Trash of the Count’s Family - Chapter 88

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Kale Heniatus and Alberu regarded each other in silence.

“So?”

The Crown Prince’s response, emerging from the quiet, was measured. His expression remained utterly composed. Kale Heniatus shrugged his shoulders.

“So, it’s a gift, but nothing comes free, Your Highness.”

After spouting such audacious words, his follow-up was remarkably trivial.

“Ha, haha—”

Laughter spilled from the Crown Prince’s lips. What would have happened if soundproofing magic hadn’t been cast within this office? What if he hadn’t dismissed the attendants and hidden subordinates from the room?

A chill crept down his spine.

“I was going to have you do some work. I shouldn’t have called you here.”

Alberu found that perpetually composed expression of his tiresome. His gaze shifted toward the glass vial containing the black liquid.

Mother.

The weight of those three letters pierced through Alberu’s heart.

Kale Heniatus remained silent, merely observing the Crown Prince as he stared at the black vial.

Dark Elves.
Beings possessed of dark attribute magic, they were reviled by the people of the continent precisely because of it. The power they wielded flowed from the mana of the dead.
In ages past, Dark Elves were primarily discovered in graveyards, or they settled in villages left desolate in the wake of plague.
For this reason, people despised Dark Elves. Though in truth, they had never harmed the living or desecrated the dead.

Thus, Dark Elves lived far more hidden lives than even their Elven cousins.

Alberu’s gaze withdrew from the vial. Kale Heniatus offered a smile to the Crown Prince who now looked upon him.

“You’ll keep your mouth shut?”
“Yes.”
“It won’t come free?”
“Of course not.”

Alberu laid bare his true intentions.

“Cunning bastard.”
“I’m somewhat—”

The way he brushed it off so smoothly was infuriating to watch. Yet at the same time, I felt a measure of relief. He had come directly to me, not to the Third Prince who currently enjoyed the King’s favor, nor to the Second Prince who coveted my position.

At least he intended to conduct business with me.

That was fortunate. This man was similar to me in that regard.
But there was one thing that puzzled me.

“You’re truly not from that side?”

How could he know my identity if he wasn’t a Dark Elf? Alberu couldn’t suppress this question. Only my mother’s brothers knew my secret. They had helped conceal my mother’s true nature from the King, my father.
And they were Alberu’s eternal supporters.

Kale Heniatus pointed to the glass bottle and answered the question.

“I would die if I drank that.”

Dead mana was an extraordinarily potent poison to humans—lethal in excessive quantities.

-It’s fine, human. Don’t worry. This magnificent Dragon will absolutely keep you alive.

Kale Heniatus dismissed Raon’s words as he had done countless times before, extending the glass bottle toward Alberu.

“You need it, don’t you?”

Alberu acknowledged it plainly.

“Yes, it would be useful. I’ll grow stronger with it. It’s pristine. No toxins, nothing else.”
“Of course. It’s an extremely precious item.”

Kale tossed out his words casually.

“It’s the mana of a dead Dragon.”
“…What?”

For a moment, Alberu’s astonishment was written plainly across his face. Then, seeing Kale’s smirk, he exhaled a long sigh.

“This is insane.”

Today, words spilled from Alberu’s lips—words he’d only used when meeting his mother’s brothers, words entirely unbecoming of royalty—yet he couldn’t stop them, nor did he wish to.

“You really have no intention of telling me anything about yourself.”

Dead mana was already difficult to obtain. But this was the dead mana of a Dragon.
Of course, the amount of dead mana in the glass bottle was minuscule. But even in small quantities, when the source is a Dragon, it matters. Alberu would advance at least several stages beyond his current level.

Though Kale spoke of receiving compensation, Alberu couldn’t fathom why he would hand over something so precious. He’d thought Kale was similar to himself, but this man was far more incomprehensible.

“Why ask the obvious?”

At this matter-of-fact response, Alberu found himself at a loss for words.
But for Kale, it was only natural.

‘The Roan Kingdom must grow stronger.’

Looking at the current military balance between the kingdoms, the Breck Kingdom and the Roan Kingdom were the weakest. The Wipper Kingdom could be said to have boarded a hell-bound train toward ruin alongside Tunka, but the Roan and Breck, with their royal families still intact, were certainly lacking in power.

In such circumstances, the Southern Jungle had suppressed the flames earlier than expected and grown more unified. The trust in Ritana, the Jungle Queen who had sought out Kale, had likely deepened.

Moreover, the Northern Allied Three Kingdoms were preparing to descend. Knowing this, Alberu was consolidating his power and gathering mages from the Wipper Kingdom to prepare for the invasion.

But even that wasn’t enough.

‘The Wyvern Knights and the Empire exist.’

Kale didn’t know the contents beyond the fifth volume. But humans possessed a treasure called imagination.

‘It’s predictable.’

The moment the Wyvern Knights occupied the skies and the Crown Prince revealed his true ambitions by extending his reach toward the Western Continent, both the Breck Kingdom and the Roan Kingdom were nothing more than candles flickering before the wind.

Because of this, Kale Heniatus had to ensure that the Roan Kingdom grew strong enough to endure war for the sake of his own comfortable life. To achieve this, a strong leader had to emerge first.

‘If this power is poison to me anyway, it’s better to make it a solid foundation.’

Of course, becoming too powerful would be problematic.
The Crown Prince now had far more conditions to solidify and strengthen his power than what the original story contained. The Sten Marquis House would soon fall into Taylor’s hands and come under the Crown Prince’s command.

One more thing.

Kale Heniatus mentioned one more matter to Alberu.

“Do you find yourself in need of a Magic Tower?”
“It’s truly exhausting to speak with someone who knows everything already.”

More mages were gathering around the Crown Prince, and their numbers increased at an accelerating pace.

“That summoning device from the Tower Master you gave me. It’s proven quite useful.”

Kale Heniatus had handed Alberu an item he’d discovered in the Tower Master’s secret chamber—the 21st Floor, which was actually the 0th Floor. It was something only the Tower Master possessed across generations: a device capable of sending multiple messages to every mage within the Wipper Kingdom.

How could the Tower Master, the pinnacle of the Wipper Kingdom’s mages and administrator of the Magic Tower, possibly have no means of contacting the mages within his own nation?

It was simply hidden on the 0th Floor, so even Tunka’s forces had failed to discover it despite their thorough searches.

Kale Heniatus had transferred it to Alberu through Bilos, and Alberu continuously relayed a single message to all living mages within the Wipper Kingdom.

[The land of stone. The future leader of that place will protect you all.]

The Crown Prince, who had benefited considerably from this, hoped that Kale Heniatus would either relocate the Magic Tower somewhere within the Roan Kingdom or restore it. But now he was in no position to make such requests.

“I suppose giving you orders or commands would be difficult. A request might work, though.”
“I have no intention of building a Magic Tower.”

The Crown Prince had anticipated this and was preparing to coax Kale Heniatus gently. After all, this fellow despised troublesome matters.

“However, I can provide you with some of the Magic Tower’s blueprints later.”

Alberu wiped his face with both hands.

“What do you want?”

The Crown Prince realized he no longer needed to waste words. The initiative was not in his hands.

“I would prefer that the conditions I propose be implemented not now, but two years from now.”

For a peaceful and secure life, for an idle existence, Kale believed that after money, the next thing he needed to secure was control over his own circumstances.
Why was idleness so appealing? Because aside from family, there were no superiors to appease, no customers, no business associates to worry about.

Kale did not want to live constantly watching others’ faces.
Even if he became a rogue, he wanted to live as he pleased. Eating, sleeping, lounging about. How wonderful that would be.

Kale could see every shift in Alberu’s expression as he examined the document Kale had handed him. First came bewilderment, then a furrowed brow, and finally, a look of utter disbelief as he stared at Kale.

“…What in the world is this supposed to mean?”

Kale answered brightly.

“I believe that is for Your Highness to judge.”

A sigh laden with exasperation escaped Alberu’s lips.

Yet moments later, Kale left the office with a lightened step, the contract bearing the Crown Prince’s seal in hand.

“This is absurd. I’ve never felt so unsettled even when gaining an advantage.”
“It benefits us both, so I hope you can find joy in it, Your Highness.”

It was certainly advantageous for the Crown Prince. He had secured a guarantee of secrecy regarding his identity, the dead mana of a Dragon contained in a glass vessel, and would receive portions of the Magic Tower’s blueprints in several years’ time.

Despite obtaining such an immense reward—a compensation beyond any monetary value—he felt unsettled. It was because Kale’s expression had been far too radiant.
He looked like someone alone in a field of flowers.

“Then I shall take my leave.”
“Go on, then.”

The Crown Prince told him to leave quickly, yet he did not want to let Kale go. He wanted to hold him back and interrogate him thoroughly about what he was thinking. But he could not.

‘The Dark Forest, the Northwestern Road, and the seas.’

Alberu could never quite discern what Kale Heniatus truly desired—something beyond mere gold or material wealth.

Kale, however, cared little whether the Crown Prince understood his intentions or not. Having accomplished his purpose in the Capital, he promptly boarded his carriage. There was no reason to linger any longer.

“Shall we depart for the Territory at once, sir?”
“Yes.”

At Kale’s response, Vicross closed the carriage door and immediately set it in motion toward the Territory.

“Human, shall we rest at our home now?”
“Yes. I intend to rest well for a while.”

Kale answered Raon’s question offhandedly, leaning back against his seat. For the foreseeable future—at least six months, perhaps a year—I could finally live in comfort and leisure.
After safely weathering the coming war, all that awaited was a carefree life of ease.

* * *

Yet upon returning to the Territory, Kale sensed an atmosphere in the Count’s Household that differed from usual.

“What is the matter?”
“Well, Young Master…”

It was naturally Hans, the deputy steward, who had come to greet Kale.
But something felt wrong.
Hans’s expression was troubled.

“Speak quickly.”

Kale fixed his gaze solely upon Hans, ignoring Choi Han, Vicross, On, and Hong as they approached behind him. His instincts screamed that something was amiss. An inexplicable dread washed over me.

‘Not another disruption to my rest?’

What had gone wrong?
The problem extended beyond Hans alone—the expressions of the servants and knights beside him were equally grim.
In less than five seconds, Kale’s mind grew turbulent with concern.

“Young Master, Ron has returned.”
“Ron?”
“Father?”

Not only Kale Heniatus, but Vicross, the son of the assassin Ron, turned to Hans with a startled expression. Ron wasn’t supposed to return for several more months.

Hans squeezed his eyes shut. Kale’s anxiety only deepened at the sight.
Hans opened his eyes again and spoke to Kale without even glancing toward Vicross.

“Ron has returned injured.”
“Show me.”

Seeing Kale’s hardened expression, Hans immediately turned and walked briskly toward the mansion’s interior. Kale followed in his wake, with Vicross trailing beside him.

Hans guided Kale as swiftly as possible and stopped before a door. It was not the quarters used by the servant Ron, but rather an elegant bedroom reserved for distinguished guests of considerable standing.

“Open it.”
“Yes, sir.”

At the curt command, Hans opened the bedroom door.
Creeeeak.
The door swung open.
A putrid stench—the reek of decay—assaulted Kale’s nostrils.

“Young Master.”

For the first time since arriving in this world, Kale froze.

“…Ron.”

Ron the assassin. That sinister old man lay upon the bed.

“Ah, Father!”

Vicross rushed past Kale and bolted into the bedroom.
Kale gazed into Ron’s eyes as they fixed upon him, and posed his question.

“…What happened to your arm?”

Ron returned earlier than scheduled.
And one of his arms had been severed.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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