Building A Human Empire By Creating A Clan [EN]: Chapter 57

“Follow me.”

The Duke, having given instructions to his vassals, gestured at me with his chin.

“May I ask what this is about?”

“You said you would become a vassal of Wallachia.”

“That is correct.”

“I shall grant you a title. Follow me.”

The Duke led me to the VIP seats.

In the arena’s VIP section, the King was swaying, clearly intoxicated.

He vomited, then greeted the Duke with delight.

“Oh! My only loyal subject, Mazenkin!”

As he approached with vomit on his hands, the Duke subtly dodged him.

The King stumbled forward, nearly falling.
A maidservant grabbed his collar, barely managing to steady him.

‘What a pathetic sight.’

At Pasimea’s thought, I subtly raised the corner of my lips.

‘An amusing human, isn’t he?’

‘Amusing? That?’

“Oof, I’m feeling dizzy.”

“You’ve had too much, Your Highness.”

“How can I not drink when I’m so merry?”

The King chuckled and spoke with the Duke, then suddenly noticed me.

“And who are you?”

Pasimea frowned at the vulgar tone and the smell of vomit.

Hiding her from view, I smiled and bowed slightly.

“Edar Lundringgen, Your Highness Pave Kussrorph.”

The King scoffed at my polite etiquette and retorted.

“E, what?”

“Edar Lundringgen, I said.”

“Ah… Elda. Yes!”

He shook his head, unable to get his bearings due to the intoxication.

The King muttered to himself before plopping down on a chair.

He leaned back against the plush chair, which was piled with several cushions, and closed his eyes.

Soon, he tilted his head back and began to snore loudly.

“Tsk.”

The Duke clicked his tongue, expressing his disgust at the sight.

“Understand. He’s a pig who knows nothing but eating and playing.”

“Your Highness is present, Duke.”

The Duke sneered.

“Your Highness? No one here considers this fellow as such. He’s a halfwit not even worthy of being treated as a noble.”

A quick glance.

The maidservant glanced at the Duke.

I nodded slightly to her.

Startled, she carefully excused herself.

‘Even back then, his treatment was poor.’

Even in the previous timelines, which were far later, Pave was an incompetent man who wasn’t treated like a king.

He had lost a significant portion of his direct territory due to civil wars, which contributed to his lack of power, but fundamentally, he was incompetent, lazy, and filthy, so no one wanted to be near him.

【Lv. 27】

Behold, is this the level a monarch of a great nation should possess?

In a world where martial prowess holds absolute sway.

He was too incompetent and too lazy.

‘Surprisingly, he’s not entirely rotten in character… but at this rate, he’s bound to have Hugo usurp the throne after Mazenkin’s protection disappears.’

“No one but me treats this fellow as king.”

The Duke asserted.

Showing respect to the king is merely a facade.

Observe him uttering insulting words in front of the sleeping King.

The Duke merely used the King as a figurehead.

‘If it were the Duke, he could probably usurp the throne right now.’

However, the Duke was a seasoned noble.

‘He knows well that the throne isn’t appealing.’

Isn’t he already wielding power akin to a king?

Remaining as a member of the aristocratic council, wielding the greatest influence within it,

versus seizing the throne from an incompetent king and antagonizing the council—

It’s obvious which is easier and more beneficial.

‘Unless he had a backer who could overwhelm the entire council like Hugo.’

The King, who had briefly fallen asleep, suddenly opened his eyes and sat up.

The disgusting smell lingered, but his eyes seemed more lucid than before.

He rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache from the fading intoxication.

“Hmm… did I sleep long?”

The Duke replied with a kind expression that completely masked his previous disgust.

“Not at all, Your Highness.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Duke.”

The King drank some honey water and looked around before suddenly noticing me.

“Who are you?”

I said for the third time.

“Edar Lundringgen.”

“Edar? Hmm.”

The King scratched his belly and yawned.

“What’s the reason for bringing this man here?”

“Your Highness, have you heard the story about the North?”

“I heard that the beggar bastards died and some guy took over. Indeed, this is that guy.”

The Duke cleared his throat at the vulgar language.

“That’s right. This man’s name is Edar Lundringgen, the eldest son of Duke Sudhlet of Germania.”

“Germania?”

The King glared at me.

“That pig intestine’s son occupied my land?”

“To be precise, he’s a bastard and disowned son.”

“A bastard and disowned?”

The glare in his eyes shifted.

“Tell me more.”

He gestured for me to come closer and leaned forward.

I placed a chair in front of the King and began to tell my story.

What kind of life did Edar live before I regained my memories?

And how he was exiled to the frontier village and how he came to be here.

I mixed in several lies and embellished it with exaggerations for the two of them.

“Hoo, you’ve lived quite an interesting life.”

The King erased the hostility he had shown earlier.

The hostility vanished as if it were an act, and only interest remained.

He nodded to himself, pondering the story I had told.

“So now you’ve come to the Duke to avoid Hugo?”

“That’s right, Your Highness.”

“Good, very good.”

He clapped his hands and laughed loudly.

“An enemy of Hugo and a man of the Duke is also my man!”

He gestured to the maidservant standing behind him.

“Showing you to me means I should grant him a title, right? Isn’t that so, Duke?”

“That is correct.”

“But, has the approval of the council been obtained?”

The Duke smiled without answering the question.

The King chuckled at his attitude and received a document from the maidservant.

“In this country, granting a title requires the approval of the council. But there is only one person who can grant a title arbitrarily without going through the council.”

The King’s gaze turned to the Duke.

“You’re openly boasting about your power. But you know…”

The King scratched his cheek and nodded before asking.

“He seems as strong as the Duke, can you handle him?”

“······.”

It was fleeting, but Pave’s eyes turned sharp before disappearing.

‘He’s not just a simpleton, is he?’

Pasimea sent a thought, intrigued by the contrasting atmosphere from the seemingly incompetent pig.

‘I told you. He’s an amusing human.’

The Duke flinched at the gaze and scoffed.

“I am Mazenkin of Masbach, Your Highness.”

“Hmm, yes. I misspoke.”

The King chuckled, feigning ignorance as if nothing had happened.

The maidservant handed the King a document.

“What title should I give him? Considering the territory, he should be given a Marquis title.”

The Duke stroked his beard and pondered before answering.

“Make him a Count.”

“A Count? That’s too low.”

“He is a Germania. Also, although the North is vast, the population is sparse, so the substance is small. Therefore, a Count seems appropriate.”

“Hmm.”

The King tilted his head and said.

“Still, a Count doesn’t sound cool. Let’s make him a Border Count instead. Since he’s settled at the edge of the North, isn’t that the border? The title fits perfectly.”

“Hmm….”

The Duke frowned and remained silent.

It was a clear protest, but the King pretended not to notice and grinned.

“Give me a pen.”

The King, holding a quill, read the document.

No, he asked the maidservant where to sign.

The maidservant silently pointed to the blank space at the bottom of the document.

The King scribbled two lines and passed it to me.

“You sign too.”

I read the document, which was tossed to me.

The content was grandly written, but it meant that I was being granted a title.

After I finished signing, the King received a sword from the maidservant.

His intention was to place the flat of the sword on my shoulder and head to bestow the title, but his hand trembled madly due to his palsy [a neurological disorder that causes tremors], creating an unsightly scene.

“Damn it, this wretched body.”

Enraged, he threw the sword down and grabbed an empty wine glass again.

Then, he tapped the wine glass on my shoulders left and right and raised it high.

“You are now a Border Count. Lundringgen.”

The King handed the wine glass to a servant.

The servant poured wine into the glass and took a sip first.

‘Is this how they grant titles?’

Pasimea sent a thought, saying it was lacking in foundation.

The thought was filled with disbelief.

‘It’s a country built by selling out its own people. There’s no way it would have any foundation.’

I chuckled and looked at the Duke.

The Duke clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“Then, Your Highness, I shall take my leave first…”

“Your Excellency!”

At that moment, a knight of the Duke’s family approached urgently.

His face was flushed red as if he had been running for quite some time, and he was panting.

The Duke’s expression hardened, and he asked.

“What’s going on?”

“Marquis Trella and Count Lopska are dead.”

“What?”

Trella and Lopska.

Two people belonging to the great nobles, of which there were only seven.

The Duke’s eyes widened upon hearing of their deaths.

At the same time, the servant who had tasted the wine spat out blood.

“Cough!”

Crimson wine spilled from the glass that fell on the carpet.

“Poison!”

I took a step back and narrowed my eyes.

‘It has begun.’