"T-that face..." The Count stammered, his hand stopping mid-stroke on his mustache.
The Count's eyes were wide, darting across my grandson's face as if searching for a truth he couldn't quite accept.
"Granny… who is this person?" Sieg's voice came calmly, though his eyes stayed on that ridiculous moustache for a moment longer than they should have.
Now that it has come to this, there is no other choice. The secret is out, and the game has changed.
I lifted my hand, gesturing forward.
"This gentleman is Count Tomas Hansen, the lord under whom our barony falls."
The moment those words left my lips, his expression shifted from curious to deadly serious.
He knows and… is fully aware of the history between us and the Count, and the shadow of the Duke's second wife hanging over our heads.
"And Count," I said, my voice rising in a clear, commanding tone to snap Hansen out of his stupor. He shut his mouth instantly, his eyes bulging. "This is the son of my daughter... our grandson, Siegfried Fors."
"I see… Valka Fors's son… her son." The Count's voice came slower now, as if each word needed to find its place. "But an… Eyepatch?"
"He has a deformed eye."
"Deformed?"
"That is correct." I stepped slightly forward, letting my hand gesture toward my grandson. "The successor you wished to speak with… is here."
"Elaina!/Ma!"
Throvald and Erik spoke at once, alarm slipping into their voices.
I raised my hand, stopping them before they could continue.
There is no other choice.
If he wishes to play this game… then we will answer.
My gaze softened, just slightly, as it settled on Sieg.
I will trust you.
He looked confused at first, his eyes moving between us, trying to piece together the tension that had already taken root before he arrived.
I leaned in and quickly filled him in on the circumstances, explaining the sudden demand for taxes and the threats being made against our recovery, while keeping the 'countess' title hidden. As I spoke, I watched his expression shift. The initial awareness melted away, replaced by a strangely bored look, as if the entire political maneuvering was a tedious chore that didn't deserve his time.
At the same moment, my eyes glanced back at the Count.
Gone was the earlier arrogance.
His thoughts seemed scattered, his composure slipping. A faint sheen of sweat gathered along his forehead.
"I understand," Sieg said once I finished.
He turned toward the Count, still seated on Erik's shoulders, his posture relaxed.
"My apologies, Count, that my mother couldn't be here for this discussion," Sieg said, his voice light yet carrying a strange authority. "She had some important business on Dhurgar and had to leave quite suddenly."
"...So that is your claim." The Count's voice carried a note of caution now.
Sieg simply offered the biggest, most innocent smile in return. "I am simply stating the truth."
The Count stared up at my grandson, his eyes narrowing as he searched for something… like an opening. I could tell that, unlike his previous interactions with us, he was being incredibly careful now.
"... Her presence does not matter."
The Count took a step forward, closing the distance and forcing himself to look up. A small smile curved at his lips, his confidence returning.
"Though it seems basic courtesy was never properly instilled in you," he remarked, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. "Should you not step down and greet me properly first?"
I felt Erik's muscles tense beneath Sieg, a silent warning that he was ready to move at the slightest provocation, but Sieg just slowly tapped a hand above Erik's head.
"Oh?"
Sieg's gaze remained calm.
"I was under the impression Count's visit concerned matters of greater importance… But if a greeting is what you require… My lord."
He inclined his head slightly.
"You have my greeting."
The smile on the Count's lips did not fade.
But it… stalled.
Just for a moment.
His eyes remained on the boy, narrowing ever so slightly, as if reassessing something that no longer fit his expectations.
"So this is the standard of conduct here now." His fingers rose, brushing the curled tip of his moustache, slower than before."What else could I have expected...from you people."
None of us reacted to his provocations, having grown used to them after hearing the same things so many times.
"Tell me, Siegfried Fors, you agree with the Duke, right?"
Count Hansen's voice rang out, rich with forced warmth as he spread his arms slightly, as if addressing not just Sieg, but everyone present.
"The Fors were granted tax relief ten years ago. You people have had quite the time to stand back on your legs, don't you think it is about time Fors does its part for the dukedom?"
His expression deepened with theatrical emotion gesturing broadly to the sky as if appealing to the heavens themselves.
"In such a time of crisis, we should forget our petty differences and come together to fight our common enemy."
"I disagree."
Sieg spoke flatly, cutting through all the grandstanding.
The Count's face fell instantly, the dramatic mask shattering to reveal the stunned irritation beneath.
"Did you not hear me? We all need to do our part!" the Count spat, his face flushing a deeper, angrier shade of red.
Sieg did not rush to answer. He remained seated on Erik's shoulders, looking down with a calm, indifference look.
"First," He began, his tone devoid of the heat the Count was showing. "The beast of the cataclysm happened eleven years ago. We were granted tax relief a year after that. It is not as if that decree simply gave us a pile of gold to rebuild with, it merely meant we weren't being stripped of what little we had left. During that time, the Fors spent every resource helping citizens who were suffering: Food, shelter, rebuilding what little could be rebuilt. We only secured the rights to grow cotton another year after things finally calmed down."
He shifted his weight slightly, looking down at the Count with a gaze that felt years older than his face.
The count's jaw stiffened.
"Cotton does not grow overnight. It took another half year of labor before we saw a single copper of profit. For almost three years, our people did nothing but scrape by just to survive." Sieg tilted his head slightly. "So when you say we had time to stand back on our legs…"
A faint pause.
"…you are wrong."
I noticed Throvald's lips quiver for a second, I couldn't blame him those times were… tough, very tough.
Sieg leaned forward slightly, his expression sharpening.
"Money does not fall from the trees, Count. It takes time, and the Fors Barony is not ready yet."
I watched the count closely.
The arrogance in his posture had dulled, replaced by his earlier caution. His fingers twitched against his mustache, no longer idly stroking it but gripping it as if grounding himself.
Making him help with old documents really paid off. Let's hope count gives up with this.
But a smile returned to his face.
"Such conviction," he said softly, eyes narrowing. "But conviction does not win wars, boy."
His gaze shifted, sweeping across the fields, the guards, the manor, the town behind us.
"The north is unstable. The Duke rebuilds his forces for a reason." His voice grew louder, carrying authority now. "If every barony starts claiming weakness, what happens to the dukedom?"
Sieg did not respond immediately.
For a brief moment, he looked… bored again.
"If the dukedom collapses because one barony cannot pay taxes," Sieg said calmly, "then the problem is not the barony."
"Sieg!" Throvald called, a sign to tone down.
But my grandson didn't stop.
"And if the Duke truly wishes to strengthen his forces," Sieg continued, "he should invest where growth is possible, not drain what is still recovering."
The words were not loud.
But they struck because they were true.
The balance of power in this conversation had quietly moved… and the count knew it.
Pride swelled in my chest.
Count Hansen exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving Sieg.
"…You speak boldly for a child."
Sieg smiled.
"I speak on behalf of my mother."He said, "The Fors barony has endured a great deal over these past months. We did not ask for your help, so the least you can do is refrain from bothering us when we have a valid reason for our position, one fully justified by the Emperor's orders from ten years ago."
"We are in a state of emergency with Krohnhelm falling and the Sovereignty poised to move against us," the Count barked, his face reddening. "The Duke needs every bit of help he can get."
That again…
Irritation curled within me.
Is he truly incapable of coming up with anything else? He clings to that excuse like a drowning man to a rotting log.
Sieg did not even pause to consider it.
"If the Sovereignty is truly ready to move on us, then why hasn't the Duke made an official statement yet?" Sieg asked, his tone flat and matter-of-fact. "Furthermore, we haven't received any war directives from the Noble Council either. Your empty words hold no value."
I had to fight the urge to let a smile break across my face, though Erik beside me couldn't even manage that much. A muffled huff of pride escaped him, vibrating through his chest.
"You..." Count gritted his teeth.
Behind us, the metallic slide of swords shifting in their sheathes whispered a lethal threat. The knights were losing their patience along with their master.
Fools.
My fingers moved slightly, gathering mana without a sound.
The Count let out a long, weary sigh, the sound of a man trying to reclaim his superiority through theater.
"Arguing with a child is beneath me," he said, his tone laced with quiet disdain, "especially one who does not understand the weight of his own words."
His eyes moved slowly over each of us, cold and calculating, before settling back on the small figure perched above.
"Let me propose a solution to you, the successor of Countess Valka. How about a duel with my son? You are both awakened, of the same age, and at the same crucible stage. It is completely fair. If my son wins, I expect you to accept the Duke's demands without further delay. And if you win, we can forget this entire matter."
"Wait. Countess?"
Sieg's voice cracked the tension, his eyes widening in genuine shock. He looked down at Erik, who gave a vague, helpless sound, before his eye snapped to me, searching for the truth.
I gave him a small nod, acknowledging the secret we had been keeping to protect him.
"Do you accept?" the Count asked again.
"... I refuse," Sieg said, his composure snapping back into place as if the surprise had never happened.
Good…
Relief loosened the tension in my chest, but only slightly.
The Count's smug expression faltered, a look of pure confusion crossing his bloated features.
"can't you see I am giving you an opportunity to walk away from this?"
Count Hansen's voice rose sharply, frustration finally tearing through his noble mask.
Sieg's expression did not change.
"I will not gamble the fate of the Fors on a staged 'fairness' decided by you." His eyes remained fixed on him. "And I have no reason to entertain a challenge that benefits you regardless of the outcome."
The count bit down on his lip hard enough for the movement to show.
"…What do you want?" he asked bitterly.
Something is wrong…
A faint unease crawled through my chest.
Why is he this desperate?
He knew he could not force us through strength alone. Erik stood beside us, and Sieg, as Valka's successor, had already cornered him in argument. Someone with his temperament should have already resorted to threats.
'The Duke will hear of this.'
'You will regret defying us.'
That would have been normal.
But instead… He is pushing for the duel.
Why? His actions are confusing me more and more.
I glanced at Sieg.
He had gone quiet, clearly thinking.
He's deciding whether to demand something… or reject the duel entirely.
A small sigh escaped me internally.
For all his brilliance… he is still a child in matters like this.
I stepped forward, clearing my throat.
"If we win," I said firmly, drawing everyone's attention, "we demand five thousand gold coins, along with a written agreement that the Fors will no longer be harassed over this matter."
"That can be agreed upon."
The answer came instantly.
He turned on his heel.
"I will see you at your place."
Without another word, he walked back toward the carriage, his knights immediately falling in behind him.
The suddenness of his departure left a silence in the wake of the dust.
"Granny…" Sieg's voice came quietly from above Erik's shoulders. "Are you sure about this?"
He sounded uncertain now that the confrontation had passed.
"I am thinking the same thing, Ma." Erik turned his body toward me, shifting slightly to keep Sieg balanced. "Five thousand is enough money that a commoner wouldn't see it even if they were reborn seven times, but for a Count, it isn't a life-changing sum."
"I am sure your mother has thought this through," Thorvald said, moving to my side and placing a grounding hand on my shoulder.
A genuine smile escaped me at those words.
"You know me well, dear."
Then my eyes shifted toward my son and grandson.
"The money was never the important part." My expression hardened slightly. "What matters is getting him off our trail."
Erik's brows furrowed.
"The Duke uses him whenever he wants his hands kept clean," I continued. "Normally, Hansen would not dare push this far against us. Not with Valka's reputation and Erik standing here."
My gaze drifted toward the departing carriage.
"But desperation makes cowards reckless."
Irritation stirred within me.
"He may resort to underhanded methods later. Rumors. Pressure from merchants and guilds. Problems that cannot easily be traced back to him." I crossed my arms slowly. "That is why the written agreement matters."
Everyone listened attentively.
"It will force him to think twice before pulling any tricks that might lead back to him in a court of law."
"Um… I understand all that, but…" Sieg scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Shouldn't we still do something to help with the situation in the north?"
Of course you would think that way.
I could hardly blame him.
To an outsider, it probably did look as though we were simply trying to avoid paying taxes while disobeying orders.
"It's not that simple, Siegfried."
My expression softened slightly as I looked at him.
"If we give in to demands like this once, they will only continue." I crossed my arms. "Today it is emergency taxes. Tomorrow it may be increased tariffs on cotton. After that, some new 'wartime contribution.'"
A bitter sigh escaped me.
"The more the Fors prospers, the more certain people will try to take from it."
Sieg listened quietly.
"And honestly…" My eyes narrowed slightly. "I am not even convinced this request truly came from the Duke himself."
Erik frowned.
"You think Hansen lied?"
"I think Hansen is too incompetent to come up with something like this on his own," I replied bluntly. "But he also arrived without a formal decree, without a stamped letter, without even a messenger from the ducal court."
My irritation increased the more I thought about it.
"That man worships appearances. If the Duke truly summoned him for official business, he would have paraded the proof in our faces the moment he arrived."
Throvald slowly nodded beside me.
"So you think…"
"Yes." My lips thinned. "I believe this reeks of his sister's influence."
The Duke's second wife.
Even after all these years, the woman still could not hide her resentment.
"She never liked the fact that the Fors received rights to cultivate cotton instead of the Hansen family." I let out a quiet scoff.
"Ooh, that's a lot… but it makes sense." Sieg's eyes sparkled with excitement as he looked at me. "You really are amazing, Granny."
Hearing that praise from my grandson filled me with a warmth that reached right down to my heart.
For a moment, all the tension from earlier faded away.
"But why is he so confident his son will win?" Erik suddenly cut in. "After seeing this monster fly around, he should know his son can't possibly win." He gestured vaguely upward at the boy perched on his shoulders.
"Not sure," I admitted, my mood turning thoughtful again, "We need to call Silvyr and several others from the guild to act as witnesses for the duel."
Both Erik and Throvald nodded immediately.
"Unc… did you just call me a monster?" Sieg looked down at Erik with narrowed eyes.
"Who else is sitting on top of me and can fly through the air?" Erik shot back. "Now get off already."
Sieg's lips curved upward into an overly confident smirk.
"Is that how you speak to your future Count?" he declared proudly. "If you don't want your allowances to be cut off in the future, you should be my steed and make a 'Heigh' sound from time to time."
"What? I am not your anything! Get off, you little imp!" Erik's hands moved up to finally grab him.
But Sieg reacted instantly, locking his legs around Erik's neck while grabbing onto his hair.
"The future Count refuses!"
"Ah! My hair! My beautiful hair!"
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
Beside me, Throvald was already chuckling quietly.
This really does feel familiar…
The sight of them bickering brought back memories of the past—good, happy memories. This house was always a blend of chaos and fun. It's better that some things never change.
For the first time in days, the heaviness in my chest eased.
Slowly stepping closer, I reached upward and gently ruffled Sieg's hair.
"You will become a great Count one day."
Sieg smiled softly at those words reaching out to grab my hand, holding it for a second. Then, his expression softened into something more knowing.
"Before that... when were you going to tell me Mother was a Countess?"
One corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
Not playful anymore.
A quiet acknowledgement that the truth we had hidden for years had finally surfaced.
Siegfried Fors
So many things suddenly started making sense.
The reason Baron Borg and Baron Aaland treated me with such respect.
The reason knights like Tavian, Blake, and Ashar willingly served under our family.
To them, I was never simply the grandson of a Baron.
I was the son of Countess Valka Fors.
And not just any Countess.
THE Valka THE Fors.
The woman whose name alone was enough put fear into people.
"So I will be given land to rule once I turn twelve?" I asked after Granny finished explaining everything.
"Yes," Granny replied with a small nod. "That is the law of the Empire."
And here I was quietly planning to become an adventurer the moment I cleared the Master Alchemist exam. There goes my life plan, flying away like smoke.
I let out a long sigh and turned my gaze toward the far side of the arena's audience stands. Count Mustache was already there, standing tall with his son and his retinue of knights, looking down at the dirt with that same irritating air of superiority.
In the middle of the stands sat the witness from the Guild. He held a crystal ball in his lap, a magic tool capable of recording scenes, ready to capture every move we made.
"Make sure to go easy and… don't kill the boy."
Uncle spoke from beside me with the exhausted expression of a man who had already accepted future headaches.
"I will try," I said, offering a playful smile as I shrugged my shoulders.
Uncle shook his head in defeat, looking toward the elders for support. "Pa, Ma... say something to him."
Grandpa stepped forward and knelt slightly in front of me, his large hand settling firmly on my shoulder.
"Sieg." His voice carried calm confidence. "I know you can win without much difficulty, so finish this cleanly and without unnecessary trouble."
Before I could answer, Granny placed a hand on Grandpa's shoulder.
"Meaning…" Her eyes narrowed toward the opposite side of the arena. "Give that smug brat hell."
…Huh?
For some reason, she sounded genuinely irritated at the child himself.
Did something happen earlier?
The boy had not been present near the cotton fields when I arrived, so maybe something had happened before I got there.
It is my first time meeting someone my age who has awakened and reached the same stage of the Soul Crucible as me. Ah, no, there is Nidrik, too. He was already awakened to mana and elements when we found him, though we haven't performed his evaluation ritual yet. Teacher wants him to settle in first, but I can't wait to find out which elements and Arcana he possesses.
I wonder what elements the Count's son has...
I look back in their direction.
Perhaps I can use this situation to conduct a few experiments.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and started walking.
"Where are you going now?" Uncle called out behind me.
"To greet the opponent," I replied, not bothering to turn back.
On the way, I offered a polite nod to the Guild witnesses. As I reached the far side of the arena, the Count's knights stepped forward, forming a wall of steel that blocked my path.
"Do you want something?" the Count asked, and at his casual word, the knights parted to let me through.
I walked forward until I was standing directly in front of them. "I just wanted to exchange a few words," I said, my gaze shifting to the boy. He was a little shorter than me, looking tense in his expensive gear. "Let's have a good match."
I held out my hand for a sportsmanlike shake.
But my gesture was met with a sharp, stinging slap to the back of my hand.
"Don't get too familiar with me," the boy shouted, his face twisting with a sneer.
Huh? Where did that come from?
"Don't think for a second that we are equals," he continued, his voice rising in an arrogant pitch. "I have heard from my father. You are landless counts, and a landless noble is no noble at all."
The Count broke into a boisterous, ugly laugh that echoed through the stands. "Oh, please don't be discouraged. My dear son is simply telling the truth."
I guess some things, like being an insufferable prick, are just genetic in nature.
I let out a soft sigh, turning on my heel to walk away without saying another word. I didn't need to argue or defend my family's honor with words.
Well, that brief touch was all I really needed.
[Hacker 001: Trojan Packet Marking Completed]