The Barbarian of the Count’s Family Is Too Strong

Chapter 7: Heir (3)

Ludikain, the Baron, and Tank, the knight commander, were confined in separate cells.

A guard holding a torch entered the cell and shook Ludikain awake.

"Ugh… What, what is this?"

Startled by the sudden intrusion, Ludikain shielded his eyes from the light and croaked out his words.

Agron sat on a chair brought over by another guard, looking down at him with an imposing posture.

"W-Who… Wait, is that you, Agron?"

"I'm pleased you remember my name."

Agron replied in an indifferent tone.

"Do you really think you’ll get away with this?! Assaulting a noble, and now imprisoning me?! I swear upon the name of Veilain, I will never forgive you!"

Ludikain had been unconscious for most of the events leading up to his imprisonment, unaware of the situation.

He simply assumed Agron had staged a coup and captured him.

"I bear the name of Veilain as well. That means our accusations cancel each other out, don’t they?"

"T-That’s ridiculous! My rank is higher, so my name holds more weight!"

"I am a direct descendant of the main family."

"……"

Ludikain had no response, simply glaring at him.

"Are you really Count Ragnar’s son?"

"City folk must have bad hearing or poor comprehension skills."

"How dare an ignorant wretch speak so disrespectfully to a noble—!"

"No need to be so hard on yourself."

"……?"

Ludikain’s face flushed red.

"There is no shame in lacking education."

"You—!"

"Anyway, I came to ask you something. Be ready to answer."

"Ha! Do you think I’ll just comply?!"

"Good attitude. I appreciate it."

Agron nodded before continuing.

"I believe the Count was assassinated in a planned attack. I also suspect that someone or some organization orchestrated the entire affair. Name them."

The deaths of the ruling Count and Countess had been too clean.

Despite the gruesome nature of their murder, the investigation had been half-hearted, the crime scene meticulously cleaned, and the case closed too hastily.

Agron’s instincts told him something was wrong.

His suspicions were confirmed when he examined the Count’s body.

‘This was an execution.’

Contrary to the city guard’s claim that it was a robbery, the stab wounds on the Count’s body were the work of an expert.

There was undoubtedly a mastermind behind it all.

"W-What are you implying? Do you not suspect me?"

Ludikain asked cautiously, trying to gauge Agron’s intentions.

Agron gave him a look of pity.

"Don’t be offended, but you lack the intelligence to have orchestrated this."

"You bastard! You’re the ignorant one here!"

"A book once said strong denial is often strong affirmation. I see now—it’s confirmed. Don’t worry, I don’t think any less of you."

"Grahhh! I’ll kill you!"

Ludikain struggled furiously, but the chains held him back, leaving him powerless.

When his rage finally subsided, Agron asked again.

"So, who is the mastermind?"

"Would you answer if you were in my position?!"

"Yes, I would."

"…I would rather die than speak!"

"Such spirit. That is how a warrior should be. Shall we put it to the test?"

"W-Wait."

Agron grabbed Ludikain’s arm and twisted it as if wringing out a cloth.

"GAAAHHH!"

"You react just like my tribesmen. When I did this, they used to jump around in excitement."

Ludikain felt as if his arm was about to be torn off.

Crack!

"Guh…!!"

A sickening crunch filled the cell, and Ludikain gasped in shock.

"Hmm? Your bones are too weak. They shattered too easily."

"Hngh…!"

"No choice, then. I’ll have to try the other arm."

Agron shook his head and grabbed the other arm, twisting it just the same.

A firestorm of agony erupted.

"GAAAAHH! STOP! STOP IT!"

"Endure, Ludikain! A warrior must last longer than this!"

"I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!"

"No, the name of Veilain is not so light. You can endure more!"

"You lunatic! I said I’ll talk! GAAAHHH!"

Agron clicked his tongue in disappointment and let go.

In less than ten seconds, Ludikain’s arms were swollen, his veins burst, and his skin darkened with bruises.

Ludikain collapsed to the ground, clutching his arms, tears streaming down his face.

"Hic… Sniff… Huff…"

"So much for ‘I would rather die than speak.’ Your resolve crumbled faster than your bones."

"Shut… up… Huff…"

"Sorry to interrupt your crying, but tell me the mastermind’s name."

Ludikain lifted his head and glared at Agron.

‘You son of a bitch.’

***

That afternoon.

Baekun entered the office and found several people already seated.

Head butler Alfred, scribe Lekan, tax officer Charles, and interim knight commander Wolf.

"You called for me?"

"Yes, come in."

Agron, seated at the head of the table, gestured toward a chair close to him.

Once Baekun was seated, Agron surveyed the gathered individuals and spoke.

"I called this meeting to receive a full report on the administration of the territory."

The funeral for the Count and Countess was over, and a letter had been sent to the kingdom.

Now, it was time for him to assume his duties as the new lord in earnest.

"You have all prepared records of your responsibilities, correct?"

"Yes, as you requested…"

"Bring them here."

The tax officer and scribe exchanged awkward glances.

They knew Agron could correspond with the Count and Countess via letters in the kingdom’s language, but administrative jargon and tax calculations were specialized fields.

It was commendable that he was showing enthusiasm for his role as lord, but they worried he might issue strange orders due to overconfidence.

Agron first examined Wolf’s report and asked,

"How are you managing the duties of the knight commander, Wolf?"

"I am handling them well, Your Excellency."

"If you continue performing well, I will officially appoint you as knight commander soon. Familiarize yourself with all necessary duties."

"Understood, Your Excellency."

"Who is currently handling the administrator’s tasks?"

"The scribe and I are dividing the responsibilities," Alfred, the head butler, answered.

"Then, let’s review the records."

Agron flipped through the reports one by one.

As he read, his hand stopped.

"Scribe."

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"This land law citation is incorrect."

"Pardon…?"

"It should be Article 9, Clause 11, not Article 8, Clause 7. This section here is also incorrect."

The scribe looked at the corrections in shock.

He had reviewed the document multiple times—how had he still made errors?

"I-I will fix it immediately."

"Also, the candidates for the guard captain position have questionable backgrounds. Didn’t I say not to select people based solely on their family names?"

"I-I apologize. I haven’t had time to interview them yet."

"While you're at it, investigate Baron Ludikain’s corruption and submit a report by tomorrow."

The scribe bowed his head, unable to argue against Agron’s sharp observations.

"Tax officer."

"Yes, Your Excellency."

Realizing it was his turn, Charles stiffened.

"The number of serfs in Jaksen differs between last quarter and this one."

"Excuse me?"

"There are no special notes explaining this discrepancy. What happened?"

Serfs were property of the lord.

Unlike freemen, they could not relocate freely, and their deaths or births had to be reported.

"I apologize… I will investigate."

"Summon the serf overseer."

"Understood, Your Excellency."

Charles swallowed hard, hoping Agron would move past his report quickly.

"Additionally, the tax totals do not match."

"Pardon…?"

"Based on the collected taxes and the territory’s income, this much should remain."

Everyone except Baekun stared at Agron in shock.

Did he know how to calculate numbers?

Most nobles did not study mathematics.

They preferred to train with swords or attend social gatherings rather than delve into subjects like arithmetic, astronomy, or alchemy, often deeming them beneath their status.

Financial matters in noble houses were typically handled by clergy-trained administrators or specialized officials.

For House Veilain, this role fell to the administrator and the tax officer.

"T-There should be no mistakes in my calculations."

"Let me show you."

Agron took a sheet of paper, wrote down the numbers, and performed the calculations, then showed the results to Charles.

"What do you think? Are they wrong?"

"…No, Your Excellency’s calculations are correct."

"Then why do the records state a different amount?"

"T-That section was handled by the administrator. I only performed the calculations before passing them to him."

Charles was responsible for collecting and tallying taxes before handing them over to the administrator.

Since all administrative tasks had been under the administrator’s control, it made sense that Charles was unaware of discrepancies.

"The administrator is dead, so we cannot verify his actions. Butler."

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"Take Wolf and search the administrator’s residence for missing receipts or records."

"Understood, Your Excellency."

After they left, Baekun smiled at Agron.

"What is it?"

"Heh, I’m just amazed that the boy I saw as a nephew has grown up to command his subordinates so well."

When Agron left the tribe to take over the estate, Baekun had been worried sick.

The idea of a boy who had spent his entire life in the tribe suddenly becoming a lord had seemed absurd.

But after watching Agron these past few days, Baekun realized his instincts had been wrong.

Agron had all the qualities of a capable ruler.

"Commanding subordinates…?"

"Of course. A lord must guide, protect, and—on occasion—make use of his people. Your vassals will gladly follow your orders."

"I see."

Agron absorbed this knowledge like a sponge and then turned to Baekun with a bright smile.

"Well? Why are you still here instead of working?"

"…What?"

"Go organize the grimoires in the archives. Sort out the witch-related ones separately."

"That’s not what I—"

"Oh, and since you know how to make medicines, collect some herbs and prepare fifty medical supplies."

"You brat! That’s not—!"

"So this is what it feels like to delegate work."

"Arrgh!"

As Baekun stormed out, waving his staff in frustration, Agron watched with satisfaction.

"They say subordinates are happy to take orders. Seems true."