81. Baron Logan

“Good morning to you, Baron Logan.”

“Uhn, good morning.”

“Did you practice with your sword again from dawn? I’ll have your bathwater ready.”

Roughly, two months had passed.

Isaac, swinging his sword in the manor’s yard from early morning, offered a sheepish greeting towards Karen, the maid who was arriving for her shift.

The title ‘Baron Logan,’ the way she still addressed him, felt awkward.

Watching her retreat inside, his gaze drifted naturally to encompass the manor.

Meager, perhaps, to even call it a manor compared to Hellmunt, but excessive nonetheless for Isaac to live in alone.

It was a clear indication of how meticulously Princess Clarisse was treating Isaac.

“Huu.”

Morning training was no longer a choice, but a necessity.

To the point where his body felt stiff if he didn’t do it, Isaac harbored a strong desire to maintain this regimen indefinitely.

Some might ask Isaac if it wasn’t too arduous, doing it every day.

But the sword, it was an accumulation.

Even a single day in place felt like time wasted.

A newly received opportunity.

Having witnessed the swords of so many formidable opponents.

Isaac wanted, by any means possible, to make the most of this chance, to reach the furthest edge of his capabilities.

Finishing his morning training, Isaac washed with the water prepared by the maid and sat at the table.

Looking at the simply arranged meal, a smile escaped him.

“Thank you, Karen.”

“Hehe, it’s rewarding to prepare it for you, you know?”

Karen laughed, then went off to attend to other tasks.

Initially, Karen had been somewhat flustered by Isaac’s treatment.

Saying there was no need for him to be so polite to her, that she was simply doing her job.

But Isaac couldn’t bring himself to do otherwise.

He wanted to treat her as well as possible.

He’d vaguely brushed it off, saying it was because he was of commoner origin himself.

But in truth.

There was someone he wished he could have treated.

Like this.

The seat was prepared, but.

The person was missing.

“I ought to go pay my respects today.”

This morning, more than any other, I long for your voice, Milli.

* * *

Having a residence in Evergard, the capital, certainly made things easier. A separate training ground, the ability to quickly visit the memorial, and ready access to just about anything one might need.

Especially a superb smithy.

The northern blacksmith, that temperamental Antonio, would be fit to be tied if he heard that.

Here, not only was the skill exceptional, but the forge itself was state-of-the-art.

Unlike the front lines, where they only forged items of immediate practical use, they crafted ornaments for the nobility as well.

The notion of *attitude* was much easier to accept here, and their craftsmanship, superior.

The only drawback was the speed.

Crafting at the breakneck pace of Antonio, constantly badgered on the front, simply wasn’t possible.

Having commissioned work at the smithy, and after paying his respects to Milli,

Isaac, upon his return, saw the man standing before his residence and chuckled to himself.

“Lord Heirad. Back again, I see.”

“Lord Isaac, please, say something to her! The court etiquette instructor threatens to murder me if she puts it off again!”

“Hm, I’m afraid it’s not something I can interfere with.”

“Alas, you don’t even attend the lessons yourself, but spend your days gallivanting about…”

Passing the sighing Heirad, he entered the grounds.

In the garden, Clarisse and the Grand Master, ears covered by a beret, were already looking about.

“Isaac! Where did you wander off to?”

“Sniff, sniff. Tombstones, I perceive. The scent lingers on you.”

Princess Clarisse and the Grand Master.

“You could have told me. I would have waited.”

“It was not a scheduled visit.”

“It couldn’t be helped. I ran away, but then found I had nowhere else to go.”

The maid, Karen, quickly brewed tea and brought it outside. The garden was embarrassingly small.

She began setting up the small table and chairs placed in the corner.

The three of them strolled over, conversing naturally.

“Lord Heirad begs you to please convince the Princess to stop this frivolous behaviour. To cease her gallivanting.”

“Gallivanting? Hah, Heirad is far too knightly, his head completely stuck in the mud.”

Claris plopped down in her seat, grumbling.

“Isn’t that right? Do I look like I’m off frolicking? I’m making a significant contribution to state affairs, you know.”

*Her personality hasn’t changed a bit.*

Isaac picked up the teapot, relieving Karen, who looked like she was struggling to pour tea into the princess’s cup.

Karen looked briefly surprised, then bowed her head in gratitude and retreated.

“……What’s this? Now you’re flirting with the maid?”

“Heh.”

At the princess’s words, the Grand Master sitting beside her chuckled and popped a pastry into his mouth. The way she spoke must have been amusing.

Isaac poured the tea and sighed.

“Flirting with whom, exactly?”

“That’s your problem, Isaac. If you’re handsome, you should carry yourself with a bit more gravitas. Women become fools when they fall in love, you know?”

“……”

It was hard to simply refute that.

The Grand Master picked up another cookie, grinning.

“Now that you’re officially a Baron, I bet potential marriage partners are quietly lining up?”

“Ahem.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Now a free man.

The figure of Isaac had become quite a hot topic even in high society.

He had personally executed Arundel Hellmundt, was a central figure of the next generation, and had a connection to the princess.

Even his exploits in the Great Swarm were being re-evaluated.

In the eyes of other nobles, Isaac was a luscious fruit ripe with potential.

Of course, in the old days, they wouldn’t have dared to look at him, fearing Hellmundt’s power.

But now that Hellmundt’s influence had waned, there were nobles who subtly showed interest in Isaac.

“It’s because you’re in the capital that there’s so much talk and attention. That’s why I said I’d give you a territory. I told you not to pass it off as an honorary title.”

“It’s alright. I’m not cut out to be such a great person.”

There had been an offer to grant him a territory, but Isaac had refused.

He didn’t want to be a great noble, he just wanted to be a swordsman.

“And as for marriage…… I won’t be doing that.”

Marriage?

It didn’t sit right with me.

There were many complex reasons, but in any case, I had no intention of doing it.

“Is that so? Truthfully, I’ve also been looking into marriage prospects lately. It’s a politically potent card, and one should play it while one can.”

Princess Clarice spoke listlessly, as if discussing someone else’s wedding.

“Things seem peaceful now, but we both know it won’t last.”

In truth, beneath the surface, skirmishes with the Transcended were quite fierce.

Not like in my past life, where the Transcended rose up across the nation simultaneously with Arundel’s death.

But it was clear they were biding their time.

“These matters must be settled decisively now. We can’t afford to be shaken from within by some succession squabble.”

The two of us offered a wry smile at the Princess’s composed words.

Those very words were the core reason for Princess Clarice’s deviation.

Currently, the Albion Kingdom had but two Princesses.

The elder, Adeline Seraphia Regardia.

The younger, Clarice Evangel Regardia.

The Regardia Royal Family was thus divided into two factions.

A Royal Family without a Prince.

The current King could no longer produce an heir, so ultimately, unless something drastic occurred, a Queen would rule.

“I need to prevent nobles who dislike or look unfavorably upon my sister from gathering around me. Marrying into another country altogether would be best, I believe.”

The clandestine war with the Transcended was in full swing.

To firmly establish royal authority, Clarice aimed to pre-emptively consolidate the line of succession, thereby fostering harmony among the nobles.

By sacrificing herself, that is.

“Oh, right, Isaac. There’s a party tomorrow evening. I was going to send an invitation, but since you’re here, I’ll just tell you directly.”

Clarice smoothly shifted the conversation away from the heavy topic.

A party, out of the blue?

“Well, one never knows who might suddenly turn Transcended. My sister says it’s for keeping the nobility in line,” she explained.

“And is she attempting to keep me in line as well?”

“No, no. I think the person you’re looking for might be there.”

“The person I’m looking for?”

“Baron Volten.”

A faint smile played on Clarice’s lips.

The Grand Master tilted his head, a question blooming in his eyes at the words. Isaac, however, his pupils slowly widening, nodded without hesitation.

“I will go.”

Volten.

His territory in name only, practically a lawless stretch of land he could not bring himself to relinquish.

Those hailing from that place were invariably scorned.

There was a reason folk warned to avoid Volten’s back alleys at all costs.

And that place was.

Millie’s birthplace.

‘There’s a chance.’

Millie had said her family was swept up in the Volten Revolution and vanished, their whereabouts unknown.

Isaac intended to search for them, clinging to the sliver of a chance.

If her family lived, he wished to grant her at least the solace of visiting their graves.

“Very well. But be careful. The Volten Baron clawed his way to the title by quelling the rebellion. Just like you, he seized his rank through sheer ability.”

“…….”

“Surviving the harshness of Volten means he possesses a certain… resilience, wouldn’t you agree? He shouldn’t be underestimated-“

Clarisse, mid-sentence, let out a small, amused laugh.

“Wait, who am I even lecturing?”

A self-deprecating chuckle.

And then, a smile laced with both faith and amusement bloomed on her face as she spoke to Isaac.

“You are, after all, a survivor of Helmun.”