Chapter 84 - Discord

The morning in Count Concillus's territory begins with a marching song during the morning run.

"Hep! Hep!"

"One, two! One, two! Begin the marching song!"

"Look here, we have arrived!"

"Your voices are too quiet!"

"Advance! Advance! The final line of defense! There is nowhere to retreat! Hoist your wives as shields and advance again today! Advance! When we become heroes, let's go find new wives!"

The morning marching song echoed as they ran a lap around the castle.

They ran along the castle walls every morning, but the difficulty varied drastically depending on who was leading the run.

And among them, Arwen was the strictest of the strict, boasting an excruciating level of difficulty.

'Ugh, why can't we just run half a lap and call it a day?'

'It's absolute torture every time this knight is on duty.'

Not only did they have to sing marching songs continuously while running, but with the winding course and the extra areas they covered under the pretext of patrolling, the actual distance they ran was well over two standard laps.

"Good work, men! Go have breakfast and prepare for the morning routine!"

"Ugh..."

"Where did your voices go? Do you want to run another lap?"

"No, sir!"

"Then dismiss at the speed of light! Anyone I catch runs another lap!"

Terrified of actually getting caught, the soldiers hastily scattered.

As Arwen was wiping his sweat with a towel, a gatekeeper approached and saluted him.

"Salute. Duty Officer, sir. Thank you for your hard work."

"What is it?"

"Well, a knight from Valdrova Castle is here and says he wishes to see the Duty Officer, sir."

Valdrova Castle.

There were only two knights there.

And of the two, only one would come looking for him.

Arwen reflexively frowned.

"Where is he right now?"

"Hey, Arwen!"

"Never mind."

There was no need to ask; the man was already approaching while waving his hand.

Arwen wiped his face with his towel and looked at the man.

Brown hair and a pretty-boy face.

"It's been a while, Sir Zed."

"Yeah, long time no see. You've been doing well, right?"

"I didn't expect you to come here. What brings you by?"

"It's nothing much. I just came to ask you to put me through some of that knight training stuff."

"Knight training... you say?"

Arwen's eyes widened at the request.

"Why, are nepotism knights not allowed to do it?"

"There's no rule against it. In fact, nepotism hires are the ones who need training the most. I just never expected you to volunteer for it..."

"Tell me about it. Even I didn't think I'd be doing this."

Zed scratched his head and calmly admitted it.

Seeing that, Arwen suddenly began to feel worried.

Didn't they say people die when they suddenly start acting out of character?

"Did something happen?"

"You know about the wolf demonic creatures appearing in Halim, right?"

"Yes. I heard the Regent played a major role there. The Empire has been in quite an uproar over it."

There were two main reasons for the uproar.

First, that seven wolf demonic creatures were summoned inside the city.

And second, that despite such a crisis, there wasn't a single casualty.

"I heard you also played a big part. Didn't they say you toyed with the enemies and stalled for time with movements like a Sylph?"

"Toyed with my ass. One wrong step and I would've been dead, so I was shitting bricks."

"So what's the problem? The prestige of Lady Valdrova's name has risen, and didn't you gain a great story to pick up women with?"

That was the type of person Arwen had figured Zed to be.

He thought being a knight was the perfect job for telling lies, and that with a single exaggerated tale of heroism, wooing noble ladies would be a piece of cake.

"When that wolf bastard was charging at the Regent, I blocked its path."

"It charged at the Regent, and you blocked it. And then?"

"But I couldn't stop the bastard. It hit me once, and my body went flying. Like a piece of scrap wood."

Arwen shrugged after hearing that.

"That couldn't be helped, could it? There aren't many ordinary knights who can withstand a demonic creature's attack head-on either."

"What about you?"

"I could block it."

"That's the problem. Other people can do it, but I can't, right?"

"I'm a carefully selected knight who underwent formal training, aren't I? I shouldn't be compared to ordinary people."

Arwen offered it as comfort in his own way, but Zed just scowled as if he'd asked a useless question.

"So you're saying you need the strength to block an opponent in a head-on clash?"

"Even if it's not a head-on clash, I want to gain something I can actually use in a situation like that."

"You mean in terms of swordsmanship or self-defense?"

"Yeah."

"That is something I can teach you, but... how old are you, Mr. Zed?"

"Twenty-seven. Soon to be twenty-eight."

"Isn't that far too late to start training?"

"I've been steadily training my body since a long time ago. I've been in quite a few battles and lived as a mercenary for a while too."

Arwen was well aware that his combat skills were excellent.

He had kept a close eye on his abilities when they carried out the operation to rescue the Chancellor of Escolaia together.

"It's not simply a matter of training the body. Withstanding an attack from an entity on the level of a demonic creature is the realm of handling Aura. You'd need to train steadily for years just for that, and you're already past the age to easily understand and apply it."

"Aura—you mean this, right?"

Zed clenched his fists tight and focused on his entire body.

A wavering blue light surged across the surface of his body.

Arwen was startled when he saw it.

Although it flared out unstably like a solar flare, it was undoubtedly Aura.

"How are you able to use that?"

"I told you I lived as a mercenary, didn't I? You run into all sorts of people doing that. So, can we do this or not?"

"We should be able to manage if we just correct your Aura and train. Given that you can emit Aura, you're already halfway there."

Arwen gave a stern warning.

"It will still be difficult, though. You must have built up bad habits, and breaking those habits will be several times harder the more set in your ways you are. In the worst-case scenario..."

He paused, adding an extra layer of seriousness.

"You could end up a cripple unable to even lift a sword."

Becoming a cripple was a truly miserable end.

For someone like Zed, who lived in the present, the terror of becoming a living corpse was a reality that could never be overlooked.

"I've already prepared myself for that."

Zed answered immediately, as if it was nothing.

"Is it really worth going that far?"

"Because when the time comes for me to protect something, I don't want to end up like that again."

Only then did Arwen see what resided in Zed's eyes.

Regret born from powerlessness.

It was something far more than simply failing to protect Ferda.

At those words, Arwen smiled.

Zed frowned at his smile.

"What are you snickering at?"

"It's nothing. Then let's start lightly with some physical conditioning."

"What physical condition—"

"Let's lightly run five laps around the castle and then think about it!"

"Five whole laps!?"

"If you want to train under a knight of Count Concillus, you need at least that much stamina. Besides, you don't want this to take years, do you?"

"No, well, that's true, but—"

"Then let's run."

Arwen started running, and Zed chased after him.

He thought that maybe he could become good friends with this man.

"Oh, Mr. Zed. Could you help me with something after training?"

"With what?"

"I need to write a letter, but I just can't think of the right words. I figured someone with your skills might be able to help..."

"What use is my writing..."

Zed paused mid-sentence as he realized something.

"Wait, is it that lady who was giving you those passionate looks during the Grand Council?"

Arwen looked back.

With a face that seemed to ask, 'How did you know?'

"Yeah, well..."

"You go on and on about the knight's spirit, but you're just a bastard like the rest of us in the end! Since when have you two been talking?"

"I received a letter three days ago. She wrote saying that she liked seeing me serve in the far east."

"That means she fancies you. I'll help you all you want. Just say the word. I'll even teach you exactly how I used my wolf demonic creature story to pick up women."

"Yes, ple— wait a minute, wolf demonic creature?"

"Yeah, wolf demonic creature."

"Isn't that something that just happened recently?"

"That's right."

Arwen blinked.

"Even while drowning in such agony, you still had the energy to hit on women?"

"Uh, well..."

Zed hadn't really wanted to either.

But there was a reason he had no choice.

["Why! Why won't you do it! You promised me! I used magic for you, so you promised to let me suck out their life force! A harem buffet! You promised meeeee!!! You liar! Liar!"]

He couldn't win against the legitimate demands of Penelope, who had thrown a tantrum while smacking his head with a pillow.

Not wanting to explain that entire ordeal, Zed answered briefly.

"You've got to do what you've got to do."

"..."

"You gotta eat, right?"

"... Ten laps."

"What? Why?"

* * *

Stephan returned.

His joy over things working out was short-lived, and he felt restless again inside the carriage.

Ferda's words echoed in his ears.

["Then you have no value."]

To think he had no value if he couldn't obtain the Pascal trading company.

Was the only reason he was recruited because the company's value was coveted?

If he went independent, he could easily grow.

Not just grow, but achieve explosive growth.

Ferda had been Regent for less than a year.

And his knowledge of economics was only surface-level.

There was no way a man like him could know.

Just how aggressive and unconventional of a strategy this was.

That something like the Pascal trading company would end up looking like nothing more than a turnip growing in a field.

'What's the point of even saying it.'

Stephan just wanted to catch his breath, even if only for a moment.

He wanted to sit at his desk and slouch back.

"Welcome back, sir."

"Yeah, I'm back. But why is the atmosphere so tense?"

"Well, that person is here..."

"Me? You guys are this tense just because I'm here...?"

"No, not you, Branch Manager..."

Only then did he understand.

Who it was that could make the atmosphere this bloody.

"M-My brother?"

His secretary gave a small nod.

Upon realizing this, Stephan grew just as tense as they were.

He had already received all the reports about what happened in Halim, so he surely knew exactly what the situation was.

"... Can't you just tell him I had to go somewhere else?"

"No, sir."

"Come on, then at least let me change my clothes before meeting him or something..."

"Branch Manager."

The secretary grabbed the rambling Stephan by the shoulders.

"You have to go in."

Stephan's heart screamed that he didn't want to go.

He forced his feet toward the stairs.

He carefully peeked inside, as if opening the door to an execution ground.

Sitting in front of his desk was a familiar-looking muscular man.

"Stephan, it's been a while, huh?"

That man offering a thug-like greeting was Stephan's older brother, Muchit Pascal.

Stephan's eyes were drawn to the bulging biceps that looked ready to burst through the man's silk shirt.

He swallowed hard.

"It's... been a while, Brother."

"What's with the stiff 'Brother'? Just call me your big bro, you punk. I've got over a hundred guys calling me 'Boss', so shouldn't blood relatives be a little more chummy?"

"... No, Brother. How could I..."

"You frustrating little punk."

Muchit chuckled as he spoke to him.

"I heard you went to Halim?"

"Yes."

"For what reason?"

"An exhibition was scheduled for the far east, so I provided support for it."

"Wasn't that a place Father told you to wash your hands of? You're still clinging to it?"

"Yes. I supported it because it has ample business value."

"Are you saying your eye for business is better than Father's?"

"How could I dare insult Father..."

"You little punk, you still don't have a spine. Just spill your guts. Stop being so frustrating, man!"

Muchit slammed his fist down onto the desk.

The desk, which hadn't collapsed even under mountains of paperwork, cracked from that single blow.

Muchit scratched his head as he looked down at the crack.

"Ah, shit, I hit it too hard. I'll pay you back for it later. Anyway, I already heard everything, punk. I heard you even opened up trade with Lord Ahmed there?"

"Yes."

"You know that's a place I've been putting effort into all this time, right?"

"Yes, I know."

"You knew damn well your older brother was targeting the south, yet you still tried to swallow it whole? Such a lucrative spot?"

Stephan hurriedly made an excuse.

"That wasn't my intention."

"You knew, but you still ate it."

"I had no reason to refuse it. Above all, this deal was spearheaded and successfully closed by Regent Ferda."

"Right, and since I was just sitting on my hands, I have nothing to do with it?"

"It's not that you have nothing to do with it, but..."

He trailed off.

Muchit stared at him with a displeased look before sighing.

"Well, what can you do? It's not right for family to try and devour each other too much anyway."

Was the conversation really going to end like that?

Unfortunately, his wish wasn't granted.

"I'm not asking for much. We just need to share the trade of goods passing through Halim. That much is fine, right?"

"Do you mean... you want it under a joint name?"

"Yeah. We're one family running one business anyway, so you can at least do that much, can't you?"

The road to Halim was a road to a gold mine.

Even if the two of them shared it, they could easily sit on a mountain of cash.

In exchange for taking a small step back, in exchange for conceding a little.

However.

For some reason, the current Stephan did not want to do that.

"That's..."

Stephan opened his mouth.

What came out was the opening shot declaring war.

"This is my business."

Muchit's face instantly hardened.

"Hey, Stephan."

"Yes."

"Are you telling me right now that you won't even lend a path or a carriage to your older brother?"

It felt like a tiger was glaring at him.

Stephan's legs began to tremble.

Muchit never hesitated to use violence.

And once his violence started, it wouldn't end until something was broken.

Because Stephan had always been the target of it, his fear of that pain was immense.

But, there was something far greater than that fear.

'The thought of losing his trust...'

The unwavering faith that Ferda had shown him as a merchant without asking any questions.

He had already disappointed him once by stepping back from the succession battle.

At the time, Ferda had said this:

That a merchant who compromises and gives up even what he originally possessed was not the kind of merchant the Grand Duchy's territory needed.

That it was what any ordinary, run-of-the-mill merchant would do.

Compromise.

Compromise was a good tool for mediating conflicts.

But only now did Stephan realize what Ferda meant by compromise.

It was exactly this.

Like a camel that only pokes its head in at first, but eventually takes over the entire tent.

The kind of people who would never stop until they took absolutely everything.

Stephan could no longer disappoint the one who believed in him.

'And to myself as well...'

That was why he took a step forward.

"I will... monopolize the Halim deal."

"..."

Muchit stood up from his seat.

He was terrifying enough sitting down, but his imposing figure was incredibly threatening when he sprang up.

Fear enveloped Stephan, making him feel as though that fist would plunge into his stomach at any moment.

"Fine, if that's what you want, then I understand."

"..."

"But since you aren't showing us any mercy, I won't be cutting you any slack anymore either."

Muchit patted Stephan's shoulder as he walked past him.

"Let's see just how well you eat and live without me."

With that, Muchit walked out.

The moment he realized the storm had passed, Stephan's legs gave out.

It was his first time.

The first time he had stood up to his terrifying, seemingly insurmountable older brother.

"Phew..."

Ferda had promised to make Stephan the master of the Pascal trading company.

What did one need to become the master?

Herman Pascal's seal of approval?

Or more money and connections than the rest of them?

What he needed most of all was,

'Having the mindset of a master.'

The ability to protect what is mine.

To not yield to outside pressure and be able to assert one's own rights.

That was why Stephan had forced himself to speak up.

"I did the right thing."

Even if it meant paving a path straight into a painful bed of thorns...

That was what he thought.