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Chapter 304
Chapter 304: I Am the Plunder King (5)
The Marquis of Branford remained silent for a moment.
An old image of the Duke of Delfine, whom he hadn’t seen in years, surfaced in his mind.
A constant, relaxed smile paired with indifferent eyes that belied any attempt to read his thoughts. The duke had always been an enigma.
Still, the Duke of Delfine had enjoyed a good reputation. He was described as kind to everyone and never authoritarian.
Ẅě b̌.ñ.о̄v̆е l Е ńūm ӑ
But after a certain incident, he became a brutal man. Rumors circulated that he suddenly succumbed to madness, and for a long time, the duke refrained from attending any official events.
Because of this, even the Marquis of Branford had no idea how the duke spent his days now. All affairs of the ducal family were handled by Viscount Joseph, who held the reins of power.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
“Viscount Joseph… was the one suppressing civil war? Not the duke?”
The Marquis of Branford had thought the ducal family maintained the current power structure to minimize the damage.
He had assumed that this was the duke’s will. Even if rumors suggested that Viscount Joseph held actual power and the duke was a mere figurehead, it was hard to believe the duke’s symbolic authority could be entirely disregarded.
Yet, to think Viscount Joseph had been persuading the duke, who desired war, to stand down it was an incredible revelation.
W̊ е́_b̌ nо vе l̂ Е̌ n̊um̄а̌
“I could barely believe it when I heard that the duke aims to seize the kingdom.”
In their youth, the Marquis of Branford and the Duke of Delfine had been schoolmates at the same academy.
The duke had never been particularly interested in studying. He was more of a dreamer, often lost in his own thoughts.
Whenever the Marquis of Branford passionately spoke of the kingdom’s politics and power, the duke would always respond with a smile.
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“Does worldly politics and power hold any real meaning? They all fade and disappear over time anyway.”
“What nonsense is that? Precisely because everything fades, the moment we’re living in becomes even more important. Especially for people like us. Our actions can change the lives of others.”
W eb̂ n̂ о̌v̊ е̌l Е̌_nüm а̇
“I… want to see something farther away.”
Unlike the fervent Marquis of Branford, the Duke of Delfine often uttered words that seemed ill-suited to his status and position. Yet, there were moments when his eyes would burn with an inexplicable desire.
The Marquis of Branford could never understand the Duke of Delfine.
Even during his clashes with the duke’s faction, he remained baffled. The duke’s thoughts were impossible to discern.
In the end, the marquis had forced himself to rationalize it as the result of age and change.
“Enough. I must have misjudged him. It’s been a long time, after all.”
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Decades were enough time for a person to change completely. And now, the duke was the enemy of the kingdom.
There was no need to try to understand someone who defied comprehension. The duke remained out of sight, making it impossible to discern his thoughts even if one wanted to.
Who held power and what their intentions were no longer mattered.
“Everyone knows the ducal family is trying to seize the kingdom. Both sides simply pretend otherwise and avoid addressing it outright. No one is ignorant of the possibility of civil war breaking out.”
At the Marquis of Branford’s sharp words, Count Fowd gave a bitter smile.
“But how many lives are lost is another matter.”
Еn ŭ m а̀_
“I have no intention of abandoning honor out of fear of death.”
“Even if it means countless lives are lost in the kingdom?”
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At that, the Marquis of Branford fixed the count with a cold gaze.
“Even if everyone in this kingdom dies, the duke will never become king.”
“What value does that have? Are you saying the royal family is more important than the lives of the people?”
“That is my duty.”
Ӗnŭm̌ä
Count Fowd gritted his teeth and spoke.
“Your Excellency, is there anything in this kingdom that can be done without your command? You are already the de facto king of this kingdom.”
“…”
“The king has been bedridden with illness, and the royal family has long since become puppets. If only the one occupying the throne changes, the bloodshed can be minimized.”
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“Silence!”
Bang!
Еṅù mа
The Marquis of Branford slammed the armrest of his chair, his furious gaze locking onto Count Fowd as he continued.
“This kingdom is overrun with jackals. That is why I am protecting the royal family. Because no one else can.”
“…”
“Deliver this message to the duke. If he abandons his ambition and withdraws, I will also step down. But if he turns against the royal family, I will fight to the end. Do you understand?”
“…Understood.”
Count Fowd slowly bowed his head before retreating.
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The Marquis of Branford was known as a man of unyielding iron will and power. Count Fowd had doubted that any words would sway him.
This had been the final attempt at persuasion, the last opportunity for negotiation.
“Phew…”
Once Count Fowd left, the Marquis of Branford exhaled deeply.
He was well aware of how the world perceived him.
The kingdom’s most powerful figure, a man who, while not king, wielded authority akin to one.
Е ǹ u m̊ а. і̀ d̈
Even the next monarch had to receive his approval to ascend the throne.
It wasn’t what he wanted, but to protect the royal family, there had been no other choice. Perhaps history would remember him as a traitor to the crown.
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“I must be getting old.”
Fatigue now settled over him much more easily than before. The toll of years spent entrenched in politics weighed heavily on him.
It was about time he properly designated a successor. His son, who served as a military commander in the east, did not meet his expectations.
“Ghislain Ferdium…”
Е n ūm̂ а̌. і̇d
For some reason, whenever he thought about succession, that name came to mind.
He hadn’t initially intended to push Ghislain to this extent.
Despite his lingering doubts and concerns about Ghislain’s reliability, the thought that there was no one better kept surfacing in his mind.
‘If only he would remain loyal to the royal family…’
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The marquis chuckled at the thought.
“That will never happen.”
Е̇ n̊ um̂а . іd́
No matter how he looked at it, Ghislain was not the kind of man to bend his will for anyone. If anything, he seemed like the type who would topple the royal family the moment it displeased him.
“Haah…”
A sigh escaped him. One way or another, no one seemed to be free of flaws.
‘If only I could bring down the ducal family…’
Perhaps stepping down after that would be for the best. It was a small, personal wish of the Marquis of Branford.
No one knew for certain who the founder of the Delfine family was.
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Some speculated that they were a sibling of the founding king of Ritania. Others suggested they were descendants of a royal consort or a meritorious vassal. There was even an outlandish theory claiming they were descended from the dragon who once protected Ritania.
All these theories existed because every historical record related to the Delfine family had been lost.
For as long as anyone could remember, the Delfine family had simply been the Delfine family. The head of the household was always treated as a peer to royalty; this had become a tradition.
The ducal territory covered nearly half of the southern region, a vast and resource-rich land often referred to as a “blessed ground.”
The Delfine family had nurtured immense power for generations, thanks to its fertile lands. Yet, no head of the family had ever threatened the royal family or sought the throne.
On the contrary, the family heads avoided public roles, often leading lives of seclusion.
E ñũ m_a. і̂d̆
Because of this, countless rumors arose and faded over time, but the Delfine family always maintained their silence.
That was, until the current duke unveiled his ambitions.
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At the heart of the ducal territory stood a grand, opulent white castle. This was the duke’s residence, “Eclipse”.
At the center of Eclipse was the Hall of Glory. The ceiling of this hall soared higher than any banquet hall in other castles, overwhelming anyone who entered with its sheer height.
At the center of the hall was a tall platform holding a single ornate chair.
The only person who could sit on this throne was the head of the Delfine family.
Е n̂_u̇m ӓ . і ḋ
“So, Harold was defeated?”
The voice came from the chair. A man lounged there, his chin resting on his hand, eyes closed. His gentle, silky voice echoed through the hall.
His skin was pale as snow, his black hair flowing like silk. By all appearances, he was a beautiful young man.
This was none other than Ernhardt Delfine, the head of the Delfine family.
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Surprisingly, his appearance had remained unchanged from his younger days. He still bore the face of the man once celebrated as the kingdom’s most handsome noble, a figure who made countless hearts flutter.
If the Marquis of Branford were to see him now, he would be utterly shocked. The last time they had met, the duke had already been entering middle age.
En̂ ü mȧ. і̆ d
For the duke, who was said to have never practiced any form of swordsmanship or magic, regaining his youth was unthinkable.
Yet, the retainers of the Delfine family had come to accept it naturally. They had all witnessed the gradual reversal of the duke’s age over time.
Ernhardt’s question was met with a slight bow from Raul, the man hailed as the brain of the ducal family.
“Yes, it seems Count Fenris has defeated him.”
“Fenris, hmm… That name has been coming up often lately. They say he’s rather capable, don’t they?”
“My apologies. I failed to properly assess whether he’s that remarkable of an individual.”
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At Raul’s apology, Ernhardt nodded a few times. He remained with his eyes closed, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Amid the suffocating pressure that filled the hall, Ernhardt slowly began to speak again.
“Kaiyen, I heard you’ve met this child called Ghislain in person. What was he like?”
Standing beside the duke was a middle-aged man with piercing, lion-like eyes and a towering, iron-clad physique.
This man was none other than Count Kaiyen Balzac, renowned as the Kingdom’s Greatest Sword and a Sword Master. He had once encountered Ghislain at the Marquis of Branford’s masquerade.
“Yes, Your Grace. Among his peers, he seemed unmatched. Judging by his accomplishments, it’s no exaggeration to call him a genius. Given more time, he’ll become someone no one can easily contend with.”
Е̂ñu mа̌
“I see.”
That was the extent of Ernhardt’s reaction a fleeting curiosity that seemed to go no further.
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Once more, a heavy silence descended upon the hall. No one dared to make a sound, not even a breath. After some time, Ernhardt opened his mouth again, his voice unhurried.
“Raul.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“I am someone who knows the joy of anticipation. That’s why I entrusted everything to you and waited until now. But… I’m starting to feel a little parched.”
W_еb̈ noṽ ẽl̂ Ënüm̀.а̊
“My deepest apologies, Your Grace.”
Raul bent his waist in a deep bow, cold sweat dripping down his back. As he had overseen all the operations thus far, the blame fell squarely on him.
And there was only one reason why things had gone awry.
‘Ghislain Ferdium… I should have killed him back then.’
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A plan that had been progressing smoothly for so long began to unravel, all because of that one man, Ghislain. The thought made Raul’s insides boil.
With Harold’s defeat, they had lost the largest faction in the North. The only saving grace was that Amelia, Harold’s protégé, had secured Raypold.
En ùmа .і̌_d
However, Fenris’s momentum now surpassed even Raypold’s. Retaking control of the North would now require much more time and resources.
Ernhardt slowly opened his eyes. His pupils, narrowed vertically, gave off an eerie, reptilian vibe, as if he were a predator eyeing his prey.
“Raul, have you still not changed your mind?”
“Seizing the kingdom is easier than flipping a hand. But what comes after… there’s so much left to be done. Losing talented people and soldiers now would only hurt us.”
Raul’s desperate plea elicited a faint chuckle from Ernhardt.
“Haven’t you already lost Harold and the North?”
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“There are still others left. Harold’s rebellion in Raypold was successful, so”
“Still clinging to trivialities, I see.”
Ernhardt interrupted Raul’s words with a dismissive tone. To him, conquering the kingdom was no more than a “trivial matter.”
But Raul couldn’t refute that statement. To the duke, most matters in the world seemed utterly insignificant.
To Ernhardt, everything was an endless cycle of tedium and meaninglessness.
“How much longer must I wait?”
E ňu.m̄а.i d̃
“…If you grant me just a bit more time, I will bring everything to completion.”
“Very well. If that’s what you wish, then so be it. There’s still plenty of time.”
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Ernhardt’s face showed no sign of urgency. As always, he simply entrusted everything to Raul with a relaxed smile.
“If there’s nothing else to report, you may leave.”
“…We’ve received word from ‘them.’”
“What is it?”
W е̄ b ñо́ v еl̃ _Е ṅ ũ m̌ а
“They’re sending someone who can help. Apparently, they are quite skilled knights. They will operate under cover as our people.”
Ernhardt gave a small nod. His expression betrayed no interest in the matter.
“Handle it as you see fit.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
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“Now, leave me.”
At the duke’s command, everyone withdrew, leaving only Count Kaiyen Balzac by his side. He was the sole individual permitted to remain near Ernhardt.
E̊n̆ u m а̄._іd
But even Kaiyen was dismissed when Ernhardt gestured toward him.
“You too, leave me for today.”
“Your Grace.”
“I wish to be alone.”
At his command, Kaiyen bowed his head slightly and took his leave.
Shhhk.
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Once everyone had departed, curtains fell, and all the lights in the hall extinguished. The Hall of Glory was now devoid of any light or trace of life.
In the unsettlingly silent darkness, Ernhardt remained still, only to murmur softly to himself.
“…I hope ‘that day’ arrives soon.”
In the pitch-black void, only Ernhardt’s eyes glowed ominously, radiating an unholy light.
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