“We can host you as a guest in the imperial palace, or if there is a noble household in the capital you are personally acquainted with and would prefer to stay at, that would be perfectly fine as well. Either way, I would like you to choose whichever is more comfortable for you.”
From the Crown Prince’s perspective, he knew that Milano Mortiel had no close noble acquaintances to speak of — so it was likely just something he had said for the sake of saying it.
But that was precisely the words Ranok had been waiting for, enduring all that tedious conversation.
Ranok’s eyes lit up like a student who had just been asked a question he knew the perfect answer to.
“Mordian.”
“Pardon?”
“The Mordian Ducal House.”
Ranok recited the name — still unfamiliar, yet one he now had to get used to.
“That is where I wish to go.”
Mordian.
Casioth Mordian.
It was the name of the Hero who had been granted a dukedom for defeating the Demon King.
Of course, not many years after that, a new Demon King had come and destroyed half the world — so it was also a name that had lost some of its luster by now.
True to his standing as the future master of this vast empire, Crown Prince Dreian handled the matter swiftly without much visible flustering, even when faced with a noble name the prince could never have imagined him mentioning.
Even so, as with all official matters, it took several days — sending an imperial edict in the Emperor’s name to the Mordian Ducal House, and tying up a few loose ends related to Ranok’s duties as an honored guest of the empire.
“Prince Mortiel, if you require it, I can arrange for a servant to accompany you.”
Perhaps taking pity on Ranok for having only a single attendant, or perhaps deeming Zak alone to be insufficient — on the day of their departure for the Mordian Ducal House at last, Crown Prince Dreian made the casual offer, but Ranok declined with a smile.
Zak was there, so it would only be a nuisance — and besides, whoever it was would inevitably become a pair of eyes reporting Ranok’s every move back to someone. There was no need to shoulder that kind of burden.
When Ranok declined, the Crown Prince did not press further — but instead, he personally designated one of his own servants as a guide to accompany them to the Mordian Ducal House.
A fine carriage, with one of his own servants sent along as escort — by the standards of a Crown Prince, this was considerable consideration shown toward Ranok.
Riding comfortably along well-paved roads in the large carriage, Zak — finally relieved of the crisis of having his backside split in four — wore a relaxed expression, while Ranok directed a few questions toward the Crown Prince’s servant who had introduced himself as Dain.
“You mean the Duke of Mordian? He is an extraordinarily accomplished swordsman.”
Dain answered Ranok’s questions with thorough sincerity and an impeccably respectful manner.
And the moment Ranok heard the answer to his very first question, he immediately understood what kind of person Dain was.
Ah. A young man who has been properly schooled in aristocratic speech.
Never giving a direct answer, yet answering the question perfectly.
The fact that he described Casioth by emphasizing what a fine “swordsman” he was, rather than leading with his character or accomplishments, suggested that Casioth was not particularly well-regarded in noble society.
“He is a once-in-a-generation Hero who defeated the Demon King, is he not. And he is also a disciple of the Sword Saint.”
“A disciple of the Sword Saint?”
“Yes — the sole disciple ever acknowledged by Sword Saint Kairos. Well, the man himself says he didn’t teach him much, but the connection between them is well known.”
Sword Saint Kairos Balterion.
The only person on the current continent to bear the title of Sword Saint.
The man who, under better circumstances, Casioth would have formally studied the sword under.
The man who would have naturally welcomed Casioth into the world of the nobility.
But given Casioth’s circumstances, that connection had all but slipped away — yet it seemed that somehow, albeit belatedly, they had managed to form a bond as master and disciple.
Good.
Out of everything he had heard about Casioth, this was the most positive piece of news.
Yet Ranok knew that Casioth’s situation was anything but optimistic.
“And?”
“Pardon?”
“That can’t be all there is.”
Dain looked caught off guard. Naturally, the stories surrounding Casioth Mordian were so well known that there was no shortage of things to say.
But this was more or less where the bright side ended. Everything else was unfavorable.
These were the kinds of things a servant could not dare bring up in front of a prince who might have some connection to the Mordian Ducal House.
“Don’t mind the optics — just say it. I already know that most of it isn’t good.”
Dain let out a low, strained sound. As the Crown Prince’s servant, he did hold noble status — but even so, he was not from a high enough noble family to speak freely in front of a foreign prince.
But well, what can you do. Besides, what kind of power could a prince who was practically abandoned by his kingdom as a hostage even have.
Dain soon shrugged and continued speaking — though even so, he made an effort not to let his guard down completely and say anything truly disparaging about the Duke.
“He does have a bit of a fondness for drink. Rather a lot of it.”
The empire’s greatest drunkard. It was one of the epithets that invariably followed Duke Casioth Mordian.
“He is famously not very good with people. He has quite a few… enemies in social circles.”
If it was being put even that delicately, it was less a matter of having a few too many and more a case of being completely blacklisted from high society.
“His temperament is quite far removed from the aristocratic ideal, and aside from drink, he does not spend extravagantly — so he is quite frugal.”
The tag of being a commoner-born he had never managed to shed, a man who did not know how to make money move, and whose one indulgence in life was alcohol.
“Ah, though for all that he possesses such striking looks, his relationships with women are, at least, clean.”
Which is why rumors are going around asking whether he prefers men or is simply not interested in anyone at all.
And on top of that, since the title was a single-generation peerage, it was likely that despite being a duke — and despite those reportedly striking looks — he was not regarded as a particularly desirable husband.
For the great noble houses of equivalent rank, a commoner-born man with no title to pass down to children would not be an appealing prospect for a son-in-law. And for lower-ranking nobles, a dukedom would be too lofty a gap to bridge.
That, too, was compounded by the fact that not many years after the victory, a new Demon King had come and shattered half the world — so even the name of “the Hero who defeated the Demon King” had faded somewhat.
Dain had relayed all of this in his own way, wrapped up as neatly as he could manage — but peel back even one layer of that wrapping, and the assessment of the Duke of Mordian was nothing short of devastating.
Glamorous packaging, but shabby contents — a Hero and a Duke in name.
That was what Casioth Mordian was at present.
Dain may have thought he had kept his feelings concealed, but to Ranok’s eyes, it was plain as day that even Dain — a lesser noble — did not truly respect the Duke.
Well, of course. The first-ranking servant of the Crown Prince, who would soon become Emperor in place of the aging one, would naturally consider his own position far more distinguished than that of a drunkard Duke scorned by everyone around him.
“……Huu.”
Ranok sighed.
He had always known it was nothing but his own wishful dreaming to assume that Casioth’s future would be nothing but brilliant. But still — it didn’t have to be this bleak.
And having just heard that the reason behind it all was none other than himself, his feelings were somehow tangled in a complicated knot.
— Hmph.
The Faerie dangling from Zak’s shoulder — she had no choice but to hang from Zak’s, since whenever she tried to hang from Ranok’s, he would immediately swat her off — reveled in Ranok’s grim expression with visible delight.
“What are you so pleased about?”
Dain startled, thinking it was directed at him, and said “Pardon?” — but Ranok did not so much as glance his way.
“M-me?”
Zak, who had been inwardly questioning whether it had been a mistake to return to the prince’s side upon hearing they were headed to the Mordian Ducal House, also flinched in surprise — but Ranok did not look at Zak either.
The Faerie caught Ranok’s gaze and snorted dismissively.
— Are you starting to understand? Just how much those two were ruined because of you?
“……”
Honestly — no. I’ve only heard the story. And it’s still hard to truly believe that I am the cause of it — so without a word in reply, Ranok turned to face forward again.
In the meantime, the carriage glided smoothly along the well-paved road, carrying them ever onward toward the Mordian Ducal House.
The Mordian Ducal House was a residence of fairly respectable scale.
It was not situated right in the heart of the capital, but the house, built not far from the imperial palace, was reasonably large and clean.
The sight of ivy vines blanketing the walls of the estate in dense layers looked beautiful at first glance — but in most noble households, ivy was regularly removed for the damage it caused to buildings, and would never be allowed to overgrow the walls to such an extent.
In short, even from the exterior walls of the building, it was clear that absolutely no upkeep was being done.
What unfolded as they were following Dain’s guidance toward the entrance of the ducal house was an even more striking sight than that already telling exterior.
With a loud crash, a single figure came bursting frantically out of the ducal house.
“Fine then! Long live the wretched drunkard Duke! Keep living like that forever!”
The man couldn’t hide the furious red flush on his face as he screamed at the top of his lungs toward the interior of the building.
“Die alone and lonely like that, you madman!”
The man even spat — ptoo — directly at the outer wall of the estate.
For a man who was plainly a commoner and a servant to show such audacity toward a grand ducal house was a level of insolence that was simply unimaginable.
Dain and Zak, who had witnessed the whole scene right in front of them, stood with their mouths hanging open — and the man, belatedly noticing their group, was still seething.
“What? What are you looking at? You here on some kind of business or something?”
The man, eyes practically rolling back in his head, did not stop his sneering even toward Ranok’s party, who were clearly of high standing at a glance.
