The Barbarian of the Count’s Family Is Too Strong

Chapter 3: Barbaroi (2)

She was a far more talkative person than she appeared.

The women in the tribe were taciturn and combative, like fighting cocks, preferring action over words.

In fact, Agron had conversed more with the White Bison than with the women of his tribe.

Thus, this was his first time encountering what he had only read about in books—a "womanly woman."

So the city women outside the tribe are talkative, after all.

Observing his traveling companion, he engraved this new piece of knowledge into his mind.

Just because men and women are entangled together does not mean they are engaging in obscene acts, city men are weak, and city women are talkative…

Whether she was aware of his thoughts or not, the woman continued to chatter incessantly as they walked.

“…Anyway, I was in a hurry to transport my goods, so I took an unfamiliar forest path. That’s when I got caught by the bandits. The guards I had hired were killed in an instant… and just when I thought I was doomed, Agron appeared.”

“I see.”

“At first, when I saw a naked man show up… I thought you were either one of them or some lunatic.”

Even if a normal-looking person had appeared, she would have been wary, let alone a long-haired man covered in scars. At that moment, she had nearly lost all hope.

“But, Agron… why are you… shirtless?”

She glanced at his body, her face slightly flushed.

Even with the scars, the way his muscles moved with each step and his strikingly handsome face were enough to draw her gaze.

Besides, in this secluded mountain, it was just the two of them.

“This forest is hot.”

She looked momentarily surprised before shaking her head.

Agron was a Barbaroi—a member of the so-called "barbarians" as the Empire referred to them.

This was also her first time seeing a Barbaroi in person.

“But, Agron… this region is in the middle of winter. Winter is supposed to be cold.”

“You’re saying strange things. Winter? You must be mistaken; this is spring.”

“Huh? No, but—”

“There’s no eternal snow, and I don’t see any ice stones. How can this be winter? I learned all about it from books.”

The Snowridge Labyrinth where Agron had lived was a land wrapped in perpetual, merciless cold.

The only season he had ever experienced was winter. The other seasons were merely concepts he had read about in books.

People only know what they have seen and heard for themselves.

Some in his tribe even believed that “summer” was a fabricated lie.

“Eternal snow…?”

At his words, she was left speechless.

Just where had this man come from?

Even if you traveled far north, you would only find the Demonic Realm. Could he have come from that vicinity?

“Come to think of it, Agron, you speak the Kingdom's language quite fluently. Do you normally use it in your tribe?”

“No, in the tribe, we obviously use our native language. I only learned the Kingdom's language as a hobby.”

“…You learned it on your own?”

“To be precise, I already knew the Empire’s common language, so I picked up the Kingdom’s language along the way.”

Her eyes widened.

The Empire’s common language was only spoken by a select class in the Kingdom—royalty, nobles, or merchants who frequently traveled trade routes.

If you had no reason to visit the Empire or deal with its people, you wouldn’t bother learning the language.

“Agron… why did you learn the Empire’s common language?”

“I heard nobles must know it.”

“Ah…”

She nodded, finally understanding.

Agron must have been part of the upper class within his tribe.

Was he something like a chieftain?

The realization that this barbarian could speak three languages—his tribal language, the Kingdom's language, and the Empire’s common tongue—shocked her.

Of course, she hadn't tested his fluency in the Empire’s language yet, but the mere fact that he had studied it suggested a high level of intellect.

“Agron, why are you headed to House Veilain’s territory?”

“My parents passed away. I’m going there for their funeral.”

“Oh… My condolences…”

But weren’t his parents also part of his tribe?

Then again, House Veilain’s territory is vast. If you go to the outskirts instead of the lord’s city, there could be many different tribes.

After two full days of continuous walking, the city fortress finally came into view.

“Agron, you should put on a cloak.”

“A cloak? Why?”

“You might intimidate people, and there’s no need to draw unnecessary attention.”

“The rules of the city are strange.”

“Also, just to check—do you have an identification certificate?”

“A what?”

She nodded knowingly.

It seemed she would have to help this barbarian savior until he reached his destination.

***

House Veilain.

Inside the late count’s office, the head butler, the knight commander, the administrator, the scribe, and the tax officer sat in heavy silence.

The sudden death of the ruling couple had thrown them into turmoil.

“First, we must hold the funeral. We can’t delay it forever.”

Administrator Philip said, holding a thick cigar between his fingers.

“Not yet. The young master has yet to arrive.”

“Butler, you must let go of the young master. It has been over a decade since anyone has seen him.”

“Administrator, watch your tongue! Speaking of the rightful heir in such a manner is an insult to the late Count!”

The head butler, Alfred, glared at the administrator through his monocle, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

The administrator wore a dissatisfied expression, but he could not argue against the butler’s sharp rebuke.

“Butler, I share the administrator’s opinion. We must hold the funeral quickly and resolve the succession issue to stabilize the family.”

“Sir Tank, you too?!”

“Even if the young master does arrive, it will be a problem. He has become a Barbaroi—how can he possibly lead this family?”

The knight commander, Tank, spoke with a bulldog-like ferocity, causing the butler to groan and hesitate.

Had Agron been sent to study in the Empire, things might have been different.

Only a select few within the family knew that Agron had been entrusted to the Barbaroi to escape a witch’s curse.

And that select few were the problem.

“The elders of House Veilain and the branch family members close to them will not sit still.”

The scribe, Lekan, remarked.

“What do you suggest, then? That we abandon the rightful heir and hand the family to some distant relative?”

The butler’s voice wavered, his previous confidence faltering.

The administrator, who had been scolded earlier, carefully spoke again.

“Butler, I am one of the few retainers who remember the young master. I cherish him, but my loyalty to this family comes first. House Veilain needs a more capable successor.”

“I agree with the administrator. Alfred, do you think a Barbaroi can even read? Can he speak the Kingdom’s language? It would be a miracle if he didn’t just grunt and eat with his bare hands.”

Tank sneered as if he had personally witnessed Agron behaving like a savage.

A heavy silence fell over the office.

Everyone was momentarily at a loss for words after Tank’s harsh remark.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a group of people entered.

“Why has the funeral not yet begun?”

“You have arrived, Baron Ludikain.”

The men in the room quickly stood and greeted the newcomer.

Ludikain von Veilain.

He was the highest-ranking member of the branch family, and his son, Theo von Veilain, was unofficially second in line to inherit the family. In short, he wielded considerable influence.

“Hold my brother and sister-in-law’s funeral at once! If we delay any longer, their corpses will start rotting and stinking up the house!”

“Baron, Young Master Agron has yet to arrive. The heir must be present for the ceremony—”

“Butler! He hasn’t returned in over ten years! He might as well be dead!”

“Baron, we cannot—”

“You senile old fool!”

Ludikain grabbed the butler, Alfred, by the collar.

“From now on, I will take responsibility for House Veilain! Follow my orders! Either hold the funeral now, or declare the succession immediately!”

“Baron! No matter what, this is too much! Young Master Agron is still alive….”

The butler did not shake off the baron’s grip but stood his ground, voicing his conviction.

“Then hurry up and proceed! Why are you struggling to understand?”

“Baron, we will ensure everything proceeds without issue.”

Before Ludikain could lash out further, Tank stood and intervened.

Their gazes locked for a tense moment.

“Hmph. Fine. Let the knight commander and administrator handle it.”

“Yes, Baron. Please focus on preparing the funeral oration.”

Receiving their salute, Ludikain and his entourage left the room, leaving the butler to collapse into a chair, his face clouded with grief.

“You… since when… have you sided with Baron Ludikain…?”

“Butler, you misunderstand us.”

“The administrator is correct. We are simply acting in the best interest of the family. Do not accuse us of betrayal.”

“You think such shameless excuses will justify your actions, Sir Tank?!”

“Tsk, tsk. With that attitude, the new Count will surely dismiss you.”

Only then did the butler finally realize why they were so eager to hold the funeral before Agron’s arrival.

They planned to restructure the family and install Ludikain’s son, Theo, as the new head.

“Well then, I assume there are no objections. The scribe and tax officer will also present the ‘right’ opinion during the succession discussion.”

The knight commander and administrator exchanged glances before leaving the office.

“Butler… what will you do now?”

The scribe asked with a wry smile.

“I don’t know. Even if Young Master Agron arrives in time… in this situation, there may be nothing we can do.”

The butler wiped his deeply furrowed face, wishing for this nightmare to end soon.

***

The administrator led the meeting.

With a slick tongue, he effortlessly guided the conversation toward the succession issue, advocating for Baron Ludikain.

“…He is the most senior member of the family and an excellent lord who has managed his estate well.”

“Then his son, Theo, shall receive the succession ceremony.”

The family elders exchanged opinions while Ludikain watched from afar, a satisfied smile on his face.

“If there are no objections, then—”

“Young Master Agron is still alive.”

The butler stood and spoke firmly.

“Enough! He might as well be dead!”

“Baron, rules are rules.”

Despite Ludikain’s outburst, the butler remained composed.

‘This damn old man…!’

Ludikain glared at him as if he wanted to devour him whole.

Everything had been going smoothly, and now this useless interference threatened to disrupt his plans.

“Ah, yes. I nearly forgot that the late Count had a son. It’s been so quiet, I almost overlooked it.”

“But wasn’t he sent somewhere far away?”

“A messenger was sent. He should arrive soon.”

“Damn it! How long are we supposed to wait? Let’s just—”

At that moment, the conference room door flew open, and a guard rushed in, out of breath.

“S-Sorry to interrupt! There’s a barbarian causing a commotion outside!”