Arc-6 Ch-38

"The chicken dishes at this place are quite good. The selection of alcohol is rather lacking, but when paired together it's passable, I suppose."

"Haah…"

"What's wrong, Viscount Bartfort? Are you not fond of alcohol?"

"I do not partake much."

"That is no good. Fine liquor, beautiful women, and adventures that make your blood race and your flesh leap. What is life without these!"

"…………"

"Please, bear with him, Bartfort."

The middle-aged man in front of me had been rattling on non-stop while gulping alcohol and devouring the food. A blue-haired middle-aged man, with rather good looks too, so he must be popular with women. In fact, when we visited his room, it seemed he had been getting along with a young waitress. Looking closely, I could feel a blood resemblance to His Highness Julius; give him another twenty years and His Highness would probably become a middle-aged man like this too.

The man joyfully enjoying alcohol and food before us—his real name is Roland Rapha Holfort. He's the most important middle-aged man in this country.

"And what business does His Majesty the King have with calling me out to such a tavern?"

"I merely wished to commend the first-ranked contributor of this incident. I cannot very well hold a banquet at the palace. Come now. Eat without reservation."

"…Thank you."

"Today is informal, no need for restraint; eat, drink, sing as you please."

I am not foolish enough to take those words at face value. Acting like a high-ranking noble or superior officer with understanding toward lower nobles and subordinates is basic etiquette for nobles and soldiers. Certainly a king who seems friendly and kind-hearted would be well-liked by others. But if he were truly such a king, there is no way the earnest Duke Redgrave would harbor enough hatred to consider even rebellion. The duke is indeed strict about fulfilling a noble's duties, but he is not so small-minded as to loathe someone who is incompetent yet does not neglect effort.

Indeed, even though he looks like he is drinking and acting drunk right now, the light in his eyes remains sharp. It is obvious that today's banquet was arranged to test me; if I relax, I don't know what he might do.

"I hear that although you just passed twenty, you succeeded in persuading that stiff Vince."

"It wasn't persuasion, it was coercion."

"I wished to hear that part directly from your mouth."

"…His Highness ought to have reported it."

"Reports full of nothing but censorship are nothing but boring to read."

It seems His Highness was considerate toward me and Angie. If he had made that sort of consideration before the dispute between the royal house and the ducal house escalated, it would have helped even more, though. And the king does not seem pleased with reports full of censorship. Well, considering how many dangerous parts there are—criticism of the ducal house and the royal house, the lost-item ship—it cannot be helped.

"Are you dissatisfied?"

"I am. Putting preservation of the status quo above all else is the first step toward ruining a country."

Says the man who is practically the poster child for preservation of the status quo. The duke had the resolve to rebuild a kingdom that had rotted. Her Majesty the Queen, in her own way, desperately wanted reconciliation with the ducal house. These are not words that should come from someone who has hardly worked and never faced the duke until now. This is my first time speaking directly with His Majesty, and it hasn't even been an hour and I've already grown to dislike him. It's rare, since it's not like I suffered direct harm from him like with Zola and the others. No, perhaps I did suffer plenty.

This man is the cause of things deteriorating to the brink of civil war, and I've spent this entire past year rushing around to put out the fire.

"I don't mind. But before I speak, I'd like you to write something."

"Write what?"

"A written pledge. To guarantee that nothing said here will be used to charge me with any crime."

"It is informal today; I will overlook minor conduct."

"People in power always say that. And then they hold a grudge and break their promise once the banquet is over. It happens often in high society."

"Are you saying I cannot be trusted?"

How much easier it would be if I could honestly say, "Yes, exactly."

How should I put it, I fundamentally do not mesh with this man. I am called a Villainous knight and am quite the awful person myself, but His Majesty is quite something too. I never wanted to hold a contest here to determine Holfort Kingdom's most disliked man. In any case, I cannot trust His Majesty, and I have no intention of doing anything to amuse him. Perhaps seeing that my resolve was firm, His Majesty clapped his hands, and an attendant who had apparently been waiting in the hallway entered the room.

Fred, was it? You have it rough too.

Thinking such things, I watched the two of them as he began writing something with the paper and pen he was handed. Might as well eat while I can. As His Majesty said, the chicken dishes were quite delicious. The crisp-grilled chicken skin and meat were fragrant, and the sauce had a complex flavor that paired well with the mild chicken. I should come here with Angie once we make up. No, maybe I shouldn't?

If I came here often, I'd probably remember a certain someone's infuriating face and the food would taste bad.

"Here, I wrote it. Are you satisfied now?"

I received the written guarantee, handwritten by His Majesty the King, from Fred. I carefully read the text to confirm its contents. Angie always nags me to go over contracts several times to avoid missing anything, so I was careful not to overlook anything. It even has his signature and seal. This king, does he do the same thing with other people too?

At any rate, this guarantees that my family and I will suffer no harm from this matter, and of course neither will the Redgrave house.

"Then, I will speak."

From there, even with His Highness Julius adding annotations, one turn of the long hand of the clock was not enough to finish the story.

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"…That concludes the series of events that occurred at the ducal residence."

"It matches what I, as one involved, saw and heard. Bartfort has spoken neither lie nor falsehood."

Eating food and drinking to moisten my throat during breaks had taken quite a bit of time. His Majesty had enjoyed listening up until the part where I pointed a gun at the duke, but toward the end he listened in silence. As expected, I regret having said "I will become king". It was far too dangerous, even by my own judgment. That was why I hadn't wanted to tell him.

It wouldn't be strange to be charged not only with lèse-majesté but even with treason. There will absolutely be people who will suspect things or take action on their own, regardless of my actual intentions. When will the peaceful, quiet life I desire finally arrive?

"…The lost-item ship, is that true?"

There it is. I knew he'd ask that. The Holfort Kingdom has just lost the royal fleet in the war with the Fanoss Principality. Other nations, seeing the kingdom having lost its trump card, are itching to strike. The feudal nobles who had been suppressed are beginning to move suspiciously. It is only natural for the royal house to want a new lost item to fill the gap.

If he asked me to hand over the orb for the sake of peace, I would gladly give it up. The problem is that the orb is a flying ship meant to absolutely annihilate the New Humans. If mishandled, the Holfort Kingdom could practically be wiped off the map. It listens to me because I defeated it in a life-or-death fight.

If some incompetent noble acted all high and mighty and claimed ownership, that person would be the first turned to cinders. I am not so carefree as to tell them the location of a time bomb that could explode at any moment.

"The lost-item ship does exist. But none of them were intact enough to use. If you want me to tell you where they are, I can. It depends on what reward the royal house will give me for the scrap metal I found."

"When and where did you find such a thing?"

"When I ran away from home before joining the royal army. My family was poor, and I didn't even have the fare to reach the army headquarters. I found them by chance on one of the floating islands where I camped outdoors or stowed away repeatedly."

"Was there truly not even one functioning ship?"

"If there had been, I would not have enlisted in the royal army, and there's no reason I wouldn't have used it in the war with the principality. If you doubt me, I don't mind telling you the location someday."

"I see. That is enough."

Even I am impressed by how naturally I can lie, like breathing. The Bartfort barony, being at the very bottom of the noble ranks, had almost no ties with other nobles, and my past as a third son born of a concubine even less so. I never imagined the time when I wasn't treated as a noble would come in handy like this.

"And you fooled Vince that well?"

"The duke has likely realized by now. But at that time, the duke was looking for a reason to accept defeat. If you offer a convincing reason, he will seize it."

"He was looking for a reason to accept defeat?"

"The most important noble in this country was defeated by an upstart, impudent brat like me. Normally the shame would be unbearable, and anyone would try to find a reason they can accept. He was threatened with a gun, the Hero of Salvation turned against him, his daughter was taken hostage, the royal house sought reconciliation."

"And 'Viscount Bartfort possessed a lost-item ship', I suppose."

"Yes. The Holfort Kingdom used lost items to keep the feudal nobles in check. Anyone who knows the country's history could think it's not strange for someone else to attempt the same."

"So that is why the duke accepted reconciliation."

"If you completely eliminate a person's escape routes, anyone will fight desperately to the end, but if you offer them an escape route, humans tend to take the easier path. This is something I experienced on the battlefield, and something written in books on tactics and negotiation."

This part is true. Even if I had threatened him by showing the lost-item ship from the start, it would have had little effect and I wouldn’t have been able to persuade the duke. Angie’s persuasion, the threat with the gun, the takeover of the ducal residence, and finally the finishing blow with the existence of the lost-item ship. Because there were several stages, it became that last push. Otherwise, even the duke wouldn’t be fooled by being shown some blurry image.

"Indeed, you are quite the tactician despite your youth."

"I am merely cunning. Since I lack strength, I have no choice but to deceive the opponent with trickery."

"Do not humble yourself. Martial arts and tactics alike are the wisdom humans created for the weak to defeat the strong. There is nothing to be ashamed of."

"…Thank you."

Even being praised like this doesn’t make me happy. In short, it’s only because I am weak and cowardly that I can only resort to methods like this. More than anything, because I tried to reconcile the royal family and the ducal house, Angie and I are now on the verge of divorce. It’s not like I did it because I wanted to, yet our married life is now in nearly the worst state. I’ve lived a life used to being disliked by others, but the one person I least want to be disliked by—my wife—has gone back to her family home, and that hurts too much.

"If I do not reward those who have achieved merit, my worth as a ruler will be questioned. Viscount Bartfort, your efforts in this matter were truly admirable. Name your reward."

A reward, huh. There is nothing I want the royal house to bestow upon me. What I want is simply a world where my wife and children can live in peace. Only a truly great king or a hero could accomplish something like that. If I’m asked whether the old man in front of me is such a capable king, there’s no way he looks like he could be.

"I have none. I am completely exhausted from this affair. If possible, I would like to be exempt from attending the royal capital for a while."

"Bartfort, are you truly fine with just that?"

"…Then how about promotion from count to marquis, and awarding you court rank Third Class Middle?"

Why are you raising it?

Even being a viscount now is already too much for me, and I already hate the idea of becoming a count in the coming commendations. A marquis is, you know, the highest rank a non-royal noble can be promoted to. There are only precedents like a noble of great lineage achieving tremendous merit, or a king of a small country submitting himself. There has not been a single person in the kingdom’s history who attained such a rank in a single generation. Even a count would be unprecedented. The jealousy from other nobles would be terrible, and the responsibility as a lord would be enormous. There is absolutely no way I can shoulder such a thing alone.

"Please stop. Even my current rank is more than I deserve."

"You stopped a conflict that was dividing the kingdom in two. No one will complain."

"If you’re going to do that, then forbid any tightening of control against the duke’s faction."

"Then take a bride from the royal family."

"…Haa?"

"Erica, the daughter of Mylene and me, is impossible, but there are princesses born to my concubines. Even a hidden child raised nearly as a commoner but with good looks is fine. Become in-laws with the Holfort royal house, and in the future…"

"I’ll beat you to death, old man."

Who do you think caused this whole situation. If you had done your job properly, no one would have needed to suffer like this. If you keep saying stupid things, I’m going home.

"Calm down, Bartfort!"

"…My apologies, the words from my heart slipped out."

"For that, you don’t look very remorseful."

"Because Your Majesty’s jokes go too far."

"And what will you do if it is not a joke?"

What the hell is that. Why is it turning out like this. I thought it was a bad joke, but he’s completely serious. Stop it. If it were a joke, fine, but being serious—what is going on.

"If marriage is impossible, then how about adoption? There happens to be a foolish first prince who will be stripped of royal status for doing something idiotic, so there is a vacancy."

"Your Majesty has many other children besides His Highness Julius. It does not seem like a situation dire enough to require taking an adopted son."

"This is not a matter limited to the Holfort royal house. This concerns the Bartfort house, or further, it is atonement for the sins of the royal house reaching back to the very founding of this country."

His Highness’s expression changed from a frivolous one to a serious one. It’s unfair how handsome people can make the atmosphere tense at moments like this. Looking beside me, even His Highness Julius looked troubled—what is this even about?

"I will omit the detailed explanation; it concerns the kingdom’s very foundation. If Julius were still first in line to the throne, there are things I could speak of, but here and now I can only say that the Bartfort house has a close relationship with the founder of the nation and the first saint."

"…Please stop joking."

"I will not lie at this stage. When our ancestors built what could be called the prototype of this country, the ancestors of Bartfort were present as well. Rather, one might say that the central figure among the founders was the ancestor of Bartfort."

"…Is that true, Father?"

"Had circumstances gone differently, we might have been the ones serving the Bartfort house."

‘The Bartfort house’s ancestors were supposedly companions of the first king. No one in the family believes that tall tale, though.’

The old story passed down in the Bartfort house that I once told Angie. Of course I didn’t believe it, and no one in the family did either—it was just some ancestor whose name we don’t even know. Even if you suddenly claim it’s true, of course my brain won’t function properly.

"To add to that, Saint Olivia, that girl’s ancestor is the first saint."

"What!?"

"You didn’t know, Julius? I told you before we activated the royal ship. ‘It must be fate that the descendants of the heroes of old have gathered’. "

"…I assumed you were talking about the ancestors of the five of us."

"You dullard. With such poor perception, no wonder both your fiancée and the woman you loved left you."

"I have no excuse."

What is this, my head is starting to spin. My ancestor, and the saint’s ancestor, and the hero’s ancestor were companions?

And what, the Bartfort house might have become the royal house?

That’s ridiculous.

"Vince had his daughter, who broke off her engagement with Julius, marry Viscount Bartfort as a warning to the royal house, more precisely to me. He wanted to claim that the blood of Bartfort could bring me down."

Somehow, something I had felt vaguely since our engagement made sense. Why a marriage proposal between a failed nobody like me and a duke’s daughter like Angie had come. The duke didn’t want my individual ability, he wanted the blood of Bartfort. This feels awful. A complicated tangle of the kingdom’s dark history reaching out from places I knew nothing about.

Did Angie know this?

Did she marry someone of my lower status because she knew?

I don’t know. My married life with Angie is about a fourth of my entire life. I thought I knew almost everything about Angie, but that confidence is shaking. I want to ask her right now, but Angie is at the ducal residence. Sneaking in there would be a lot of trouble.

"The Holfort royal family, in truth, wants to avoid any further civil strife under the pretext of the Bartfort bloodline. The Redgrave ducal house is originally a branch family of the royal house. Even those people have caused this disturbance. There is no guarantee that others will not attempt the same thing in the future."

"So your intention is to make me take a bride from the royal family or else become an adopted son of the royal family."

"It is not a bad deal for you either. The Holfort royal family can prevent the blood of the Bartfort house from being misused in advance. And the Bartfort house will be fully rewarded by being tied to the royal family and appointed to important positions."

Absurd. The royal family, terrified that a quarrel between their ancestors from hundreds of years ago may be exposed. The ducal house, convinced that if I married Angie they could corner the royal house. Aren’t both sides idiots?

Plotting such utterly ridiculous things, clinging to ancestors and house names. And you still call yourselves king and nobles. Use your heads for something more proper. Why do you think we pay such high taxes for the sake of morons like you?

If we keep obeying people like this, we’ll become idiots too. If governing the country is the duty of royalty, then do it properly.

"Let me ask just in case, is that an imperial command?"

My tone was rude and rising toward the king, but I couldn’t care less. In the span of a few hours tonight, I have come to dislike this king. I don’t want his daughter as my wife, and I would rather bite off my tongue and die than call this man ‘Father-in-law’.

"It is not. But even if you refuse, the royal faction will continue to approach you and your people in some way."

"If that is the case, then strip me of my title and territory. I never wanted them in the first place, so if you tell me to return them, I will gladly return them."

"You may be ostracized in social circles."

"That is rather a blessing. Fewer unnecessary acquaintances means more time to devote to farm work."

"The royal auditors may reach into Bartfort territory."

"Please be my guest. There is no hidden wealth in a territory that has not even been under development for ten years. The deficit is being covered by the Redgrave house, so if you want to blame someone, blame them. But many nobles are borrowing from the Redgrave house as well. If future loans are restricted, some of them might rebel against the royal family."

"…Hey, Julius. Does this man have no weak points?"

Serves you right. I’m a lower noble with the tenacity of a weed, raised practically as a commoner. I don’t have the luxury to cling to rank or wealth, and I’m even borrowing money from the ducal house. If you corner an innocent man like me, the debt falls onto the royal family. Earlier I even had the king sign a pledge so I could speak boldly like this. Signed and sealed by the king himself, with Prince Julius as witness. If he reneges on it, his credibility as king will be questioned.

Now all that remains is figuring out how to escape from the shady-looking fellows I saw around this shop. Well then, what will you do, Your Majesty?

"Bartfort is not an ordinary noble. He is not merely strong; he is cautious yet bold, and an excellent tactician who does not shy from risking his own life."

"I see. So he has the ability that Vince saw in him."

"Your Highness, please stop raising my evaluation."

The middle-aged man before me clearly changed his gaze. I know this gaze all too well. It’s the gaze of noble brats raised without hardship. They think their desires should be granted, that nothing in the world can go against their will—an arrogant confidence. And those types are always the kind who chase down anyone who tries to run, driven by a sadistic streak. It’s infuriating. Let alone that the man in front of me is the king; his arrogance must be beyond measure. I don’t want to deal with this. Let me go home already.

"Viscount Bartfort, you owe me a debt. A debt of life, literally."

"…Are you referring to the field hospital when I was badly injured? That was the natural course of action toward the soldiers of the kingdom’s army. It is hardly proper to boast about providing rations or medical care to one’s own troops."

"No, not that. A much greater debt."

The king spoke mysterious words and reached into his coat for something. Judging from the shape, it was unlikely to be a gun. Even so, I lifted my hips from the chair and moved into a half-crouched posture just in case. High-ranking people like him have no qualms about using their subordinates as disposable tools for their own sake.

I, of course, do not want to let the Bartfort family, the territory’s soldiers, or its people die. That is why I hate war, and why I sometimes dream about the men who died—nightmares that leave me shaken. If he thinks he can subdue me by force, he is gravely mistaken. What he pulled out was an absurdly gaudy and strange mask. It was gaudy in bright colors, with large feathers and even rose decorations attached. Only fools excited during festivals would wear such a thing.

…No, wait.

I’ve seen this somewhere before.

"You still don’t get it."

Wearing the mask, the old man looked at me with some amusement. Prince Julius beside him held his head in his hands, but I ignored him. Ah, I recognize that mask. You appeared countless times on the battlefield and ruined our operations and formations. You meddlesome bastard.

I now regret helping reconcile the Holfort royal family and the Redgrave ducal house. If I had known this guy was that guy, I would never have helped. I was played. Completely and utterly.

"You are…!"

"That’s right. You remember now."

I bit my lip and glared at the man before me. I spoke the name of the bastard posing cool in high spirits.

"The capricious, bad-taste pervert!?"

"The Masked Knight!!"

Like hell I’m calling you by your stupid masquerade name, you idiot king.

No way in hell.

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Authors Note

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“The masked knight was actually King Roland!! (W–what did you say―――!!)”

And so, this is the secret meeting between Leon and Roland. In the original otome game, Roland was a somewhat decent superior (with ulterior motives) toward the female protagonist, Livia, so here he is trying to win Leon over. In this version, Erika used to be a villainess, but Mylene knocked her character straight, and she is now married to Eriya. What awaits Prince Julius, who had to witness his own father cosplay and rampage across the battlefield?

Postscript:

At the request of the client, artists Nain-sama and Shion-sama have drawn illustrations for this.

Thank you very much.

Nain-sama: Pixiv(R-18 warning)

Shion-sama: Skeb

I would be grateful to receive your thoughts or impressions, as they will be a great encouragement for future work.