Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: The Grand Duke's Heir Has Run Away
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My father is the great Iron-Blooded Chancellor, but he's the kind of guy who couldn't eat it even if you shoved it in his mouth.
"I'll handle it myself."
"Fine? Then you deal with it."
Father nodded slightly. I was the designated powerhouse at the heart of the Yosrahim Empire for the next generation. If someone like me just whispered a word to the government officials, a minor noble like Viscount Taven—who had no real connections in the central politics—would be gone in an instant.
I glanced at Father.
"Is there anything else you want to say?"
"No."
Huh, that's weird. Father was supposed to kick me out to the Divinum Temple.
"Father, don't I have to go to the Divinum Grand Temple?"
Father's eyes sharpened.
"How do you know about that?"
"I just overheard it here and there."
"Only six people know about it, including me. Which bastard spilled it?"
Father looked a bit agitated. It seemed he was pissed that one of his trusted aides had already sided with me.
Well, power can't be shared even between father and son. Especially if that son is an ugly duckling.
"I was talking via magic communication with a friend who went to the Divinum Grand Temple ahead of me to become a Guardian. He said he saw my name on the list. Oh, and apparently Princess Sierra is going this time too. He said she's registered at the temple, so it must be legit."
Princess Sierra was the youngest daughter of the king of Kern Kingdom, which shared the southern border with the Yosrahim Empire, and my fiancée. We were supposed to get married next year, but it all fizzled out due to an incident at the Divinum Grand Temple.
And no, it wasn't my fault.
Princess Sierra entered the Hall of Divinity and became the owner of one of the continent's Seven Divine Artifacts, the Earth God's Chaos Hammer Bermong. In other words, she became the Grand Saintess of the Earth, and suddenly we weren't on the same level anymore.
The Kern Kingdom kept delaying our marriage and eventually demanded we break off the engagement so they could marry her off as the primary wife to the crown prince of the massive power Lobros Kingdom.
But that fell through too. Princess Sierra refused and insisted on keeping our engagement. Something about how a Guardian who values honor must hold promises above life itself.
Anyway, what a jinx of a woman.
And while still engaged to me, she set off on her path of asceticism, only reappearing in the world eight years later, right around the start of the monster invasion—as the captain of the Divine Artifact Unit Number One, the Earth Empress and humanity's hope.
No, if that's the case, just break it off already. Damn it.
"I see."
"Yes."
"Got it."
As Father cut the conversation short, I pressed again.
"So, I still need to go to the Divinum Temple, right?"
"No. You don't need to go anymore."
"What?"
"The reason's gone, so manage the territory and build up your heir training here."
Oh, right. I was supposed to flee—or get exiled—to the Divinum Temple over the Lillia pregnancy issue. Now that the pregnancy thing was more or less swept under the rug, there was no reason for me to go anymore.
I hurriedly countered.
"But that's not right."
"Why not?"
"It's already set, canceling now would be awkward, and wouldn't it be great if I became a Guardian?"
Father let out a scoff. There's a belief that only those chosen by the gods can become Guardians.
"You, a Guardian? That's a joke for the dogs. Just do as your father says—stay quietly in the territory and don't cause a scene in front of Princess Sierra."
"I can do it!"
"Yahn! Do I have to handle territory management on top of national affairs, when I'm swamped? You're an adult now—take it over for your father's sake!"
Father even called my name as he snapped. That's how mad he was.
Normally, I'd back down here, but I couldn't. Yojjo was at the Divinum Temple right now.
I pointed at my younger brother, Yosef.
"Yosef can do that stuff."
"What? Entrust territory management to a 13-year-old kid?"
I was momentarily speechless. Right—he's 13 this year, and after this break, he'll head back to the Imperial Noble Academy. Meaning my little brother now wasn't the solid 20-something young man I'd seen recently.
"Or have Aunt Helen do it. Isn't there something like regency?"
"What about your heir training?"
"Give the heir stuff to Yosef. I just want to live freely now."
I turned to Yosef again.
"Yosef, from now on, you're the Grand Duke's Heir of Karl. You'll do it, right?"
The luncheon atmosphere turned icy in an instant. Helen's face went pale as a ghost, and Yosef started trembling in fear.
Just as I sensed something off, Father slammed his fist on the table, shaking the whole room as he bellowed.
"Yahn! What nonsense are you spouting?!"
"Huh? I'm just saying I'll yield the Grand Duke's Heir position to Yosef. Honestly, if I step aside, doesn't he become the heir?"
Father's eyes blazed with killing intent.
"Even so!"
"No, Father, why are you like this? You wanted Yosef to be the heir anyway, didn't you?"
"What?! Guards! Drag this fool to the underground dungeon right now!"
A group of knights burst into the luncheon hall, grabbed my arms, and hauled me out. I protested wildly, not understanding, but Father's will didn't waver.
In the end, not long after, I was locked in Horton Prison, next to the southern wall of Karl Territory Castle.
Trapped behind iron bars in the prison cell, I tore at my hair, deep in thought.
I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I had to be in prison. No matter how I racked my brain, I hadn't done anything wrong. All I'd done was try to yield the Grand Duke's Heir position to my brother Yosef out of broad-minded consideration for Father.
Yet Father didn't just get mad—he went so far as to assign my former swordsmanship instructor, the stubborn-as-nails Meyer Count, as my personal jailer.
'Father, seriously. How did he even think to stick Meyer Count on me?'
Meyer Count was an outstanding swordsman at the mid-Master level and commanded all the soldiers and knights under the Karl Grand Duke. Plus, his fief was along the Metaria River border to the north of the territory, so he couldn't just come down here freely. Across the Metaria River's great plains, barbarian orcs who eyed human lands lived in massive tribal villages.
No matter how much he needed someone to control me, he couldn't just use Meyer Count as a babysitter. Something was definitely off.
Still, it felt kinda nice. Father must care about me in his own way. If not, he wouldn't have flipped out so hard when I tried to hand the heir position to my brother. Blood's thicker than water, after all.
"Ah, I've misjudged Father all this time. Well, we're father and son—how could the blood not pull? Heh heh heh."
Then a blond man in his forties, clad in armor, approached. It was Meyer Count. He scanned me up and down through the bars and spoke coldly.
"Grand Duke's Heir. Do you really have to go that far?"
I looked up slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm asking if you really need to kill your brother to feel satisfied."
His grating words made me glare at him like he was insane. Me, trying to kill Yosef? I'd never heard such bullshit. Honestly, in the era of destruction to come, he'd die anyway—what would I gain by killing him now? That accusation was infuriating.
"When did I ever say I wanted to kill Yosef?"
"At luncheon the other day, you tried to yield the Grand Duke's Heir position to young master Yosef, right?"
"Yes. I did."
"But when a powerholder offers to yield their authority to someone else outside of death, there's usually only one intent."
"What the hell is that?"
"To test for rebellion. If they accept, they have rebellious intent, so kill them. If they refuse, their ambitions run deep, so you must kill them anyway."
I squeezed my eyes shut.
No wonder Yosef looked so weird when I offered the position. Father, having seen it all as a master chancellor, made sense, but Yosef—that kid was playing the terrified elder like a pro.
Ah, that's why you should never deal with politicians. Do they twist every pure intention like this? I just wanted to flip their whole house upside down.
"Come on, it's not always like that, is it?"
"Of course, if you were some ancient sage whose name echoed through history, it might have been a noble transfer of power. But you're you, aren't you, Grand Duke's Heir?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Meyer Count narrowed his eyes.
"Ponder it deeply in there. You'll stay until you shed that wicked heart—be it a month or two. Plenty of time."
"Argh, seriously!"
I yelled, but he ignored me and walked away.
No flexibility—that's why he dies early. During the upcoming orc great invasion, the count meets a gruesome end under the axe of Grolmogg, the orcs' great hero. The Karl Grand Duke territory suffers massively because of it.
'Tch. Guess I'll save him then. Bye forever, Meyer Count.'
Soon, my exclusive servant Paul entered the cell with a tray of bread and meat.
"Young master, you need to eat."
"Not hungry!"
"But you haven't eaten since dinner yesterday."
True. I skipped breakfast from the shock of time travel, and at lunch, I barely got a spoonful of soup down before Father chased me out. I'm not the type to starve, but today was weirdly full of skips.
But food wasn't the issue now. To vent this injustice, I had to go on a hunger strike.
"I'm fasting starting today. I won't eat until Father lets me out of this prison."
"But young master..."
As Paul shoved the tray at me, I swatted it away hard. The dishes shattered on the floor, Paul's face went ashen, and I bellowed.
"I said no! Get out!"
"Y-yes... Understood."
Paul hurriedly gathered the broken dishes and dirtied food. After a moment, I slyly eyed him still cleaning the floor.
"Hey, why aren't you gone?"
"One bread's missing. I brought seven for sure..."
"What, you think I hid it in my pocket?"
I turned my pockets inside out, and Paul waved his hands, standing up.
"N-no, that's not..."
"You bastard, what do you take me for? No more chit-chat—out!"
"Yes. Understood."
Paul fled the cell. I carefully watched the guarding knights, then picked up the bread under my shoe heel with my foot.
I bit into the bread and flopped onto the prison bed.
'Damn, doesn't even touch the spot.'
My father is the great Iron-Blooded Chancellor, but he's the kind of guy who couldn't eat it even if you shoved it in his mouth.