11 (4)

Louis entered inside. It was his first official visit to the capital, so the feeling could not help but be new. He did not yet know that all seven houses had already arrived, but regardless, he was brimming with confidence that he could resolve any situation that arose. For now, the houses likely to participate in Louis’s plan numbered about three. Including the Prince-King, that made four factions. Even if he formed an alliance with just one or two of them, he would be able to receive support for the territory he needed to cultivate going forward.

‘So this is what it’s like.’

Seeing the soldiers standing on edge, Louis thought that the Prince-King would not treat him lightly. In truth, however, it was not so much an order from the Prince-King as the soldiers themselves being tightly wound by the momentum generated by Louis’s procession. That was only natural: Anok stood at the center, and at the heart of it all was Louis. Beside him, Mihoff—never one to yield—was also releasing enough mana not to be outdone by Anok.

If there was one inconvenience to being a Sword Expert, it was precisely this. Once one began accepting mana, it was difficult to conceal it without considerable effort. In any case, Louis swept his gaze around once, and then a high-ranking officer on horseback approached and greeted him.

“Are you Duke Pontina Louis?”

“That is correct.”

“We have been waiting for you. I hear this is your first time in the capital, Duke Louis. May I guide you?”

Louis gave a short nod. The capital, Lebledna, was an ancient city, and as such it was the largest, most complex, and most crowded in the entire Duchy of Eron. Someone of Louis’s age might normally have visited several times already, but because of discrimination that was discrimination without being called such, there had been no reason for him to come here. He had likely visited once—when he was very young.

Citizens were gradually gathering. With mouths agape, they stared at the lion emblem Anok carried. It was the symbol of House Pontina, and there was no one who did not recognize it. People learned the founding history of Eron as children, and among its stories, this was the family crest that no one could take their eyes off.

Even in this brief interval, people moved busily. The protagonist had finally appeared before the party cooled, and those who had waited a long time ogled Louis like dogs licking bones. Those who could not bear to keep it to themselves shouted, “Duke Louis has arrived! House Pontina is at the entrance!” Amid the growing clamor, it was not only Louis who felt pleased at being welcomed. Even each common soldier he had brought along straightened their shoulders with pride.

Anok, who had been bristling with killing intent because of Mihoff, saw the reaction around him and seemed to relax, dispelling it. At least that bold, overflowing display was witnessed only by the soldiers atop the walls. It was only natural that they would later boast about it over drinks.

A young woman holding a small child clasped her hands and prayed when she saw House Pontina. It was as if she were making a wish to the gods on behalf of Louis’s family. Wanting to share in the aura of Louis, said to be richly blessed by the god of war, was an instinctive desire. One child tugged at his mother’s clothes, pointed at Anok, and said,

“I want to become a swordsman like that.”

“My child, be careful! You mustn’t point at someone of high rank!”

Startled, the mother stopped her brief prayer and scolded the child. Louis was having a short exchange with the chiliarch, leaving a moment of leeway, and Anok—perhaps having heard the child—handed the banner to a nearby soldier and walked over.

The young woman, who had been scolding the child, saw a sudden shadow fall and looked up in alarm. Its owner was Anok, nearly two meters tall. Compared to the small child and the slight woman, Anok on horseback naturally seemed enormous. So startled that her heart leapt into her throat, she froze, unsure what to do, until someone beside her, feeling pity, shouted for her to prostrate herself and beg.

Instead, the iron-like hand that passed her by seized the small child and lifted him up. The child was startled but did not cry, rising high into the air as Anok hoisted him up with both hands. From higher than anyone else, the child looked down at the people—and at Anok.

“Child. A sword needs nothing else. If you truly will it, you can become that—and rise even higher. In House Pontina, there is no discrimination of any kind. That is why the one I serve is always worthy of the greatest respect.”

“Really?”

“Of course. If you have a dream, it is always best to give it your all. And if fortune is added to that, you might even meet a lord like mine.”

Anok laughed heartily and set the child down. As soon as he was lowered, the child wobbled and clung tightly to his mother’s leg.

“Thank you. Thank you.”

“Raise him well. If he has talent, to House Pontina.”

That was all he said. The cavalryman ahead made an impressed expression and began moving again, guiding them onward. Anok, his expression much lighter now, took back the banner he had entrusted to another and held it himself. The procession began to move.

Louis had seen Anok lift the child but had not heard the details. It was that noisy around them. A tremendous crowd was gathering—to see House Pontina, to see Louis. He was not unaccustomed to such gazes. Louis had always crossed places like this with dignity. Even in enemy dens filled with hostility, his pride had never once bent.

“Duke Louis! Please look this way just once!”

“It’s Duke Louis!”

“As expected, he’s the best among the seven houses. The rumors were true.”

“Each and every one of them is clearly elite!”

Among them were many who prayed to share in Louis’s aura, and some even waited in place to offer livestock as sacrifices. Louis was enjoying these reactions. Indeed, they were responses he had never received in Proia, in Grad, or even in Pontina. More importantly, this was happening not in his own territory, but in the capital.

One might call it the first moment he truly felt his popularity. As they moved along like this, a stranger was approaching. Blond curls and blue eyes gave him a cool, composed look. One could tell at a glance from his attire that he was no ordinary man. He also seemed to have trained with the sword, judging by his confident riding posture. Nearby women kept glancing back and forth between Louis and this man.

The one approaching so naturally was Parse Akiteia of House Parse, proudly holding one axis among the seven great houses of the Duchy of Eron. Just as Louis had expected, he was quite versed in swordsmanship (though his mana reserves were not high). Realizing he lacked talent there, he could be seen as someone who had turned his focus elsewhere.

A ruler did not necessarily need to wage war personally, and in managing a territory, diplomatic skill and administrative ability were naturally of great importance. Securing such abilities was crucial. In that sense, from Parse Akiteia’s perspective, approaching Louis now was little different from achieving one of his ultimate goals: succession. There was no house that waged war at every succession quite like House Pontina.

That was what made House Pontina uniquely peculiar. War meant money, casualties, and the consumption of vast resources. If it was a civil war, it was all the more meaningless, weakening one’s own territorial foundations. Thus, many houses pursued succession through cruel, cunning, or dirty schemes. House Parse was one such house. Its bloodline excelled at diplomacy and judging people, and their methods of succession were complex beyond measure—but there was one thing they absolutely did not do: wage a succession war.

They actively employed assassins, pushing assassination to its extreme, while thoroughly minimizing internal conflict over succession. That was the secret to House Parse’s long, steady growth. Akiteia, in truth, could be seen as someone slowly being pushed aside in the succession struggle. His elder brother’s faction was simply too strong. In that light, it was obvious how Louis would appear to him.

Louis had not only perfectly dominated a battlefield under absurd circumstances, but had even carried out retaliation against House Haidek. Such bold decisions and abilities were deeply enviable.

Approaching him now also filled Akiteia with no small amount of fear. He was about to face up close the power he had glimpsed earlier from atop the walls. Even for Akiteia, who had met many people and opened countless diplomatic ties, it was an unfamiliar yet overwhelming presence. Smiling, he spoke.

“Greetings. Duke Pontina Louis. I am Parse Akiteia, here as the representative of the head of House Parse.”

It was a truly likable face. He had never failed to pass first impressions. Yet Louis looked at him with a blank expression. Akiteia, who had never once missed the emotions hidden behind a face, for the first time failed to grasp what Louis felt about him. A flicker of unease passed through him several times, but Louis’s reply that followed was courteous.

“A pleasure to meet you. You are a son of House Parse, then. As you have learned, I am Pontina Louis of House Pontina.”

There was a reason Louis addressed him politely: his status. Akiteia had come as the representative of the Marquis of Parse, which meant that here—at least in diplomatic activity—he was effectively a marquis. Had he not borne the title of representative, Louis’s words would naturally have been loftier. But Louis had come here to build firm alliances.

The chiliarch immediately recognized Akiteia and spoke first.

“Ah, Lord Akiteia. I thought you had already gone ahead.”

“No. May I take it upon myself to introduce Lord Louis? I am quite familiar with the geography here.”

“Of course. I will lead from the front.”

Though he spoke thus, the chiliarch addressed Akiteia with a clearly regretful expression. As a representative of his house, Akiteia was no different from a marquis. The chiliarch had no means to refuse a request that was practically an order. Internally, he muttered, ‘Damn it, to miss out on such a bragging opportunity,’ but his face showed nothing. As he rode ahead, Akiteia skillfully guided his horse up alongside Louis, who was moving forward.

The moment Louis saw his actions, he roughly guessed what kind of ability this man specialized in. The surest thing would be to check the information window. As expected, Akiteia’s data showed diplomatic ability at a high level.

‘Whether he’s a con man or not—that’s something I’ll have to find out directly.’

His father had said that people like this were always dangerous. Behind a smiling face could be a dagger—or honey. For now, Louis’s first impression of Akiteia was good. The rest would only become clear through further conversation.