Chapter 7
“That young whelp Balakers is unbearably arrogant. Why does that man have to open his mouth about the succession issue?”
Nontel’s voice was thick with anger. “That young whelp Balakers” – he was referring to the Emperor of the Empire.
If anyone else had said such a thing, they would have to worry about being charged with insulting the imperial family… but the Bellums had never revered the imperial family; they only respected them.
Besides, Nontel had every right to be angry. The Emperor ruled only the imperial domain; the nobles had autonomy over their own territories.
If even other nobles enjoyed that level of autonomy, then for Bellum, which had ruled the North for just as long as the imperial family had ruled the empire, it went without saying.
Yet sometime ago, the Emperor had begun sending letters expressing concern about the stability of the North, suggesting that it would be wise to decide on a successor soon.
Of course, the letters were quite formal in tone, but Nontel felt the Emperor was treading dangerously close to crossing the line.
Just as Nontel was glaring into the fireplace as if he were about to burn the remaining letters again, Siole sighed and spoke to him.
“Lord of the House, you may burn the letters, but… isn’t the imperial family’s advice not entirely wrong?”
At that, Nontel’s furious gaze turned to Siole, but Siole was a seasoned elf who had dealt with many heads of the house who had such eyes.
“Just a moment ago, you said you would not make the young lady the successor. Even if it wasn’t official, the provisional successor has been removed, so we need a new candidate.”
When Nontel merely crossed his thick arms and said nothing, Siole continued.
“It is true that Balakers has no business meddling, but that doesn’t make his words entirely wrong. This generation’s Balakers is unusually interested in Bellum. So if you want to avoid trouble, don’t give him any unnecessary pretext.”
At that, Nontel let out a deep sigh.
“I expected that young whelp Balakers to become a nuisance. He’s overly fixated on the dragon’s symbols. They’re nothing but colors.”
Among the high-ranking nobles of the Empire, there were those who possessed unusual physical traits. The most famous were the red eyes of the North, the blue hair of the East, and the six fingers of the South.
Another well-known trait was the imperial Balakers’ golden hair and golden eyes. Such unusual features were a source of pride for the nobles themselves.
But as time passed, they became just traits that appeared and disappeared.
Only the Balakers, however, had an extraordinary obsession with these golden features.
To preserve the golden hair and golden eyes, in the early days of the empire, they even refused to marry into other families. After repeated inbreeding caused problems with their bloodline, they finally began mixing with other noble bloodlines.
Nontel clicked his tongue involuntarily. Siole, who was stirring the fireplace, spoke.
“The imperial family must have its reasons, doesn’t it? Humans tend to rely on bloodlines rather than ability when it comes to legitimacy.”
Nontel chuckled at that. That was a typical remark from a White Wood Elf, unconcerned with power. The White Staff, which represented the leader of the White Wood Elves, went to the wisest among them.
Siole had once said that the White Staff, though honorable, was merely a duty, and whoever received it was not particularly overjoyed.
“True. And this is also a matter tied to the very founding of the empire. After all, it was a golden dragon that helped the first emperor.”
“They say that the first emperor named the empire ‘Balakers’ after the golden dragon, and the pleased dragon blessed the emperor, so that all successive emperors would have golden hair and golden eyes, right?”
“It’s a story you can believe or not, but it’s definitely recorded in the history books. And it is a fact that golden-haired, golden-eyed children have been born to the imperial family for generations.”
Nontel took a thick history of the empire from a bookshelf on one side. On the first page of the history book, the dragon’s blessing was written in bold letters.
As long as you keep my name, I shall bestow my blessing upon you. You shall be born in the likeness of a dragon. That likeness will be my proof.
It is said that when the dragon’s blessing ended, the first emperor’s appearance changed, and he became golden-haired and golden-eyed. Since then, children bearing the golden symbols have been consistently born into the imperial family.
Nontel put the history book back on the shelf.
“Traditions are worth keeping. But what matters is the substance. Not the shell of golden hair and golden eyes.”
The dragon had left its proof with the empire because it wished for the empire to become a prosperous and beautiful nation.
But the imperial family gradually used that proof not to make the empire prosperous, but as a means of legitimizing their power.
How many imperial errors had been declared infallible with the words “It is the decision of one blessed with the golden blessing”?
For a long time, the emperors had skillfully used that golden shell. And… after many long years, the current emperor was born.
An emperor with pitch-black hair and pitch-black eyes, not a trace of gold.
“In a way, isn’t this a problem they brought upon themselves? If they hadn’t used the dragon’s blessing as a justification all that time, it wouldn’t have mattered whether it was gold or raven-black.”
“It’s like they say: those who constantly tell lies eventually become deceived by those very lies. The ones most enchanted by that shell were the imperial family themselves. Just look at that whelp of an emperor now.”
As Nontel said, it was just an outward appearance, nothing but a color. But because of the justification they had insisted upon for so long, the emperor born with raven-black hair and eyes suffered from a terrible inferiority complex.
Nontel’s brow furrowed as he spoke. Bellum was one of only three ducal houses on the continent.
With its vast lands in the North, a long history alongside the empire, the loyalty of its people etched in blood, the expansive forests providing high-quality timber, and the inexhaustible iron ore mines, the Bellum family enjoyed wealth equal to that of the imperial family.
That was why the imperial family had always kept an eye on the North. Some emperors were curious, some contemptuous, and some simply ignored its existence.
But over the long course of history, the imperial family hadn’t just sat idly by either.
If the North held steel, the imperial family held the golden granary in their hands.
“If only I had the South—no, even just half of the South’s land…”
Nontel pressed hard on his furrowed brow. The North’s greatest weakness was its inability to produce its own food due to the cold climate.
Rye and barley grew somewhat along the border with the central region, but it was far from enough to feed the entire North.
In contrast, the imperial family, as their direct domain, possessed the vast granary stretching from the center to the South. So every year, the center and the North would negotiate over steel and food.
Unlike the late emperor, who had negotiated every year without major issues, the current emperor, for some reason, frequently found fault with the North, even over trivial matters.
As if trying to tame the black lion called the North by feeding it scraps.
“Tch.”
Eventually, Nontel sighed. Siole’s words were also correct. Nontel himself thought he was as solid as a rock, but age could not be helped. Therefore, the discussion of a successor was inevitable.
“Fine. Summon the vassal council. If I mention it there briefly, the imperial family will calm down as well.”
“……”
Nontel thought it was a reasonable plan, but Siole remained silent.
Siole was thinking about Diasta’s red eyes that he had seen in the training ground.
The Bellum family had a trait passed down through blood: black hair and red eyes.
All the Bellums Siole had seen had been born with black hair that eventually turned white like his own.
For an immortal elf, it was a fascinating change, and in a way, he found the Bellum bloodline resembling him quite endearing.
Siole also remembered Diasta’s parents, whom Nontel missed daily. Nontel’s son, who had died before his black hair could turn white.
‘He was such a kind child.’
Until now, Nontel had protected Bellum without wavering, like a great mountain. But even Nontel did not want to lose his son and daughter-in-law, and then his granddaughter as well. His precious, precious granddaughter.
What is the most important thing for the head of a house? There are many things, but Siole believed that what the head of Bellum needed most was courage.
Not the kind of courage that merely throws oneself into battle. He needed the kind of courage that allows one to take a step forward even when one’s legs tremble with fear.
‘What Nontel needs right now is precisely that kind of courage…’
If only that child were here now. As the memory of the young duke of the past, who had died with black hair, came to mind, Siole found himself unable to speak.
So, to his head of house, who had lost his courage and was suffering, Siole brought up something that might please him.
“Understood. Then I will summon the council. It will take some time for them to gather… In the meantime, how about giving a reward to Lady Diasta?”
“A reward?”
“If she had committed a crime, she would deserve severe punishment… But this time, she risked her life to defend the family’s honor. Shouldn’t she be rewarded?”
At those words, Nontel’s face, which had been downcast, began to brighten.
“Y-you think so?”
“Of course. It is the duty of the head of the house to reward those who risk their lives to defend its honor.”
At that, Nontel’s eyes began to gleam fiercely, and Siole thought he heard a snap somewhere—like something breaking.
But it was not his imagination. It was the sound of the reins that Nontel had been pulling taut to raise Diasta strictly, finally snapping.
Not long after the reins of Nontel Bellum, the knight of knights of Bellum, had snapped, Diasta was deep in thought.
“Haah…”
A faint sigh echoed from behind an elegant teacup. Diasta had recently asked Nontel to teach her swordsmanship again, but her request had been coldly refused.
What you need is not training, but rest to recover.
It sounded like he was concerned for her, but Diasta couldn’t take his words at face value.
‘He must mean that I should step down from the succession. My victory over Harm wasn’t even a real victory… It seems it wasn’t enough to change Grandfather’s mind after all.’
How could she earn her grandfather’s recognition? Diasta was deep in thought when—
Her maid, Marianne, rushed into Diasta’s room as if she were about to fly.
