[V9C9] Failing to Hold a Conviction

Elliott’s father, Count Darsby, had always been extremely strict; if his son dared to talk back, he would get a merciless slap across the face. In contrast, Elliott’s uncle, the younger brother of his father, was gentle and kind.

In fact, Elliott had not once seen his uncle get angry. As a result, he had always felt closer to his uncle than his father, and constantly visited his uncle’s house.

His uncle loved music and was very good at chess, having taught Elliott everything he knew about the game. But no matter how kind he was, he never held back when it came to chess.

When Elliott started learning the violin, he always performed the songs for his uncle before his father. This was because his father would scold him if he made a single mistake, demanding that he start over from the beginning. On the other hand, his uncle always listened with a smile until the end, applauded after the performance, and showered Elliott with praise.

“Elliott, there’s going to be a big festival in Rainfield when you turn ten. Let’s go together. I’ll even buy you a new violin.”

Elliott eagerly practiced the violin in anticipation of the trip. However, his uncle never fulfilled that promise.

One day, Elliott visited his uncle’s house with the violin case in hand. However, what he found was the remains of what used to be his uncle hanging from the ceiling.

Why had his uncle committed suicide all of a sudden? Apparently, he had been betrayed by his wife and most trusted confidant. The two had been chipping away at his uncle’s savings for a while, and once their crime was exposed, they stole everything and fled.

His uncle’s wife had been a kind woman. She always prepared delicious sweets whenever he visited.

His uncle’s confidant had been a kind man. He never complained when Elliott begged his uncle to play chess during work hours, even going as far as to take over his uncle’s portion of the work.

However, the wife and the confidant were both commoners. His uncle did not hesitate to promote talented individuals regardless of their birth. The two should have been incredibly grateful, but no, they had been deceiving him with fake smiles all long.

“This is what happens when you trust people who don’t know their place.”

Those were the words of Elliott’s father at his uncle’s funeral.

(Father is right. People who cross the boundaries of social class know nothing about the duties of the nobility. They just think of us as easy prey for exploitation.)

Elliott swore to not make the same mistake as his uncle.

The boundaries of social class are absolute. Whenever someone crosses them, someone else is bound to suffer.

──Just look at how that good-for-nothing servant suffered.

The perfect prince was seemingly adored by everyone, but Elliott knew the truth. The false prince hated every fiber of his own being.

Because of his immense talent, he was elevated beyond the boundaries of social class, manipulated by Duke Crockford, and almost brought to ruin.

Elliott wanted to shout, “See! Look at this fool!”

He had always looked down on the servant. And yet, a part of him couldn’t help but feel relieved when the servant’s life was spared. Even knowing that the outcome of the Supreme Council was detrimental to the Howard family.

(Ah, how truly disgusting.)

The servant had once stood on the brink of ruin, yet he now outperforms Elliott in territorial management.

Then there’s the commoner, Cyril, who was adopted by Marquis Highown. Through hard work alone, he forced everyone else to acknowledge him.

Not to mention Monica, also a commoner, whose talents allowed her to join the Seven Sages. There was no end to her countless accomplishments.

Elliott had no intention of telling anyone about this, but whenever he saw people crossing the boundaries of social class and succeeding, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed of himself.

Despite claiming to believe in a strict class-based ideology, Elliott had failed to stick to his beliefs. Despite claiming to have fulfilled his noble duties, his ability to govern a town was pitiful.

All of the priests and townspeople hated him, including even the Songstress.

＊　＊　＊

——”City-raised lord, sprawling back in his seat. Still unaware of the Songstress’s death ♪.”

——”City-raised lord, hears the truth with a pale face. Finally learning the Songstress’s death ♪.”

It did not take long for Elliott to find the source of the song.

There was a small spring not far into the forest, and the Songstress——Rosey Moore——sat on the branch of a tree while swaying her legs back and forth.

The girl had a small frame with extremely light, fluffy blonde hair flowing down her back. Her slender limbs made her appear more boyish than girlish, and her bangs were neatly cut, revealing a pair of sharp eyebrows.

“Nice song,” Elliott commented. “I have to say, it sounds a bit tactless for a tribute to the late Songstress though.”

The young Songstress paused the swaying of her legs and looked down at Elliott from above.

“Hey, did you hear about this? The temple didn’t report the Songstress’s death to the lord.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Perhaps annoyed by Elliott’s nonchalant response, the Songstress scoffed in defiance.

“But you know, it’d be obvious the moment he stepped foot into town. Everyone there is grieving for Mom… for the death of the great Songstress, Robin Moore.”

The remark from Rosey caused Elliott’s face to twitch.

As she had pointed out, many of the townspeople were mourning the Songstress’s death. Apparently, there was even an altar dedicated to her, which was already overflowing with offerings of flowers.

However, Elliott knew nothing about that. Having just taken over as lord, he had been too busy to actually go into town.

“All of the servants in his mansion should know too, but none of them bothered to tell him. I guess no one likes him.”

Elliott fell silent.

Indeed, his servants had all been pretty distant, and seldom engaged with him beyond what was necessary for their job. He didn’t want to engage in idle chatter with his servants either, so he hadn’t thought it would become an issue.

(No, that’s just an excuse.)

The servants back at his family home had all adored Elliott, as he was the eldest son of the count. These were people who Elliott could trust.

‘Not wanting to engage in idle chatter’ was just Elliott’s way of putting on a brave front, after being isolated from everyone he trusted.

And it felt like this random girl had seen right through him. Elliott’s face grew red in embarrassment.

“The lord doesn’t care about this town or the festival’s success at all. He just wants it to be good enough,” the Songstress continued, jumping down from the tree and landing gracefully with cat-like agility.

Judging by this and how she jumped out of the window, she seemed incredibly athletic.

Songstress Rosey Moore stood up from her landing, and she turned out to be shorter than Elliott thought. About the same size as a certain squirrel, aka Monica.

Rosey looked up at Elliott with a taunting smile on her somewhat childish face.

“Was there any mistake in my words, Your Lordship?”

Elliott winced. He had thought the girl had yet to realize he was the lord of this town. But she knew. Rosey was fully aware of Elliott’s identity and had been criticizing him to his face.

“Did you really think that I would forget your face? I guess you aren’t the type to remember the faces of us common folk, but I remembered. You came to the temple to greet us, but your attitude was awful. You don’t care about us one bit.”

To tell the truth, Elliott was actually quite good at remembering faces.

However, he had been furious at the disrespect of the elderly priests during his first visit to the temple, and failed to keep an eye on his surroundings. Naturally, he did not notice this girl either.

Rosey merely watched with indifference as Elliott struggled to find a response. It’s as if she was saying, “See? I’m exactly right.”

“Anyway, I don’t want to sing for the festival. If you make me, I’ll just do it half-heartedly.”

“What!? Why would you…?”

“You don’t care about the festival or my singing, right? Then why should I care? Feel free to pick another Songstress if you want.”

Rosey turned her back to Elliott with a sway of her fluffy hair.

“So don’t expect much from me, okay?”

Leaving it at that, the daughter of the Songstress left the scene.

Elliott could not think of the words to stop her, so he simply ruffled his hair in frustration.

“…Ah, dammit.”

Elliott slowly exhaled, trying to calm himself. Then, he let out an exhausted sigh.

“Your tail is sticking out, Little Squirrel.”

“Wah!? Eh… t-tail?”

To be more accurate, it was Monica’s staff that was sticking out from behind the tree.

Elliott put on a sarcastic smile to cover up his emotions. This was clearly a pathetic display of pride, but Elliott knew that this was one girl who would never mock him.

Though she seemed pretty unreliable as a Sage, she could be trusted in that regard.

“You saw all of that, right? This is the situation I’m stuck in. No one in the temple or town trusts me, my musician is in a slump, and the Songstress doesn’t even care.”

Elliott chuckled to himself while letting out another sigh. He kept forcing himself to smile to prevent his face from twisting in frustration.

“There’s just so many problems that I can’t help but laugh. Well, at least I’ve reached rock bottom now. It can’t possibly get any worse.”

Monica simply held the staff to her chest and fidgeted with her fingers. She seemed to be struggling to find something to say. But then, she suddenly looked up and raised the staff with right hand.

“Howard-sama!”

There was a sharp noise, and Elliott sensed a slight change in the surrounding air. But before he could recognize what was going on, there came the sound of a powerful gust.

This was likely an invisible blade created by wind magic. It had torn the surrounding trees to shreds, yet not touched even a strand of Elliott’s hair.

In other words, Monica must have invoked some kind of defensive barrier.

“Show yourself!” Elliott shouted, reaching for the self-defense pistol in his pocket. In response, the trees of the forest shook unnaturally.

If the bushes were shaking, then the culprit was likely a beast. If the tree branches were shaking, then the culprit was likely a bird. That much was obvious.

But what does it mean when all of the trees are shaking in unison? It was as if the forest itself was out to get him.

“I recognize that robe. You must be a Sage.”

A voice came from the depths of the forest. It sounded melodic and gender-neutral, neither distinctly male nor female.

The trees continued to rustle in harmony with the voice as it continued.

“Another Sage…? I see. Ten years have passed since then, so it’s time for the festival again… Ah… ah, ah, aaaaaah…!”

The voice began spewing out deep hatred, causing the rustling of the forest to intensify.

Elliott found himself muttering in disbelief.

“No way… Are you the Envoy?”

Long ago, the Spirit King Shefield had sent a powerful wind spirit to this land. Elliott had doubted its existence, but he could do so no longer.

“You despicable humans scorned us and stole my brethren. No longer do we recognize you as our neighbors. On the day of the festival, we will conjure a storm——the manifestation of our anger.”

The rustling of the trees gradually receded, until eventually, the forest regained its tranquility.

However, the shredded trees on the ground nearby indicated that what just happened was no dream.

(What the hell…)

Elliott could not help but murmur to himself.

A musician in a slump, the socially awkward Sage, and an unmotivated Songstress… He thought he had already hit rock bottom.

(Now even the spirits hate me…)

Having fallen to the point where he couldn’t even laugh, Elliott simply covered his face with a hand.

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