57 — 7-3 The Sorrow Of Nobility

We were requesting an audience with the Albatross Kingdom’s ambassador to the Bernstein Empire, at the Albatross Kingdom embassy.

Before long, the ambassador appeared.

His hair was heavily streaked with white, giving him the air of accumulated years. He wasn’t massively muscular, but he was solidly built.

At the very least, there wasn’t a speck of troublesome excess fat on him.

Impressive at that age.

I quietly remembered what my body had looked like before my restoration.

Ugh. Yeah, no. That was hopeless.

I raised a white flag in my heart, then resumed my “ambassador observation journal.”

His eyes were calm, yet carried a keen, intelligent sharpness.

But his features weren’t cruel-looking.

He seemed like someone reliable.

Somehow, he reminded me of Logos from the Adros Commercial Guild.

“Well, well. Marquis Granburst, so renowned, and I see beside you is the third son of the heroic Orston House. I am Count Marius. I have the honor of serving as ambassador in this Empire. I hope you will remember me. I have heard much of Marquis Granburst’s recent accomplishments. And Antonio-sama, please do your best in the A-Rank exam.”

Right—at the moment, I was using Granburst as my noble surname.

After I visited the High Priest, an official had called me “Honorary Marquis Alphonse,” so I decided to create a surname for myself.

The meaning was exactly what it looked like.

And the sound was nice, so I picked it.

I figured “Granbuster” or “Granblast” didn’t sound quite right.

Apparently there were game techniques with names like that, but it had nothing to do with me.

My magic covered all attributes—and I even used physical weapons—so tying myself to the name of a specific spell would feel off.

Anyway, I would live here under the name “Big-Bang Bastard.”

And “Granburst” also seemed to have a shooting-related meaning.

As promised, the kingdom treated me as a normal noble even though I was only an honorary one.

So the ambassador addressed me properly as “Marquis Granburst,” not “Honorary Marquis Granburst.”

“Renowned” was probably more like “infamous.”

After all, I had a reputation as a noble-killer.

Well, in practice my main title was “Director of the Beast-Eared Nursery.”

Recently, that one had climbed to the top of my title list.

I learned for the first time that titles apparently rearranged themselves within the status “title” section.

Lately, even Armon—the Guildmaster of the Royal Capital of Alba Adventurers’ Guild, the birthplace of the Adventurers’ Guild—was calling me “Director,” despite the fact that I was an SS-rank adventurer, currently the highest rank in the world.

We were offered a sofa, so the two of us sat.

Antonio sat with proper elegance, and I dropped into it with a heavy thump.

It was leather—luxurious.

It reminded me of the feel of a high-end Italian leather sofa I’d once sat on back on Earth.

You could tell it wasn’t just for show; the way it supported your weight spoke of real cost.

A chair isn’t good just because it has the shape of a chair.

As expected of an embassy.

The walls and furnishings weren’t flashy, but they had a refined taste that felt pleasant.

Anyone from Albatross who came all the way to the embassy in Bern—enemy territory, for all intents and purposes—was either high-status, or a VIP to the homeland.

If they didn’t treat such people properly, it would affect His Excellency’s career prospects.

It was completely different from the beast-eared nursery, which was basically a remodeled secondhand workshop building.

Though, that place had its own charm.

It was a building that fit its needs perfectly.

And kids would dirty it anyway, so it didn’t need to be too fancy.

Not long after, a young, beautiful woman brought tea.

That kind of impression probably mattered, too.

The tea itself was fine black tea, but I was more interested in the sweets served alongside it.

They looked excellent—were they from the kingdom, or from the Empire?

I quietly grabbed a handful into my palm, stored them away, and tried copying them.

And just like that, I’d secured at least one minimum-level souvenir for the little ones.

Now, even if I ended up needing to flee back to Adros at any time, I’d be fine.

This sort of careful preparedness was the strong suit of a crafty old man—something different from those small-fry brats.

“There’s something I want to confirm with you, Ambassador. About this man’s identity.”

I showed him a photo of the man I believed to be Marquis Nielsen.

“Hmm. That is Marquis Nielsen. What about him?”

So it was him after all.

I’d refrained from appraising him because I didn’t want to be noticed.

Unlike markers, appraisal apparently had a decent chance of being detected.

And Marquis Nielsen seemed like the sharp type, so I didn’t risk it.

Former military types weren’t something to underestimate.

Also, the fact that the ambassador could look at a meticulously precise portrait—this thing called a photograph, probably the first he’d ever seen—without even twitching an eyebrow… that was skill.

He might have already heard from my homeland that I was a rare visitor.

“His people are tailing Antonio.”

“Are you certain of that information?”

The ambassador looked straight into my eyes.

It was as if he understood Nielsen was the sort of person who would do it, but he wanted it confirmed in words.

“I verified it with my own eyes. He mobilized a ridiculous number, too. Roughly fifty, at a glance.”

Hearing that, the ambassador let out a somewhat heavy sigh and began.

“This Marquis Nielsen is what you might call a hardliner, and he is connected to His Highness Prince Sharion, the second imperial prince, who is also of the hardliner faction. Prince Sharion’s fiancée is the daughter of House Pasion, a marquisate. She is Marquis Nielsen’s niece. When Marquis Nielsen served in the military, he was known by the epithet ‘Flash-God Nielsen. He does not move recklessly, but he maneuvers with meticulous preparation—and when the time comes, he moves like a gale, which is why he was called that. He is a very formidable man. You two completely crushed their scheme, after all. They will certainly resent you for it, so you must be cautious.
Especially Antonio—if he passes the A-Rank exam, he will become an S-rank high noble of the kingdom. And that will mean the restoration of the Kingdom’s Sword, a prestigious martial house. For our kingdom, that is extremely meaningful—both in actual capability, and as a symbol. At present, he is likely the person the Empire most wants eliminated within the Albatross Kingdom. Right now they can dispose of him as ‘just an adventurer,’ and within this Empire, they can do it however they like.
As for Marquis Granburst, you are treated as a full kingdom noble. If they lay hands on you within the Empire, it becomes a diplomatic issue—so for the time being, they will not act openly. Furthermore, you are an exceptionally unusual honorary noble—without obligations to the kingdom whatsoever. If you intend to use that to your advantage, you are effectively free to do as you please. They will not push things too far. And also… if they touch you, it becomes very, very troublesome.”

As he said that—speaking as if he meant something beyond the words—the ambassador gave me a knowing, suspicious smile.

It was the kind of grin you’d call a “tanuki smile”—a distinctive expression that clearly carried meaning between the lines.

Th-this ambassador!

Uh… is that really okay?

Huh? Huh?

Am I allowed to go that far?

I needed to apologize to the straight-shooting Logos I’d compared him to in my heart—because this ambassador was a full-on tanuki!

“That’s quite the troublesome bunch to make enemies of. Hah-hah-hah.”

I laughed along, equally entertained.

Antonio frowned at the exchange between this crafty old tanuki and a god of destruction, but he couldn’t really complain.

After all, he was the one who had called me here.

The ambassador and I both enjoyed the conversation—like foxes and tanuki trying to trick each other.

He seemed to have taken a liking to me as well.

And hey—the tea was good.

More importantly, the sweets were delicious.

The way they used milk and a special kind of sugar was superb.

They were clearly goods made for noble households.

I broke the sweets down with my item box and obtained the sugar used in them—it was a type that didn’t exist on Earth.

Maybe an imperial specialty.

Since this was another world, I wanted to collect more things like this.

I’d give some of this sugar to Erin, too.

And later, I’d ask the Adros Commercial Guild to help acquire imperial goods.

If I asked Logos, he’d get it done.

Next, I showed the ambassador the photo of that woman.

The moment he saw it, his expression dimmed slightly.

For a man of this kind—so smooth and careful—it was unusual to let emotion show like that.

Did this woman have some special circumstance?

“This is a young lady of House Palmia. Where did you obtain this?”

“She’s one of the people tailing me and Antonio. She was the one who led them to Marquis Nielsen’s residence.”

“I see. She is a pitiable person as well. Caught up in the imperial succession struggle.”

The ambassador flicked a glance at Antonio, then continued.

“House Palmia was not at fault. Except for one thing: the house was a key pillar of the Crown Prince’s faction.”

S-so… she was like one of Antonio’s comrades, in a way?

This kind of thing happened in any country, huh.

Antonio listened with a complicated expression.

The ambassador glanced at him again, then continued without pause.

“Those who supported His Highness Prince Sharion, the second prince, committed something outrageous in order to bring down His Highness the Crown Prince. They planted a prohibited magic crystal—an illegal item—inside the palace of the ‘second prince.’ And when the scheme failed, the one captured by the Imperial Knight Order was the eldest son of House Palmia. He had been drugged to sleep, and saddled with a crime he did not commit.
It was a crude plot, and all relevant parties knew the truth. But someone had to take responsibility. Especially in a country like this Empire. The count personally prevented blame from reaching the first prince by beheading his beloved eldest son—who was clearly innocent. And the eldest son, too, accepted his fate in silence. You could call it the destiny of nobles and leave it at that, but it was far too cruel to dismiss so simply.
Afterward, the count, his remaining three sons, and the main pillars of House Palmia were all executed, and the Palmia line was extinguished. I have heard that the countess and the two young ladies were sent to a convent. And His Highness Prince Doran, the first prince, became Crown Prince. This topic is considered taboo among the Empire’s nobility, so please be very careful when speaking with imperial nobles.”

What a thoroughly rotten story.

I couldn’t stop my brow from knitting.

“Hey, Antonio. Are you saying your case was still the ‘better’ kind?”

“Yeah. Ours wasn’t tied to the royal succession struggle. Some idiot duke’s son was running illegal smuggling and was about to get exposed. Then he screwed up and got the Knight Order to net the whole operation. Following the rare visitor’s teachings, the Albatross Kingdom’s Knight Order goes all the way—duke or not. But they couldn’t just drag a ducal house out into the open.
People started applying pressure from all sides. Back then, my older brother was being forced to ‘help’ that idiot with his work. They tried to rope in the first son of Orston House—praised as the Kingdom’s Sword for its military merit—for something that petty. It was unbelievably stupid.
My brother refused flatly, of course, but the man was the vindictive type, and apparently held a grudge. They exploited that angle, and somehow my brother Andy was treated as the ringleader—while the idiot claimed he’d only helped because Andy tricked him. That part happened after it left the Knight Order’s hands, so… And the other side was the heir of a ducal house.
Because of that, a lot happened. Our family hates crookedness, and we’re not flexible. Among nobles, we stood out. That’s why the king trusted us completely—but that also made us envied. If you take purity too far, it becomes something people hate. In the end, Orston House lost its title. Thankfully, it didn’t come to executions. His Majesty must have moved behind the scenes.
It was obvious that would happen—but things were so tangled that after endless fighting, it was settled with ‘title stripped’ as the only punishment. Even now, it’s talked about across the kingdom as the shame of the Albatross Kingdom.”

“Ugh. That’s awful. So what was the duke’s name?”

“Duke Brakio von Bighton. His son’s name is Kirmis von Bighton. A womanizing, greasy, unbearable fat little runt. The duke is the current king’s younger brother. His Majesty flew into a rage and summoned the duke to the palace, but the Duke of Bighton acted like it was nothing. He even tried to lecture His Majesty, which only made the king angrier, and both father and son were put under long-term house arrest.”

“His Majesty’s got guts.”

After thinking for a moment, I told my friend:

“If that guy ever tries to mess with me, I’ll punch him once for you. SS-rank. Noble-killer. Dragon-slayer. Let him try selling a fight to Alphonse the Explosive Head-Hunter, just because he’s some duke’s brat. I’ll give him an educational lesson, personally, on what a rare visitor really is—since his ancestor was one. And knowing His Majesty, if it came to that, he’d probably call me in later and say, ‘Well done,’ at least once. But man… if Mari heard about the disgrace caused by this first king’s descendants, she’d probably cry.”

“Hah-hah-hah. Thanks, Al.”

That seemed to lift Antonio’s mood a little.

“Also,” the ambassador added with perfect timing, “the magic crystal used in the Palmia incident is what later became the source of the magical-essence emission stones used in that dungeon.”

Yeah. Guilty.

Do you have any idea how much trouble that caused me…?

This ambassador was definitely saying it like that on purpose to rile me up, wasn’t he?

So His Majesty knew the contraband was in the neighboring country.

A dangerous item used in a messy succession struggle next door.

This reeks of trouble.

Fine.

I’d better secure souvenirs for the kids early—so I could run away at any time.