Chapter 129

“Hey there!”

“Ahh, nice to meet you.”

“My name’s Alice! You’re Baron Meolone who grows the delicious fruits, right?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks to you, I’ve been enjoying some tasty fruits!”

I had no idea banquets could be this chaotic.

I was planning to quietly slip in and then just as quietly leave from a corner.

But the moment I opened the door and entered the banquet hall, that plan shattered into pieces.

For some reason, all eyes were on me.

Why did everyone seem so interested in Baron Meolone who’d just recently gained his noble title?

I soon realized it wasn’t too bad having people approach me so openly.

Muttering complaints about the attention directed at me were coming from the men around.

There were nobles reluctantly walking with their embarrassed daughters.

A common noble expressing gratitude for the good fruit.

And then there were those subtly testing me, even trying to seduce me.

The banquet of nobility was nothing short of a chaotic farmyard, filled with variously dressed aristocrats.

I found myself thinking how much more endearing the pure chaos of fairies would be.

It was because the desires and sticky emotions swirling among these people painted an undesirable picture.

Even if I don’t receive such hospitality and attention every year, if I did, I might consider ways to avoid it.

In the midst of the frantic atmosphere, I felt like a drifting sailboat being tossed around.

“Yo.”

Someone approached with a brash demeanor.

Their intimidating and reckless appearance caused the surrounding nobles to back away.

The noise around me suddenly quieted down.

Though the person causing this silence wasn’t particularly welcome, this tranquility wasn’t unwelcome either.

“You’re Baron Meolone, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m also newly promoted to nobility—Baron ‘Weapon.'”

Unless it’s clear someone is of higher rank, using honorifics is generally considered proper etiquette, isn’t it?

His casual approach and extended hand confused my basic manners.

He acted like we were old friends, casually slapping shoulders.

Approaching with an outstretched hand, he playfully engaged in a way that reminded me of street mercenaries or ruffians.

Not that I wanted to act like a stuck-up noble,

but compared to other nobles who maintained decorum, his fresh attitude stood out prominently.

“Alright.”

“Huh?”

Taking his casual tone as the default, I responded only to see his eyebrows twitch.

When Baron Weapon abruptly extended his hand, I shook it without much thought.

There was no particular reason to avoid shaking hands offered in greeting.

The grip tightened gradually.

Still, unless there’s an intent to harm with magic power, it’s not easy to injure me.

With my body grown stronger, supported by combat levels, skills, and items, it wouldn’t easily falter from something so simple.

“Grrr…”

Smiling at the guy turning red from exertion, I wondered if jealousy brought him here.

Compared to indirect gossip or roundabout approaches, this directness seemed better.

When intentions are clearly visible, it’s easier to distinguish friend from foe.

“Much hardship to you.”

For childish challenges, responding appropriately is only fitting.

I prepared to crush Baron Weapon’s hand in return.

Just then,

“What is this? Some lowlife.”

Crash!

With a loud thud, Baron Weapon tumbled across the floor, getting up immediately to menacingly approach whoever kicked him.

Marco.

Turning slowly from being kicked, Marco stared at Baron Weapon with a mocking smirk.

“What…?”

“Best stop right there, Baron. This isn’t a place where any stray mongrel can act however they please.”

A chilling coldness descended.

That frosty gaze pierced straight through Baron Weapon.

“Ah, but I’m an exception.”

“Hmph. Absurd.”

“‘Absurd,’ huh? Where’s any respect in that statement?”

“That kind of respect isn’t necessary… gack.”

Marco kicked the approaching man again.

Looking down from above with an icy stare,

it was like the touch one gives to animals rather than humans.

This gaze prompted Baron Weapon to pull something from his coat.

“You lunatic…”

“I hate these new nobles who strut around thinking highly of themselves.”

Muttering loudly enough for everyone to hear, Marco drew his sword.

The intimidation caused Baron Weapon’s dagger, puny compared to a longsword, to falter slightly.

Was it just meant to threaten?

Though Baron Weapon’s momentum waned, Marco didn’t seem inclined to stop at mere threats.

“Do you know?”

“…”

“If your appointment isn’t recognized here, that piece of paper means nothing.”

“What…?”

“‘What’ is still informal speech. Lose an arm, why don’t you? Consider it payment for your ignorance and disturbance.”

Blood splattered.

It was a precise strike.

Clean and efficient.

Though slow, Baron Weapon had no chance to dodge.

If they’d fought properly, perhaps things would’ve been different, but under these unfavorable conditions, his skills were insufficient.

“Take him away. What’s going on? Is someone mourning the trash lying on the floor?”

“Kraaaahh…”

“Not talking to you, friend. Just saying I dislike these haughty new nobles.”

While smiling broadly at me, Marco was a very unsettling presence.

Showing goodwill but unpredictable, capable of cutting off someone’s arm as he just did.

“Hehe. How’ve you been, friend?”

“I’ve been well. By the way, what do you mean by ‘friend’?”

“Well, if someone’s a savior of life, they can be called a friend, right?”

“Ah, yes. That makes sense.”

“Good response. That’s why I like friends. They’re talented, you know.”

Casually putting an arm around me and patting my back, Marco’s dramatic change caused the banquet hall to grow colder.

“What’s going on? Why has the music stopped? Are we mourning the beast sprawled on the floor? Unnecessary. Restart the music. Clean up the blood stains. It smells.”

He was accustomed to commanding people.

Authoritative and violent.

Following his words, people bustled around.

The crying Baron Weapon retreated, and the hall regained its liveliness.

Full of gazes appreciating the entertainment provided.

The brief calm had only enveloped our surroundings.

Nobles applauded as if thanking us for the thrilling show, sending chills down my spine.

With exaggerated bows to the applause, Marco exuded familiarity with the noble game.

Neither did I wish to adapt to that world nor join it.

I merely wanted to return and peacefully tend to farming.

“Seems like you’ve been initiated.”

“Ah, was this an initiation?”

“Sort of. Though it wasn’t fully carried out.”

Then Marco grinned mischievously, likely plotting something else.

Clearing his throat, he shouted loudly.

“Multein! I’ve made someone’s arm useless as you wished!”

Where Marco’s gaze landed,

a noble leisurely applauding while stroking his beard remained perfectly composed despite being called out.

“Call me Marquis. Too disrespectful.”

“When did courtesy start between equals?”

“Too rude.”

“Come out directly. Stop lurking and smirking. Wasn’t this your initiation plan?”

Identifying and drawing out the target was so obvious it seemed intentional.

Multein’s brow furrowed when the word “initiation” hit home.

Shaking his head slightly, he rose gracefully and approached us.

“To think you’d be so close with a street farmer.”

“Even if the benefactor is a street beggar, it’s a noble’s duty not to forget kindness.”

“The wild claims of someone who cut off an arm during a banquet hold little credibility. Don’t interfere. Since I’ve come out as you wished.”

“Heh. As you wished, I’ve made someone’s limbs useless. Satisfied?”

“Extremely.”

“Grateful!”

All eyes gathered.

Having two marquises present made the scene equally entertaining for everyone.

Though I was involved, I stepped back slightly to observe the situation.

“Unfortunately, Baron.”

Multein looked directly at me, now slightly withdrawn, and spoke.

“Your rudeness goes too far.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve beheaded someone I value. Isn’t this something you must answer for?”

“Old man, have you gone senile? Who swung the sword?”

“People’s memories aren’t easily lost. Records remain, passed down through word of mouth.”

Turning his head slightly, Multein called out loudly.

“Did anyone just see this man named Marco sever someone’s arm?”

The high ceiling echoed the question.

Anyone… Anyone…

No one responded.

Marco’s eyebrows twitched, sensing something amiss.

An explosive aura suggested he might draw his sword at any moment, yet Multein remained unperturbed.

“So…”

Multein’s gaze turned toward me.

Filled with sinister and unpleasant feelings.

“Did anyone see this baron swing a sword and cut someone?”

The voice grew quieter but clearer.

Ironically, hands began rising from all sides.

“Ah, there. And there too.”

It felt like a staged reality, a theater production.

As if stepping into the middle of a play.

“So, whose account holds more credibility in this situation? Given this setting where everyone witnessed the same event moments ago.”

Pausing briefly, Multein continued.

“Memories can be confusing. Watch out for dementia, young marquis.”

With a smirk, he lightly patted Marco’s shoulder, leaving Marco helplessly chuckling.

Then Multein stepped closer to look down at me.

A small amusement due to the height difference.

“You. Street Farmer Baron. Since you’ve beheaded someone I cherish, shouldn’t you pay the price?”

It was absurd.

To make this my fault.

I almost applauded his effort in meticulously orchestrating this scenario.

“The method will be decided by me. Let’s see… since you wielded a sword, it’s reasonable to assume you’re skilled with one. Thus, a trial by duel.”

“A trial by duel?”

“Yes. You may fight directly or send a knight under your command. If you have one, that is.”

His chuckle indicated he already knew everything.

Confident that a newly titled baron wouldn’t have knights under his command.

And he was right.

I had no knights.

“Hmph. Didn’t expect you to come at me so recklessly.”

Marco pulled me back slightly.

It was amusing hearing someone who acted recklessly call others the same.

Multein merely watched silently as we retreated.

He must have been confident about something.

“Sorry, but this has escalated to a trial by duel.”

“How bad is the situation?”

“Well, it’s despicable. Do you have a knight?”

“No.”

“Then it might get a bit tough. Knights aren’t lendable commodities. We could delay the trial and hire one in the meantime… though given the publicity of this incident, finding one willing to join might be tricky.”

“Must the duel involve a knight?”

“Typically, yes. Lives could be at stake.”

“I’ll do it.”

“What…?”

“A duel, right? All I need to do is win.”

Nobles’ antics feel like children’s games.

Though it’s unwise for adults to spoil kids’ fun by playing along.

But…

Given the malevolence directed at me, I have no intention of avoiding it.

Marco clicked his tongue while staring at me.

I spread my senses lightly throughout the banquet hall to gauge everyone’s level.

“Are you sure?”

No matter how I check…

“Yes.”

There’s no one stronger than me here.

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