The Barbarian of the Count’s Family Is Too Strong

Chapter 5: Heir (1)

Agron's thunderous blow turned Ludikain’s face into a bloody mess.

"Hiiik…!"

The elders of the house recoiled in shock, covering their mouths at the gruesome sight.

Ludikain lay sprawled on the floor, occasionally twitching.

"Tank, tend to his wounds so he doesn’t die, then throw him in the dungeon."

Agron’s voice was low and unwavering.

The knight commander, Tank, exchanged glances with Philip, the administrator.

They had been in league with Ludikain.

Since The head butler, Alfred, had already caught on, it was only a matter of time before the scribe, Lekan, and the tax collector, Charles, became aware as well.

Now, their minds raced, searching for a way to escape the situation.

"I cannot… obey that order."

It was Tank who spoke first.

After wavering between using formal or informal speech, he ultimately chose the latter to assert dominance.

"What did you just say?"

"The head of this household is still Baron Ludikain and the council of elders. You… no, you must first be investigated."

"Investigated?"

"The one who should be imprisoned isn’t Baron Ludikain, but you—an intruder who trespassed and committed murder!"

Tank drew his sword from its sheath, leveling it at Agron.

Backing down now would mean losing everything.

First, he would imprison Agron under the pretense of due process, quickly proceed with the succession ceremony, and then convict Agron of murder, trespassing, and assaulting a noble.

'Damn it! I’ve come too far for this!'

Tank had already envisioned a future where he lived lavishly under the new lord’s rule before eventually securing a seat on the council of elders.

"You call me an intruder?"

Agron’s voice was flat and emotionless.

Seeing him clench his fists again, the administrator quickly devised a plan.

‘He’s strong, but still young and impulsive. His preference for violence over dialogue suggests a lack of education. He can be cornered.’

Like Tank, Philip pushed back his chair and stood.

"Esteemed elders of House Veilain and loyal vassals of the late Count, we are subjects of a kingdom governed by law, order, and divine providence."

Philip remained on high alert, unsure when Agron might lash out.

"You claim to be Agron? Fine. Anyone can make such a claim. But all you have are objects that could easily be stolen. If a bandit or savage had killed the real heir and taken his belongings, how would we know?"

Philip pressed on, hammering at Agron’s supposed weak point—his lack of proof.

Whether or not he was truly Agron didn’t matter.

All that mattered was planting the seed of doubt in the elders’ minds.

Even if Agron eventually proved his innocence in court, by then, Ludikain’s son, Theo, would have already been named heir.

"Do you have a witness? Any undeniable proof that you are the young master? I doubt it. Therefore, until the investigation is complete—"

"Ah, a witness has just arrived."

Agron turned his gaze toward the entrance.

"What…?"

Philip and the others followed his line of sight.

"Heh, it has been quite some time, hasn’t it?"

An elderly man in white robes stood at the entrance, stroking his long beard.

Baekun, the Taoist.

The very man who had taken Agron to the [Winter Wardens] after the witch’s curse.

"M-Master Baekun?! What brings you here?"

"I heard of the Count and Countess’ passing and rushed over. What, am I not welcome?"

Baekun asked with a leisurely smile.

‘Why is that old man here?!’

Philip and Tank gritted their teeth.

Baekun had visited the house once a year since taking Agron away, always bringing news of him to the Count and Countess, who eagerly awaited updates.

That was precisely why Philip had deliberately withheld news of their deaths from Baekun.

Because—

"I received your letter, Agron. Thanks to that, I was able to come see you as soon as possible."

"It’s been a while, old man."

Baekun was the only one who knew about Agron’s upbringing.

***

After hearing the situation, Baekun let out a hearty chuckle.

"Heh, I hurried here precisely because I anticipated such trouble. This rascal—oh, forgive my informality, but I’ve known him since childhood, so I hope you understand."

He addressed the elders and vassals before giving Agron a hearty pat on the back.

"This one has always been an oddball, so I figured no one would recognize him as Count Ragnar’s son. And it seems Agron expected as much, given that he called for me."

"Then… can you confirm that he is truly ‘Agron von Veilain’?"

The head butler Alfred asked, seeking undeniable proof.

"I anticipated this. The Count had a Blood Seal prepared. Let us visit the treasury together."

Baekun led a group of vassals and elders to the house’s treasure vault.

There, he retrieved a parchment and spread it on the floor, revealing a complex sigil.

"This document contains the young master’s blood information. If a different person’s blood is dropped onto it, this will happen."

Baekun pricked his finger and let a few drops fall onto the parchment.

"Master, nothing’s hap—wha?!"

A moment later, the sigil glowed red, and the words Mismatch appeared next to it.

"What… does this mean?"

"It means failure. But with Agron’s blood, the result will be different."

At Baekun’s signal, Agron sliced his palm open.

Bright red drops of blood splattered onto the sigil.

Koooom!

At that moment, the sigil whirled violently, emitting a brilliant blue light. The word Mismatch vanished, replaced by Match.

Everyone in the room was stunned, their gazes darting between the blood seal and Agron.

"Impossible…"

Philip, the administrator, murmured in disbelief.

Things were not supposed to turn out this way.

Ludikain had to be saved, and this brute needed to be locked away. If not, even if they managed to smooth things over now, The head butler Alfred would never let them be.

"Now we have both evidence and a witness."

Agron wiped the blood from his palm onto his trousers as he spoke.

Philip took a deep breath. His last weapon was the law—his expertise and Agron's greatest vulnerability.

"That may be so, but the esteemed elders are well aware of our house’s traditions."

"……"

"The Veilain house has always chosen its heir through a formal succession ceremony. Furthermore, the Count has always been selected from those who have completed their coming-of-age ritual. But since our late lord passed unexpectedly, that process was disrupted."

Philip walked among the elders, his voice measured and persuasive.

"Agron has not undergone the coming-of-age ritual, nor has he been named heir through succession. However, Baron Ludikain’s son, Theo von Veilain, has completed his coming-of-age ceremony and is set to undergo the succession rite soon."

The elders began to murmur amongst themselves, the weight of Philip’s words pushing them toward a consensus.

"Respected elders, while I am glad to see Agron alive, let us not forget—he has not only killed two knights but also assaulted a noble. These are crimes that must be answered for."

"Hmm."

Philip stole a glance at Agron.

He had expected him to lash out in rage, but Agron remained uncharacteristically calm, listening intently.

‘He has no choice but to remain silent. What can a mere brute possibly argue?’

Philip cleared his throat and pressed his advantage.

"We already have too much disorder at hand. If we name an heir only for him to be dragged into court on murder and assault charges, what will happen to our house’s dignity?"

The elders exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions darkening.

Philip clenched his fist, sensing victory.

Now, to drive the final nail in the coffin.

"Sir Tank, what are you waiting for? Escort Agron to the dungeon. His identity is verified, so he may stand trial for his crimes."

"Ah, understood. Come along, young master."

Tank smirked as he stepped forward.

"Do you like the law?"

Agron, who had been silent with his arms crossed, finally spoke.

"I do. As you are a citizen of the kingdom, you must abide by its laws."

"I see. I, too, am a citizen of this kingdom. And you? What country do you belong to?"

Philip frowned at the question.

"I am, of course, a subject of the Astrarea Kingdom."

"Is that so? Then what if I insisted on following the customs of my tribe instead?"

"That’s absurd. The kingdom’s laws take precedence over all else."

"I see. And between house traditions and the kingdom’s laws, which holds greater authority?"

"That…!"

Philip felt cold sweat trickle down his spine.

"T-The kingdom’s laws, of course! But what does it matter? No matter how you twist it, you committed murder and assaulted a noble—you must face punishment!"

"Are you familiar with Articles 2, Clause 3 and Article 4, Clause 8 of the Kingdom's Noble Law?"

"What…?!"

Philip’s eyes widened.

What nonsense was this barbarian spewing?

"W-Where did you even hear such nonsense—"

"Article 2, Clause 3: If a Count dies unexpectedly, the firstborn son inherits the title. The coming-of-age ritual and succession ceremony may be postponed or waived."

"Wait, no, hold on—!"

"Article 4, Clause 8: A Count, Marquess, or Duke may execute individuals who pose a direct threat to their life without trial, provided the offender is either a commoner or a noble of Baron rank or lower."

Philip fell silent as though struck dumb.

He could not even question how a so-called savage knew such things.

His mind went blank.

"As a noble of the Astrarea Kingdom and rightful heir of House Veilain, I invoke these laws."

Agron turned his gaze to Tank, who still held his sword.

"Are you a noble of Baron rank or higher?"

"W-What is this nonsense, Administrator?!"

"Watch your tone."

Agron seized Tank’s sword hand and delivered a brutal kick to his chest.

Crack!

The armor crumpled like paper, and Tank’s shoulder was torn apart.

Agron turned to Philip, who stumbled backward in terror.

"W-Wait! I—I formally accuse you in court—!"

"How pathetic. A worm who cannot even recognize its master."

Crunch!

He swung Tank’s severed arm, caving in Philip’s skull.

Then, he approached the elders, leaning over their table.

"Old, rotting logs that refuse to burn. Do you wish to live?"

The elders trembled violently, nodding like frightened rabbits before a lion.

"Good. Then do your duty. Before my fangs rip your decrepit souls to shreds."

***

The next day.

News reached the kingdom’s administration that House Veilain had named a new heir.

It was the fastest succession in history to occur without a formal ceremony.