The Sixth Research - Chieftain Belkan (1)

I came to my senses on a cot inside the Magic Tower. The last thing I remembered was sharing drinks with Rodrick, downing cup after cup without restraint. We had vented about the years we’d lived through and simply kept drinking…

‘Not exactly the most appropriate conversation to have with a sponsor.’

Everyone has a bottom. In my previous life, people called those who shamelessly exposed their lowest sides uncultured. Yet the Iron Mace Count seemed to call only those who shared their bottom with him true friends.

‘Friends, huh.’

Age and status.

Even the worlds we came from were different.

Yet we could still respect each other.

‘In my previous life, that would have been unthinkable.’

The Rodrick Harrington I had witnessed in the game was like a successful warlord or mafia boss. He possessed strong resolve, sharp intuition, and showed boundless generosity to anyone who stepped inside his fence.

‘But he showed not a shred of mercy to those outside it. Especially to those he deemed traitors.’

He was the kind of man who could casually recount, like a heroic tale, the story of crushing a widow’s skull with his bare hands to avenge her husband. That was Rodrick Harrington.

‘Belladia’s innate cruelty probably didn’t come from nowhere. Still, Rodrick is someone who draws a clear line between friend and foe.’

He was a villain.

By the standards of a modern gamer.

‘But if I judge him as a serf-born lord…’

The Iron Mace Count would be considered an excellent ruler. Rodrick stabilized his domain through strict governance and maintained clear standards for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rewards and punishments, earning him the right to be called fair.

‘A lord who boasts about smashing enemy skulls?’

Reliable.

Trustworthy.

‘If only the lords of Temnigrad had been like Rodrick, my childhood would have been far smoother. Or if my father had been even half the man he is…’

My father had raised my older sisters to be pretty so he could sell them off at a high price. On my sixteenth birthday, he had auctioned me off to a slave trader and a local dignitary.

‘…That’s all in the past now.’

I shook my head to dispel the images of my sisters and rose from the bed. After washing up, I took out a clean grey robe from my subspace wardrobe and put it on.

“Tellorian!”

Right on cue, a young man’s voice called from outside the door. It was Chancellor Urban, the Minister of Finance. A peer of mine and one of the only two intellectuals in the advisory council.

“Have you finished preparing for the departure ceremony?!”

“Yes. I’m coming out.”

The door burst open.

I grabbed my magic staff and stepped outside. As I continued my conversation with Urban about the drinking session with the Count, we soon arrived at the training grounds.

“My apologies for being late, Your Excellency.”

“Kahaha! So the young friend has weaker stamina than this old man.”

…Considering you’re over fifty and still perfectly fine after drinking all night, aren’t you the real monster here?

“Exercise! You need exercise!”

“…Mm.”

“Anyway, I revisited the strategy you suggested at dawn. I stayed up all night thinking it over.”

I was so hungover I couldn’t even remember what strategy I had proposed.

“It truly was a brilliant plan! One that protects the family’s honor, avoids my death, and preserves the army! There are certainly parts that lack manliness… but if it means protecting my daughter, I can bear that much cowardice.”

Ah.

It was coming back to me.

“Then I’ll be off.”

“Understood.”

“I leave my daughter and the domain in your hands.”

Rodrick grasped both of my hands and gave me a steadfast look. It felt burdensome, but considering our changed relationship, it was a weight I could bear.

“Everyone, listen!”

“Yes, my lord!”

“While I am away, Master Tellorian shall be your lord. Furthermore, if I do not return, the Young Count shall inherit the title, but until he reaches twenty years of age, Master Tellorian will rule as regent!”

…He’s appointing me as regent? I had no interest in the troublesome business of governance. Reading grimoires would be far more beneficial and enjoyable in that time.

“Thank you, Tellorian.”

“I am grateful as well, Your Excellency.”

“Hey now! Didn’t we agree to call each other brothers?”

Being brought into a ruler’s inner circle was an excellent opportunity. It would allow me to secure far more resources through connections that had previously been impossible.

“Then I’ll be going, brother.”

“Safe travels, brother.”

Whinny!

As Rodrick stepped into the stirrup and mounted his warhorse, the beast snorted. Fully armed knights mounted their horses as well, and the soldiers who had been chatting fell into neat ranks with disciplined posture.

“All troops!”

Flutter!

The bannerman guarding the flag shook the army banner in response to his lord’s call. The Harrington family crest, emblazoned with an iron mace, billowed in the wind.

“March formation!”

““Hah!””

The troops gathered on the training ground began their orderly march. At the front, imposing warhorses clad in barding advanced, their knights’ armor gleaming. The sound of hooves and clanking metal rang out as they raised their lances skyward, sharp with knightly pride.

“Infantry! Advance!”

““Advance!””

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Next, the infantry began marching to the beat of the military band’s drums. They were qualitatively different from the peasant levies commonly seen in ordinary domains.

‘They’re outstanding elite soldiers.’

Their physiques were excellent and their training superb. What stood out most was that every soldier wore plate cuirasses. It was proof that the Count spared no expense or attention in cultivating strong troops.

‘Let me tally up the forces.’

50 knights.

400 cavalry.

800 infantry.

‘Considering the scale of the Harrington Count’s army, this is an appropriate size. Any more and the domain’s defense would become impossible. Any less and the Boy King would take it as an insult.’

But it was by no means a good situation. One-third of the Count’s total military strength was being sent to war. In terms of quality, it was closer to half the army’s power leaving the domain.

‘The Three-Headed Dragon’s Descent is approaching.’

The Three-Headed Dragon’s Descent referred to the three great calamities that would engulf Heartland. Disasters powerful enough to destroy even mighty nations, striking one after another.

‘The Green Tide is merely the first head of the Three-Headed Dragon. To prepare for the disasters that follow, the Harrington Count’s house must preserve as much strength as possible.’

Once the Three-Headed Dragon’s Descent ended, the main scenario would begin. Heroes and villains would emerge against the backdrop of the central region thrown into chaos. That was why I had been supporting the Harrington family.

‘However.’

I had already provided sufficient help.

From here on, it was a problem for them to solve.

‘Strategy and governance are issues the Harringtons must handle themselves. As court mage, I have given enough advice and alternatives. The rest is up to them.’

I needed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to focus on my research.

Because I had new magic to learn.

＊＊＊

‘There are quite a few abilities I’ve left neglected.’

The last time I had paid attention to growth, I had been Level 12. Now I had just reached Level 17. There were plenty of stats and skills to distribute.

I excluded Intelligence and Mana from distribution.

‘Mana and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Intelligence have already reached their vertical limits, making further investment inefficient. The human body simply cannot handle any more mana or intelligence.’

These numbers could be considered the limit for a mortal. In the entire world, only a handful of beings possessed higher Intelligence than I did.

My body felt lighter, and my mind became remarkably clear. These were stats befitting a notorious master thief or a deeply enlightened monk. Next came class abilities.

Simple and powerful.

Next were personal traits.

‘Should I upgrade Study Addict?’

With Intuition at 18, my reasoning told me that was absolutely not a good idea. I already spent eighteen hours a day in the library and laboratory. If my love for research grew any stronger, I would likely ignore my goal of clearing the scenario entirely.

Fire magic and a silver tongue.

The weapons needed to navigate an age of war.

‘Persuade those who can be persuaded. Burn those who cannot. A simple principle.’

Flap!

At that moment, a brown-feathered falcon landed on the windowsill. A creature not found in Heartland. It had clearly come from the Great Wasteland.

“Welcome, Elder Kartlig.”

“…As expected, you recognized me.”

The brown falcon exhaled smoke and transformed into a human. A massive green-skinned figure. Even in old age, his muscular build and protruding tusks could not be hidden.

“I knew you would return.”

“Hmm…”

“You bring a message from Belkan, yes?”

“You truly deserve to be called the Sage…”

Kartlig took out a Wind Spirit Stone from his pocket and handed it over. The moment I held it, a magical voice echoed in my mind.

“What does it say?”

A great war between the Essil Kingdom and the Desert Orcs was imminent. The kingdom’s army would suffer a crushing defeat, and the defensive line would be breached. Starting with the kingdom army’s rout, all greenskins would invade the kingdom, leading to a rebellion of all non-human races across the central region.

‘That’s exactly how it went.’

Until now, I had believed it.

That the future could not be changed.

At least not in the early stages.

‘No matter how much I warned them about the future, most people refused to listen. Especially those in power who actually possessed the strength to change it.’

In truth, before this incident, I had secretly sent a letter to the Boy King. Disguised as a member of the royal family, it contained information only an insider of the royal court would know, admonishing the Boy King for his recklessness.

‘Your true enemy is the Mountain Orcs, not the Desert Orcs. Therefore, treat the Desert Orc delegation with the utmost hospitality. If you cannot do that, simply send them away.’

Even if you dislike them, do not kill the envoys.

If you must kill them, at least do it cleanly.

‘But he didn’t listen at all.’

I had no intention of blaming him. A fourteen-year-old boy whose father had been eaten ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠alive by orcs would hardly possess the intellect to distinguish between different kinds of orcs.

‘But Dailen is a king.’

The Boy King was still a king.

Yet he had acted like a boy.

‘The regents should have stopped him.’

But the regents had either shrunk back in fear of the Boy King’s ferocity or delighted in the prospect of revenge against the orcs. My advice had been ignored.

‘They had their own circumstances as well.’

Queen Dowager Florin could not oppose her son because he held her weaknesses. Grand General Reginald needed military achievements to become a noble. Archbishop Tomori required accomplishments to run for the conclave.

‘Those struggling just to survive today have no room to listen to advice about the future. That’s why no one ever took my prophecies seriously.’

But.

I had finally found one.

“Guide me, Elder Kartlig.”

“You? Where to?”

“Your Great Chieftain has invited me.”

A person who would listen to my prophecy.

Even while cornered.

“He asked for the wisdom to prevent catastrophe.”

Whether I could stop it or not.

The first head of the Three-Headed Dragon.