Chapter 29 : Chapter 29
The Lord’s Bedchamber in Rasseu Castle
Only the sobs of Marden, the Marquis of Blanc, echoed through the chamber.
“Carna… Carna…”
Marden called his daughter’s name in a tearful voice, embracing Sevha.
“I have missed you so dearly…”
Sevha didn’t have the heart to push Marden away. The old man was so pitiful that even he, a stranger to affection, found himself patting the man’s back.
“Carna? Where is your brother? He went to bring you back. He must have… why have you come alone?”
His uncle had gone looking for his dead mother?
Sevha understood what must have happened.
He could offer no answer, continuing to pat Marden’s back as he surveyed his surroundings.
Bishop Piétang, Eshu, and the knights were studying his face, as if comparing him to someone.
Do they know my mother’s face?
Sevha knew this was a moment of decision. He had to either reveal himself as Carna’s son or feign ignorance.
Before he could choose, he had to determine if the people of the Blanc Territory were trustworthy.
As Sevha hesitated, Teresse stepped to his side.
She said, “Sir Bishop, Commander. I believe the Marquis is unwell and has mistaken my companion for someone else.”
Sevha understood that she had judged it too dangerous to reveal his identity. A rational assessment.
Piétang belonged to the Papal See that had abandoned Anse. Eshu and his knights were strangers whose true intentions were impossible to fathom.
Sevha decided to follow Teresse’s counsel and tried to gently push the Marquis away.
“My companion is right. I am not the one you seek, my lord Mar—”
But as Sevha began to push him away, he saw the Marquis’s grief-stricken face. The sight of it made him freeze.
He pulled the man back into an embrace, perhaps even tighter than before.
Realizing what he was about to do, Teresse tried to call his name to stop him.
“Sev—!”
“A man who cannot comfort one weeping old man cannot rule over countless others.”
He gave Teresse no time to object, turning to the Marquis with a gentle smile.
“Sevha dan Anse, second son of Carna Blanc. It is an honor to meet you, Grandfather.”
Eshu, Piétang, and the knights stared, their mouths agape.
The Marquis, seemingly unaware that Sevha was not his daughter, only nuzzled his face into Sevha’s chest.
A few seconds passed. The faces of Eshu and the knights turned grave. Then, they knelt on one knee before Sevha.
Bishop Piétang took in the scene, then sighed.
He said, “It seems we have much to discuss. We should let the Marquis rest and speak elsewhere.”
***
Later, in the lord’s study in Rasseu Castle.
Piles of documents and a thick layer of dust on the desk testified to how long it had been since any work was done there.
Sevha, Teresse, and Eshu were seated at a reception table.
“Thank you for asking your companion to look after the Marquis,” Eshu said. “There are… no servants in Rasseu Castle at the moment, so it was a great help.”
As Eshu was thanking Sevha, Bishop Piétang placed teacups on the table. He sat next to Eshu, poured the tea, and spoke.
“Let us begin.”
Sevha immediately asked, “Do you truly believe I am his grandson?”
Eshu and Piétang exchanged a glance before answering.
“You resemble Lady Carna a great deal, my lord. Especially… the eyes.”
“With Anse occupied, to claim the blood of House Dan Anse is to declare yourself a valuable prize to be sold to the Empire. It’s a suicidal claim for anyone who isn’t truly of Dan Anse.”
When Piétang mentioned the County of Anse, Teresse studied his face and retorted, “You would know, belonging to the Papal See that abandoned Anse.”
Piétang flinched at Teresse’s jab.
He cautiously said, “I cannot explain the full circumstances… but I hope you will understand that there were many within the Papal See who opposed the invasion.”
Sevha met Teresse’s eyes. Her gaze was clear: I don’t trust him, but the damage is done. Now you have to see it through.
He avoided her reproachful stare and asked, “How long has my grandfather been ill?”
“He was healthy enough to compete in a jousting tournament, but he fell ill suddenly a year ago. At first, he had frequent periods of lucidity, but lately… those have become rare.”
“And that’s why the acting lord is ruling the territory like this?”
“That is…” Eshu sighed, his own frustration with the matter evident, and began to explain the situation.
“When the undead swarmed from the Great Underground Road, the Marquis’s eldest son, Lord Vesper, was inspecting the Iron Shield Fortress.”
From that alone, Sevha could guess what had become of the Marquis’s son.
“Lord Vesper gave his life, using only the fortress garrison to drive the undead back into the Great Underground Road and seal the gate.”
Sevha was impressed. Vesper had succeeded where even the Hunters of Anse had failed.
“The Royal Family, upon receiving the report that the Great Underground Road was sealed, declared it a simple collapse and ordered the truth to be concealed from the public.”
Teresse glanced at Piétang, guessing the Royal Family’s motive.
She muttered, “The same as with Anse. They probably didn’t want to give the Papal See an excuse to interfere.”
Eshu nodded and continued.
“The problem of the Great Underground Road was buried, but another could not be: the lack of an heir. The Royal Family threatened to confiscate the territory if there was no successor, so the Marquis named one of his vassals as heir.”
“That successor…”
“Is Count Bernard. A distant relative of House Blanc.”
Eshu ground his teeth, his anger unconcealed.
“The Marquis didn’t choose the Count as his successor just because he was a distant kinsman. Before the Marquis fell ill, he was… loyal and competent.”
Sevha asked, “And after my grandfather grew sick?”
“As soon as the Marquis’s condition worsened and the Count became acting lord, he showed his true colors. He brought in thugs like Tito, called them his personal knightly order, and gave them the authority that belonged to the Blanc Knights. Then he began to plunder the people of the territory.”
“What about the Tusk Tribe? If they’re left to run wild, there will be nothing left to plunder. Why is he leaving them unchecked?”
“He is leaving them unchecked to solve his own problem: his weak claim to the title.”
As one born to nobility, Sevha understood immediately. “With an urgent crisis gripping the territory, the Royal Family is more likely to recognize an heir, even one with a weak claim.”
Having grasped the situation, he got to the heart of the matter.
“Can I inherit the title?”
Eshu answered at once, his voice booming as if the question were absurd.
“You, Lord Sevha, are the rightful heir of House Blanc! Who would dare stand in your way?”
Teresse immediately countered him.
“Sevha can’t formally prove his identity. And the Marquis, who could act as his guardian, isn’t of sound mind. If Sevha steps forward as heir now, who will recognize him?”
“Our knightly order will vouch for Lord Sevha’s identity. That will be enough!”
“Is that so? Then why is this great knightly order being pushed around by thugs like Tito?”
Eshu bristled at that. “I don’t know what your relationship is to the young lord, but do not insult the knights of—!”
“Calm yourself, Commander,” Piétang intervened. “The lady is right. Even if the knightly order vouches for his identity, the other vassals will not accept it.”
The conclusion was clear: a peaceful succession was impossible.
Therefore, Teresse proposed a less peaceful solution.
“A territory is its lord, its vassals, and its people. Since you can’t win over the vassals, you must first win over the people. After that… the Count must be eliminated. The vassals will then have no choice but to recognize Sevha.”
Piétang and Eshu were taken aback by Teresse’s bold declaration, but she continued to lay out her ruthless plan without hesitation.
“There are three ways to win the people’s support. First, Sevha reveals himself as the heir in a dramatic fashion. Second, he takes the lead in solving the Tusk Tribe problem. Third, he kills Tito and his men.”
Piétang and Eshu were utterly stunned as Teresse spoke so casually of killing.
Sevha, in contrast, nodded calmly and asked, “But what do you mean by revealing myself ‘in a dramatic fashion’?”
“The people of Blanc must be desperate for a glimmer of hope. If you can present yourself as that hope when you reveal your identity, everything that follows will be easier.”
“How do I show them I can be their hope? Should I appear before them with wings made of duck feathers?”
Teresse chuckled at Sevha’s sarcasm before turning to Eshu and Piétang.
She said, “We need to gather the people and the vassals in one place and prove Sevha’s competence.”
“That’s impossible,” Eshu replied.
“We might gather the people, but there is no pretext to assemble the vassals.”
Sevha fell into thought.
A pretext to gather the people and the vassals…
As he pondered, he suddenly recalled something Eshu had said.
“Eshu. You said my grandfather competed in a jousting tournament when he was well. When were they held?”
“There was no set date. They were held to mark a commemorative event, or when a person of high station visited from the capital.”
“When a person of high station visits from the capital…?”
Locking eyes with Eshu, Sevha said, “Inform the Royal Family of my grandfather’s exact condition.”
“What? If we do that, the Royal Family will… ah!”
Eshu understood Sevha’s scheme, his mouth falling slightly open.
Teresse was just as surprised. She smiled in approval of the idea.
She said, “House Blanc may be half-ruined, but it is a founding house of the kingdom. If the Royal Family learns the Marquis is in peril, they will send someone to assess the situation. Using that as a pretext…”
As Teresse glanced at him, Sevha finished her thought.
“We can hold a jousting tournament and gather the people and vassals in one place.”
Eshu agreed. “If you declare yourself the heir after winning the jousting tournament, you will gain immense support. Victory in the tournament is a great honor for a knight.”
But Piétang objected, “Holding a jousting tournament while a royal envoy is visiting on the pretext of checking on an ailing lord is odd. The vassals will suspect the motive.”
“We’ll just say it’s a bluff,” Sevha countered. “An attempt to hide the Marquis’s illness from the common folk.”
As the explanation settled, Teresse asked him a pointed question.
“By the way… Sevha?”
“What?”
“Do you know how to ride a horse?”
Sevha flinched.
With grim sincerity, he answered, “I have eaten horse meat.”