Arc-6 Ch-35

 "Stop, Bartfort!"

Prince Julius glared at me. In those beautiful azure eyes, the figure of me pointing a gun at him was reflected. Ahh, I hate this. I hate it, I hate it. Playing the villain wears me down. I never really intended to go this far.

But it can’t be helped.

The duke is stubborn, and with the royal family and court nobles talking endlessly about face and dignity, it’s suspicious whether they’re even serious about reconciliation. I hate it too; of course it’s better to be liked than hated by others.

I mean really, among all the things those big shots handed me, was there even one thing I actually wanted?

I never wanted a peerage, and an undeveloped floating island is basically harassment. I can’t understand anyone who’d be happy receiving something like that. For me, as long as I have a house where I can rest my body and a field big enough to grow the crops I eat, that’s enough.So I will go ahead and play the villain as hard as I can. Specifically, to the extent that I take responsibility, hand my title over to my son Lionel, and retire. The flying ship that destroys the world which I saw in a dream. This world’s Luxion that was sleeping in the dungeon Luxion from the dream told me about.

That thing is no good. It could seriously destroy the world, and someone like me, an ordinary guy, couldn’t possibly handle it. But reporting to the royal family that I discovered an undiscovered dungeon and a lost item flying ship… that’s way too dangerous. Especially right after the royal family’s ship was destroyed by the Principality of Fanoss’s super-large monster. They’d confiscate it and use it to suppress rebellious lord nobles or invade other countries, obviously. For the same reason, I can’t tell the duke’s family. If anything, they’d take it as the perfect chance to attack the royal family. Besides, at the core of it, that metal ball doesn’t think of me as its master. To that thing, I’m a hateful new-human pest. There’s no way I can negotiate with it as an equal. I was naive to think that if I used it well to scare them a bit, the royal family and the duke’s house would reconcile.

The duke’s resentment toward the royal family ran deeper than I expected, and it’s my responsibility for waking up this world’s Luxion. So I thought desperately and asked the four idiots and Lady Olivia for help to form today’s plan. I didn’t tell Angie or Prince Julius who were accompanying us. If I told them the plan, Angie would probably be fine, but His Highness would show it on his face.

"Step aside, Your Highness. If you stay there, you’ll get hit"

"I will not step aside. You know full well that I accompanied you prepared to give my life."

"If you step aside, only two people’s lives will resolve this whole uproar with the duke faction."

"That would be forcing them to submit by violence. The hatred born from that will burn and destroy the nation!"

You really are cool, aren’t you, prince? If only that brain that thinks like this had existed during your academy days. Handsome, smart, strong, and destined to become this country’s king. You’re everything I’m not, completely the opposite. The books on strategy I read during my military days, and the historical texts Angie made me read after I became a noble, all had the great people who shaped the times written in bold. Heroes who became kings, strategists who excelled in war, scholars who invented amazing things. If the current era became a historical text or a story, Lady Olivia and you five would be the protagonists. I’m a bit player. A bottom-rank noble’s second son with a big scar on his face, poor memory, and only somewhat strong arms.

There’s no way I could ever be the lead. Just by chance, really just by chance. I survived a battlefield by accident, got praised for it and forced into nobility, and for some reason the duke’s daughter became my wife. It’s like tossing dozens of dice at random and all of them landing on the same number by miracle.

Improbable possibilities piled up and somehow I’m here. But I can’t do it anymore. The political struggle to decide the ruler of the Holfort Kingdom, the ancient conflict between old humans and new humans… those burdens are way too heavy for me to carry. I’ve already been given more than enough chances to shine. If a bit player keeps acting like he owns the center of the stage, the audience can’t enjoy the show. It’s time for me to bow out.

"Because of my mistake, chaos has been brought upon the kingdom. There are those who lost their lives because of it. That is why I must not step back here."

"You intend to protect your political enemy?"

"There is no enemy. There is only a man who grieves for this country."

Somewhere inside, I am looking down on myself from above. In military councils, when I reached this state, the plans I made had a high chance of success. So this one will probably work out too. All that’s left is to play the villain to the end.

"If you move aside, the bullet will hit the duke. Are you planning to sacrifice yourself to force reconciliation?"

"As long as it avoids the vital spots, it won’t be fatal. Before you fire again, I will simply restrain you."

"You think you can do that?"

"Do you think I cannot? Your gun is a revolver. After firing, there’s a brief moment before you cock the hammer and shoot the next bullet. I only need to strike during that gap."

You can do that!?

…He probably can, this guy. If he were just a handsome, flimsy prince, this would be much easier. But among the young men of the kingdom, he ranks within the top five in strength. I realized when we once fought a duel. If we fight head-on, I can’t beat His Highness. The prickling air made the hair all over my body stand on end, and I could feel the saliva in my mouth turning into a blood-like taste. Soon, someone unable to endure this tension will appear. And then this ridiculous improvised drama will finally reach its end.

"…Enough. Lower your gun, Lord Bartfort."

The first to give in was the duke.

"It is true that I harbor treacherous thoughts toward His Majesty. To the point I’d like to spit just from seeing his face."

"Father…"

"However, at the very least, Prince Julius shows signs of gratitude and remorse toward the duke’s house. As unpleasant as it is, I judge him to be someone worth talking to."

"…I am grateful."

"No need for thanks, Your Highness. I merely accepted the condition Lord Bartfort presented: ‘to talk with the royal family’. Even if we talk, the chance of the duke’s house and the royal family remaining at odds is still higher."

"Even so, I want to thank you for giving us a chance to talk. Truly, thank you."

"…A royal should not lower his head so easily."

With the conversation between the prince and the duke, the atmosphere in the reception room softened. With this, I achieved my goal. I let go of Angie’s hand and pressed the button I had hidden in my coat several times. It’s the signal that the mission is complete. I need to let the others outside escape. I slowly lowered the muzzle away from the prince and the duke. For now, it seems no one in this room intends to attack me. The muscles in my right arm were stiff and painful, my shoulder was tense, and my fingers were trembling. While trembling, I pointed the gun at my own temple.

"Eh!?"

"What!?"

"Hey!!"

"Stop!!"

I pulled the trigger, and the mechanism inside moved, dropping the hammer. Click.

「「「「…………」」」」

Click. Click! Click!

No matter how many times I worked the mechanism and pulled the trigger, no bullet fired. Of course not—for there weren’t any bullets loaded to begin with.

"As you can see, my gun isn’t loaded. No matter what I do, I can’t kill anyone."

I placed the pistol on the table and slid it toward the duke and the prince. Gilbert cautiously picked up the pistol that slid to a stop right next to a teacup. He released the latch, exposed the magazine, and the three of them except Angie confirmed there were no bullets inside.

"…………Did you trick us?"

"No, that’s not it. You all trapped yourselves."

Sure, it’s a pistol small enough to hide, so it’s hard to check on the spot whether it’s actually loaded. But if they had just taken a close look at my gun, they should have noticed there wasn’t a single bullet in it. Even Prince Julius, if he had calmly analyzed it, could have easily cornered me. Of course, the bullets in Jillk and Marie’s guns are also non-lethal resin rounds. Unless they happened to hit a vital point, they might break bones or bruise, but killing someone is nearly impossible. Every one of them here was stirred up by a single pistol that couldn’t kill anyone, loudly arguing about the so-called future of the nation. Utterly ridiculous. People who can be manipulated by someone like me aren’t fit to be rulers.

"Why would you pull something like this!?"

"To make you realize it. No matter how grand the slogans you put up, what you’re doing is nothing more than big shots fighting each other. In a lukewarm battlefield where you don’t die, you just argue endlessly, trying to squeeze out conditions favorable to yourselves. That’s not what a real fight to the death is. If you seriously intend to seize the throne, then bet your lives on it properly."

I’m not looking down on the duke or His Highness. According to what I heard from Angie, the duke has experienced being targeted by political enemies many times, and it seems assassins being sent after him happened more than once or twice. Even during the war with the Principality of Fanoss, he led his forces, protected his territory, and stopped the invasion. His Highness too has challenged various dungeons together with his companions, and during the war he rode in his personal armor and fought on the front lines. But their way of fighting is soft somewhere. They order someone who handles the dirty work without staining their own hands and strike at the opponent’s openings. They sit at the very rear of a formation surrounded by many subordinates, giving commands and making their subordinates fight.

They are given top-class weapons and armor, and with their natural talent they crush their opponents with all their might. You people have never truly fought from a weak position, have you?

Have you ever once thought about the sorrow of the soldiers who die for those sitting safely in a position where they won’t die?

“You glorify dying for honor and such. Have you ever once truly fought for the sake of the people? You fight over power with ‘war’ this and ‘rebellion’ that, while your taking of lives is shallow as hell. I’m fighting a war betting my life for real.”

“…………”

“…………”

“…………”

“To you big shots, commoners must be no more than weeds that grow on their own. People who have never grown plants, pampered brats who don’t know the hardship of gardening or farming, don’t talk about plants. Do you know how many people worked their asses off to raise the vegetables and meat that you throw away the moment they taste bad to you?”

“Leon, that’s enough. No matter what, your words are too harsh.”

“It’s not even close to too harsh yet.”

I put my hand in front of Angie’s face as she tried to stop me, holding her back. There’s still a mountain of things I want to say, and the part where my words go too far is from here on out.

…Yeah, I kind of get it now.

It seems I’m really angry at both the royal family and the duke’s house that have been toying with us until today. After all, for this entire year, Angue and I have been jerked around by their fight. The duke kept coming at me with intimidation-like “confirmations” whenever something happened, and Her Majesty the Queen approached Angie like she was just one chess piece. Of course I’d be angry. No matter how peaceful and good-natured a low-ranking lord I am, I’d snap. On top of that, I’m now pointing a gun at the first prince and the leading duke among the lord nobles.

If stripping my title is all I get, that’s lucky. Even if the Bartfort family is banished from the country, it would still be a fairly lenient punishment. Fine then, at this point I might as well say everything I want to say.

“Whichever of you sits on the throne, the commoners don’t care that much. How much the taxes decrease, how much easier life becomes. That’s all they care about. Everyone is scraping together just enough food to survive by working desperately and sweating. And what about the nobles of the royal capital? They cry about not having enough tax, not having enough manpower, then steal money and food, and if people resist, they crush them with force. Don’t look down on commoners, and don’t look down on low-rank nobles either.”

Even if they glare at me, I won’t be intimidated. On the battlefield I had guns pointed at me by enemy units countless times, and the bullet wounds all over my body prove it even now. My guts are different from these pampered brats who panic when a gun is pointed at them. And the gun I snuck in is a small-caliber revolver. Unless you aim precisely for the head or heart, it won’t kill easily, and from the front it’s obvious how many rounds it has. Someone who gets scared and overwhelmed by a gun that can’t even kill people has no right to command an army. Soldiers aren’t your shields.

“You people look down on commoners. But Lady Olivia, the saint who saved this country, is a commoner. A lot of commoners and nobles have realized it now. ‘We can protect the country ourselves.’ ‘We don’t need to rely on nobles.’ The moment you plotted to move that smart girl however you wanted through a political marriage, you proved you were lacking in brains. Do you think the saint is some naive woman?”

I’ve met Lady Olivia several times, and she is scary. It’s true she’s a good person, but she’s a mass of incredible passion, and without even intending to she has the charm to fire people up. It’s a different kind of fear from Her Majesty the Queen, who is cold-hearted and politically skilled. No wonder Angie, who was His Highness’s fiancée, lost to her. She’s kind, beautiful, and also has big breasts. Honestly, if I hadn’t married Angie, I probably would have fallen for her. Do you think you can control a saint like that with a political marriage?

I’ll say it clearly: impossible.

At least among the men I know, not a single one could handle that woman. If you think she’s weak or stupid because she’s from a commoner background, she’ll devour you instead.

“Have you ever looked at the faces of comrades or subordinates who died right in front of you? Have you ever filled out a death report form? Do you know what it feels like to visit the bereaved family, hand over the possessions of the deceased, and watch them cry right in front of you? Because of your petty fight, thousands die and tens of thousands of their families grieve. It’s a feeling you high-ranking nobles who don’t think of anyone below high nobles as human could never understand.”

“That’s a misunderstanding, Bartfort. I no longer think of commoners as mere rabble.”

“We too do not look down on innocent civilians.”

“Then kill each other among yourselves. Don’t drag others into your game of musical chairs.”

I had said nearly everything I wanted to say. I realized my body was hotter than I expected, and I could feel sweat trickling under my formal wear. I have nothing more to talk about. All that’s left is for me alone to shoulder the responsibility and end this. Sorry, Angie. I’m an idiot, so this is the only way I can think of. I shoved my hand into my trouser pocket and tossed the object I was looking for toward the duke. What rolled on the floor was a single bullet. I separated myself from Angie and sat directly on the floor.

Half resignation, half plan.

If it fails, I die. If it goes well, I survive. My life has always been a tightrope walk. One more life-or-death gamble doesn’t make much difference.

“That’s the bullet for the gun. Use it and shoot me to settle this.”

“Hey!?”

“What are you thinking, Leon!?”

“Be quiet. I attacked the duke’s mansion and threatened you all. Someone has to take responsibility or it won’t mean anything.”

“So you intend to take all the blame yourself?”

“You high-ranking people always say ‘risking one’s life’ and such. Truly risking your life is doing something like this. Not obeying orders you don’t agree with just because it’s a royal command or a lord’s command, but actually stating your own opinion — that’s real loyalty.”

“To think that you believe you can settle this outrage with just your own life is arrogance.”

“If it’s not enough, I’ll return my title and my territory. It’s unfair to my family, but they’ll have to start over from scratch. The idiots fighting alongside me too — I’d be grateful if at least you’d spare their lives.”

Those idiots… they’re idiots, but not bad people. Some are practically disowned by their families, while others are in the middle of reconciling. They finally survived the war and were getting pampered as heroes. Dragging them into my path to hell would leave a bad taste. That’s about all I hope for. Somehow, even though I’m scared of dying, one of my flaws is that I don’t care much about my own life. Before leaving Bartfort territory, I gave my family a subtle farewell, so I have fewer regrets. The rest is… well, my wife and kids.

Sorry, Ariel, for having such a stupid father.

Lionel, please grow up to be a good man.

“Sorry, Angie. You were too good a wife for me.”

“You idiot!!”

Paaaan!!

It hurts. Angie slapped me in the face with full force. She definitely didn’t hold back at all, it was completely serious.

Paaaan! Paan!

Every time Angie’s hand came swinging down, pain ran through my face. It hurts, but compared to being blown away by bombardment or being shot, it’s much easier to endure. If anything, since they’re slaps, she’s actually holding back.

“Leon, you idiot! Fool! Thoughtless! Dense! Clown!”

Angie followed up with insults like a child. To make things worse, her slaps turned into fist punches that accurately struck my face. The inside of my mouth is cut, tasting like iron, and from deep inside my nose I can even smell blood.

But… I shouldn’t dodge.

Angie is crying. Crying as she keeps hitting me, her hands are getting stained red. Is it from my nosebleed?

Or is her skin peeling? I’m not sure, but I should probably stop her soon.

“Stop already, Angie.”

“You did something stupid, so this is your fault!”

“If I said anything, you’d stop me, right?”

“Of course!”

Goon!!

She slammed her fist down on me with full strength. After being hit so much, my consciousness is getting hazy. If I don’t stop this soon, I’m more worried about Angie’s condition than mine.

“Stop already, Angie, your hands must hurt.”

“I’m not done hitting you! I need to lecture you until I beat some sense into that stupid nature of yours!”

“Restrain yourself, Angie, this is in front of His Highness.”

“This is a matter between husband and wife! Even if it’s His Majesty I won’t allow interference!”

Everyone is overwhelmed by Angie’s furious expression as she screams. I’m fairly used to it. Not to this extent, but we’ve fought both during our engagement and after marriage. I’m the only one who can calm Angie down when she’s intimidating everyone else. Feels heavy, but guess I have to do it. She won’t kill me. And if I have to be killed, dying by Angie’s hand wouldn’t be a bad way to go.

“Feel better now?”

“…As if I could calm down.”

“If you get too worked up, it’s bad for the baby.”

“The only one who can make me this angry is you.”

“Don’t cry anymore, your pretty face is being ruined.”

“Then try harder so you won’t make me cry.”

“That’s difficult.”

“Do you want me to hit you more?”

“…I’m sorry, I’ll do my best.”

Even now, every time I talk, I taste blood in my mouth and can barely answer properly. I really want her to spare me from anything more. If I answer wrong, she might go beyond divorce and stab me with a knife. Convincing Angie is harder than convincing both the duke and His Highness at the same time. Once Angie finally calmed down a little, she knelt down beside me and bowed to the floor.

“Father. Please, have mercy. Leon is indeed a discourteous and inconsiderate man, but in his own foolish way, this is the result of him desperately thinking for the sake of the country and its people. If he were serious, he could have defeated everyone in the duke’s mansion. Yet instead he offered his own life, admonished you, and begged for the lives of his collaborators because he holds no treacherous intent.”

“Stop it, Angie. I don’t regret anything I’ve done.”

“Quiet, shut up. If you must punish someone, punish me instead of Leon. It is my responsibility for neglecting the education of my husband who is ignorant of noble customs and social etiquette. Please kill me and soothe your anger.”

“Why are you like this! What about Lionel and Ariel! Are you planning to throw away even the life of the child in your belly!?”

“Of course, I will give birth first, then accept my punishment. You must take responsibility and raise those children well. I am merely a woman who married into the Bartfort family; my ties to it are not that strong.”

“No way! Why do you think I risked my life in the first place!?”

“I don’t care about the logic of a huge idiot! You caused all this trouble without saying anything! ‘Do you know how it feels to see someone cry right in front of you?’!? Don’t lecture His Highness and my father when you can’t even realize that there are people who would grieve if you died!!”

“I’m saying I wouldn’t regret dying for you all!!”

“Do you seriously think we would be happy about that, you fool!!”

…This is why I kept quiet. Angie hates it when I do reckless things, even more than I do. To win, there are times when you have to take risks and bet your life, and it’s wrong to treat yourself as special when you’re responsible for comrades’ and subordinates’ lives. Responsibility is something you should fulfill honestly, without running away. At the very least, I don’t want to live or die in the cowardly way of those scumbag nobles I saw as a kid.

“Duke, I also beg for Bartfort’s life. A few days ago, this man even admonished me. It was at my request that he accompanied me to this meeting. We must reward Bartfort, who went this far just to prepare the stage.”

“Please don’t interfere in family matters, Your Highness. Things got complicated only because you jumped in.”

“That is why I will take responsibility. It is clear that I was at fault regarding the annulment with Angelica as well. If someone must be shot, shoot me.”

Oh, come on. Now even His Highness is bowing on the floor. These royal family people always talk about dignity and appearance, but the one in question is lowering his head right here. This prince really can’t read the atmosphere. Or maybe he’s deliberately not reading it?

The three of us defending each other is making the duke and Gilbert troubled.

“Sir Bartfort, If I pull the trigger here and end this. Is that acceptable to you?”

“That is the simplest and cleanest conclusion. You eliminate the troublesome son-in-law, and there will no longer be the risk of the Lost Item airship being used. If you reconcile with the royal family, the prosperity of the Redgrave ducal house will be unshakable.”

“And then you expect me to sit on the throne while being hated by the daughter whose husband I killed, and the grandson whose father I killed?”

“Parent-child strife is hardly rare among nobles.”

“No one willingly wishes to fight their own parents or their own children. And it seems you do not understand Bartfort’s value.”

“I'm just a small-time noble you can find anywhere.”

“…If that is what you think, then so be it.”

His words had some hidden meaning. Either way, my only value is being somewhat clever and being decent at fighting and war. I’d rather not have such talent pass on to my kids. If I ever became king, that’d be the end of the world. Unlike the other-world Leon, I’m just an ordinary guy.

“My will to fight the royal family has faded. At least in the current unstable political climate, it would not be wise.”

“Then will you reconcile?”

“For now, yes. No one can know what the future holds.”

“That is fine, Duke.”

“…Yeah, I’ll report to Mother and Father myself.”

Good, I managed to settle it somehow. I never want to do something this reckless again. Let’s clean everything up quickly and go back to Bartfort territory. With that in mind, I looked to my side. Two bright red eyes were glaring at me.

Huh? Maybe it’s not over yet?

“Um, Lady Angelica?”

“What.”

“It seems the discussion has been settled.”

“So what.”

“No, shouldn’t we end this with a ‘good, good, all’s well that ends well’?”

“How are the future of the Holfort Kingdom and our marital issues being treated as the same thing.”

“Uhh…”

I see. The problem isn’t over yet. Angie is angry. Very angry. Probably the angriest she’s been since we first met.

“Any last words before I hit you again?”

“Yeah, just listen for a moment.”

“I will.”

“The one thing that’s true is that I love you.”

“I already know.”

Bagi—!!

The moment my vision was filled with her fist, I collapsed onto the floor and lost consciousness.

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳

Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

The duke’s persuasion ends here.

For now, a chance for discussion has been created, but the road ahead is difficult.

From the next chapter onward, there will be mountains of cleanup.

The story will center around Leon and Angie as a married couple — the “convince the angry wife after the husband’s reckless stunt” arc.

There will also be scenes of Roland and Leon that differ from the original.

Postscript:

At the commissioner’s request, Yuzumirin-sama drew an illustration. Thank you very much.

Yuzumirin-sama: Pixiv

I would love to hear your opinions and impressions for future motivation.