—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Teottry
—————————————————————–
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Andril’s mother was the Count’s favored mistress. She was so favored that she practically acted as the lady of the house, despite her status.
Thanks to his mother, Andril had been chosen as the next heir. Many in Count Bruah’s territory believed this to be the case.
‘Count Bruah wasn’t a man to be swayed by a woman’s whims.’ If Andril lacked the qualities of a successor, the Count wouldn’t have chosen him.
In fact, in my previous life, Andril had switched sides before the Bruah family’s downfall, saving his own life.
He then bided his time, serving under his enemy, the King.
As a result, he eventually reclaimed the Bruah territory and became the Count in his middle age.
‘He’s a character who embodies the saying, “It’s not the strong who survive, but the survivors who are strong.”’ This meant his meek demeanor during the meeting, being pushed around by his uncle and half-brother, and his emotional reaction to the Count’s death, were all an act.
That was why I had anticipated Andril’s approach.
“He wants to live?”
I looked up from the letter delivered by the messenger who had secretly infiltrated my camp. The messenger, who had introduced himself as the steward of Andril’s maternal family, swallowed nervously.
“Yes. The young master is just a naive child. He was ostracized by Lord Antonius for being a bastard and was also wary of Lord Aden, who was in the same situation. He had no interest in the Countship.”
The messenger appealed to my sympathy. The interesting thing was that he wasn’t lying, except for the last part.
“No interest in the Countship?”
I chuckled inwardly. Of the three potential successors, Andril was the most ambitious.
The messenger’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and dripped from his chin.
“Yes. The young master only desires one thing: to leave the territory with his mother and find a safe haven.”
“And yet he raised an army to oppose me and raved about revenge in the meeting?”
The messenger hastily replied,
“It was all an act to deceive Lord Antonius and Lord Aden! They doubted the young master’s sincerity and were wary of him seizing power while they fought amongst themselves.”
The messenger added that Andril, lacking both significant military strength and a large number of troops, wouldn’t have participated in the war if not for the other two.
It was a plausible excuse. If I hadn’t known Andril, I might have been fooled. I nodded, feigning agreement.
“So, why have you come to me?”
“Your offer to recognize one of them as the next Count was a ploy to sow discord. Wouldn’t it be more effective with someone on the inside helping you?”
“There must be a price.”
“The young master doesn’t desire the Countship. A small territory and the title of Baron would suffice.”
I immediately saw through Andril’s scheme. While others might have thought he was after the territory, his true aim was the title of Baron.
‘Because Andril is a bastard.’ Granting a bastard the title of Baron was akin to legitimizing his birth.
With his opponents eliminated in the recent war, there would be no one within the Count’s family to object.
It would effectively legitimize Andril’s claim.
Andril would later use this legitimacy to reclaim the Count’s territory once he gained power.
‘Just as he did in my previous life.’
I was considering his offer, despite knowing his true intentions, because, as he had said, having an inside collaborator would make it easier to dismantle their army.
Andril must have known this and demanded the territory and the title of Baron.
I looked down at the messenger, who was nervously licking his dry lips.
“Andril seems to trust me.”
The only thing that puzzled me was that Andril couldn’t be unaware that I could easily betray him.
I had disregarded tradition and custom, launching a surprise attack and killing Count Bruah.
While I had used loyalty to the King as an excuse, it was still an unorthodox act. I wasn’t someone to be trusted, especially by the Count’s son.
And yet, he was entrusting his life to me? What was he basing his trust on? Something didn’t smell right.
“He has no choice. Whether Lord Antonius or Lord Aden wins, the young master’s life is in danger. He has no one to turn to but you, Sir Allen.”
The messenger flinched and bowed his head, pleading for my mercy, despite having just demanded territory and a title as payment.
‘He’s still too green.’
Andril’s time to shine was still in the distant future.
Moreover, Andril wasn’t the type to entrust his fate to others. I had a rough idea of what he was planning.
There weren’t many options available to him, given his precarious position, being overshadowed by his uncle and half-brother.
“A small territory and the title of Baron. It’s not an unreasonable request. But he’ll have to earn it.”
“We are grateful for your mercy.”
I wrote down Andril’s tasks in a letter and handed it to the messenger. As soon as the messenger left the camp, I summoned Muel.
“Muel, I have a task for you.”
Moments later, a small group of riders left the camp and disappeared into the darkness.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The next morning,
Andril, pacing in his tent, stopped, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He had heard someone approaching.
A shadow stretched across the floor of the tent. A hand reached in and pulled back the flap.
“Young master, we’ve succeeded…! Although it’s conditional…”
It wasn’t an assassin. It was the messenger he had sent to the enemy camp yesterday.
“Haa…” Andril sighed in relief. His racing heart began to slow.
“Tell me everything. What do you mean by conditional?”
“He said he would decide whether to grant you the territory and the title of Baron based on your performance.”
“That’s good, that’s good. We’ve bought ourselves some time.”
Andril was pleased, despite the half-baked success. The territory and the title? They were just a smokescreen.
He had other plans, and he needed time to execute them. His steward spoke.
“However… he seemed suspicious of our intentions.”
“That’s only natural. I was ranting about revenge just yesterday, and now I’ve surrendered less than a day later.”
Andril placed his hand on the steward’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry too much. He’s not our enemy. We don’t need to fight him. We’re simply traveling together to a midway point. Our paths just happen to align.”
If Allen had heard him, he would have said,
“Who are you to decide that?”
“Lord Andril! You’re summoned to the command tent!” A voice called from outside the tent, and Andril stood up.
“I’ll leave the rest to you. Relay the message to my mother.”
“Please be safe. Please.”
“You too, steward.”
Andril left the tent, leaving the steward behind. The steward, after watching him leave with a worried expression, also left the tent.
Andril took a deep breath outside the command tent, then threw open the flap and raised his voice.
“Why are we hesitating?! We must avenge our father immediately!”
Antonius and Aden frowned. Antonius slammed his fist on the table.
-Bang.
“It’s not that simple! We’re facing a combined force of Dressten and the King! We outnumber them, so we might win the battle. But if those two families are truly enraged, they could wipe out our entire family!”
Aden added,
“There’s no guarantee we’ll even win the battle. Crossing that narrow bridge will result in heavy casualties.”
There were also geographical limitations. Andril asked Antonius,
“What about bypassing through the neighboring territory?”
“Duke Beneng refused. He made it clear that he wouldn’t intervene. The messenger said he seemed to be avoiding conflict.”
“He’s the King’s relative. He has no choice but to be cautious.”
Antonius and Aden exchanged glances. Duke Beneng was a relative of Bronce II, a blood relative who could potentially challenge the throne.
Therefore, he had to be wary of Bronce II, especially since his actual power was less than a Count’s.
“What about requesting reinforcements?”
While the Bruah family’s history was short, they were still a great lord with a vast territory, befitting a Count.
Many families sought to establish ties with them, and the Count had strengthened his relationships with those he deemed beneficial.
“Unfortunately, it’s as that bastard said. Everyone is too scared of the alliance between the King and Dressten to act. They all refused to send troops. We’re lucky we managed to secure food and financial support.”
“So we have to avenge our father on our own. Do you understand now? Why we can’t act rashly?”
Andril glanced towards the entrance of the tent and said,
“I disagree. If we win and prove that the alliance between the King and Dressten is nothing to fear, the other nobles will join our side. No noble wants the King’s power to grow. And their rivals will also take action.”
Andril’s argument was reasonable. Antonius and Aden acknowledged this, but they simply scoffed at him.
“If you want to fight so badly, you lead the charge.”
Andril, who had been passionately advocating for revenge, fell silent. The two smirked, as if they had anticipated his reaction.
“Hmph, all talk.”
Having witnessed Count Bruah’s death, they knew that Allen was a far more powerful knight than rumored.
And he had never been defeated as a commander.
If the rumors of his leadership were also understated, the vanguard would suffer heavy casualties.
Strictly speaking, they weren’t gathered here for revenge. They were seeking to gain legitimacy as the next heir by avenging the Count.
But what good was legitimacy without power? The cries of the powerless were meaningless.
“So you’re saying we should just sit here and wait? Let’s join forces. After we avenge our father…”
Andril continued his act, glancing towards the entrance of the tent. Just then, the news he had been waiting for arrived.
“Lord Aden!” One of Aden’s vassals entered the command tent without warning.
“How dare you interrupt us?! Can’t you see we’re in a meeting?!”
“It’s important.” The vassal took a rolled-up parchment from his pocket and handed it to Aden.
Aden’s eyes widened as he read it. He then turned to Antonius.
Antonius instinctively sensed that something was wrong, judging by Aden’s grim expression.
“What is it?”
“We’ve found a spy.”
“A spy?”
“Are you still going to deny it, Uncle? We have proof that you’ve been colluding with the enemy!”
Aden waved the parchment. His vassals, positioned behind him, placed their hands on their swords.
Antonius’s vassals responded in kind.
It was a tense standoff. Antonius frowned and shouted,
“What nonsense are you talking about?! I’m a spy?”
“Haa, this is the letter the spy was carrying, addressed to your tent! It says to attack at dawn in three days and that you’ll provide support from within!”
“That’s a lie! Why would I collude with my brother’s killer?!”
“Didn’t you also help assassinate our father?”
Aden’s reaction was understandable. If Antonius, the most powerful of the three successors, betrayed them, they had no chance.
“You bastard! How dare you insult me?!”
“Hmph, you’re the one who would benefit the most from our father’s death!”
“What?! You insolent whelp!”
Antonius drew his sword. Aden followed suit, and their knights, drawing their weapons, glared at each other.
“Stop! Stop this! This is just another enemy ploy! Look! The letter isn’t even sealed, and there’s no insignia! It’s too crude for such an important message!”
Only after Andril’s intervention did both sides sheathe their swords. However, the suspicion in their eyes remained, even though they acknowledged that the spy’s letter was a crude ploy.
They were rivals vying for the same position. There was no way they could trust each other.
Moreover, the seeds of discord sown by Allen yesterday had taken root, growing larger with this latest incident.
The subsequent meeting ended without any conclusions. Andril, left alone in the tent, bit his lip.
‘It went exactly as planned.’
Sending the clumsy spy and having Andril mediate had all been Allen’s instructions.
He hadn’t understood it at first. Wouldn’t it be more effective to instigate both sides?
And yet, Allen had instructed him to mediate. The only clue to understanding his intentions was a single sentence in the letter.
‘After the rain, the ground hardens.’
Andril had deciphered the clue.
Allen had been worried. If he sent a competent spy and they were caught, Antonius and Aden might genuinely cooperate.
A stronger common enemy would force them to work together. They had to defeat the King and Dressten to inherit the Countship.
Therefore, he had used a crude method to avoid suspicion while planting the seeds of doubt in their minds.
‘He’s a frightening man.’
Even Andril, who considered himself quite clever, couldn’t fathom the depths of Allen’s schemes.
What was important was that this was just the beginning. Allen still had many tricks up his sleeve. Andril reread the letter his steward had given him.
‘Doubt, once it takes root in the heart, never disappears. On the contrary, it grows larger, eventually consuming everything.’
It was an astute observation of human nature. Andril felt his heart pounding. He was afraid of Allen.
‘I just have to survive. If I survive, an opportunity will present itself.’
Andril, overcoming his fear, took action. He had more work to do.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
False hope tho😏
