Cuckoo (1)
Until the knights from the Hartwell family arrived at the village, I received the utmost hospitality.
"I'm thirsty."
"W-We’ll prepare it right away."
At my slightest word, the villagers brought me food on their own. Thanks to them, I could rest plenty. My body, which had withered from years of grueling labor in the mines, was finally returning to normal.
"Have I grown a bit taller?"
Must be from all the good meat. With proper nutrition hitting right in my growth spurt, I could feel myself shooting up in just a few days.
"This is fresh milk just squeezed from the sheep. Please, have some."
Just sitting there, the villagers kept bringing food without a break—what bliss. To them, I was their lifeline; they had no choice.
This village had originally housed a noble's bastard son, but he was dead now. And that was just the beginning. With the bastard gone, the villagers might as well have been walking corpses themselves.
I'd made one proposal to the village chief, drowning in despair.
'I'll become the Hartwell family's bastard son. Just make sure I get fed.'
The chief was the wisest man in the village. There was no way he didn't grasp what I meant by volunteering for the role.
The magic test from the Magic Tower would obviously reveal I wasn't Hartwell blood. But the villagers could just play dumb, claiming they hadn't known I wasn't a noble. Simple as that.
Brooks himself might not even have been true blood, which was why they brought a Magic Tower mage along in the first place.
The chief had looked at me pitifully as he agreed. He probably saw me as a pathetic boy desperate for one last feast before death.
But I had no intention of dying. I'd survived ten years in the mines alone. I planned to keep surviving from here on out.
Thanks to that, the villagers treated me kindly. They fed me generously to put some healthy weight on my bones. They knew it too—without Brooks, they had no other options.
That said, the chief wasn't just handing out kindness for free. To prevent any midnight escapes, he stationed a few young men by my side under the pretense of protection. I knew it was surveillance.
Of course, even if they laid out a red carpet for me to run, I wouldn't. 'Why would I flee such a golden opportunity?'
The chief's efforts were admirable, but I had zero plans to bolt.
Why? This was my perfect shot at becoming a noble legally. Why run from that?
I intended to take dead Brooks's place and live on as a Hartwell noble.
'Heaven's on my side.'
A smile crept onto my face unbidden.
The mage dispatched from the Fire Tower was easy to handle. With the Tower Master being a Black Raven member, what was there to fear?
[Captain, just give the order.]
One call from me, and the Tower Master would tremble. I'd already ordered her to hold position, ready for my command at any moment.
All I had to do was lounge around, eat well, and wait.
"Emilia."
At my call, Emilia popped out.
"Yeah."
Emilia had put on some weight too. She looked far better now than her stick-thin mine days.
Best part of village life? Clean water for daily baths. Her hair had lightened from dark gray to a subtle silver sheen. She shone brighter than ever compared to the mines.
"You look really pretty."
I said it without much feeling.
"...Yeah."
Emilia flushed and suddenly slipped away.
"?"
Caught a cold or something? Whatever—things were heading in a good direction.
And even if I joined House Hartwell, I had no plans to ditch Emilia.
'Bringing her to the family estate might be tough, though.'
Would they even listen to my story? No chance.
Once in, I'd probably face all sorts of training. So, my plan was to send Emilia to the Fire Tower.
"Still, why suddenly hunt for a bastard now?"
I had a rough guess, but no exact reason. After treating him like trash for years, now they wanted him back? Anyone could smell a scheme.
'Well, except Brooks.'
From here, I needed to plan life after joining House Hartwell.
First off, why did they need a bastard?
Highest probability: 'A son to enlist in place of the heir.'
The legitimate heir had to carry on the line, so they needed a sacrificial lamb for the army. That seemed most likely right now.
'Probably within two years, max.'
No later than three, for sure. Meaning, I'd be shipped to the front lines bordering the demon realm.
Of course, as a noble's son, I'd go in as an officer—but I hated even that.
'Enlisting twice would be a nightmare.'
I'd already served in my past life's army. And this wasn't Earth; it was the Elunesia continent, crawling with terrifying monsters. Officer duty here? Brutal.
Why suffer for anyone?
From now on, I'd brainstorm ways to dodge enlistment.
'Let me think...'
Dodging was simple: Have the legitimate sons enlist instead. Low odds, but not impossible.
That required one prerequisite.
'Boost my value.'
Prove I was worth more than anyone. Then, naturally, someone else would take my place.
But that was damn hard.
'If I have to enlist no matter what...'
Alternative: Rack up merits to shorten service time. Greater feats meant shorter terms—but not easy either.
'Yeah, best to avoid enlisting altogether.'
No matter how I sliced it, that was optimal.
* * *
Time flew like an arrow, and the day the family knights arrived dawned.
The past few days, Emilia and I had lounged idly in the village. Eating delicious food, strolling fields, enjoying nature. Dull compared to my past life, maybe, but paradise after the mines.
The chief prepared meticulously. Simple drinks and snacks for the knights. Banners and banners bearing the Hailstone Principality's crest hung around the village.
The whole village buzzed with excitement.
I watched from afar.
"Nervous?"
Emilia, beside me, asked worriedly.
I gave an awkward smile and shook my head.
Nervous? Nah—this was just a scripted drama playing out.
I'd already prepped how to handle the mage. Once this wrapped, my name would be Ethan Hartwell.
The day I was reborn as a noble backed by a great house. No tension on a festive day like this.
"Nah, I'm good. Just hesitant about what's ahead."
How to swallow House Hartwell whole? That was the puzzle.
Misreading me, Emilia squeezed my hand tight.
"You got this. It'll all work out."
She said that and stepped away.
Then, hoofbeats echoed from afar.
Turning, I saw a procession of knights under a fluttering red banner. The massive Hartwell crest gleamed proudly.
A sight radiating family prestige.
"We greet the knights of House Hartwell!"
The chief led the welcome. Tense villagers bowed in unison.
Before the armored knights with their menacing swords, they looked tiny.
The knights dismounted swiftly, standing tall and imposing. They nodded curtly at the chief's greeting.
"Where is young master Brooks?"
The lead knight asked shortly. His sharp gaze swept the area.
Overwhelmed, the chief hesitated before speaking.
"The young master is well. This way, please."
He gestured toward me.
All eyes locked on me.
I approached calmly.
Before them, I bowed politely.
"Hello."
I only knew games, not exact etiquette. Best I could do for courtesy.
But the knights' faces were stone-cold.
Whispers rose from behind.
"Tch... That's the young master? No manners—clearly no proper upbringing."
"Sigh, looks deficient. Weak, too."
Hey, were they trash-talking loud on purpose to mess with me?
'Discrimination?'
Half-common blood or not, I was still a count's son. This treatment?
"Tch..."
Something was off with this family.
Their gazes dripped contempt and doubt, but I met them head-on without flinching.
Then, the lead knight from earlier stepped forward. Imposing build, ramrod posture—impressive.
He addressed me firmly.
"Young master, I am Kael, sword and shield of House Hartwell. As your senior knight dispatched to protect and escort you safely home."
Kael placed his right hand over his heart and knelt. Solemn, ritualistic—like swearing fealty.
"I pledge my life to deliver you to the family unharmed!"
His voice rang strong yet reverent. Sincerity poured through.
Just moments ago, I'd pegged the knights as low-class. But Kael changed that.
Well, I liked him, at least.
'Not bad.'
First impression: passed.
No sooner had Kael's solemn vow ended than a figure emerged from the knights.
Red robes billowing, she strode forward with overwhelming presence. Fiery long red hair, piercing red eyes.
"You're the bastard young master, right? From the Fire Tower."
Arrogance laced her voice. No intro, calling me "bastard young master"?
'Fresh.'
She approached boldly.
"At House Hartwell's request, I'll verify if you're true blood. Simple procedure—cooperate."
Her tone bordered on command, wielding mage authority to pressure me.
"Lady Bella, a moment."
Kael interjected, blocking her path.
'Bella, huh.'
He bowed to me.
"On behalf of the mage, I apologize. This is mere routine verification. A formality to confirm your noble lineage—nothing to worry about."
Kael flashed a reassuring smile.
"......"
In the tense air, I glanced between Bella and Kael.
Then, curtly:
"Not a big deal."
Kael nodded and stepped back. Bella advanced.
"Drop blood here."
She handed me a box-like device.
But I couldn't comply here. I wasn't Brooks.
Time to steer things my way.
I whispered, for Bella's ears only:
"I need to contact the Tower Master."
Her brow furrowed at my request. How dare a half-breed noble invoke the Tower Master?
I couldn't back down. Time to bluff.
Shifting to a haughty expression, I pressed:
"Didn't the Tower Master say anything?"
Bella's face changed.