Arc-6 Ch-03

 “Then, you will sign it for me?”

“But of course. Will this be acceptable?”

“Yes, please.”

Count Motley signed his name on the fine watermarked paper. Written upon it was his agreement to the reform plan that Angie had devised. With this, I had gained the consent of nearly all the nobles I knew who seemed likely to support the proposal.

Once I finished a few errands, I would take the papers back to the estate, put them in order, and then head quickly to the royal capital to rejoin Anjie.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

“This will strengthen my ties with the ducal house, and since it is none other than Lord Bartfort asking, I could hardly refuse.”

“For a count such as yourself to lower yourself to a mere upstart like me feels far too great an honor.”

“Though I hold the rank of count now, when I was your age my house was still only viscount. And word has it that for your merits in this recent war, Lord Bartfort, you will be granted a countship yourself.”

“That is only a rumor. For someone like me, who can do nothing but fight, such a position would be far too great.”

“You must have more confidence. You are a far finer young man than you believe.”

“And you, my lord, are still young yourself.”

“No, no. With so many promising young lords these days, I am nothing more than a man left behind by the times.”

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

I first became acquainted with Lord Motley during the second war against the Principality of Fanoss. The Bartfort forces managed to hold out against the invasion for several months, but when a massive horde of monsters appeared, we were forced to retreat. The other domain lords, who had suffered in the same way, rallied together to form a coalition army, and we held the line until the final battle.

Lord Motley had been one of my comrades-in-arms then. Even now, long after the war, we still meet often enough to exchange reports of our situations.

“Recently, I remarried. She is a woman who had supported me for many years, and now that the country has at last settled down, I was finally able to make her my wife.”

“My father too was able to take my mother as his lawful wife only because of the Fanoss war. I wish for nothing more than for my parents to enjoy their time together as husband and wife.”

“Though war yields little good, it does at times bring unexpected fortune. Of course, the cowards in the capital are troubled now that their own incompetence has been laid bare.”

“…It would be best not to say that too loudly.”

“Ah, forgive me. I was thinking only of those pompous courtly mice and sparrows.”

“…………”

Let me say this first: Lord Motley is not a bad man. Even in formal dress, you can tell how well-trained his body is. His hair and beard are neatly kept, his expression mild. He is calm in temperament, courteous, and unlike me, he has received a proper noble’s education and knows all the etiquette.

Back in the coalition, he had been one of the rare nobles who treated me—his junior—without disdain and offered genuine cooperation. Yet now, Lord Motley makes no effort to conceal his hostility toward the court nobles in the capital. Since the war ended five years ago, relations between the feudal nobles and the court aristocracy have remained strained.

For years, the royal family and the court nobles had lorded over the domain lords and made unreasonable demands. But now, the moment their power weakened, they were pushed into dire straits in retaliation.

Lord Motley too, like my father, had been forced into a miserable marriage with a useless court noble’s daughter and even made to provide for mistresses. When the landed lords were at their lowest, it was not the Holfort royal family that reached out to them—it was the Redgrave ducal house. In other words, Angie’s father.

Resentment built up over years, delayed rewards, and the nobles’ dissatisfaction were all boiling over. And to be honest—it was frightening. War changes people, yes. But even I, no politician, could sense the atmosphere: the stronger the duke’s faction grew, the less anyone dared to voice dissent. Among the feudal lords were vile men. Among the court nobles were those of conscience.

Yet if no one could even say so, and we charged straight into civil war, it would be no laughing matter. If it were discovered that I had secret ties with the Queen and her circle, I would surely be torn apart. Everyone in the kingdom ought to be sick of war by now, and yet, over nothing more than who will lead, we may find ourselves drenched in blood once again. Why must it be so?

“But for you to hold such views, Lord Bartfort—this proves that successful young men are never skilled in only one field.”

“It is not my idea, but my wife’s. All I can do is gather supporters.”

“Ah, Lady Angelica’s proposal, then. In that case, negotiations with the duke may go well.”

“The duke does not go easy even on family. To be honest, I must say the chances of success are slim.”

“Even so, if it works, many of the lower nobles will at last be able to devote themselves to their domains. For the new nobles who lack connections or funds, it would be welcome news indeed.”

“I shall do my utmost to meet your expectations. Thank you for granting me your valuable time today.”

“And I too am grateful for such a fruitful meeting.”

After shaking my hand, Lord Motley left the room. The moment the door closed, the strength left my body, and I let out a long sigh.

Did I manage it well?

Sure, I can talk my way through things—but that’s the kind of smooth talk used to deceive or provoke enemies on the battlefield. To gather documents, present my proposals clearly, and win someone’s consent—now that takes a very different sort of talent. And noble negotiations are far beyond the reach of an upstart like me.

Help me, Angie.

But no matter how I wished it, Angie was not here. She was far away in the royal capital, busy with her own tasks. I would rather return home to spend some time with the children, but there were still errands left undone.

Just a little more effort—I had to keep going.

When I left the room, the great hall was filled with titled nobles and their families, chatting, laughing, and drinking in the middle of the day.

Ever since the war ended and the Principality of Fanoss was annexed by the Kingdom of Holfort, gatherings like this—teas and parties—had become common among frontier lords and newly risen nobles.

As a boy, I never attended even once. With the Bartfort family so poor, we had no means to host such events either. I thought all noble gatherings were nothing but a waste of tax money. Only after becoming a lord myself did I understand the purpose of noble society.

Without connections, trade with other lands falters. If one is looked down upon, one is humiliated and treated as an inferior. Just as beasts bare their fangs to protect their territory, nobles too must show strength to protect their lands.

I hate such troublesome things, and I cannot keep up with the lofty topics of highborn nobles, but if I do nothing, my standing weakens quickly. In the end, the least disruptive path is to attend only the minimum number of gatherings—for both networking and as a show of strength.

The life of a lord is hard. Still, with a number of signatures in hand, today’s work was done. At this pace, I would arrive at my destination by tomorrow morning.

“Viscount Bartfort!”

A voice called out from somewhere. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t heard and escape, but of course, that was impossible. The caller was a noble—those beings made of nothing but pride. Ignore them, and they will hold a grudge forever, whispering insults without end. Why is it that the higher their rank, the worse their personalities become?

No—perhaps it is precisely because of their personalities that they rise in rank. I could not say. Turning, I saw two young nobles approaching, glasses in hand.

Ah. Them.

If it was those two, I didn’t mind wasting a little time.

“It has been a while, Viscount Bartfort.”

“We thought we might find you at this gathering.”

“It has indeed, Raymond, Daniel. I suppose the last time we met was at the end of the war.”

The sturdily built, dark-skinned man was Daniel of the Darlant barony. The bespectacled and well-featured one was Raymond of the Arkin barony.

I had met them during the coalition campaign against Fanoss. Their fathers, Baron Darlant and Baron Arkin, had grown acquainted there, and since their sons were my age, we often coordinated in meetings and operations.

They had been academy students, while I, starting as a common soldier, was knighted on the battlefield. But because I happened to slay an enemy commander and survive, they treated me as some hero of our generation—something that made me uncomfortable.

I was no more than an ordinary man who happened to get lucky, yet they looked at me as if I were a beacon of hope. It was a heavy burden. And since disappointing them would lead to my reputation collapsing in an instant, I could not brush them off either.

Even if they were only heirs who had not yet inherited their fathers’ titles, I still had to maintain courtesy. That was the burden of being a newly risen noble.

“Lord Bartfort, what brings you here?”

“I was gathering supporters for the policy proposal to be submitted to Duke Redgrave.”

“As expected, a hero truly stands apart from the likes of us.”

“I haven’t done anything special. Are you two here for marriage prospects?”

“That as well.”

“Please listen—Daniel and I are to succeed our fathers’ titles.”

“…That is most fortunate news. So Baron Darland and Baron Arkin are retiring?”

“They said they’ll assist us until we’re able to stand on our own.”

“The war with the Principality of Fanoss cost us too dearly. Younger men adapt better to change, so the older generation intends to retire early and leave the rebuilding to their heirs.”

Since the war ended, more and more nobles have been passing down their titles to their children.

Some were wounded in body or mind and could no longer govern. Some grew weary of endless power struggles. Some realized they could not keep up with the times.

The reasons varied, but most older nobles, sensing the tide of change and recognizing their limits, chose to retire.

Their minds were too rigid to change their values, and they lacked the talent and drive to rise further.

Thus, they ceded their titles to their children and sought a life of leisure in retirement.

Enviable—utterly enviable.

Here I am, unable to retire for another twenty years or so, while these middle-aged men who’ve barely worked get to enjoy a carefree old age. It’s maddeningly unfair.

If they’re so willing to hand over their titles, maybe they could trade places with me?

“Even so, suddenly inheriting a title would leave us at a loss.”

“We haven’t even received our war rewards yet. If we were to take over the estates now, we’d never manage to rebuild them properly.”

“At worst, failure in governance could cost us both our titles and our lands. That’s why we’ve been desperately trying to persuade them otherwise.”

Young nobles lack experience, and upstarts never received a noble’s proper education.

Right now, in the Kingdom of Holfort, the more youthful and motivated one is, the harsher their position tends to be.

I’ve come to realize lately that politics isn’t as simple as ousting the incompetent and replacing them with the capable.

Not that I harbor any lofty sense of loyalty to the Holfort royal family.

And setting Angie aside, I also think it’s dangerous to throw too much weight behind House Redgrave.

But if the country doesn’t stabilize, my family will be endangered.

Especially considering that dream—if it’s true, then in another world, I myself had subdued the Principality of Fanoss, the Kingdom of Rachel, and the Holy Magic Empire of Voldenova by the age of twenty.

If that version of me had been some reckless warmonger, that would be one thing, but judging by Luxion’s and the queens’ reactions, his personality couldn’t have been too different from mine.

The Principality of Fanoss was annexed into the Kingdom of Holfort.

Which means war with the Kingdom of Rachel and the Holy Magic Empire of pVoldenova may well be next.

If civil strife breaks out here, the kingdom will weaken further, and war will become inevitable.

To prevent that, the royal family and the ducal house must reconcile as quickly as possible, and national reconstruction must be sped along.

“Gentlemen, I have some information you may find useful.”

With a practiced, salesman’s smile, I drew a bundle of papers from an envelope and handed it over.

These were the same documents I’d used when persuading Lord Motley, but I might as well put them to good use.

Even low-ranking baronial houses would be valuable allies if they joined us.

Numbers are strength. Even a hero cannot fight a hundred men at once.

And since punishing feudal nobles reduces the pool of rulers, the royal family cannot afford to alienate them.

“This is most intriguing. But this is not the place. Let us discuss it in another room.”

So Daniel and Raymond, despite finding me suspicious, followed me into the chamber I’d earlier used with Lord Motley.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

The muscles in my face ache. Even rubbing them gently doesn’t help—they feel stiff, dead, as if moving them at all is a chore. To the crew piloting the airship on the bridge, I probably look sullen.

Since I returned, they’ve been stealing glances at me, but no one dares speak up. Apparently, they think I’m irritable because Angie has gone to the royal capital. What an insult. Yes, I miss her, but I’m not such a small man as to take it out on others.

“Brother, come on, cheer up already.”

“I’m not angry. Just tired.”

Colin tried to soothe me, but I wasn’t angry to begin with.

I was simply exhausted—worn out from playing at socializing, and disgusted with myself for talking circles around Lord Motley and those younger nobles.

Still, after about an hour of explanations, Daniel and Raymond had agreed to support my plan.

Though they haven’t formally inherited their houses yet, as heirs apparent their consent carries real weight.

Even so, I couldn’t shake the guilt of dragging such earnest, upright fellows into this.

Not that supporting Angie’s reform plan would bring punishment.

Even if the duke seized the throne, the question of compensating war-damaged nobles would remain unresolved.

And since he’s drawing much of his support from feudal nobles, the duke cannot afford to ignore their needs without losing his own base.

So he’d have no choice but to grant their demands.

Politics is nothing but a nuisance. Leading others around with smooth talk only leaves me feeling dirty.

Surely I’ll end up in hell someday. And deservedly so.

“If only it were Nicks with you instead of me.”

“Brother is busy with wedding preparations. Father’s accompanying him, so right now, you’re the only one I can rely on.”

Angie’s due date is next month, and in consideration of that, Brother and Dorothea’s wedding is scheduled to be held.

Perhaps as a reaction to my own and Angie’s subdued ceremony, Brother’s wedding is being hosted under the full direction of House Roseblade.

He’s being warmly welcomed as a son-in-law there, and once he arrives at the earl’s domain, he’ll be tied up for several days.

Our father, as head of the barony, is also often away attending with him. Angie, my most dependable aide, has gone to the capital.

Mother, my elder sister, and Finley aren’t particularly reliable, so Colin has been stepping up to help me.

He even accompanied me to today’s party.

“Brother’s getting married, huh. I wonder when our sister and Finley will ever manage to find husbands.”

“Don’t say that in front of them. They’re already irritable enough, and Dorothea’s marriage will only make it worse.”

Before the war, noblewomen had the right to choose their husbands.

Even if, like Father or Lord Motley, you ended up with a dreadful woman, the kingdom ignored the resulting incidents where sons not of your bloodline inherited the house.

That simmering resentment eventually sparked noble backlash, but the royal family’s power kept them silent. After the war, however, the balance of power shifted completely.

The already-scarce noblemen dwindled further, and an honorable noble male became more precious than jewels.

Those lucky enough to become concubines or mistresses were considered fortunate—many noble daughters instead wound up sold to brothels.

My sister and Finley, once deeply steeped in such old-fashioned thinking, had begun to change.

Perhaps it was being dragged into that kidnapping incident, and seeing Zola and the others consumed by their own ugly obsessions.

They’d begun helping with family affairs and applying themselves to lady’s education.

They are, after all, my big sister and little sister. Naturally, I want them to be happy.

Lost in such thoughts, I glanced at Colin at my side. The youngest, Colin is honest and not unintelligent.

But unlike the other men of House Bartfort, he isn’t suited to rough work.

Before the war, the kingdom’s ideal man was an adventurer; after, a soldier. A strong man, in either case.

I want Colin to succeed too, but remaining in Bartfort territory would mean a closed future for him.

The viscountcy will pass to my son, and the barony to my brother.

Unless disaster strikes and we die, Colin will spend his life working under nephews and nieces.

Traditionally, younger sons solved this problem by becoming knights, but I simply can’t picture Colin in that role.

“Colin.”

“What is it, Brother?”

“Would you consider studying abroad?”

The words slipped out suddenly. Since the war ended, the kingdom has been plagued with labor shortages. Punishing corrupt nobles was one cause, but the lack of younger generations was another.

The academy, meant to provide nobles with basic education, had been closed since the Fanoss war began.

My brother and sister were given graduation status; since Finley, noble children have had to be educated at home.

The result: many may know their family’s affairs but few are capable of handling national politics.

In the letters I received from Prince Julius and Jilk after the kidnapping incident, they lamented this problem at length.

“Why bring this up all of a sudden?”

“The royal capital is short on people. They’re scraping by with even retired elders, but it’s at its limit. At the party, I heard that the court is desperate for clerks.”

“But I’ve never done paperwork.”

“In the prince’s letters, he mentioned a movement to reopen the academy. Before that, they want to send young nobles abroad. If they prove capable, they’ll arrange for them to work in the court upon returning.”

“That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

“It’s still just in planning. The options are: the recovering Republic of Alzer, the United Kingdom of Lepart through Her Majesty the Queen’s connections, and the distant Kingdom of Oshias.”

“…Am I in the way, then?”

“Not at all. The world ahead will value scholarship more than ever—that’s all I meant.”

I rose in rank thanks to the war, but I hate war.

I wouldn’t have minded being in the regular class—just studying, getting some qualifications, and working somewhere like a normal man.

I want my adorable younger brother, and my own children, to live in peaceful times.

Being able to advance in life without killing people—that’s true happiness.

“Brother, you really are amazing, you know. You think you’re nothing special, but…”

“It’s just my wife and acquaintances who are amazing. Because of them, all sorts of information flows my way.”

“Is that why we’ve been receiving more letters lately? Because you got acquainted with His Highness?”

“Those guys took a liking to me for some reason and keep sending me letters and gifts. I’m not their tavern master here to listen to their complaints.”

Half of that was an excuse, half the truth.

Information is essential for refining Angie’s reform plan, so the princes send me reports directly.

From Prince Julius and Jilk come updates on the king’s state and nationwide issues.

From Greg and Chris, reports on domestic security.

From Brad, news from the frontier and detailed information about foreign lands.

At the same time, Julius sends complaints about court life, Jilk sends snide grumblings, Greg sends weapon prototypes, Chris writes lonely letters seeking advice, and Brad sends me copies of his self-portraits.

I kept what was useful, but sent back everything I didn’t need—damn it.

I can’t tell anymore if they’re brilliant or just colossal idiots.

What I do know is that if everything were left in their hands, the kingdom would be in serious danger.

“Viscount, we’re nearing the destination.”

“Got it.”

I rose from my seat and let Colin take over. From here, we would part ways.

“I’ll leave the rest to you. I’ll be back in a few days.”

“At least tell me where you’re going. What do you need all that gear for?”

“Sorry, I don’t want to drag you into this.”

“Brother, you’re the kind of guy who might storm into some noble’s manor. That’s what scares me.”

What a rude little brother. Even I at least send notice before I kick in someone’s door.

Without voicing a complaint, I returned to my quarters and changed into my combat uniform.

That this outfit still sharpens my focus makes me feel pathetic. No matter what, I’m still a man of war.

In the hangar, a gleaming small airship caught my eye.

It was a gift from House Roseblade.

"They were kidnapped because you used a civilian ship. Use a state-of-the-art small vessel for travel instead.”

—or so the Earl of Roseblade had reasoned.

Whether it’s the ducal or comital houses, the great noble families think and spend on a whole different level.

I boarded and checked the cargo: weapons, ammunition, provisions, water, medicine, recording equipment—all in order.

I was heading out on my first real adventure.

To think I’d once scorned adventurers, yet here I was imitating one. Life truly is unpredictable.

I pressed buttons and flipped switches, activating the airship.

The latest models had barely any vibration or noise—I couldn’t help but admire the technology.

“Leon Fou Bartfort. Commencing launch.”

『This is Colin Fou Bartfort. Brother, I’ll be praying for your safety.』

“I’m off. Don’t expect souvenirs.”

『Just come back soon. Everyone will be worried.』

Hearing Colin’s words, I gripped the controls tightly.

I was heading for that place—the one revealed to me in my dream.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

Airships are meant to be piloted by multiple crew members.

No matter how skilled the pilot, there’s only so much one person can do at once.

The skies have no markers.

Uncharted floating isles, clouds and fog reducing visibility, the endless blue that numbs the senses…

It’s impossible to know if you’re even sane.

Normally, I should’ve brought companions.

But this was a problem I had to solve alone.

After all, what would you think if someone claimed, “A dream told me a lost item marked the spot where treasure lies.”?

You’d have them committed to an asylum.

All I had was a rough position marked on a map.

And the world is vast.

A small anomaly could easily be missed. For months, I spent every free day setting out at dawn and returning at sunset. Angie suspected I was having an affair, and my family’s accusing stares nearly broke me.

After much searching, it took me two whole months to finally find an area with magnetic anomalies.

Preparing took another half month—managing to be ready in time felt like a miracle.

Stopping to rest at an air harbor in a neighboring domain, I set out again before dawn. A few hours later, I reached the anomaly’s location.

Flying cautiously, the compass suddenly went haywire. I slowed down further, narrowing down the exact spot.

Flying toward the very source of the disturbance—a reckless act if there ever was one.

I was terrified, wanting to turn back home right that instant.

At last, the compass spun out of control.

I switched the airship to standby mode and stepped onto the deck.

There it was.

A massive cloud floated in the sky.

The surrounding clouds drifted along unseen air currents, but this one remained fixed in place.

It was as if time itself had stopped there.

Looking closer, I spotted a glow beneath the cloud, reflected on the sea’s surface.

As I approached cautiously, the light grew stronger.

This is it.

I wanted to scream with joy at having found it.

It really existed. Truly.

I’d half-believed, half-doubted—but here it was.

The dream was real. The relief of discovery mixed with terror at what it implied for the future.

I bit my lip, trembling, nearly wetting myself with fear.

Even if I fled, nothing might change.

But if I fled and nothing changed—what then?

What if that weapon struck down the people I loved?

The kingdom collapsing, war with other nations, me becoming king…

Unbelievable. But if the dream spoke true, then such a future was possible.

What if ruin truly came?

More people would die.

Not just from this kingdom—countless lives from other nations too.

Peace had only just returned. Another war? Absolutely not.

The only thing I can do is obstruct whoever might trigger it.

The duke, the royal family, lost items themselves…

If it’s to protect my family, I’ll pick a fight with even the gods.

Anyone who tries to wreck my happiness—I’ll grab them by the scruff and beat some sense into them.

Steeling my breath, I returned to the cockpit and seized the controls.

This was the latest small-class airship. It could withstand most anything short of armor strikes or a large vessel’s bombardment.

I braced myself and descended toward the glowing sea.

The airship suddenly shook.

All I could do was cling to the controls. I had no idea what was happening.

Outside, the ship was rising.

Strange—I was trying to hold it in standby.

Some unseen force was dragging it upward.

It took everything just to keep my sanity intact.

No, no, no.

Damn it—I knew I shouldn’t have done this.

That damned orb—if I die, I’ll punch you in hell, mark my words.

My scream tore from my throat, only to vanish into the sky, unheard.

Before me loomed the massive cloud.

For the umpteenth time, the chilling sense of death closed in, and all I could do was tremble.

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳

Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

This chapter is from Leon’s perspective.

In this work, Leon is stronger in level and equipment than the reincarnated Leon who discovered Luxion, but he lacks prior-life knowledge.

How he will confront Luxion remains for later—next chapter shifts to Angie’s perspective.

Postscript: By request of the patron, illustrations for this chapter were kindly provided by ReiN, Shion, and Yoo Tenchi. Thank you very much.

ReiN: Pixiv (R-18 warning)

Shion: Pixiv (R-18 warning)

Yoo Tenchi: Pixiv

Your opinions and impressions are welcome—I hope to use them as encouragement going forward.