Father And Son

Ashid returned home in high spirits, expecting at least a word of praise for his efforts, but something felt strangely off.

Ever since entering Conratia, the capital of the Conrad ducal territory, the atmosphere throughout the domain had been oddly gloomy.

Word of his victory in the war should have already spread.

If that were the case, there should at least have been one or two victory parades…

Growing irritated, Ashid returned home.

After cleaning the dirt of battle from his clothes in his room and preparing to relax, he was summoned by his father almost immediately.

By then his mood had already improved, and he headed there feeling slightly better.

But the moment he saw his father’s face upon entering the room, that buoyant feeling vanished instantly.

He fell silent as if doused with cold water, but the duke, not noticing Ashid’s state, began speaking.

“…Huh? What did you just say?”

After hearing what was said, that was the only foolish reply Ashid could manage.

The contents were simply too absurd.

It sounded like some kind of joke, yet the duke himself spoke with complete seriousness.

Irritated, he tapped his foot while leaning on the desk with his elbow and resting his cheek on his hand.

“As I said— Woody has become independent. As Woody Adastria, he has been granted the rank of viscount, and the king has already approved it. The official decree has already been issued.”

Saying this, the duke handed over a sheet of paper that had been resting on his desk.

The parchment, slightly indented by a paperweight, bore the following words.

“In recognition of his achievements in desert greening and food support, Woody Conrad is hereby appointed as a viscount. As the desert region is vast and its environment harsh, situations often require immediate decisions. Therefore, Woody is to become independent from House Conrad and is permitted to establish the new House Adastria.”

The signature of Barry III written at the end was unmistakably genuine.

And the seal stamped beneath it was identical to the one Ashid had been taught to recognize.

To make matters worse, behind it were the name and official seal of Count Tristan listed as guardian.

“That bastard… what exactly did he do?”

Ashid knew almost nothing about what had happened after driving Woody into the desert.

He had given him almost no supplies, and when Woody left, Ashid had obstructed him in various ways, confiscating nearly all of his belongings and assets.

Woody had been thrown into the desert without being given enough time to prepare properly.

Ashid had heard that one maid he had his eye on had gone with him, but as far as he knew, that maid was the only companion.

The desert was inhabited by many native tribes, and governing them had been so difficult that even the former duke had given up.

With all those hardships piled on top of each other and only a single servant accompanying him, Woody had been cast into the desert penniless.

Ashid had assumed he had died long ago.

“It seems he managed to make good use of his production-type aptitude, Tree Planting. With matters like this, there is nothing we can do.”

Since the document issued by the king was official, once it reached the hands of the duke, it took effect immediately.

Having received it, it would be difficult to pretend ignorance.

Although the authority of the king had declined, openly undermining it would make them a target of attacks from other nobles.

Seeing the duke grinding his teeth, Ashid spoke with irritation.

“Then refuse to recognize the independence and crush him! Even if the desert region was abandoned, it was once ducal land. We have more than enough justification to attack!”

“While facing Magrad in the west…? If you and I each take responsibility for the west and the south, who exactly would be left to subjugate that area? And even if we succeeded in the campaign, we would then have to govern a desert territory that is now an exclave. Our domain simply does not have the manpower for that.”

“But just accepting it quietly… that’s not like you, Father!”

“Not like me…? Tell me, Ashid— what exactly do you think you know about me?”

His heart thumped violently.

Ashid, who had been about to continue speaking, choked on his words and could only stare wide-eyed.

His own father had directed killing intent at him.

Before he could even process the shock, the sharp eyes of the Duke of Conrad pierced him, and memories flashed through his mind.

He remembered the duke’s eyes from when Ashid had still been nothing more than the child of a concubine— those cold, emotionless eyes that showed he felt nothing for his own son.

“…This conversation is pointless. Excuse me!”

“Wait!”

To erase the image from his mind, Ashid stood up.

Ignoring his father’s call to stop, he ran alone toward his room.

“Honestly… that boy never listens to a word anyone says.”

And with that, the duke’s words echoed emptily through the study as he was left alone.