Chapter 51
The Man Who Shouldn’t Have Appeared
When Cheilen spoke his name, the nobles in the council chamber stirred in confusion, whispering among themselves.
The Duke of Kaischer they knew was not this man.
Yet some of them, hearing that name, seemed to recognize who he was.
Only Cheilen, who had already anticipated their reactions, remained composed as he continued.
“First, I must apologize for being late to the meeting, Your Majesty. It has been so long since I’ve been to the palace that I lost my way.”
At that, Hisben could no longer restrain himself. His voice rose sharply.
“That man, the Duke of Kaischer? Impossible, Your Majesty!”
The chamber erupted into noise, forcing Terban to step in. He too, of course, knew that the man before him was not the duke he was familiar with.
“Silence, all of you.”
The chamber fell quiet, and Terban fixed his eyes on Cheilen.
“It seems an explanation is in order. You say you’re the Duke of Kaischer? The duke I know is Peizen Kaischer.”
“He is my uncle.”
“…Then…”
The word uncle immediately hinted at this stranger’s true identity.
“My father was Duke Haindel Kaischer, the rightful head of House Kaischer. I am his son, Cheilen Kaischer.”
The chamber erupted again, and even Terban could not conceal his surprise.
Haindel Kaischer…
Terban recalled the name from long ago. He had only been a child at the time, so the details were hazy, but he remembered the tragedy: the entire Kaischer household perished in an accident, after which the title passed to Haindel’s younger brother, Peizen Kaischer.
He vaguely remembered how the Empire had reeled in shock, for it was rare for such a tragedy to strike one of the few ducal families.
And now, Cheilen Kaischer, thought dead, had reappeared after all these years.
No one was more shaken by this revelation than Hisben.
Impossible. The duke’s family… they were all…
Cheilen was watching Hisben closely, not missing a single twitch of his reaction. He had expected this very response, and it nearly brought a smile to his lips—even here, before the Emperor.
Yes. That’s how you should look.
Though Terban was startled, he quickly regained his composure. He could not simply take the man’s word at face value.
“How will you prove this claim?”
Of course, Cheilen had foreseen that very question. Calmly, he took out a document from the envelope he carried.
“This is a deed I received directly from my uncle Peizen. It states his intent to pass the title of head of house to me. It bears the official seal of House Kaischer. And besides…”
But Cheilen had proof stronger than any document. Proof that no one could deny.
“These eyes, this hair—the mark of House Kaischer. Those who knew my father, the late Duke Haindel, must have recognized it the moment they saw me. Isn’t that so, Duke Hisben?”
“Th-That…”
As Cheilen said, several of the older nobles instantly recalled Haindel Kaischer upon seeing him.
Even Hisben could not refute it. His hands, hidden beneath the table, clenched tightly in frustration.
Terban examined the deed presented to him. Combined with the nobles’ reactions and the memories stirring within his own mind, he was forced to accept that this man truly belonged to House Kaischer.
Whatever had happened, Cheilen now had every right to attend the council as Duke.
“Very well. I’ll hear the full story later. For now, Duke Cheilen, take your seat. We must begin the meeting.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Once again, my apologies for the delay.”
Cheilen bowed with courtesy and strode confidently to the vacant seat. He sat, and when his eyes met Hisben’s across the table, it was Hisben who looked away first.
“Now, the first matter…”
Cheilen allowed himself a small smile at Hisben’s retreat before focusing on the Emperor’s voice.
The meeting resumed, the atmosphere grave. Terban spoke of the next agenda.
“The western provinces have suffered greatly from a long drought. They’ve appealed for aid, and the Imperial family naturally wishes to provide it. What are your thoughts?”
He had barely finished when the nobles who governed regions outside the west raised their objections.
“Before appealing for outside aid, the lords of those lands should first provide all they can themselves. That is their duty as rulers, is it not?”
The western lords bristled, having expected such resistance.
“You speak without knowing our plight. The drought has lasted so long that our people are in dire straits. We are, of course, doing all we can—but help from other regions is essential.”
“Then exhaust your own resources first. If even then it isn’t enough, we can revisit the matter. To beg for help before trying—are you simply reluctant to spend your own coin on your people?”
“How dare you—!”
The arguments grew heated, neither side listening to the other.
“And don’t think the west alone suffers. Our lands, too, are parched from drought. The damage is severe.”
Terban’s temples throbbed as the nobles bickered. Such a simple matter—yet each only sought to protect his own interests, and the issue grew ever more tangled.
As expected…
Just as Terban was about to intervene, another voice cut through the noise.
“Then we simply need proof, don’t we?”
All heads turned toward Cheilen, who had been silent until now. Calmly, he offered his solution.
“Since all claim hardship, let the Imperial court investigate each domain. With the results, we can determine who truly cannot provide aid. Only those lords will be excused. Fair enough, is it not?”
“Duke Cheilen, you are new here and perhaps unaware…”
But Cheilen’s tone had shifted—no longer the courteous newcomer, but the cold authority of a true head of house.
“I daresay I know more than a count who claims hardship while enjoying exclusive trade rights with a foreign kingdom.”
The count seated beside Hisben shut his mouth instantly, unable to respond. Cheilen pressed on.
“Anyone can claim to suffer. Words are meaningless. If you truly cannot help, then prove it with evidence all can see.”
No one dared object further, lest they be suspected of hiding something.
“As for me, I’ll abide by whatever the majority decides. Whether we give aid readily, or after due procedure, I have no objection.”
His gaze fell directly on Hisben as he spoke.
Though displeased, Hisben had no choice but to yield. The last thing he wanted was the Imperial court probing too deeply.
“In matters this grave, we should all lend our hands. There’s no guarantee our own lands won’t suffer one day. For the future’s sake, let us agree.”
“…Agreed.”
Reluctantly, the other nobles nodded along. But some still cast sharp, wary looks at Cheilen.
Terban, observing, could not help but be impressed. At his very first council, Cheilen had seized control of the room with ease.
So unlike his uncle…
Recalling the meek Peizen who once sat in that chair, Terban quickly spoke before the momentum was lost.
“Then it’s settled. Aid will be given. Now, on to the next matter…”
And so it continued, with Cheilen voicing his opinions smoothly, steering the discussion as if the council already belonged to him.
The colder Hisben’s gaze grew, the more firmly Cheilen established himself.
“At this point, the meeting is adjourned. And…”
As the nobles prepared to rise, Terban addressed Cheilen.
“Duke Cheilen, see me afterward.”
“As you command, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor departed, and the nobles rose, bowing as he left.
Almost at once, several nobles approached Cheilen with polite words. But his eyes were fixed on Hisben, who hurried to slip away.
“You survived…?”
“It is tragic, what befell Duke Haindel…”
Cheilen made no effort to hide his scorn at their hollow sympathy. With the Emperor gone, there was no need for courtesy.
“Strange. Those sentiments seemed to vanish the moment my uncle inherited the title.”
“That’s…”
The nobles fell silent, guilt written on their faces. For in truth, they had scrambled to align themselves with the new duke.
“Don’t think I’m ignorant of such things.”
Leaving them speechless, Cheilen strode out of the chamber.
This is impossible…
Hisben could scarcely think straight. A man who should not exist had appeared before his very eyes.
“But at that time, they all—”
“Duke Hisben.”
He froze. That voice.
Turning sharply, he found Cheilen standing directly before him.
He hastily composed himself, masking his unease with a smile.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Duke Cheilen?”
“It has been far too long. I simply wished to offer my greetings.”
“Yes… Indeed, it was a tragedy. No one imagined such a good man would be taken so soon.”
Cheilen restrained himself from responding to that brazen remark. Not yet. The time isn’t right.
Instead, he pressed forward.
“Are you not curious? How I, thought dead, am standing here? What truly happened that day?”
When Hisben faltered, Cheilen smiled—mocking, almost playful.
“But that would be quite a long story. Perhaps another time, when we have the leisure.”
He turned to leave.
“Ah, and do pass my regards to my uncle. I haven’t heard from him of late.”
Hisben tried to end the exchange quickly, but Cheilen’s parting words stopped him cold.
“Do you wonder how I came to possess a document in which my uncle ceded the headship of the house to me?”
“…What?”
“It seems you were in regular contact with him. Curious, since you never seemed so close with my father.”
Leaving those pointed words hanging in the air, Cheilen walked away, his earlier smile gone.
Be ready. This is only the beginning.
