The Villainous Noble’s Father - Chapter 12

So, what exactly is a noble?

To put it simply, they’re the protectors and managers of their land. A noble who owns territory basically holds as much power over it as a king would. In fact, they’re almost like dictators. They make the laws, enforce them, judge disputes, and even control the local military.

That said, managing everything alone is impossible, at least for someone like me who controls a large territory. That’s why we set up councils, administrative bodies, and hire smart bureaucrats to help out. So even though we technically have that much power, we don’t run things like tyrants.

Still, the kingdom is basically a group of mini-kings, nobles who act like rulers over their own lands. So, what’s the point I’m trying to make?

Everyone here is stubborn, egotistical, and completely self-centered!

“Fifteen years since the Great War! Our recovery efforts have been going smoothly! Isn’t it time we stopped dwelling on the past and focused on the future instead?!”

A young count stands up and starts giving a passionate speech like he’s on stage in a play. He’s got that smug, full-of-himself expression that screams “rich noble brat.”

Then again, we’re all noble brats here, myself included.

The ones applauding are other nobles from the south, same as the loudmouth. What he’s really saying is this, “Hey, it’s been 15 years since the war. Let’s cut down the war recovery budget already.”

We’re in the capital, inside the royal castle’s grand assembly hall, basically this world’s version of a parliament building. This place is one of my many “offices,” where a bunch of older guys get together to argue about stuff day in and day out.

Today’s agenda? Reassessing the postwar recovery budget.

In simpler terms. “Man, that Great War really wrecked everything, huh? The northern nobles had it especially bad, let’s show them some love! And hey, you southern nobles didn’t actually fight in the war, so how about some generous donations?

We recommend contributing about 30% of your yearly budget! Don’t have the money? No problem! Send people or supplies instead! The north is practically a scorched wasteland, after all!”

That’s the real story behind the recovery budget.

But after 15 years, the south is getting worn out too, so today’s debate is whether it’s time to scale things back.

“But young ones from the south,” says an older marquis, “there are still many areas in the north that remain unrecovered. We northern nobles endured a hell you couldn’t imagine.”

He sounds all serious and cool, like some battle-hardened war hero. That’s the Marquis of the North, alright. Looks and talks like a legend but the truth is, the moment war broke out, he threw his back out and spent the rest of it hiding in his estate. Classic poser.

To be honest, the northern nobles did suffer a lot, so they naturally want to get all the help they can. And on top of that, they’ve already factored the recovery funds into their budgets. That’s why they’re pushing back so hard.

About 80% of the cities have recovered.

But there’s a bigger issue. In the northern territories, costs like pensions for injured knights and soldiers, and support for families of the fallen, have skyrocketed. So when you include that human side of the damage, it does make sense that they say recovery isn’t finished yet.

Both the southern and northern nobles have valid points and it’s not really a matter of right or wrong. And to make things messier, not even all the southern or northern nobles agree among themselves.

Some want to cut the recovery budget immediately. Some want to keep it going forever. Some say we should set a fixed time limit. Others say let’s just reduce the amount bit by bit.

Naturally, there are also people stealing from the budget.

Yep, there are corrupt nobles up north and down south, pocketing the funds or jacking up taxes under the guise of “recovery.” It’s chaos when you get into the details. And none of them are willing to budge, that’s why these meetings always turn into shouting matches.

After all, each of these people is basically the king of their own land. Of course the meetings turn into a breakdancing battle.

“Hey, Roberto. Do something about this.”

As I sit there pretending I’m not involved, a voice rings directly in my head. It’s a short-range telepathy spell like a magical walkie-talkie.

I look in the direction the message came from… and meet eyes with the man wearing a golden crown at the chairman’s seat.

The king himself.

“Huh? No thanks.”

My reply is firm. Gotta admire my own loyalty for sticking to my boundaries, even with royalty.

“You dare?! I am the king, you know?”

“Then maybe the royal family should cover the recovery budget?”

“If I could, I would! You pay instead.”

Tch. Broke royal.

This country may be called a kingdom, but the royal family doesn’t actually have that much power. They’re more like a leader among equals, like the head of a neighborhood committee.

Respected, sure, but not all-powerful. Probably because this nation was founded out of necessity, to protect against monsters and demons.

“Fine. What if I “buy” those war treasures the royal family seized from the demons after the war?”

“Tch. Those are national treasures! But if you hold them, I guess it’s fine… 10 years’ worth, okay?”

“5 years, tops, you cheapskate. And don’t you dare use my name. I don’t want any more attention.”

“Heh. Honestly, your family, Finster-Heréol, has more money than the royal line anyway. Hey, Roberto, ever thought about taking the throne?”

“Not a chance. Too much hassle. I’ll cover the costs, just wrap this meeting up. I want to go home.”

“Got it.”

“Order, please.”

The king’s calm voice rings through the chamber. It’s not loud but it’s commanding enough to silence the entire room. He stands from the chairman’s seat. Still just 38 years old, he’s a young king. With a strong, muscular frame and an energetic presence, he radiates strength and leadership.

“Fifteen years after the war, the scars it left still bring pain to many and it breaks my heart.”

His golden hair is neatly tied, his green eyes sharp and commanding. Every movement, even the way he points, oozes kingly charisma.

“It is unthinkable that our northern comrades who fought bravely, or the southern allies who supported them, should now suffer!”

The war broke out when he was just 17, and he fought on the front lines as the crown prince.

Everyone here knows of his heroic deeds, his list of achievements is so dazzling, even the most seasoned nobles had to accept him as the next king.

“As king, no, as a fellow citizen of this nation, I hereby declare, for the next five years, the royal family will cover the recovery budget!”

Thunderous applause erupts. That’s our king!

Carlisle Alaric Valient. The 147th King of the Valient Kingdom.

And unfortunately, my cousin.