Ever since the fairy delegation visited the mansion, I had quietly begun preparations to leave the family as smoothly as possible.
To do that, the issue of the principality’s succession had to be resolved first.
If I simply vanished without a word, the family would hound me endlessly after Litton’s death.
One might ask why I don’t just renounce my claim, but in Croa Kingdom culture that is practically the same as disownment.
The background of being a Grand Duke’s son is far too useful before Part 2 of the story to throw it away; that would be absurd.
Litton falling into critical condition this early was certainly unexpected, but not a scenario I had never considered.
The time of his death was somewhere between the year I possessed this body, Dragon God Year 981, and the year the Grand Duke title changed hands in 985.
The window was wide, so I couldn’t pinpoint the exact date, but an incident was destined to happen within that period; it merely happened now.
…The average human lifespan in this world is supposed to be about the same as modern Earth, so why do the Strokes keep dropping dead so young? Foden himself, his wives, and now the eldest son Litton…
Anyway.
Rewinding the clock a little—about two months before Litton collapsed—I made a trip to the Reperta border region for the real work.
Naturally, to meet Commander Ebel.
After going through some slightly complicated procedures, I was able to meet my great-uncle doing paperwork in his office.
His eyes still gleamed with the same sharp intellect as the last time we met.
Ebel asked me,
“What business brings you all the way here alone, Aiden?”
I did not answer immediately and let a small pause hang.
I was checking whether anything had changed on Ebel’s character sheet.
<Ebel Stroke>
[Level: 54/54]
[Stamina: 17]
[Strength: 20]
[Agility: 13]
[Magic: 14]
[Spirit: 12]
[Senses: 08] […]
There was one noteworthy point.
His level had risen by one, completely filling his potential, but unlike the original history’s Ebel, the stat that increased was [Spirit], not [Strength].
In truth, Ebel’s spirit stat had always been quite high; high enough that one wondered why he never awakened a unique trait.
Thanks to the butterfly effect from our spar, there was a chance he might acquire a U-rank trait or skill in this timeline.
I opened my mouth.
“It’s nothing major; I simply have one matter I wish to ask your intentions about.”
“You? Asking me? This is interesting.”
Ebel showed great interest at my words.
Riding the momentum, I cut straight to the point.
“I’ve noticed that you seem quite fond of my younger brother Ridle.”
“Hmm… That’s true. Unlike the rebellious brat that is you, he’s diligent; I’ve even personally given him swordsmanship lessons. What of it?”
“If something were to happen to the eldest prince Litton, would you become Ridle’s guardian and support that child as the next Grand Duke?”
“………”
Hearing my proposal, Ebel raised an eyebrow as if to say he couldn’t believe his ears.
Soon he put down the pen on his desk and spoke.
“…Didn’t you say it was ‘nothing major’? Does that mean even the succession of the principality is trivial to you?”
“You already know well, don’t you, Uncle? That the position of Grand Duke holds no value to me.”
During our conversation in the training hall, I had already made clear to Ebel that I had no interest in the succession struggle.
Thus, he had easily guessed that my ambitions lay not in noble titles but in another direction.
After a moment of thought, Ebel spoke.
“…Personally, I think only you are unfit, but Ridle is certainly not a bad alternative. Upright personality, decisive, and outstanding martial talent. He is flawless material for a Stroke Grand Duke.”
“May I take that as acceptance of my proposal?”
“…Let me ask one thing. I understand you have no interest in the Grand Duke title. But why are you so obsessed with handing the right of succession to your younger brother?”
“If something happens to Litton, I’ll just become annoying to deal with, won’t I?”
Ebel let out a short laugh.
“You say things that would infuriate Foden if he heard them so casually. Fine. It’s a proposal with no downside for me, so I accept.”
However—
He added,
“…This is strictly limited to the case where something actually happens to Litton. His position as the eldest son is unshakably solid. At present, the only one who could compete with him is probably you, Aiden.”
“That is more than enough.”
Unfortunately for Litton himself, the time it took for Ebel to become Ridle’s guardian was not long at all.
After Litton collapsed.
I went to see Foden.
I had heard he spent every night wide-eyed watching over his eldest son who lay on the sickbed as if dead; seeing him in person, it seemed there was no exaggeration.
“…You’ve come to visit the sick. Good of you, Aiden.”
Foden spoke to me with a haggard face.
I quietly looked at my father—who showed none of his usual majesty or firmness—then opened my mouth.
“I hesitate to speak out of turn in such circumstances, but I wish to discuss the matter of the principality’s succession.”
“…Aiden. This is sudden.”
He looked at me with sharp eyes.
‘If something really happens to the eldest son, the right will naturally fall to you anyway; why the rush?’
That seemed to be the rebuke.
Indeed, just hearing the first sentence would make it sound as though I was already trying to lay groundwork because I would become the next Grand Duke anyway.
But my intention was the exact opposite of what he thought.
If I kept watching others’ moods and dawdled, I would inevitably be named heir.
“Judging by the precedent shown by the Croa royal family, I—the first son of the second wife—can also be considered another eldest son. In other words, Ridle, born of the first wife, is effectively the second son. In Litton’s current state, I am essentially in the position of the eldest.”
“…What?”
Hearing the unexpected argument, Foden’s eyes widened.
It was only natural to be flustered when I was pushing the third son as heir instead of myself.
This was the justification I had prepared.
If Litton dies, the “eldest son born of the first wife” becomes none other than Ridle.
In short, he would stand on equal footing with me.
It sounds like sophistry at first glance, but justifications in noble society have always been a matter of this law today, that law tomorrow.
“Commander Ebel Stroke of Reperta has already promised to become Ridle’s guardian and has expressed his intention to support the boy as the next Grand Duke should the succession be discussed. If Your Highness the Grand Duke shares the same will, the heir is as good as decided.”
“…!”
Hearing this, Foden too seemed to realize I truly had no desire to become Grand Duke.
Once the Continent’s Twelve Heroes-level Ebel was brought in, the scales had tipped overwhelmingly.
If Litton dies, the next Grand Duke will be Ridle.
“…It seems you’ve been working hard behind the scenes for quite some time. Probably even before anything happened to Litton.”
Muttering that, he asked me,
“…Aiden. Ever since the day you began to change, I’ve kept wondering. Just what is it you want to do?”
“It’s such a trivial goal that people might laugh if they heard it, so it’s not worth mentioning to Your Highness.”
The idea of rewriting the story of my favorite novel exactly as I want—like some fanfiction author.
It was a very vague answer, so Foden looked unconvinced.
Then perhaps I should give him one concrete plan.
“……However, my immediate plan after leaving the family is to lead a clan. The real picture will be drawn after that.”
“A clan, I see. Very well. I will think about your proposal, so you may leave now.”
“Pardon my intrusion.”
The preparations to push back my succession priority were more or less complete.
Having finished my business, I headed to the second training ground to throw myself back into training.
That evening, after meeting Foden, someone visited my room.
A young man with a slightly horse-like face.
“It has been a long time, Prince Aiden.”
Yet the way he acted suggested we were already acquainted.
I had never seen this guy before, which meant he was one of the original fat Aiden’s acquaintances.
Wait, wasn’t that Aiden a total outcast?
He had friends besides Chesa?
“Young Master. This young noble is Claude, heir to Count Levish. He was someone you often spent time with when frequenting the pleasure districts.”
Linia—effectively my external hard drive—whispered the reminder.
“…He also lent Young Master quite a large sum of money. Thanks to the prestige of the Grand Duke family, he hasn’t pressed for repayment with the promissory note, but to avoid future trouble, it would be best to clear the debt as soon as possible.”
Linia, who knew my long-term plans, advised as much.
Credit will become very important once I join a clan.
Being known merely as a wastrel wouldn’t matter much outside the principality and kingdom, but having documented proof that I defaulted on debts is another story entirely.
“The debt amounts to about five platinum coins in total.”
Linia added.
Fortunately, that was no longer a large sum for the current me.
While I was wondering whether to pay it off on the spot, Claude spoke.
“I’ve heard that lately Your Highness has been devoting yourself to sword training with the knights. However, relieving the poison built up through proper entertainment is also important. If you wish, I can accompany you to amusements as we did in the old days. Shouldn’t one enjoy life fully before ascending to a noble position?”
I nodded half-heartedly.
Then I asked Claude,
“Now that I think about it, I seem to recall owing you some money.”
“I did provide a small amount when Your Highness ran out of funds at the gambling tables. Since you are someone who will play an important role in this principality in the future, I’m sure you can repay it quickly.”
I grinned and asked,
“A small amount? If it’s so trivial, could you perhaps destroy the promissory note?”
“Haha. Even if it’s a small amount, credibility is at stake. No matter how close we are, we must still keep certain lines. However…”
He paused for effect before continuing,
“If, after ascending as the ruler of the principality, you promise to treat our Levish family favorably in all matters great and small, then a mere promissory note means nothing to me. Not only that—I am even willing to show a little sincerity on my side.”
In polite terms, he was lining up behind me because he thought I would become the next Grand Duke.
And he was offering a bribe to firmly stamp his presence.
I answered with a smile,
“Very well. In the unlikely event that I do become Grand Duke, I promise I will do so.”
Claude smiled broadly at my firm answer.
Right there, he tore up the promissory note for all to see and offered something else.
“Thank you for giving me your time. This is a small token of sincerity for the prince who will greatly contribute to the future development of the principality.”
“I see. Thank you.”
I accepted his “sincerity” and grinned.
I was curious what kind of face this guy would make in about a month.
Moreover, this Claude seemed to have wide connections in the pleasure districts of both the principality and the kingdom; that meant there were ways I could still use him.
Before leaving the room, he said to me,
“I would love to catch up with Your Highness soon. If you call for me, I will guide you to the finest places—for drink, gambling, or women.”
“I’ll have to decline that. Living under the same roof as my fiancée makes it rather difficult to visit such places carelessly; I have to watch her mood.”
“Indeed, Your Highness’s fiancée, the ducal lady of Utland, is a stunning beauty. Ordinary women probably don’t even register in your eyes. Is all that training perhaps to win the lady’s heart?”
“I’ll refrain from answering that.”
I gave a suitably ambiguous reply, and he seemed to interpret it however he liked.
After that.
Litton’s condition grew graver by the day.
When even the priests of the Life Church shook their heads saying there was no hope left, my stock among the principality’s nobles skyrocketed.
I made no effort to correct the rumors.
And for good reason.
“I come from the Toller baronial house, Prince Aiden. Ah, was that title premature? My apologies. This is a small gift from our house to Your Highness.”
“From the Bamberg marquisate…”
“Count Metelstein…”
Nobles who knew nothing of the undercurrents sent heaps of flattery-wrapped bribes.
I happily smiled and devoured every sweet bribe they offered.
‘If I become Grand Duke, I’ll take good care of your houses—just trust and follow me.’
When I essentially said that, they were all ready to die of joy.
While considerable additional platinum coins piled up in my money sacks, the scattered blood relatives of the Stroke family throughout the principality finally gathered in one place.