Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

148 – The Duke Who Devoted Everything

*Shwooosh─*

The empty, desolate void parted, and from within, a single

woman emerged.

A woman with hair the color of frozen ice,

none other than Duke Renuel himself.

“A sudden summons… what could this be about?”

Unlike her usual self, however,

her complexion was less than vibrant,

the reason being this abrupt summons from the Imperial Court.

Much the same method

as used for Duke Charlotte, it seemed.

“Ugh… I was tired enough already…”

“Oh, I didn’t expect you to arrive first.”

“…You were already here, Iris?”

“Haha, lighten up, won’t you? We’re all equally loath to be here anyway.”

Enduring her fatigue, and going through the effort to

arrive, the person to greet her

was none other than Duke Iris.

One of the men she detested most, and

the man who controlled the largest merchant guild in the Empire.

“Hmm… Don’t tell me even

Charlotte’s going to show up─”

“What would be so wrong with *me* showing up, Iris?”

Even that quiet murmur of hers

failed to escape his ears.

As soon as Duke Iris’s

private thought was finished,

Duke Charlotte emerged from behind him.

So startled,

Duke Iris nearly

drew a magical implement from his coat,

but recognizing his opponent, he quickly stowed it away once more.

Of course, that didn’t mean

the fierce glint in his eyes directed at Charlotte

changed in the slightest.

“…Give some warning before you appear, Charlotte.”

“Haha, when I meet you, I always anticipate a reaction.”

“You both act like children, honestly.”

“Huh? What did you just sa─”

“..By the way, where is that man?”

The two gentlemen bickered playfully, as if they’d known each other for ages.

Duke Reniel, for his part, tried to ignore them, craning his neck to search for the man who still hadn’t arrived.

Yes, that man who, under normal circumstances, would be receiving a litany of complaints for being late.

“Hmm…come to think of it, he *is* tardy, isn’t he?”

“Could something be amiss? In all my life, I never thought he’d be the one to arrive last.”

“..Surely he wouldn’t dare disregard His Majesty’s decree?”

“Surely not, even if that man is a lost cause─”

“Do not fret, I did not summon him deliberately.”

*Thump. Thump.*

The Emperor’s footsteps echoed from the shadows, and at the same time, his voice reached the Dukes’ ears.

“””We greet the Sun of the Empire.”””

“No, there’s no need for such formalities.”

In an instant, the Dukes were kneeling in place.

The Emperor awkwardly brushed off their greeting and slowly invited them to take their seats.

*Thud.*

*Thud.*

Only after the Dukes’ posteriors had settled onto their chairs did the Emperor himself sit down, and it was Duke Iris, of all people, who was the first to pose a question to him.

“Your Majesty, might we inquire as to the reason for summoning us today?”

“Hahaha… what’s the rush?

Let us at least enjoy a cup of tea first—”

“…Forgive my impertinence, but

my time is, regrettably, limited.”

*Shwaaak—*

The instant he finished speaking,

a single streak of golden energy

lashed out in his direction.

Upon the back of the one

who commanded this energy

was strapped a single sword,

and judging by the

remarkably large and unrefined

shape of the blade,

there was only one man

in the entire Empire

capable of wielding such a weapon.

“Duke, show some deference to His Majesty…”

“Leindel!”

“…I am well aware, of course, that

this is hardly proper decorum.”

“….”

“But I lack even the leisure

to indulge in pleasantries.”

“….”

“To a merchant, time itself

is gold, and money, and treasure.”

*Merchant.*

No one present was ignorant

of the weight those two syllables held

for him,

and so none dared

to speak rashly of the man.

Leaving only

an atmosphere

frozen with grave tension.

“…Very well, then I shall get straight to the matter at hand.”

“B-but one moment, Your Majesty.

There is someone yet to arrive…”

“Have no fear, Luenuel.

Duke Reinhardt

will not be joining us today.”

“…Pardon?”

“Truth be told, that’s also

why I summoned you all here, you see.”

*Thunk-*

The Emperor’s words barely finished

when he began to produce

something from within his robes.

Something that, at first glance,

could be mistaken for a royal decree tablet.

“Does anyone here recognize this?”

Of course, no one would.

Because this…

this was something that had

never circulated even within the Empire.

“It’s an Orb for Detecting Magical Energy, from the Order.”

“…Magical Energy…you say?”

“I recently acquired some rather fascinating information.”

The eldest son of the Reinhardt Ducal House,

Allen Reinhardt.

The information that he died

as a Magic-Infused being.

“…!”

“…Could it be?”

The information of a Magic-Infused

being appearing in the Ducal House, combined with

the fact that all the heads

of every family except that one were gathered here,

and furthermore, the cooperation

of the Order had been secured, bringing

the Orb for Detecting Magical Energy

to this very assembly…

At this point, what he

intended to say was

painfully, horribly obvious.

“I believe the Reinhardt family has made a pact with demons.”

*

*Scrape-*

A chair drags against the frigid floor,

and around it, there remain

the chilling scars of swords.

Sword scars that lingered,

almost tracing a circle centered on the chair.

A sword-storm, like a dragon ascending,

had swept through here,

leaving in its wake, as if to mark its passage,

shattered remnants.

Furniture, pulverized and strewn.

Bookshelves, of course.

Tables and chests of drawers,

glassware and potted plants, et cetera, et cetera.

Everything within the room, reduced to uniformly sized pieces.

By the blade of a single man.

*Swiish*—

The sword flashed once more,

and this time,

its target was a bottle of liquor.

And not just any liquor, but

a vintage boasting considerable

taste.

*Kaga-ga-ga-gak*—

Blade met glass, and

*swiish*—

It was cleaved clean.

The very lip of the bottle, sheared off.

For a moment, the

contents within surged,

but the man wielding the sword,

as if unconcerned with even that,

brought the severed mouth of the bottle to his lips.

The roughly hewn

edge of the glass

began to tear faintly at his lips,

but that, too, was of little consequence.

For more fiercely than the

tingling sting of the liquor on his lips,

his insides burned.

As if he had truly

swallowed flames.

“Hooo…”

The room, by now, thick with vapor.

From the man’s body,

sweat poured in a deluge.

At that very instant, steam billowed forth from his blade.

This sensation, unwavering,

no matter how tirelessly he swung.

Thunderous rage threatened to seize control of his sword,

yet each time, the man

swung again.

Firstly, to quell the

inferno raging within him,

this unbearably scorching emotion.

Secondly, to ignore the voices

that relentlessly echoed

within the chambers of his mind.

In short, to deny reality itself.

*Kwa-gwa-gwa-gwangg—*

The pressure of the wind

intensified with the grip

tightening in his hand, and

*Phewwooong—*

The blade of the sword lengthened.

A blade forged of azure mana.

A realm that even the gifted

must endure bone-grinding effort to

scarcely attain.

At first glance, it appeared as if

long threads sprouted from the sword,

and the dark ones called this *Gyeom-sa* (Sword-Strands).

A height one might strive for

an entire lifetime and never reach.

Yet, his sword

did not cease there.

*Phewwooong—*

*Phewwooong—*

*Phewwooong—*

One, two, three… the length of the blade began to steadily increase.

Finally, that extended

blade slowly vanished,

and as if to replace it, a veil descended upon the sword’s body.

*Gyeom-sa* (Sword-Strands), the realm beyond.

A realm where countless threads rise,

enveloping the sword itself.

Sword Aura

A place only those who have

mastered all things sword can reach.

He was, at this moment,

unveiling the secrets of the blade.

“Lo… Lord Duke…!”

Just as he was about to

swing his sword again,

a servant dared to enter his room without fear…

“…What is it.”

Perhaps feeling his swordsmanship had been disturbed,

his voice carried a

razor-sharp edge.

And at the same instant,

moonlight shimmered behind him.

Murky black eyes and roughly dishevelled hair.

The exquisitely designed clothing

draped across his shoulders

seemed to confirm his status.

“So… so sorry, I did knock…!”

“…Be more careful from now on.”

“Ye… yes, sir!”

“So… what is this urgent matter?”

Duke Reinhardt.

Head of one of the Empire’s Four Great Houses, and

one of the few, truly

few, Sword Masters within the Empire.

“Regarding how to conduct young Master Allen’s funeral…”

“Just do it as always.

What is there to even ask?”

“The… the extent of the body’s damage…”

“It won’t be a problem if you simply proceed.”

He was a man who, even

in jest, one couldn’t call human.

Long ago, he had already sacrificed everything of himself.

*

Meanwhile, as that day passed,

Jennison departed the manor and

began heading toward the Academy,

and the very first thing he

The place we visited was none other than

his dormitory.

Returning there after so long, and

having resided there for quite a while,

it was the most familiar place to him.

“Did I come to the wrong room…?”

“I-Is that so, young master?”

“No? This should be your room, no?”

“Sino-yang? Why are you here of all places…”

“Just curious to see what your room looks like?”

“..What is all of this?”

“Hmm? Didn’t I tell you?”

“..What is it you didn’t tell me, now?”

“You’re quite the popular fellow now.”

“…?”

“Did you think you’d be normal after receiving a baronet title at that age?”

“..Ah.”

“Congratulations on being popular, you scoundrel?”

“Young master… popular…?”

“..Don’t look at me like that, Ella.”