Sword Emperor, Becoming the Young Lady of a Viscount House

Chapter 54:  The Order That Takes Charge (1)

“…W-what are you talking about?”

‘Uncle?’

The sudden appearance of the Duke of Arvanceco.

He disrupted Beatrice's mental state in many ways.

A secret about her birth, entirely unexpected.

She unknowingly gaped.

[Oh my! I can finally escape this damned Beatrice!]

“…It must be quite baffling. I haven’t visited even once since you were born.”

“…Are you saying Your Grace is my uncle? Apologies, but this is my first time hearing it.”

Though she was reincarnated, it was a fact she hadn’t heard before.

After all, she had met Airy, and someone else would have informed her before heading to the capital.

Her father, Francesco—or even Heinrich, the butler—would have told her.

[Hey! Arvanceco! Can you hear me?]

As if her head wasn’t chaotic enough, Solid began to stir up trouble.

Beatrice had no choice but to speak, knowing Arvanceco could read her mind.

‘Shut that mouth of yours before I throw you into a furnace. I’m agitated.’

[…W-what a cruel thing to say.]

Solid was startled.

“Is the spirit’s medium your sword?”

“…Can you hear it?”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

It wasn’t something one could say after casually peering into someone else’s mind.

Beatrice glared at the Duke with eyes full of dissatisfaction.

“If I am your niece, you’re saying you’ve been snooping around in the mind of a niece who hasn’t even come of age. Your Grace is quite the lecher.”

“…I told you, it wasn’t intentional. If it displeased you, I apologize. I’ll refrain from reading it as much as possible.”

[Forget that! If you can hear me, answer already!]

Despite Solid’s loud yelling, the Duke of Arvanceco didn’t react in the slightest.

Beatrice hesitated for a moment before asking.

“Are you unable to hear the spirit’s words?”

“That’s right.”

“Then how did you know I had a spirit?”

“There’s no reason to shout that loudly unless one is insane.”

As expected, her guess was correct.

He couldn’t hear the spirit’s voice. However, he seemed capable of reading people’s thoughts.

[…I got my hopes up for nothing.]

Solid’s disappointment was palpable.

In any case, Beatrice decided to ask what she was curious about.

“If you’re my uncle… then you must be my mother’s sibling. Is that correct?”

“That’s right. Your biological mother, Elizabeth, was my sister.”

“…If that’s true, why was I unaware?”

“You weren’t the only one unaware. In this world, only Elizabeth and I know that you’re my niece.”

Even her father, Francesco, didn’t know.

How could that be possible? Especially in a medieval European setting, not a modern era.

“I don’t quite understand.”

“Have you heard of the name Rockefeller?”

Beatrice instinctively wanted to answer ‘no,’ but a memory suddenly came to her mind.

It was something Francesco had said in the past.

-If you go to the capital, seek out Count Rockefeller. He’s a relative. But don’t expect much. Our relationship isn’t good.

Her eyes widened.

“Rockefeller…?”

The Duke of Arvanceco sipped his tea before continuing.

“It’s Elizabeth’s family.”

“What does that have to do with Arvanceco?”

“In the Arvanceco family, heirs who fail to become the family head are transferred to Rockefeller. She was the head.”

“…!”

Though he spoke nonchalantly, it wasn’t something to gloss over.

How could someone who failed as an heir in one family become the head of another?

It was a time when factions fiercely monitored and restrained power.

What king would allow such a thing to happen?

It was impossible.

And for it to be possible…

‘It must be classified.’

[There’s a high chance of that.]

“That’s correct. It’s a secret passed down. If His Majesty were to find out, not only Rockefeller but also Arvanceco would be in danger.”

“Why are you telling me this? What if I report this to His Majesty?”

Arvanceco replied with a peculiar expression.

“Will you report it?”

“…I won’t.”

The benefits of reporting it weren’t significant.

Arvanceco was the second-in-command. Having already suppressed rebel forces and in a wartime situation, the Crown Prince wouldn’t remove a powerful Duke like Arvanceco.

It would likely backfire. Though Beatrice was fundamentally a warrior, she was capable of such calculations.

“That’s why I told you. You are my niece, after all.”

“…What I mean is…”

Beatrice stared directly into the Duke’s eyes.

Arvanceco unconsciously thought that even her gaze resembled someone.

“Why would an uncle who never once visited me suddenly reveal this now?”

“…A report.”

Arvanceco spoke softly.

“I saw your report.”

“Ah.”

‘So it matched his tastes.’

Beatrice finally understood why the Duke, who had kept his identity hidden, sought her out.

The report she had painstakingly written a few days ago.

It seemed to have left a strong impression on him.

‘Well, it makes sense he wouldn’t stay silent after reading that report.’

A competent man.

That was her evaluation of him.

For someone to appreciate her report, which only intelligent individuals could understand, Arvanceco was undoubtedly a genius.

“Your handwriting was atrocious, though.”

Beatrice, who had been inwardly excited, froze.

Her head filled with question marks.

“You’re the first person with such poor handwriting since Elizabeth. Your mother also had dreadful penmanship.”

“…!”

[Hmm, I wholeheartedly agree. Young Beatrice, your handwriting is at the level of a five-year-old.]

“It reminded me of old times, that’s all.”

…In other words, the content of the report didn’t matter at all.

Beatrice was deeply shocked in multiple ways.

‘…I thought it was quite well-written.’

She had never once thought her penmanship was bad.

“Do you truly believe that?”

“…Didn’t you say you wouldn’t read my thoughts?”

“Even without using my powers, anyone could tell by your expression. You clearly had no idea.”

The Duke lifted his teacup as he spoke.

After finishing the last bit of tea, he set the empty cup down.

‘I feel like giving him a good knock on the head.’

[Why not try? I’m curious to see how Arvanceco would react.]

…However, as someone who hailed from a Confucian culture, Beatrice couldn’t bring herself to hit her uncle on the head, no matter how much she had reincarnated.

“It was an enjoyable time.”

“…?”

After finishing his tea, he stood up.

“Are you leaving?”

Beatrice asked with a bewildered expression.

He appeared suddenly, and now he was leaving just as abruptly, only revealing that he was her uncle.

“Your uncle is busy.”

“…If you're busy, why did you come? Couldn't you visit when you had more time?”

“…I thought I’d finally act like family, even just a little. Why, do I seem selfish?”

“No. …Not really.”

After all, wasn’t he an ally?

He was someone who could be of great help.

…However, for Beatrice, it wasn’t just about gains and losses.

She was feeling some kind of subtle emotion.

In her past life, she had no family. She had always been alone and thought that was natural.

An uncle.

Someone who could feel distant if far away but close if nearby.

No, in medieval times, relatives were much closer in relationships.

She didn’t know how to treat Arvanceco, her uncle…

But what was certain was that she didn’t perceive it negatively.

“…I’ll help you. For all the time I couldn’t before. And more.”

Arvanceco spoke with an indifferent expression.

Help.

It was a word that carried many implications.

Whether it was in war, politics, or strength.

But beyond any mutual interest…

To Beatrice, it felt reassuring.

Even if he wasn’t the Duke of Arvanceco, second-in-command of the kingdom, but just a farmer in a small village, she would have felt the same.

“…Travel safely.”

-Beatrice bowed her head slightly.

Arvanceco also slightly nodded before turning and grabbing the door handle.

As he turned, Beatrice quietly called out.

“Uncle.”

-Arvanceco let out a small chuckle.

It was quite a pleasant sound.

**

“You scoundrel! And you call yourself a man?!”

“Ugh! D-damn it, Clone! Stop it! Just stop! I can’t take it anymore!”

“You damned brat! Don’t you even understand the chain of command? Do it properly before I rip that off!”

Clone seemed to have a knack for playing drill instructor.

“Like this! Do it like this!”

After running the infamous PT set 8 ten times in a row, he stood up, spitting as he shouted.

“From now on, anyone who lets their head touch the ground will get a soccer kick!”

‘Yes, this is it!’

Clone thought.

Sweaty training.

It was far superior to the traditional way of sitting primly like some wimp and training with mana.

For a man, for someone with fiery determination!

Surely, this was the proper way to train. Sitting in meditation all day only led to muscle loss.

‘To hell with spirits. To hell with spirits.’

Thus, Clone muttered like a mantra, devoting himself to drilling the cadets.

As a pure naturalist, Clone despised roiders.

Incidentally, by Clone’s standards, all the cadets at Torze Officer Academy were roiders.

“Ahaha! This is life!”

“C-Clone, aren’t you getting a bit too worked up?”

Luce spoke to Clone, looking bewildered.

Thanks to his fervor, the training ground felt as hot as midsummer.

‘Huh? What’s this dried-up sardine?’

Clone frowned deeply.

“Hey, what’s your rank?”

“…Beatrice called me third.”

“W-what?!”

Clone’s eyes widened as if they might tear apart.

No way, this scrawny guy was ranked third?

That put him two ranks higher than Clone, who was ranked fifth!

…Of course, Beatrice had only chosen five people. Fifth place was the lowest, so it made sense that a drill instructor would rank below higher-ranked individuals.

But Clone’s simple brain hadn’t considered that. He was only realizing it now.

That someone who looked so weak was ranked higher than him.

There was no way he would stay quiet.

-Boom!

“…?”

The cadets, who had been getting drilled, and the drill instructors, who were busy building stacks of resentment, turned to look.

A crater, large enough to bury a person, had been created by Clone.

He had slammed his right fist into the ground. But he didn’t stop there and pointed at Luce, shouting.

“Hey, sardine! Let’s duel!”

His bare fist…

Was dripping with a mixture of blood and dirt.

**

Beatrice, seated comfortably in the prime viewing spot, was watching the cadets roll around with great satisfaction.

“They’re really working hard. But it does seem a bit much. After all, they’re fellow cadets.”

[…Isn’t all of this your doing?]

“How could it be? The mastermind is Argos.”

Beatrice’s shamelessness was unmatched.

But she wasn’t wrong.

In reality, most of the cadets were glaring at Argos and the other instructors as if they wanted to kill them.

The shouts they periodically let out were drenched in murderous intent.

At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before something happened.

And that was exactly what Beatrice wanted.

‘Hatred makes humans grow.’

She believed that hatred was an excellent fuel that drove people to strive harder.

The unfairly treated cadets would think to themselves.

I have to do whatever it takes to rank in the top five.

Only then can I escape this hellish training.

If that happened, the cadets’ abilities would grow exponentially. Especially their mental fortitude.

Had any noble of this era ever endured such harsh training?

It would change their very foundation.

People who fought with sheer determination often performed far beyond their original capabilities.

If things continued this way, victory in the upcoming battle against the Royal Faction was assured.

This was Beatrice’s perfect plan.

As she reflected on her flawless strategy, she smiled and laid leisurely in the field.

Ah, what a nice day.

While gazing idly at the sky.

-Bang!

“Whoa, what the!”

Startled by a sudden noise, she looked around frantically.

-…Let’s duel!

Though it was distant and hard to make out clearly.

…That was Clone’s voice.

Judging by what she saw, it was undoubtedly a duel challenge.

Was he angry at a cadet who wasn’t giving it their all and trying to give them a lesson?

She narrowed her eyes to observe the cadet in question.

“…!”

Using mana to confirm the identity, Beatrice’s eyes widened.

Because the cadet being challenged…

“Why, why are they fighting amongst themselves!”

It was Luce, whom she had designated as third rank.

…She never imagined that the instructors would end up fighting each other.

And that wasn’t good.

The instructors were already strong and mentally resilient.

In other words, there was nothing to gain from them fighting amongst themselves.

An unexpected variable had arisen.