The Barbarian of the Count’s Family Is Too Strong

Chapter 6: Heir (2)

Agron swiftly issued orders for the necessary actions.

"Treat Ludikain and the knight commander, then imprison them. Do not let them die under any circumstances. There is still much to hear from them."

"Yes, Young Master."

"And properly recover the bodies of the administrator and the two dead knights."

"Shall we display their heads?"

The head butler, Alfred, inquired.

Typically, those who committed grave crimes or rebelled against their lord had their heads severed and displayed at the castle gates.

It served as a warning—an explicit message not to dare raise a blade against the lord.

"There is no need for that."

"But…"

"I don't want to create rumors that the new lord rules through fear. Besides, they were never a real threat to me. They're not even worth displaying."

At Agron's indifferent response, Alfred bowed his head.

"Ah, and Alfred."

"Yes, Young Master?"

"Thank you."

A simple, unemotional remark.

Yet, those few words filled Alfred with overwhelming emotion, as if he had received a great reward.

"Not at all. I only did what was expected of me as a servant."

Agron merely nodded slightly with a hum.

Once the head butler exited the chamber, the guards hesitantly approached.

"What is it?"

"Uh… Y-Young Master. What should we do with the woman who came with you?"

"A woman? Ah."

In the whirlwind of events, he had completely forgotten about her existence.

Agron instructed the guards to bring her in.

"What kind of disaster happened here? Are you okay?"

The moment she stepped into the chamber, she widened her eyes in shock at the gruesome sight before her.

"Apologies for putting you through this."

Agron had assumed Luna would have escaped long ago.

He hadn't expected her to remain steadfastly, even after witnessing the ruthless brawl with the guards, waiting for him.

"I do have some loyalty, you know. You saved my life—how could I just run away alone?"

"Is that so."

"But… are you sure you're okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"This room is covered in blood, and you fought with the guards outside. Won't the Count's family have a problem with this?"

She lowered her voice, whispering so only Agron could hear.

"No need to worry. I've already spoken with the vassals."

"Vassals…? Do you mean there are members of your tribe here?"

"No, there aren't."

Agron looked at her, puzzled by her question, while Luna returned the same confused expression.

"Young Master, the senators have finished drafting the document to send to the kingdom."

The scribe, Lekan, approached and spoke in a respectful tone.

"Well done. Send it immediately."

"Understood."

"Heh heh heh, have you already found yourself a girlfriend?"

At that moment, Baekun stroked his beard and grinned as he looked at Luna.

Though he had no family of his own, he regarded Agron as something close to it.

Whether he liked it or not, watching Agron grow up had made him attached.

"Girlfriend?"

Agron tilted his head, then nodded.

"That's right. A girlfriend."

"W-Wait a minute! I'm not his girlfriend! What are you saying, Agron?!"

Luna's face turned red as she stammered in embarrassment.

"Ah—my apologies. That was a narrow-minded view. A boyfriend, then, old man."

"Hey!!"

Luna shouted in frustration.

"I'm a woman, you idiot!"

"Then isn't 'girlfriend' correct?"

"Well, that's… I mean, no, that's not it!"

"How confusing. Were you castrated or something?"

"I'm going to kill you."

Under normal circumstances, insulting a noble would warrant punishment or anger, but Agron didn't care about such things.

Baekun, watching their ridiculous exchange, burst into hearty laughter before leaving.

He felt immense satisfaction knowing that the boy he regarded as a nephew had made a good friend.

‘If only that rascal Dumurka could see this. Heh heh heh.’

***

That evening.

Agron, Baekun, Luna, and the core vassals sat around a table laden with a delicious feast.

"You look much better after washing up and dressing properly."

Baekun remarked as he observed Agron.

Indeed, once he had cleaned himself and neatly arranged his hair, his handsome features shone even more, transforming him into a refined young man.

"I feel a bit uneasy without my necklace."

"The one made from beast fangs? It holds memories with your master and your tribe, so of course, you'd feel that way."

"No, I don't have any memories attached to it."

"…Then does it have a special function?"

"No, it doesn’t do anything."

"Then why…?"

"My neck feels empty without it."

"……"

Baekun glared at Agron.

"Um… thank you for allowing me to take a bath… Young Master."

Luna spoke in an unusually polite tone.

"Why are you talking like that? It doesn’t suit you."

"Ah… well, you are the son of a Count, so I can’t just speak casually…"

At first, when Agron talked about his "territory" and "his house," she thought he was just some delusional fool.

And when she stormed into a high-ranking noble's mansion and knocked out the guards, she assumed he was either insane or had a death wish.

Who would have ever thought he was actually the son of the ruling Count?

"Just speak as you normally do. I permit it."

"Oh, alright then."

"Everyone must be hungry from waiting. Let's eat."

Agron glanced around at his vassals before taking a spoonful of soup.

‘Hmm.’

Several vassals stole glances at Agron as they hesitantly began their meal.

In truth, they were extremely tense.

Agron was undeniably their new master and the heir to the family, yet he was still a Barbaroi who had lived among the tribes.

His dining habits were likely different. What if he ate greedily, spilling food everywhere?

Not that such behavior was inherently bad.

However, as the Count, he would have to attend numerous banquets and noble gatherings, and even visit the kingdom.

If he were to tear into meat with his bare hands, smearing sauce all over his face, his standing among the nobles would surely plummet.

For nobles, etiquette and refinement were weapons in themselves.

"Hm, delicious."

But the vassals’ concerns were unfounded.

Agron ate his soup quietly and handled his knife with precision when the meat was served, finishing his meal with an air of grace.

In fact, he was more refined than many nobles.

"Agron, you have excellent table manners. Where did you learn them?"

Luna asked curiously, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"From books. All truths are contained within books."

"Young Master, is that also how you learned about the kingdom's laws?"

"The scribe asks strange questions. If not from books, where else would I learn?"

Lekan realized his own question had been foolish.

"The kingdom’s response should arrive soon. Even if it is a mere formality, that will be the moment you are truly recognized as the head of the family."

"I see."

"Shall we schedule a banquet for this weekend?"

"A banquet?"

Agron asked.

"Since you are now the head of the Count’s family, you must host a banquet, inviting neighboring lords and noble families."

The butler added that it was a tradition observed by all nobles.

However, Agron didn’t seem pleased.

"It’s not urgent. Let’s delay it."

"Then what should come first?"

"First, I must hold my parents’ funeral. Then, I will expose the crimes of Ludikain and Tank. And—"

Agron’s expression remained calm yet cold.

"I will find and punish those who murdered my parents."

"You mean personally?"

Alfred’s voice trembled as he asked. Agron picked up two walnuts from a basket and crushed them in one hand.

Crunch!

As the crushed shells crumbled to the floor, he spoke in a chilling tone.

"A blade for a blade, blood for blood."

***

The funeral was held at the largest church in the region.

Given the nature of their deaths, Agron and his vassals chose not to invite other nobles.

Many aristocrats were superstitious, and few would willingly attend the funeral of a slain lord.

Ultimately, only Agron’s parents’ siblings and the family’s retainers attended.

"I would like a moment alone with my parents."

Before the burial, Agron asked everyone to leave the church.

Believing he wanted to say his final goodbyes, they waited outside.

"Hmph."

Thanks to preservation magic, the bodies had not decayed.

For the first time in over a decade, Agron closely examined his parents’ faces.

They resembled the faces from his childhood memories, though now they were visibly older. An indescribable emotion welled up within him.

He pressed his forehead against theirs and performed the warrior’s ritual.

"I swear to find the ones responsible and repay them in kind."

Then, clenching his jaw, he removed his father’s tunic.

He needed to examine the wounds.

"An expert’s work."

Agron murmured as he scrutinized each wound.

The minor injuries were from combat exchanges, but their depth, width, and direction varied.

Clearly, multiple weapons had inflicted them.

However, one wound—stretching from shoulder to heart—was distinct.

A single strike.

A deep cut that sliced through flesh, muscle, and bone, stopping the heart in one blow.

"Not a sword. Heavier, sharper… an axe."

Having identified the weapon, Agron redressed his father’s body and called the others back in.

The bishop recited prayers, and the workers lowered the coffin into the ground.

Agron memorized every detail of the process.

"What will you do now?"

After the funeral, once all the guests had left, Baekun visited Agron in his study.

"What do you mean?"

"By leaving the tribe and coming here, you’ve chosen to live as a Veilain. But if you intend to rule as lord, you need a plan."

"I have one."

It was not an empty boast but a confident statement.

Baekun smiled faintly.

"I see. That’s good. Now I can leave without regret."

"What do you mean?"

"……?"

"You are part of my plan, old man."

"Why would I be?"

"Because that is my plan."

Baekun studied his disciple carefully.

Now that he looked closer, it was not confidence but sheer arrogance in Agron’s gaze.

"You certainly live an easy, carefree life."

"Yes, I do."

"…That was sarcasm."

Baekun felt his blood pressure rise.

He and Dumurka had bonded over this before—talking with Agron could sometimes drive a person mad.

"It wasn’t sarcasm. I meant it sincerely."

"Not you! I was being sarcastic!"

"Old man, don’t be so cynical. People should live positively."

"Arrgh!"

As Baekun stormed out in frustration, Agron tilted his head.

"Tsk, he has a terrible personality for a partner."

Clicking his tongue, he rose from his seat and descended into the underground prison.

It was time to hear the truth.