Chapter 95
The head of House Nebla.
Serban de Nebla's morning began a little late.
Since he had been poisoned and was forcibly suppressing the poison's activity with his own mana while prolonging his life with all sorts of medicines, it was only natural that he rose late.
The first thing Serban did was—
Thud.
Review the important documents brought to him and make decisions.
Thud.
Although House Nebla's systems were already fully established, important matters requiring the head of the family to make a personal decision still arose.
Thud.
This document was one such matter.
A document detailing the decision reached after the councilors deliberated over what to do about the taxes in the territory currently ruled by House Nebla.
But House Nebla's position was so powerful that the decision would not take effect unless Serban's seal was stamped on the document.
"Hmm..."
After finishing approximately three hours of paperwork, the head of the family checked his physical condition with mana.
Damaged blood vessels. They were still bleeding, and he suppressed that bleeding with his mana.
His bones, organs, and muscles as well. Wounds and bleeding were occurring throughout his body, and in severe cases, even ruptures.
Crack.
Yet the fact that he controlled and suppressed all those symptoms with nothing but mana was proof of how extraordinary his abilities were.
Having finished his usual daily routine, the duke lay down on his bed, closed his eyes, and surrendered himself to the sleep enveloping him.
A short while later.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
His mind was slightly hazy.
Upon waking, he felt a strange sense of incongruity, as if a membrane had formed over his body itself.
All of this was evidence that his physical condition was abnormal, but the duke paid it no heed and looked toward the door from which the knocking had come.
"Who is it?"
[Excuse me, Lord Serban.]
"Sebastian?"
Aside from himself, Sebastian probably knew his current physical condition better than anyone.
Yet did he have something important enough to deliver that he would wake him from his rest?
"Is it Abel?"
There could be only one reason.
Even if it were the emperor, he had no intention of meeting anyone in his current condition.
He was practically half a corpse already; what would be the point of meeting the emperor?
[Yes.]
But Abel was different.
He was both the heir to the family and an heir Serban genuinely liked.
Unlike the worthless scraps who shared his blood, it was only natural for Serban to treat him as someone special.
[Lord Abel has requested an audience with you.]
An audience?
He knew Abel was uncomfortable around him.
It was only natural, considering their first meeting had been a disaster from the outset.
But an audience?
"Tell him to come in."
Crack.
Saying that, Serban forcibly raised himself from the bed.
Ominous sounds came from his body, but there was no need to worry about them.
'This should be interesting.'
Rather, a smile simply leaked from Serban's lips at the curiosity of what Abel had been up to.
It was only natural, since whenever Abel faced him, he almost certainly did something that made Serban feel rather entertained.
.
.
.
But I hadn't realized it was this kind of matter.
"Say that again."
Could there be something wrong with the ears he was hearing this with?
It was an utterly preposterous story, enough to make him think so.
"I already told you."
In front of Serban, Abel drank the black tea Sebastian had served and repeated what he had just said.
A saintess, an audience, and Kairun, the heir to House Stellaraim, and Wilhelm, the prince of the Kingdom of Berlaim, who had followed the saintess.
In the end, those two had ruined the meeting.
Tremble. Tremble.
As he got that far, Serban's body began to tremble slightly.
"Well, I got angry because they burned my cigars, so I hung both of them from the academy's main gate."
What?
Hung from the academy's main gate?
His relationship with the king of the Kingdom of Berlaim was strictly official.
But—
The Duke of Stellaraim Abel had mentioned was someone with whom he had a slight connection.
Of course, they were not directly acquainted because of the difference in their generations, but he had been someone who boldly challenged Serban, befitting the ruler of a land of warriors.
"..."
What had the young ladies of the Empire said back then?
Ah, yes. That he was an unparalleled, incredibly handsome man who had transplanted the northern snowscape itself?
It was famous that the young ladies of the Empire had fallen into despair when the current Duke of Stellaraim married.
But what?
The expressionless bastard's son had picked a fight with Abel, been utterly outmatched, and ended up hanging from the academy's main gate?
"Pfft!"
And the cause had been those two, Kairun and Wilhelm?
"Bwahahahaha!!!!"
Serban finally stopped holding back the laughter bursting from him and laughed until he spat blood.
The son of that bastard, who wore an expression as though he alone would remain aloof and dignified, had gotten involved with a woman and caused such a massive incident?
Hahahaha!!!
How could he not laugh?
"Hahahaha!!!"
"Sheesh..."
Watching Serban, Abel used magic to bring over some tissues, as though he were somewhat accustomed to this.
Given Serban's condition, if he laughed that uproariously, it was a foregone conclusion that he would vomit blood.
"Hahaha—urk!"
Yes, just like that.
He had wondered if Serban might vomit blood as he had last time, but as expected, he did.
Thinking that, Abel calmly drank his black tea and handed tissues to the duke, who was laughing while spitting blood.
After some time, the duke finally calmed down.
"Pfft!"
No, he had not calmed down.
Simply looking at Abel's face made laughter burst out of him again.
"Cough... heh-heh... bwahahaha!!"
"Are you about done?"
"Haha... whoo. I'm sorry. Heh... this is beyond anything I imagined, so I keep laughing."
"..."
After some more time had passed.
"Whoo..."
Having finally calmed down, the duke checked the state of his body, which had been thrown into disarray by his outburst of laughter, and looked at Abel.
"So why have you come to see me?"
"I'm planning to go to the Stellaraim Duchy regarding this incident, and I thought I should contact them there first about this official matter."
Abel had come in person partly to inform Serban, the current head of the family, of what had happened.
"I see... Are you planning to leave right away?"
"No, I intend to leave after some time has passed."
It was a visit to a ducal household, after all.
And it was an official matter... Yes, it was an official matter, though he could not deny that the issue itself was rather foolish.
At Abel's words, Serban nodded and smiled as though he found it amusing.
"Good thinking. Yes, with an official matter like this—and given that you're dealing with a ducal household—there's no need to hurry."
Truly, his handling of matters was so thorough that Serban almost wanted to boast about him to the other dukes.
That was what Serban thought.
"Then I'll send an official letter."
"Huh? For something this minor? I'm the party involved, so I was planning to do it myself."
"No, it's fine. Besides, you've resolved quite a number of matters, haven't you? Get some rest."
From the academy train incident to capturing Azak and dealing with Marita, the city of artists.
Serban knew well that Abel had not had a chance to rest comfortably even once over the past two months.
"You're hilarious."
At Serban's words, Abel snorted and looked at him as though he found them absurd.
"Oh, was it that obvious?"
"Yes."
It was not merely obvious; he was practically spelling it out.
As Serban chuckled softly at that, Abel drank his black tea and spoke.
"How are you planning to send the official letter?"
"Haha... Just..."
Serban chuckled softly at Abel's question and continued.
"A small mockery."
***
Adrian Stellaraim.
The head of House Stellaraim and a famed warrior known as the strongest man in the North.
"Ugh..."
Adrian was currently racking his brains over the enormous wall that had risen before him.
Even for a man who had pierced every wall and hardship with sword and gun, the current situation was exceptionally difficult to resolve.
"Haa... damn it."
The massive incident his son had caused.
Had he followed the saintess? That alone was a major incident, but the person who had been meeting with that saintess was also a problem.
Abel de Nebla.
A new heir with legitimate succession rights who had suddenly emerged from House Nebla, which had been quiet lately.
It would have been troublesome even if he were another ducal household's heir, but of all families, it had to be House Nebla.
"..."
Serban de Nebla.
The current head of House Nebla, a powerful man renowned as the strongest in the Empire at that time.
What kind of family was House Nebla?
Whenever succession struggles arose, it became a den of slaughter where even siblings killed one another.
That a man had continued as its head into such an advanced age?
That alone was proof of his strength.
"Damn it."
He still remembered it.
The reckless bravado of challenging the strongest person in the Empire after he had overestimated his own strength when he had taken the position of head of House Stellaraim without knowing what he was doing.
And the day he had suffered a crushing defeat.
"Nebla..."
He had provoked an heir acknowledged by Serban?
Moreover, the justification was entirely on the other side, and the saintess was also siding with them?
"Ugh."
Just then, while he was reading the report sent by the academy and had spent days racking his brains over how to overcome the current situation,
an official letter arrived from House Nebla.
"Whoo..."
Adrian carefully unfolded the official letter and began reading it.
Its contents were very simple.
Abel would be coming to House Stellaraim in one week.
It was a rather formal document, issued in House Nebla's name, expressing deep regret to House Stellaraim.
"..."
And the final line.
[We recommend that you properly educate your heir.]
"..."
The investigation into Abel had already been completed.
Previously, House Nebla had hidden him so desperately that there had been no way to find anything, making the matter unclear, but over the past few days, information had surfaced to an almost suspicious degree.
He had no doubt that the other ducal households and the Imperial family also knew about Abel.
An illegitimate child.
In other words, what that bastard Serban was saying was this:
If you cannot be better than Abel, an illegitimate child, at least educate him properly.
That was what it meant...
Creak.
At that moment, along with the sound of something snapping in Adrian's head—
Crash!
once again, this time Adrian's study exploded.
.
.
.
One week later.
“Lord Adrian, they say Lord Abel of House Nebla has arrived.”