I'm the Crazy One in the Family-Chapter 120: I’m Here (4)

Eslow’s fief was the major city where the Sword of the South Tournament was being held and where the Lord of the South resided. The city was already overflowing with people, and the northern, southern, eastern, and western gates were all packed with carriages and crowds stretching endlessly.

“This fief is far grander than the fief in the east.”

“Oh? You’re from the east? You should visit the fief in the west sometime. The Lord of the West’s dependency is built on the largest river in the kingdom.”

“Eek, a noble’s carriage. Step aside. You don’t want to get run over and humiliated for no reason.”

Commoners from across the kingdom quickly cleared the road upon seeing an approaching noble’s carriage. After all, if one were trampled under a noble’s wheels, there would be no compensation to claim.

“By the way, which noble family is that? I don’t recognize the crest.”

“Are you blind? There’s only one family in the entire kingdom known for archery.”

“Ah, Sefira, the Masters of Archery!”

“I never thought I would live to see Sefira participate in the Sword of the South Tournament. Do you think an archer can really hold their own among swordsmen? What do you all think?”

As soon as the crowd recognized Sefira’s knights, heated discussions erupted. Since they had to wait in line anyway, it made for an entertaining topic.

Ignoring the long queue, Sefira’s carriage rolled up to the gates and came to a stop. The gatekeepers, unsurprised, welcomed them without hesitation.

“Welcome to the Eslow Dependency. Are you from Sefira?”

“I am Didos, captain of the Fifth Division of the Order of the Galaxy.”'

Didos handed over a lavishly decorated invitation bearing Eslow’s seal—an official summons inviting Sefira to the tournament.

The gatekeeper reviewed the contents and seal before nodding.

“We will need to inspect the carriage. It is standard procedure, so we ask for your understanding.”

Didos guided his horse closer to the carriage and through the window said, “Lord Myle, they request to inspect the carriage.”

“Tell them to proceed.”

Myle, who had nothing to hide, calmly closed the book he had been reading and personally opened the carriage door.

The moment the gatekeeper saw him, he bowed deeply.

“Excuse me. May I ask for the names of your companions?”

Myle’s gaze sharpened. It was customary for gatekeepers to memorize the names of all noble families and their participating members. And yet, this soldier’s face showed genuine ignorance—he truly did not recognize anyone present.

He would understand if the gatekeeper did not recognize Keter. He was not listed as a participant, and many were still unaware of his official inclusion in the family.

But Myle was Sefira’s second-eldest son, and seated inside were also the third and fourth-eldest sons. A gatekeeper who failed to recognize the second-born of a prestigious noble family was an unmistakable insult. Myle was certain that the gatekeeper was probably familiar with the faces and names of other master families.

“...”

Myle took a deep breath. This was blatant disregard. In the past, he might have let it slide. But now, things were different. Sefira had decided they would no longer tolerate such treatment.

“...Myle El Sefira, Anis El Sefira, Taragon El Sefira, Keter El Sefira, and Katherine. Five in total.”

“Understood. It is an honor to hear your names.”

As the gatekeeper moved to close the carriage door, Myle stopped him with a firm hand.

“Wait. State your rank and name.”

“Yes, my lord. I am Nomider of the Eslow Public Security Army.”

“Nomider. If any official in this city fails to recognize our faces again, it will be considered an insult to Sefira. And you, in particular, will be held accountable.”

“...!”

Nomider went pale. This was not what he had been told.

They said Sefira wouldn’t cause trouble even if we ignored them...

But Myle’s clear and calm warning left no room for doubt.

Bowing deeply, Nomider shouted, “... Yes, my lord. I will remember that.”

“Good. Now go.”

As Sefira’s carriage passed through the gates, Nomider immediately relayed their arrival through every communication channel. He also spread their descriptions throughout the city.

Nomider warned everyone that Sefira’s stance had changed: anyone who ignored them from now on would face consequences.

* * *

Eslow’s fief was divided into two regions: the Outer District, a residential area for commoners that also encompassed the city’s commercial and industrial sectors, and the Central District, where cultural facilities, the mansions of the upper class, and key military installations were concentrated.

Additionally, throughout the city, the spacing between buildings was remarkably wide to maintain aesthetics and cleanliness. Lush rows of street trees were beautifully arranged, reinforcing the grandeur befitting a major city.

On the second-floor balcony of a sunlit cafe, a man dressed in a pristine white suit sipped his coffee, checking the time on his wristwatch.

“A timepiece from the Kingdom of Baen, I see.”

At that moment, another man in a deep blue uniform approached. A lavishly adorned scabbard hung at his waist.

In a city during a festival, carrying weapons was strictly prohibited, even for nobles. However, those in charge of city security or high nobles were granted implicit exceptions.

The man in the white suit smiled and gestured to the empty chair across from him.

“'I almost thought you weren’t coming.”

“I’ve been considering getting a Baen-made watch myself. Pocket watches are such a hassle to take out, and I keep forgetting the time.”

“They call this a wristwatch. It’s still in the prototype phase, so I wouldn’t recommend it just yet. But if you’d like, I can get one for you.”

“That’s welcome news. I would love to show it off to my colleagues—do get me one.”

The two men were young, strikingly handsome, and exuded the refinement of high-ranking nobles. Their clothing was impeccable, without a single blemish, and their speech carried the effortless grace and composure typical of nobles.

“Ah, I should have a coffee as well,” the man in the blue said.

“Try adding cinnamon and honey. It’s excellent here.”

“I’ll take your recommendation.”

The knight in blue uniform went down to the lower level. freewebnσvel.cѳm

Left alone once more, the man in the white suit observed the passing crowds, enjoying the leisurely atmosphere like a man on vacation.

“Have you spotted a woman to your liking?”

Before he knew it, the knight in blue had returned, holding a cup of coffee. The man in white smiled—a dazzling, seductive smile, the kind that could steal a woman’s heart in an instant.

“What’s the point in choosing when they’re all going to die anyway?”

It was a cold, merciless statement that didn’t go with his charming smile. The knight in blue’s response, however, wasn’t normal either.

“That’s what makes it thrilling, isn’t it? Sharing a night with a woman who’s about to die—have you ever tried it?”

“I lack sexual desires, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Ah, so that rumor was true? They say the Imperial Special Task Force undergoes castration to avoid being ensnared by honey traps.”

“It’s more about preventing the spread of our bloodline. Forming a family breeds attachments to life.”

“Terrifying.”

The knight in blue took a slow sip of his coffee.

“Hmm, I like this coffee. Perhaps I should ask for the recipe before I blow up this city.”

“The explosives are still undetected, I assume? I trust you’ve double—no, triple-checked their functionality. It would be rather troublesome if something went wrong at this stage.”

“If the plan had failed, I wouldn’t be here talking to you. We’ve set up a generous number of explosives beneath the city. No one suspects a thing. These fools built their city so that you can’t access the surface from underground, so they think all they have to do is guard the entrances. Little do they know that thousands of bombs, rarer than anything found in this entire kingdom, are buried below them. Once I send a single signal—boom!”

The knight in blue gestured dramatically, forming the shape of a mushroom cloud with his arms.

“As the underground collapses, the entire city will be buried. Just imagining it gives me chills.”

He then turned his gaze back to the man in white.

“And what of your Homun-whatever-it’s-called? Is it ready?”

“Homunculus. With this, we shall kill an eight-star Irregular, and the world will finally learn of its name.”

“From what I saw last time, it wasn’t strong enough to kill an Irregular. Maybe a Grandmaster, but an Irregular? Even if it possesses limitless aura, its movements are too rigid...”

“That is not a concern. We’ve prepared eight homunculi, each fully armed with level-four magic tools. Even if we wanted to lose, we couldn’t.”

The knight in blue clapped his hands together.

“As expected of the Samael Empire, the nation of supreme wealth and technology.”

“How could we ever compare to the power of the Godfather of Liqueur? We in the Special Task Force refer to him as ‘The One Who Watches from the Shadows.’”

Both men revealed each other’s identities without hesitation. They talked about their plans, which would cause chaos if anyone overheard. It was a display of confidence, as they believed they had complete control over the situation.

The man in white finished his last sip of coffee and glanced at his wristwatch.

“There is one unforeseen variable.”

“A variable? Impossible.”

“Keter. The Sefira bastard. He’s arrived in this city. Our intelligence network had no prior records of him. It’s as if he never existed... much like you.”

“Ah...”

The knight in blue smirked at the mention of the name. It was the kind of expression one might have upon hearing the name of an old friend from long ago.

“If it’s Keter, then there’s no problem.”

“No problem? So he is, indeed...”

“Either way, there’s no need to worry about Keter. I can control him.”

“If you say so, I’ll trust you. Just remember—our empire values its alliance with the Godfather of Liqueur. We intend to maintain... a cooperative relationship.”

The man in white emphasized the word cooperative as he rose from his seat.

Without a trace of hesitation, he descended to the first floor and disappeared into the sea of people, blending in as if he had never been there.

“Tsk. You can’t have a proper conversation with that eunuch. What the hell is so good about this bitter drink, anyway?”

The knight in blue suddenly dropped his refined demeanor, spitting onto the ground in irritation.

Then, all at once, his expression transformed into something else entirely—something intoxicated, ecstatic.

“Ah... Keter. So, you’ve left Liqueur as well. And you didn’t even bother changing the name you used there... That’s just like you. So bold, so fearless.”

His fingers clenched into a tight fist.

Then, licking his lips, he whispered under his breath, “Keter... I may have lost to you in Liqueur, but out here, in the outside world... I will have you.”

* * *

The highest level of the palace of the Lord of the South was an open-air terrace without a ceiling. There, a middle-aged man was tending to his weapons.

His silver-gray hair, left untied, danced in the wind. His lips were firmly pressed together, a short beard lining his chin. The slight furrow of his brows indicated his deep concentration on the task at hand.

Each weapon he handled had a unique form and an overwhelming presence: a sword only a hilt, with no blade; a spear that flickered with crimson flames; a jet-black double-headed axe, forged from the skull of a horned beast; a glass shield, as thin as a strand of hair; and a wooden gauntlet, seemingly woven from branches and vines.

The middle-aged man wiped each weapon carefully with a cloth, treating them as though they were his own children. Then, he glanced upward for a moment. A crow, which had been circling the sky, descended to the ground. The moment its claws touched the ground, it transformed into a human. The figure, wearing loose-fitting clothes and a crow-shaped mask, knelt before him.

“My lord, they have begun to move.”

The masked figure’s voice was impossible to identify; it was neither male nor female, neither young nor old.

The middle-aged man casually flicked his thumb upward. At that gesture, the weapons he had been tending vanished in an instant.

He was Weaponmaster Eslow, the Lord of the South.

Stretching lazily, he said, “Were all the underground explosives neutralized?”

“Yes. The signal will still go through, but the detonation has been disabled.”

“And the identities of those who collaborated in the attack?”

“Seven individuals in total, my lord: High Noble Casper Galahind, Lower Nobles Victor Arden Burke, Quentin Hagenbach, Stephan Inghardt, and Joaquin Derpen, Primus Pilus Calvin of the Public Security Army, and Captain Alistair Grimstone of the Ninth Division of the Order of the Iron Knights.”

“And the masterminds? I bet that one of them is from the empire.”

“As you predicted, the man in the white suit appears to be affiliated with the empire.”

“Your evidence?”

“When expressing the number three with his fingers, he used his thumb instead of his ring finger. That is the standard Imperial gesture, whereas in the Kingdom of Lillian, they use the ring finger.”

“And the other one?”

“...My apologies. We have not identified him yet.”

“I’ll give you a chance to explain yourself. Was it a lack of time, money, or manpower?”

“...None of those were lacking.”

“This is the third time you’ve disappointed me. First, you failed to find a cure for my son. Then, you failed to locate my friend, Franken... And now, you can’t even identify a simple collaborator. You have only one more chance. If you fail me again, your entire species will cease to exist.”

The crow-masked figure pressed their forehead to the ground.

“I will not fail you again.”

“Get out.”

With a loud flutter, the figure transformed back into a crow and flew away.

Eslow clicked his tongue.

“How pathetic that I have to rely on such incompetents.”

As Eslow descended from the terrace, maids rushed to attend to him. They carefully undressed him, massaged his body with warm, damp wool, and then applied fragrant oils before dressing him in fresh garments. Finally, they placed a pipe, crafted from the branches of the World Tree, into his right hand. The pipe was filled with cheap tobacco.

He placed it in his mouth, and a maid adeptly struck a match, lighting it for him.

Crackle.

Taking a deep breath, he exhaled the smoke slowly as he strolled through the palace halls.

After his second puff, a middle-aged butler dressed in a black suit approached, matching his pace.

“My lord, I have a report regarding Sefira.”

“Speak.”

Though he permitted the report, Eslow did not halt his stride. The butler, long accustomed to this, began speaking as they walked.

“Two hours and thirty-two minutes ago, at 1:05 PM, Sefira’s carriage entered the city. They were escorted by ten members of the Fifth Division of the Order of the Galaxy. Inside the carriage were five individuals: Myle El Sefira, second-eldest son; Anis El Sefira, third-eldest son; Taragon El Sefira, fourth-eldest son; Dame Katherine, a knight of the Order of the Star; and Keter, a bastard child of Sefira.”

“Sefira declared only four participants for the tournament. Are they the ones?”

“No, my lord. Of then, only Anis and Taragon are competing. The originally registered participants, Lieutenant Commander Brooks of the Sacred Order of Sefira and Captain Darkin of the Second Division of the Order of the Galaxy, have withdrawn.”

“Ha, he probably sensed that this tournament could be their grave. Sending his children instead of his knights... Patriarch Besil has more guts than I thought. If he had sent no one, I would have taken the opportunity to throw his entire family on the frontlines, but... Disappointing.”

The butler remained silent. Eslow had executed several butlers simply for agreeing too enthusiastically with his statements.

“They must be having a hard time. Every hotel in the city has been bought out, so they won’t be able to find lodging. Their only option is an inn in the Outer District, but even an idiot would recognize that as a trap. Will they knowingly walk into it, or will they let go of their noble pride and choose to sleep on the streets?”

Eslow cast a glance at the butler’s shoulder, where the number forty-seven was marked.

“Where are they now, Forty-Seven?”

The butler hesitated. There was an unspoken rule of never hesitating when answering Eslow, but he did it unconsciously.

Eslow’s expression twisted in irritation. Knowing that it was no different from a death sentence, he quickly replied, “T-they are at the gates, my lord.”

Eslow stopped in his tracks. Removing the pipe from his mouth, he narrowed his eyes at the butler.

“Which gate?”

“The main gate of the palace, my lord. Keter, the bastard, is waiting to see you.”

“Hah. A bastard son dares to request an audience with me? Tell me, do you think I have any connection to this Keter?”

“Not at all, my lord.”

“Exactly. I don’t know him. So why does he have the guts to seek me out? And why, of all things, did you bring me this ridiculous news? I don’t keep you around to deliver nonsense like this.”

Many sought an audience with Eslow—high nobles, elite families, rulers from other lands—yet he ignored them all. That was the dignity of one of the Four Lords. No one in the palace was unaware of this fact. And yet, the guards and the butler had seen fit to relay Keter’s words to him.

“M-my lord, Keter insisted that if you saw this, you would understand. He also stated that you would regret it... if you didn’t look.”

With trembling hands, the butler extended a business card given by Keter. Seeing that, Eslow scoffed.

“This business card means nothing to me.”

The description written on the front was enough to irritate Eslow.

—Problem Solver, Keter. I resolve issues at an unreasonable price.

If the back was equally useless, Eslow was determined to have him, Sefira, and all his kin thrown into the monster-infested frontlines. He didn’t care if they were a master family.

But the moment he turned the card over, his eyes widened.

“...”

Watching his reaction, the butler swallowed hard. He also read what was written on the back of the card, but he couldn’t understand it because it was written so poorly.

Ah, that bastard Keter tricked me. I’m dead now.

When the butler was thinking about his imminent death, Eslow tucked the card into his coat.

“This Keter...” he murmured.

“... Yes, yes, my lord! I will have him arrested this instant!”

“No. Bring him in as an honored guest.”

The butler’s eyes widened.

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