The Fifth Study - Rodrick Harrington (3)

“I’m afraid not.”

“What a vague answer.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

Rodrick gave a bitter smile at Tellorian’s polite refusal. He understood. Who would want to share a bed with a woman who collected heads as trophies? There was no guarantee you’d wake up if you fell asleep beside her.

“There should be no secrets between husband and wife.”

“Which is exactly why I chose you as my son-in-law.”

Gulp, gulp!

Rodrick drained his cup in one go.

“If not you, who else could my daughter share her secrets with? Even if she somehow met such a person, your relationship with her would undoubtedly become a problem.”

Belladia Harrington came and went from Tellorian’s mage tower as if it were her own bedroom, and she always appeared in public with him at her side. To outsiders, they looked far too intimate.

“Besides, my daughter likes you.”

“That is absolutely not the case.”

“Is there any chance you might be wrong?”

“None whatsoever.”

“…”

At Tellorian’s firm reply, Rodrick laughed painfully and emptied his glass. It broke his heart that his daughter could never live an ordinary life.

“The young lady does regard me with more familiarity than others. However, that familiarity would be difficult to interpret as romantic affection.”

Romantic affection was always accompanied by a sense of specialness. But Belladia’s feelings toward him contained not even a trace of attachment. There was only fear of an overwhelmingly powerful being and a grotesquely twisted sexual desire.

“But she keeps expressing affection toward you…”

“That is not affection. It is a challenge.”

“…A challenge?”

“There has always been a clear boundary in my relationship with Lady Belladia. That of master and disciple.”

The master-disciple relationship meant the master taught and the disciple learned. Therefore, the disciple must respect the master’s authority, and the master must guide without personal motives.

“If I were to reveal any personal feelings,”

Belladia was an exceptionally beautiful specimen with outstanding sexual appeal. She herself recognized this trait as a strength and actively used it as a weapon.

“That boundary would disappear, giving the young lady grounds to stop following my instruction.”

A master and disciple must always maintain an appropriate boundary. That was the conclusion he had reached from his own complicated relationship with his master, one as tangled as Zaherion’s Knot.

“That would make sense if you were lovers.”

The Iron Mace Count countered.

“But if you become husband and wife, you will gain the authority to guide Belladia as the head of the family. You would be able to teach her far more strictly than you do now.”

Rodrick was an old-fashioned man. Born a noble and raised as a knight, he had spent his life struggling to prove what it meant to be a true man.

“An ordinary lady might think that way.”

But in this monster-infested medieval land, old-fashioned values were synonymous with integrity, and machismo was proof of courage. It was acceptable to beat one’s wife and to be clumsy at communicating with one’s children—so long as their safety was secured.

“However, the young lady does not care in the slightest for society’s rules or the opinions of others. Therefore, she would not acknowledge a husband’s patriarchal authority either.”

That was why Rodrick would have made an excellent head of household. If only his only daughter had not been born with the heart of a beast.

“…Then who is my daughter supposed to trust from now on?”

“…”

“Once I’m gone, you’ll be the only person she can rely on. Besides, Belladia has come of age. She must marry and start a family.”

Duty.

That was the value that had sustained Rodrick all his life.

“I’ve already received countless letters from monarchs wishing to become my son-in-law. Many of them are heirs to houses far more prestigious than our Harrington County. It means there are that many men who covet my daughter.”

Belladia Harrington possessed both power and beauty—two treasures at once. But a treasure was only a treasure when it could be protected. If it could not be guarded, it became a curse.

“But I do not trust them.”

“…”

“You know how stupid men become when they meet a beautiful stranger. They spout promises they cannot keep, become drunk on their own emotions, and rampage like beasts. All while deluding themselves that they truly love the other person. Fools!”

In this life, he had never fallen so deeply for a woman. Compared to the mysteries of mana and the vastness of the universe, love was a truly trivial subject of study.

But.

He understood.

Because he remembered his previous life.

“But you were different.”

“…”

“Even though you are a young, healthy man, you never harbored any lust toward my daughter. Just as you declared, you strictly maintained the boundary a master must uphold.”

Thud.

He knelt.

The Count, before the mage.

“…So please. Marry my daughter.”

“…”

“I need someone to protect Belladia after I’m gone. For that, you must become family.”

A father, to a trustworthy friend.

“The idea that you can only trust blood may seem outdated to you. But after living a long time, I’ve come to realize it. Only family is real.”

Bloodline.

The very essence of a noble house.

The meaning of a living being’s existence.

“Please. I beg you.”

“…”

Tellorian stared quietly into Rodrick’s eyes. He was the Iron Mace Count—a man respected by orcs for his peerless martial prowess and feared by the royal family for commanding an elite army. Yet right now, he was nothing more than an old, sick father worrying about his wayward daughter.

“Please stand, my friend.”

“I cannot rise until you accept.”

“Then I suppose I must never accept.”

Glug glug glug.

He poured more dwarf ale.

It was brutally strong.

“Because then you wouldn’t be able to march to war.”

Gulp! Gulp!

He drank deeply.

“Why are you so obsessed with making oaths?”

Bang!

He slammed his fist on the desk.

“Why don’t you just protect your daughter yourself?”

“…”

“If you’re worried about her enough to throw away even a noble’s pride, then reject that reckless conscription ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠order and devote yourself to defending your territory and your family.”

Rodrick remained on his knees and did not rise. Tellorian, whose mood had soured, spoke in a raised voice.

“This time, Belladia’s judgment is more accurate than yours. For the sake of both your people and your house, refusing the conscription is the best course of action.”

Rodrick knew.

The foolishness of the boy king.

The catastrophe that the orcs’ grand march would bring.

Even so.

Nevertheless.

“Regrettably, marching out is the correct choice for the sake of my house.”

“…How does that arithmetic work?”

Tellorian frowned. Rodrick Harrington had already publicly declared he would follow his instructions. Yet now he was breaking that promise and choosing to march.

“Let me ask you something, Grey Sage.”

…The white-haired old man stared at him with clear eyes. He was seeking wisdom.

“What is a noble?”

“They are golden spoons whose ancestors were the strongest swordsmen. Defeat a hundred men and you become a lord. Cut down ten thousand and you become a king.”

In the Western Continent, Nobility literally meant warrior. Power had always been decided by swordsmen, and the greatest swordsman naturally rose to become the leader ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of all swordsmen.

“Correct.”

Rodrick did not deny Tellorian’s cynical view. He had lived too long to remain naïve.

“Then what is the element that turns a swordsman into a ruler? Can you tell me what separates a bandit from a lord?”

Tellorian felt intellectual curiosity stir during this exchange with Rodrick. He was a modern mage raised in the baptism of rationalism. The class system was a mark of backwardness, and honor was nothing but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an empty name.

But the natives lived for honor and died for honor. Especially those who wielded weapons and those born into prestigious families.

“A lord is far stronger.”

“True.”

“He also has far more subordinates.”

“Also correct.”

“Then that’s everything.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Rodrick smiled. As expected, even Tellorian did not know everything. The teacher possessed insight that pierced all creation, yet he did not understand how ordinary people lived.

“Bandits have no honor.”

“…Did you just say honor?”

Tellorian’s eyebrows shot up sharply. He was revealing a truth he would never normally speak aloud. This was why he disliked drinking.

“I genuinely do not understand what you nobles mean when you speak of honor. Isn’t it just as empty a concept as the ‘loyalty’ gangsters talk about?”

Gangsters emphasized loyalty precisely because they could not trust one another. Wasn’t it the same with lords emphasizing honor because they could not keep their promises?

“Haven’t you yourself lived a life without honor, Rodrick Harrington?”

Rodrick had lived for half a century and participated in twenty wars. Ten of those wars he had started himself. And war was always accompanied by atrocities. Things forbidden in peacetime were permitted.

“I have lived a life I can be proud of before my ancestors.”

“…Do you remember your first war?”

“Of course! It was the first time I killed a man!”

Puhahaht!

The Iron Mace Count burst into laughter.

“You started a coup due to conflict with your father. The vassals of House Harrington did not look kindly upon your patricide.”

But the vassals’ rebellion had been suppressed with surprising ease. Rodrick had been a dangerous man then, just as he was now.

“After suppressing the rebellion, what did you do?”

“I imprisoned my father and showed mercy to the rebels. I even forgave the ringleader. It was an exceedingly generous act.”

This was medieval land. All goods in a captured fortress were spoils of war, and goods included people.

“That is true.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“You raped the lord’s wife.”

At Tellorian’s unexpected accusation, Rodrick blinked. He had never imagined he would be criticized for that particular matter.

“That was a legitimate transaction.”

“…Transaction?”

“Normally, the ringleader of a rebellion would be beheaded and displayed, and their lands confiscated. However, when the traitor’s wife came to my bedchamber, I embraced her.”

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

…Tellorian felt his chest tighten as he watched Rodrick puff up with pride over showing mercy. His mind understood the situation, but his heart could not follow.

“…Very well. Since there was consent, let us call it a mutual affair. But what happened to the civilians in the captured fortress that day?”

The nobles could be said to have brought it upon themselves by choosing to fight in a war. But what about the commoners who had simply followed their lord’s orders?

“The customary events took place.”

“…”

“I clearly demanded that the defenders surrender before the siege towers reached the walls. But they resisted to the end and paid the price for that choice.”

“…Very well. Let us call it custom.”

Rodrick listened attentively to Tellorian’s agitated voice. He endured the humiliation of being scolded by someone far younger than himself. He observed the teacher’s unusually sensitive emotional line and delicate sensibilities, much like the nuns of the church.

“But there is no excuse for the massacre at Alberta Town. The church burned and the residents were slaughtered. That goes against even custom.”

He.

Could not see the world the same way as others.

“Is that all? You tortured Baroness Esbell and handed her over to the soldiers. Of course, she did attempt to assassinate you with a false surrender. But…!”

The teacher grew angry and disappointed at events others considered ordinary. He was sensitive to death and could not ignore the suffering of others. He did not even know how to enjoy the pleasure of wielding violence against enemies. He was simply too alien a person.

“I will admit it.”

He nodded calmly.

Because the teacher had not spoken falsely.

“I smashed the heads of my enemies, violated the women of traitors, and seized the property of cowards to give to the brave.”

So.

What was the problem?

“I merely upheld my honor.”

“…?”

What was this?

It was clearly the common tongue, so why couldn’t they communicate?

“I promised the traitors a horrible death and the worthy opponents a clean one. If a promise is made, should it not be kept?”

Rodrick’s expression was utterly calm. As if he were a manager simply stating that he ran a company and evaluated his employees’ performance.

“When I drove out my weak father and inherited the county, my vassals refused to obey my commands and our neighbors constantly coveted our lands.”

Rodrick.

Possessed pride.

In the way he had lived his life.

“But what about now? My vassals obey my commands without question, and the aggressive neighbors bow their heads of their own accord. Do you know why?”

Rodrick looked at Tellorian with pity. How could a sage who could see through all creation be so indifferent to the human heart?

“Because I have always kept my promises.”

Tellorian felt a strange optical illusion, as if the world around him had grown distant. The modern way of thinking he possessed completely rejected the worldview Rodrick radiated.

“Since you spoke of evil deeds, I shall speak of good ones. After I drove out my father and ascended as Count, our territory became exceptionally safe.”

Bandits fled the moment they heard the name of the Iron Mace Count, and monsters dared not approach the surface. Even the royal family could not plunder supplies from the county.

Thanks to that,

The people could focus solely on making a living.

“Because others know that our house keeps its promises, our people enjoy peace. The citizens may grumble about high taxes and the tyranny of knights, but that is far better than becoming monster food or sacrifices to invaders.”

…That.

Was true.

“Just as I kept my promises to disloyal subjects, I kept them for loyal ones as well. If they served me diligently, I protected them with care.”

This was a different world.

One where modern common sense did not apply.

“Therefore, I must also keep the promise I made to the king.”

Good and evil.

Possible and impossible.

Such things did not matter.

“Because that is what honor demands.”

Promises must be kept.

If a prestigious house wished to survive.

‘Now I understand.’

He finally understood why the people of this world were so pathologically obsessed with honor. He also understood how their concept of honor differed from the [honor] he had known.

‘Thanks to this, I’ve realized something as well.’

A way to manipulate emotions.

It was time to take his first steps as an Enchanter.