Chapter 43
“Damn it! Damn it! Daaaaamn it!”
Inside the rattling carriage, the one swearing was Alberto, who had left the family as if pushed out for losing the succession competition.
He had no choice but to accept Ophelia’s offer to give him even a small estate in the corner if he quietly stepped aside. Yet as he looked at the distant castle walls, his fury boiled over.
“That damn astrologer brat… He bragged that if I just followed his advice, I could claim the countship, and now he ruins everything and runs away?”
Just one step away.
The countship he had longed for so desperately was right in front of him.
When Ophelia returned first with only the soldiers empty-handed, Alberto had allowed himself to dream of a rosy future. But soon, recalling what happened after Eric returned with the remaining party, his mind filled with disbelief.
“What? My father, who became undead, suddenly regains his senses and points the finger at her as the culprit? I’m supposed to believe that nonsense?”
The family knights who came back with Eric stood before the elders to report what had happened in the forest. They all claimed that everything was orchestrated by him.
The so-called astrologer had, in fact, been nothing more than his tool.
“No doubt about it… That miserable Ophelia must have plotted to kick me out of the family from the start.”
Of course, the elders didn’t take such absurd tales at face value.
But amid the atmosphere of everyone questioning him, there was nothing he could do.
Culprit or not, from the moment the Jewel of Life had fallen into Ophelia’s hands, the succession contest had lost all meaning.
Even the astrologer who could have proven his innocence had vanished after saying he’d investigate the nearby forest, suspecting Ophelia’s failure when she returned with only soldiers.
“Damn them… Do they think I’ll step aside quietly? No matter how many years it takes, I’ll make them pay, one way or another!”
Alberto ground his teeth, staring at the castle walls that had long disappeared from view.
Every time he left for the north, Ophelia had looked down on him as if he were pitiful.
The astrologer who promised to follow him but ruined everything and ran away.
And…
“…Eric Ather.”
Right.
After all, it was all because of him.
The northern brat.
The incompetent of the Ather family.
If he hadn’t been involved this time, Alberto wouldn’t have suffered such humiliation.
“I should have been suspicious the moment he arrived with just three people and no soldiers.”
The knights claimed that Eric had defeated a Named monster with just a priest?
Looking back, it was almost laughable.
Even if the current duke had publicly pushed his child to become a hero, he wouldn’t have sent him into a situation dangerous enough for the elite knights of the count’s family to be defeated.
“That brat couldn’t have killed the Named. Surely he’s up to some trick again.”
Though the material he brought back after defeating the undead count was recognized as that of the Named, it didn’t mean he truly defeated it alone.
Even the greatest heroes wouldn’t dare face a Named alone.
At most, Eric may have finished off a nearly-dead Named, perhaps intentionally avoiding sending soldiers so that only a few elite would gain glory in his stead.
No matter how much the duke wanted to make his child a hero, secrets always risked being exposed.
“An incompetent… Wait, first I’ll make your thick face known to everyone… Ugh!”
Alberto’s vow for revenge against those who had humiliated him was cut short as a sudden, crushing pain gripped his chest.
“Ugh… hic…”
A reddish light began seeping through his clothes. Trembling, he lifted his shirt.
Flames—
A fist-sized magical sigil glowed beneath his skin.
Alberto squinted at the strange pattern in its center.
“This is…”
It looked like a long serpent coiling to bite its own tail.
As he thought, he remembered the same pattern had been drawn inside the astrologer’s robe, and cold sweat dripped down his face.
“Th-that damn…”
“Alberto, you useless fool! It was just a little further!”
In the small estate connecting northern and central territories, the astrologer had hidden herself after sensing something was wrong when Ophelia first returned with only soldiers.
Upon hearing that Eric and the remaining knights had returned with the count’s relics, she left the north immediately, biting her lip at the completely ruined plan.
“To think that not only did the plan to make that idiot count and control the Winterrose family fail, but the Jewel of Life was taken too… How can I fix this…”
All her meticulous preparations to disrupt the Winterrose family’s food supply, centered in the northern granary, had crumbled at the final step.
Her plan to elevate Alberto to count and use his weaknesses for her own advantage had failed, along with the jewel the great one had commanded to support with even a high-ranked undead, the Lich.
“…It’s all that brat’s fault.”
The astrologer recalled the man who ruined her perfect plan.
“I thought he was just an immature fool enjoying the hero play provided by his parents… But he’s not. Not simply incompetent as the rumors say.”
The young master of the Ather family.
When he first came to the count’s estate almost alone, she thought she could simply humor him and send him off.
Even when he unexpectedly followed Ophelia, saying he’d help, she had dismissed him as just another incompetent.
But her complacency had brought disaster…
“I should have stopped him by any means necessary back then.”
Regret was useless now. All she could do was report the failure truthfully so it wouldn’t affect the larger plan.
“Come to think of it… The plan with the Ratman Named, supposedly executed by the duke, was blocked by a single female knight, wasn’t it?”
The knight who had handled the Named hiding in the sewers.
And the woman by Eric’s side.
It couldn’t have been a mere coincidence.
Few female knights existed across the continent, and none would venture this far north to serve as a knight besides her.
“…Eric. Eric Ather.”
The astrologer narrowed her eyes, realizing the true cause of all her problems.
“I need to investigate this thoroughly.”
Rattle—
“Master. We’ve arrived.”
It had been about ten days since Eric left the count’s estate with the family’s relics.
Tired from the battles, he had requested a slow ride for rest. Hearing Leona’s voice, he looked out the window.
“Hmm. Good work, Lady Leona.”
“Yawn. Have we arrived already?”
The familiar scenery.
Seeing the family estate, Eric smiled gratefully at Leona, who was opening the door.
“It took longer than I thought.”
“Even though it’s the north, the Winterrose estate is practically bordering the central region. Luckily, the carriage was large, so you didn’t get too motion sick.”
“Oh! Come to think of it, I wasn’t sick this time! Last time, I really thought I was going to die.”
Stepping down, Eric nodded quietly at Lilian chattering beside him.
He had intentionally kept the carriage slow—not just for their motion sickness, but because there was no need to rush back.
“Master.”
Sure enough, seeing the soldiers and knights greeting them outside, Eric smiled proudly.
“I heard the news. You did wonderfully.”
Meeting the steward with a proud gaze, Eric glanced around and spoke with a tinge of emptiness.
“Father?”
“He’s in his study. He was supposed to greet you personally for such a great achievement, but an urgent matter came up.”
Eric frowned slightly, feeling a little disappointed.
He knew their father-son bond wasn’t particularly close, but to be stood up like this after such a well-executed plan…
The weight of recognition depended on whether the duke personally greeted the hero.
“…Urgent matter?”
Brief disappointment passed. Eric, curious, asked.
After all, the achievements at the Winterrose estate rivaled solving the troubles of the Order in the Nivosus Mountains.
Previously, the northern brat had merely helped scratch the Order’s itch, and rumors had circulated despite his efforts.
This time, there could be no such complaints, as he had provided immense benefit to the Winterrose family, holding the northern granary.
Yet, someone more important than him had arrived.
“Yes.”
Eric’s eyes widened at the steward’s next words.
Of course.
“Lord Allen has returned from the frontlines.”
Now, the capable firstborn was back at the estate.
