One elderly servant was beside himself with gratitude.
"Yes, Young Master. Thanks to your kindness, we've been comfortable."
"Good to hear. Take care of your health anyway. Forget those kids of yours. You've got to look after yourself."
"Ah, yes~."
"Alright, carry on. I'm off."
As I entered the dining hall, I saw a noblewoman with a displeased look and a 13-year-old young noble quietly seated. It was Helen, who had become my stepmother right after my mother's death, and her son, my half-brother Yosef.
I gave them a brief glance and sat in the seat right next to the head of the table.
Do I really have to see those two again? Ugh, this is driving me nuts.
Things weren't good between me and that mother-son pair. It was one-sided harassment on my part, but even I didn't feel great about it. Seeing them just reminded me of my late mother.
Before drawing her last breath, my mother had earnestly implored me to kill that pair the moment I ascended to the Grand Duke's position, claiming they'd stolen all my father's love. The rift between our family and theirs ran that deep.
Of course, now I had no particular desire to get rid of them, but that didn't mean I was about to play happy families either.
It was the same in my previous life. Yosef and I never shared any brotherly bond.
Well, there was one time—right before I headed to my final battlefield—when we had something like a conversation. He'd asked, "You'll come back alive this time too, right?" And I'd replied, "Might be tough this time," leaving it at that.
Whatever. I'll just avoid looking at them. Tch.
A moment later, my father entered, accompanied by several servants.
"My lady. I'm here."
Only then did Helen's face brighten.
"Your Grace. Please, come in."
"How have you been?"
"Quite well, thank you."
My father shot me a quick glare. Of course he knew how I treated Aunt Helen. He had eyes and ears planted all over the territory.
But without a word, he turned and affectionately stroked the head of Yosef, who had run up and hugged him.
"Our Yosef has grown so much since I last saw you."
"Yeah~."
"How were your grades at school?"
"Top of the entire class again."
As much as I hate to admit it, Yosef was a genius unlike any other. At five, he'd memorized all 40,000 ancient runes, astonishing everyone. At seven, he'd mastered the notoriously difficult Prattha's Political Theory, turning the world upside down.
At ten, he'd become a disciple of Principal Bilke, the great sage and head of the Imperial Noble Academy, delighting my father. Lately, he'd memorized an entire small library's worth of the Compendium of Imperial Political Philosophy and grasped its subtleties, earning him the position of Bilke's top disciple.
Ah, no matter how I look at him, what a lucky little bastard.
Tch. Of course you're top. Why brag about the obvious? Please. In eight years, none of that will matter. When the world ends, who'll care about a few books? Swords will rule supreme. Heh heh heh.
I smiled contentedly. Back then, Yosef's genius had intimidated me so much I couldn't even lift my head in front of Father, but now, with some life experience, I was pulling off mental victories like a pro.
And honestly, it wasn't that I was bad at studies—it was just that swords were my thing. Sure, books made my eyes glaze over, and I'd thrown myself into swordsmanship as an escape, but hey, it worked out. By thirty, I'd even reached the Master realm.
"Your Grace, we'll serve the pre-meal soup shortly."
"Very well."
Father gently seated Yosef and headed to his own spot. But as he passed me, a shadow crossed his eyes.
I knew that expression all too well. It was Father's regret over being unable to make his stepson Yosef the heir instead of me.
Father could never set me aside and name Yosef Grand Duke's Heir. That was the power of my bloodline.
Sigh~ Do I have to see that face until the day of ruin? This is insane.
In the past, I'd resented Father for it. How could he favor one child over the other and expect me to be okay?
I might have feared him more back then. A spanking was no big deal, but that look stabbed my heart like a dagger.
I took a spoonful of the soup the servant brought and glanced at Father.
He was still so robust back then.
Suddenly, I recalled the day Father died. I didn't want to, but that look triggered the memory.
On the day the imperial capital Yosrahim fell to the monsters, Father came to me looking haggard. The Iron-Blooded Chancellor, once so formidable, appeared small and pathetic, like a defeated old soldier.
Even now, it fills me with pity and sorrow—but also some anger.
Back then, he'd left me with a final request to take care of his wife Helen and son Yosef before heading off to his last battle. No mention of worrying about me at all. Even with my knack for surviving countless brushes with death, that was too much.
Fine. Whatever. I'll give it up. It's just the Grand Duke's seat—what's the big deal?
I decided then to gladly yield the position to Yosef.
In the coming era of ruin, it was just a fleeting mirage anyway. No need to cling and live in Father's shadow. Giving it away now like a generous gift seemed like the smarter play a hundred times over.
"Father..."
"Oh, right. Viscount Taven came to see me the other day."
Father cut me off mid-sentence and barreled on. What a guy—can't even take a handout.
"Viscount Taven?"
"Yes. Apparently, his granddaughter is pregnant."
Seeing the anger in Father's eyes brought back memories of Viscount Taven.
His granddaughter was Lillia, my classmate at the Imperial Noble Academy. Right before graduation, she'd come onto me seductively. She was pretty enough, so we shared a bed a few times—but that turned into a huge issue. Taven used her pregnancy to demand a formal marriage.
But with a fiancée already, taking another wife was out of the question. Father quietly resolved it by granting Taven significant political favors.
I scratched the bridge of my nose a few times and spoke calmly.
"And?"
"You're not asking who the father is, are you?"
I knew. All too well.
"Of course I know."
"Who?"
"Her escort knight, Knight Rayton."
Father's eyebrow twitched violently.
"That's not what the viscount said."
"No, I'm right. I know exactly what was going on between Lillia and Knight Rayton..."
I was 100% sure the child wasn't mine. I'd heard it straight from her and confirmed it with my own eyes.
Right after the capital fell and my retainers abandoned me, I had nowhere to go and sought refuge with House Taven. After all, I figured the father of her child wouldn't treat me harshly.
But contrary to expectations, I was chased out mercilessly. Desperate, I pressed her, and Lillia's response was that I wasn't the father.
And she was right. The boy who came out with her was the spitting image of Knight Rayton—like twins. I couldn't even muster a proper protest before leaving Taven lands.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes. If you're doubtful, do a magical paternity test."
"And if it turns out to be true? Then we're in deep—no backing out. I'd have to concede even more to the viscount."
"Won't happen, so quit worrying."
Father eyed me steadily, then nodded. He'd decided to trust me for now. A seasoned politician like him wouldn't miss even a hint of deceit on my face.
And with Father, I always told the truth. Lies got caught instantly.
"Fine. I'll handle Viscount Taven."
"How?"
"He tried to blackmail me. He pays."
Killing intent flickered in Father's eyes. Not only had a mere viscount dared use his granddaughter's pregnancy for near-extortionate demands, but it was a lie too. The Iron-Blooded Grand Duke wouldn't let that slide.
I clicked my tongue.
"Forget it. Just let it go."
"No. When someone pulls a shabby stunt like that, they pay the price. That's politics."
"You'll collect later. No need to fret."
"What do you mean?"
After being chased from Taven lands, I ran into Lillia again at Sden Fortress. I was a commander of 5,000 conscripts then, and she was a filthy whore selling herself to slave soldiers to survive day by day. Even in the end times, how could fortunes flip so fast?
Anyway, my feelings were a tangled mess. A noble lady reduced to whoring for a loaf of barley bread—it was absurd. So I grabbed the wrist of the teary Lillia trying to flee, handed her a bundle of jerky and a few wheat loaves, and left without a word.
That evening, from afar, I saw what I took to be Lillia—a whore—sobbing as she threw herself from the walls swarming with monsters below.
My father is the great Iron-Blooded Chancellor, but he's the type who couldn't eat it even if you shoved it in his mouth. End