The Fifth Research - Rodrick Harrington (2)
The royal army suffers a crushing defeat.
The lords are annihilated.
The boy king falls in battle.
“This is the future I have seen.”
The attendees in the conference hall frowned in unison at Tellorian’s declaration. Prophets bearing ill tidings were rarely welcomed.
“Do you have any evidence for this claim?”
A young knight with a mustache spoke with obvious displeasure. It was Lantreuil, commander of the gateway garrison. His father had died fighting off desert orc raids.
“The kingdom’s forces overwhelm the orcs in both numbers and quality. Moreover, we are clearly in the position of defenders.”
Lantreuil openly sneered.
“Or perhaps, being nothing more than a desk-bound scholar with no connection to military affairs, you simply fail to understand the advantages of a defender. I understand completely! After all, even the Grey Sage of the Tower of Ashes has never studied the art of war! Hahaha!”
Lantreuil mocked Tellorian while expecting support from his colleagues. But the other vassals kept their mouths firmly shut. Half of them believed in Tellorian’s sincerity. The other half feared the Iron Mace Count.
…
Silence.
Tellorian completely ignored Lantreuil’s provocation, while the rest of the vassals shot the young knight disapproving glares.
“Take your seat, young man.”
…
The Iron Mace Count spoke in a firm tone. Considering the count’s usual temperament, it was an exceptionally restrained response. The man they knew would have hurled something heavy straight into Lantreuil’s face.
“M-my apologies.”
Lantreuil sat down, but the hall remained silent. The weight of the terrible prophecy pressed heavily on their shoulders.
“Tellorian, my friend.”
The Iron Mace Count broke the silence.
“That young fool Lantreuil may have shat out of his mouth, but sometimes even shit hides gold. I believe your prophecy. And quite a few of the vassals here will as well.”
They had witnessed it.
Tellorian’s magic.
“You cured my daughter’s incurable disease, tamed trolls, and even drove away a drought. Each of those feats was nothing short of a miracle.”
That was why they believed.
In Tellorian’s prophecy as well.
“But that is something only we know.”
However.
The other lords would not believe it.
“The border count Rodrick, who used to swing his mace at the slightest provocation, refused the king’s summons simply because a court magician prophesied defeat.”
His reputation would be ruined.
For a lord, that was fatal.
“The vassals will resent my decision, the other great houses will rage against the Harrington family, and the royal family will never forget this betrayal.”
From the king down to the lowliest serf, every soul in the kingdom would point at him and call him a coward. That was not a future an arrogant lord could endure.
“I will go to war.”
“I see.”
“However.”
The Iron Mace Count lifted his head vigorously and looked straight at me. His blue-green eyes, the same shade as Belladia’s, shone with resolve.
“This will be my final decision as a lord. I will answer His Majesty’s call and never return to my domain.”
Rodrick of House Harrington.
Heeding the summons of the boy king Dailen.
A short while later.
In the lord’s office.
“Father. This is utter foolishness.”
Fully armed Belladia Harrington glared at her father with icy eyes. Joining a battle that was already destined for defeat was the act of an idiot beyond comprehension.
“Do you not trust Teacher?”
“How could I not? He is the benefactor who cured you.”
“Then what is the problem?”
Belladia slammed both hands on the desk and met his gaze. Apart from gender and appearance, their faces were remarkably alike. One could tell at a glance they were father and daughter.
“Belladia. There are battles a man must fight even when defeat is certain. Moments when love, duty, and above all, honor are at stake.”
Her father spoke in a gentle voice.
“A true man must willingly lay down his life for such battles. I hope the suitors you meet in the future are men like that as well.”
…Belladia’s cold expression twisted rapidly. She simply could not understand Rodrick’s decision. Why? Why would anyone march to their death for something they could neither see nor touch?
“Belladia. Though you were born a woman, you are a feudal lord who will rule this domain. You hold no knightly title, yet you possess martial skill surpassing any knight.”
Rodrick looked at his trembling daughter. She would not understand his decision to go to war. But he had to set an example for her. He had to show her that without honor, a lord was nothing.
“The most important virtues for a leader are honor and courage. Courage is the will to never abandon one’s convictions even when failure seems inevitable. Honor is the faith to keep one’s promises no matter the cost.”
Rodrick spoke at length about the virtues of a lord. One must always stand at the forefront on the battlefield. One must carry out even the tasks others avoid if necessary. Advisors must be honest and courageous…
But.
Belladia cut him off.
“Just a moment.”
“I am speaking as the family head right n──”
“So, how many troops will you be taking with you?”
“…What do you mean by that?”
“I would prefer you take as few as possible.”
…A hollow laugh escaped him. His daughter’s icy face was not born from the fact that her father was marching to his death. It was dissatisfaction over how his death would affect her own safety.
“A long and brutal war is coming.”
…
“To protect me in that war, I will need a powerful army. So what will happen to me if Father takes every last soldier with him?”
…
He was furious.
“Your father is going to his death right now──!”
“If Father dies, does that mean I must die too?”
“Ha.”
Hahaha.
Hahahahaha.
A dry laugh burst out.
“If the troops disappear, enemies will swarm in from all sides. They will seize our territory and wealth, and in the end, they will want me as well.”
Belladia stared at Rodrick with razor-sharp eyes. Like a wildcat baring its fangs.
“Does Father wish for me to be forcibly married to some scoundrel coveting this domain? Or do you hope I become a plaything passed around by orcs?”
Fuck the kingdom.
Fuck honor.
“Tell those idiots who can’t understand even when warned to go ahead and die. I have no intention of following a brat who is even stupider than a troll as my king.”
Having spat out her icy fury, Belladia rose from her seat. At the same time, she cast away the last shred of affection she had held for the father who had raised her.
“You know, Father.”
…
“I wanted to be a good daughter too.”
Her voice trembled.
Had something in his heart been moved?
“I still remember the fairy tales Mother used to read to me as a child. She told me so many stories about princesses.”
The countess had shown Belladia the warmth capable of melting even her heart of stone. So Belladia had tried, in her own way, to repay her mother.
“…But Mother found the gifts I sent her horrifying. As time passed, she grew to fear me.”
She had been rejected.
By her own mother.
“Mother was a devout believer. You know that, right?”
“…She was originally a woman who wanted to become the Sun God’s bride. She was the kind of person who considered others’ suffering more terrible than her own.”
The life of Iron Mace Count Rodrick had been filled with nothing but blood and steel. Until he met his wife.
“How do you think such a woman saw me?”
…
“At first, Mother tried to guide me with great care. But eventually, even she grew exhausted after so much time. She tried to report me to the Church’s Inquisition, claiming I was possessed by a demon.”
A girl who giggled while killing small, helpless animals provided more than enough evidence to claim demonic possession. If dragged before the Inquisition on such charges, even a princess would find it difficult to walk away with her sanity intact.
“So I struck first.”
…
“Father always emphasized it at every dinner, didn’t you? This world is a place where you either kill or are killed.”
Didn’t you teach me that family must help each other no matter what! That in this harsh world, they are the only ones we can truly trust and rely on!
“I wanted it to be that way too.”
“Yet you dared to stab your own mother!”
“But Mother was more worried about the suffering the people of the domain would endure because of me than she was about me. The one who betrayed the family first wasn’t me. It was Mother.”
She glared.
At her father.
“And now Father values the family’s honor more than me.”
Liars.
Hypocrites.
“I won’t concern myself with something like family anymore.”
She turned away.
With a refreshed expression.
“Thank you for everything until now, Father.”
…
Click. Click.
The sound of her heels echoed.
“Farewell.”
[Research Clue Acquired: Belladia Harrington]
[Specimen has felt ‘Resentment’.]
[Research Clues 1/10]
[Experience +10!]
[Legacy Points +1!]
[50/100 until Level 16]
[Legacy Points: 9]
…
Rodrick stared at the spot where his daughter had stood, then lowered his head. His heart was filled with utter misery. Where exactly had his life gone wrong?
…
Knock. Knock.
Someone rapped on the door.
“…Leave me.”
“It is Tellorian.”
“…Come in, my friend.”
Creak.
The door opened smoothly, revealing the mage. Neat grey robes, a magic staff, and those intelligent, cold eyes. He looked exactly the same as always.
“Care for a drink?”
“Tomorrow is the day we march.”
“I also have an experiment tomorrow.”
Glug glug glug!
Deep red wine poured into sparkling crystal glasses. Wine brewed by elven vintners from the southernmost Summer Island, served in vessels forged by dwarven artisans from Crystal Hold at the northern edge of the continent. This was proof that the international trade network was functioning — a symbol of peace. If a great war broke out in the central region, trade would cease, and when trade ceased, even more wars would follow.
[Legacy acquired regarding Trade!]
[Experience +10!]
[Legacy Points +1!]
[60/100 until Level 16]
[Legacy Points: 10]
“Drink.”
…
“Shouldn’t we at least clear the air while we can?”
Just as Belladia could not restrain her urge to kill, Rodrick could not restrain his urge to drink. If not for that flaw, the Border Count Rodrick would have received far more respect than he currently did.
“…You’re surprisingly strong with the bottle, my friend.”
“Apprentices of mages live harsher lives than others realize. Among those called mages, there isn’t a single sane human being.”
Gulp! Gulp!
He emptied the glass in one go.
“Ha! Even so, it can’t be as bad as a knight’s squire, can it?”
“?”
“Knights beat their squires under the pretext of training. They don’t even care about status. Even a lord’s son is just another squire during his training period. My own peer was the second son of Count Alençon. He couldn’t endure the training and… committed suicide.”
The drunken knight and mage each insisted that their own childhood had been harder. What began as a debate gradually turned into a contest of grievances.
“At least no one dies under a mage’s tutelage!”
“That is nonsense! Among the seniors I served, there was a skeleton who committed suicide because apprenticeship life was too difficult! In a witch’s workshop, even death cannot grant escape!”
Huh?
There was no comeback for that.
“Um…”
“Do you understand now?!”
“Ugh. Let’s just drink.”
With this, the proposition that a mage’s apprentice lived a harder life than a knight’s squire had been proven. Praise the scholarly achievements of the wise Tellorian!
[Legacy acquired regarding Culture (Absurdity)!]
[Experience +5!]
[65/100 until Level 16]
[Legacy Points: 10]
“By the way.”
We were both flushed from drink, faces red, complaining about the years we had lived through. The atmosphere had ripened enough for a serious conversation.
“…Have you ever considered becoming family with us?”
“?”
“I am proposing that you become the son-in-law of House Harrington, Tellorian.”
[New Specimen: Rodrick Harrington]
[Research Clues 0/3]
[Research Reward: Emotion Manipulation Stage 1]