Chapter 63
Chapter 63
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: City of Desire and Despair (2)
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"It's the first time meeting you in person, Elder Heinz Schwarzenbeck. It's an honor to meet the legendary adventurer."
"Legendary? It's all stale stories from decades ago."
"Twenty-three years ago, you led your comrades to defeat the Monster Lord, the Cyclops King. Sixteen years ago, you slew the wyvern that appeared on the surface and saved the city. Just hearing about it from the previous family head made my heart race."
Heinz Schwarzenbeck's achievements didn't end there.
Nine years ago, he had descended to the 69th floor of a dungeon with his comrades, and to this day, no other adventurer had reached that depth.
In recognition of these feats, he had received the epithet "Crimson Death" from the Emperor himself.
And beyond that, he had resolved countless incidents, building his fame. Martin mentioned all the major ones.
Naturally, Heinz was genuinely pleased.
"Hahaha! To think someone remembers all that—looks like I didn't live in vain."
"The greatest duty of a noble is to subjugate monsters as an adventurer. And defeating monsters means mastering the accumulated knowledge from the past. Remembering a senior's achievements is just what a junior should do."
"No wonder the Young Lord's reputation is shaking the Empire—now I get it in one go."
"You're too kind."
"No need for humility. You've achieved brilliant feats at just eighteen. If my tales are legends, the Young Lord's exploits will one day become myths."
"I'll do my utmost to live up to those expectations."
Smiles filled the faces of Martin and Heinz Schwarzenbeck.
They continued their conversation afterward, exuding a camaraderie hard to believe they'd only just met.
Jerome Metselder watched the scene with warm satisfaction.
"Hahaha! Seeing a hero of the past and a hero of the future together like this—I'm a lucky man."
"Thank you for arranging this gathering, Mayor Metselder."
"Gratitude from the Young Lord himself—worth every bit of the invitation. Shall I guide you to your seats now?"
"I suppose we should. If we stay here any longer, all the carefully prepared food will go cold."
At Martin's response, Jerome Metselder headed to the dining hall with confident strides.
Martin and his group followed, soon taking their seats at the table.
The dishes that followed were each superb.
Better even than what was served at the Adalbert main house, he thought.
They deliberately avoided sensitive topics, keeping the conversation pleasant.
But it didn't last long.
As dessert was about to be served after the meal, Jerome Metselder finally broached the subject.
"I have no intention of obstructing the Young Lord's will to eradicate criminals. However, there is one concern I must raise."
"Hmm. I haven't done anything for the mayor to worry about, have I?"
"You've already disbanded five families, including the Brightner family."
"That's right."
"The Young Lord could turn all five territories into Adalbert family domains, just like in Pratel City. Most nobles, including myself, are worried about that. The Rustal territory might be understandable since it's a branch family from the start, but the others are independent powers, aren't they?"
"Ah. No need to worry about that at all. I'll hand over the territories as soon as I find suitable talent to govern them. Pratel City will be the same—whoever is appointed lord will be guaranteed half the city's vested interests."
Martin replied in a relaxed tone.
But Jerome Metselder's gaze remained sharp.
"That's another issue. It's all based on the Young Lord's subjective judgment, isn't it?"
"If you want to get technical, yes. But so what?"
"Pardon?"
"I'm not punishing criminals out of personal desire. They provided the pretext first, and I punished them strictly according to imperial law. Dissolving the families is well within my authority."
The hegemon of the North: Adalbert family.
The hegemon of the East: Ferdinand family.
The hegemon of the South: Klaus family.
The three great noble houses served as hegemons of their regions, wielding influence and authority rivaling the kingdom's king.
This had been directly acknowledged by the founding Emperor, and due to his edict, the imperial family could not directly interfere in the three great houses or their regions.
"You're not officially the family head yet. You haven't even been formally granted a title."
"When the head's position is vacant, the young lord acts with full authority. In other words, I'm the official acting head. It's written in imperial law, so I couldn't care less about other nobles' concerns."
"That's..."
"Actually, I do have one worry myself."
As Jerome raised his voice to respond, Martin cut him off first.
He alternated glances between Jerome and Heinz before speaking.
"The Empire's chaos is accelerating daily due to factional strife in the capital. The problem is that many nobles see this as an opportunity. Like trying to seize a free city with no ties to their family."
"...Isn't that exactly what the Young Lord did?"
"As I said earlier, I merely exercised the authority given to me—and even then, I haven't fully taken control. Yet some high nobles are reaching out everywhere without any pretext. That's the real serious issue."
Heinz smiled with evident interest.
Jerome's face, by contrast, lost all expression.
'What does he know?'
His backing from the Royce Marquis family was the utmost secret.
Only the current head, Nicholas von Royce, and Heinz beside him knew.
Yet here was Martin probing out of nowhere?
He couldn't tell if Martin truly knew something or was just testing the waters.
It left him all the more uneasy.
At that moment, Heinz smoothly intervened to lighten the mood.
"It's late—how about we call it a night?"
"That might be best."
Jerome nodded immediately.
One wrong move, and he could get swept into Martin's rhythm. Better to retreat now.
Swoosh.
No sooner had he spoken than Jerome rose from his seat.
"Thank you for joining me so late, Young Lord. I'll invite you again sometime."
"I'll look forward to it with pleasure, Mayor Metselder."
At Martin's reply, Jerome promptly left the dining hall.
Martin stifled a laugh at the man's attempt to appear dignified.
"Then we should head out as well."
With that, Martin stood, followed by Sien and Fritz.
But then.
"Wait a moment, Young Lord."
"Yes?"
"If it's not too rude, how about sparring with this old man?"
Flinch!
At Heinz's words, both Sien and Fritz tensed.
A challenge from a legendary adventurer carried immense weight.
"A spar..."
Faced with the unexpected proposal, Martin smiled faintly.
* * *
"Quite sudden."
"Everyone with any interest in martial arts, myself included, is curious about one thing: the true potential of the Adalbert Young Lord."
"Isn't reaching the 7th Circle at my age proof enough of my talent?"
"Of course, your talent is unparalleled in continental history. That's precisely why I'm curious—how far can the Young Lord grow?"
"Time will tell."
"I agree, but genius sometimes defies the flow of time. I want to see that for myself."
Martin tried to politely decline, but Heinz wouldn't back down.
Sien and Fritz stepped in.
"The Young Lord is the Adalbert family's sole direct descendant. As the bearer of its future, there's no reason to engage in a pointless spar."
"I agree with Miss Sien. Even if it's just a spar, a clash between 7th and 8th Circle powerhouses can't be light. At least if there were a referee to oversee it—but there isn't. The Young Lord has no reason to step up just to satisfy personal curiosity."
"If that's the concern, how about a light exchange of moves? No need for a winner. That should be fine, right?"
Faced with their vehement opposition, Heinz slightly retreated.
Martin inwardly chuckled at the obvious intent.
'He really wants to gauge my strength.'
It made sense.
The gap between 7th and 8th Circle was significant, but not an absolute guarantee of victory.
His spatial manipulation innate ability or Sien's physical prowess could bridge or even surpass it.
Heinz gazed steadily at Martin.
'Spatial Domination is among the strongest abilities. I must confirm it.'
Heinz studied Martin.
If he were a typical 8th Circle, there'd be no need for such a reckless challenge.
But martial artists suffer greatly from age.
The exception was reaching 9th Circle or higher, but Heinz had ultimately failed to get there.
At over eighty now, he couldn't wield his prime strength fully.
Thus, he had to be cautious.
Of course, Martin had no such intention.
'Why should I?'
He wasn't a fool to reveal his full power.
He knew Heinz Schwarzenbeck inside out, anyway.
The swordsmanship he pursued, his innate ability 'Liquid Manipulation,' what it could achieve—all of it.
Overall power favored Heinz, but in a real fight, Martin was confident of victory.
'Not the right time.'
The only moment to reveal everything was when he needed to kill Heinz.
"I'm sorry, Elder Schwarzenbeck. As my retainers say, there's no need to court danger."
"A claimant to head one of the three great houses fears a mere exchange with an adventurer guild elder? Does that not shame the Adalbert name?"
"Protecting the main family's prestige and history is of course my duty. But I don't see this as a major issue."
"Hmm."
Heinz swallowed a groan.
Martin's words rang true; he couldn't press further.
But something nagged at him.
'Has he noticed something?'
Martin had subtly threatened Jerome Metselder.
Without knowing his ties to Nicholas von Royce, such words would be hard to utter.
Incredibly, the opponent's intelligence network was exceptional.
'Even so, he shouldn't know about me.'
Publicly, he'd lived solely as an adventurer, devoted to the guild.
Never once officially linked to the Royce Marquis family.
Even as the underworld kingpin.
His slave market ownership stemmed purely from his own capabilities.
No matter how superior the Adalbert intelligence, there was no reason for Martin to suspect him.
But Martin's next words dispelled the doubt quickly.
"I don't want to sour relations with the adventurer guild."
Heinz frowned.
"...So you're saying you'd win against anyone but the guild? Or am I mistaken?"
"Come on, how could that be? The gap is clear in every way; I couldn't possibly be confident of victory."
"Your expression says otherwise."
"I'll pass on the nitpicking. We'll take our leave then."
Martin turned lightly, with Sien and Fritz following.
Watching the group's—Martin's—retreating back, Heinz smirked.
'Denies it with words, but his face was utterly composed.'
Even diminished by age from his prime, he outclassed a typical 7th Circle.
Yet Martin showed no panic.
'No matter. Bluff or not, we'll find out soon enough.'
He was certain it wouldn't take long.