Chapter 201: The Southern Grand Duke Is a Movie Fan Too?
At the lively banquet hosted by the Southern Territory Grand Duke, the noble guests were busy exchanging greetings—warm on the surface, but coldly calculating underneath.
Though they wore bright smiles and offered hearty toasts and polite embraces, behind those gestures was the usual dance of interest. Everyone was quietly measuring relationships, hunting for valuable connections.
Amid this intricate web of power and pleasantries, Edward stood out like a beacon. He was surrounded by nobles, despite Winry's best attempts to keep people at bay by donning her most intimidating expression.
It didn't help.
Among those drawn to him were young noble sons, radiant noble daughters dressed in ornate gowns, and even high-ranking nobles with land and titles. All of them approached with feigned admiration—claiming to respect him, eager to become acquainted—but in truth, they all coveted the astronomical profits generated by cinema and television.
To them, Edward wasn't a person—he was a gold mine.
On the surface, Edward maintained a polite demeanor, exchanging pleasantries like a proper noble. But inwardly, he was already gritting his teeth, fighting the urge to blast the entire hall with a Tier 5 Grand Spell just to clear everyone out.
Yet no matter how cold or disinterested he acted, more nobles kept flooding in from all directions.
Many of them had no prior ties to the Durin Family—people who, just months ago, wouldn't have even known Edward's name. But now they clung to him like long-lost family, suddenly "close friends" of the Durin Family.
Of course, not all nobles were so shameless.
A fair number of them had previously tried to buy into the film industry, only to be firmly rejected by Edward. Now, they stood off to the side, watching the scene with narrowed eyes. A few of the more petty or inexperienced ones even snickered openly.
Edward noticed the sneers, of course. He frowned slightly, but didn't seem worried in the least.
After all, by now the film industry in the South had already grown to a scale no one could shake. And with the supporting powers behind him, Edward had no reason to fear any kind of retaliation.
Just as the crowd around him grew increasingly suffocating, the arrival of a single figure instantly silenced the entire hall.
"Greetings, Grand Duke."
With respectful murmurs, the crowd parted as the Grand Duke approached from the distance.
He was a tall, composed man in his middle years, dressed in fine but not flamboyant attire. His broad shoulders and steady gait made him stand out starkly from the majority of nobles—who, from years of indulgence, often appeared gaunt, sickly, or physically unfit.
At a glance, he didn't look like a noble at all. If anything, one might mistake him for a general just returned from the battlefield.
Daphne walked beside him, leading him straight to the center of the venue.
All around, nobles straightened up, tension rising like a wave. The Southern Grand Duke scanned them calmly, his eyes pausing briefly when they landed on Edward.
That brief, unreadable glance held a strange weight—but Edward, having met the Grand Duke once before, didn't read too much into it. The man looked almost exactly the same as last time.
As the Grand Duke took center stage, the nobles began offering him their greetings and well-wishes in earnest.
Even marquises—ranked just one step below him—didn't dare speak with any hint of arrogance. Every noble in the hall treated him with absolute deference.
After all, ordinary nobles were forbidden from maintaining private armies. In the entire empire, aside from the imperial military, only the four Grand Dukes had the right to command troops.
Which meant that, in the South, the Grand Duke was not only the sole noble with military might, but also the uncontested authority governing the region's order and security.
At this moment, surrounded by a sea of bowing nobles, the Southern Grand Duke merely gave a slight nod, his face calm and unreadable—showing no particular warmth to anyone.
This was, in fact, entirely normal.
After all, the Viktor family had an unusual custom:
Every heir was required to venture into the uncharted lands south of the Southern Territories for a harsh trial.
Only after surviving this trial—and then personally commanding the border army for years, defending the frontier—could they be recognized as the true successor and inherit the title of Southern Territory Grand Duke.
Under such a grueling tradition, every generation of Viktor family Grand Duke became masters of both martial arts and warfare.
Even the least of them had years of bloody combat experience, brimming with vigor and martial strength.
Naturally, such a man had no interest in mingling with the typical Southern nobles—most of whom had never set foot on a battlefield.
The Grand Duke's family, commanding the Southern military, had long kept itself aloof from the cliques of petty nobles, drawing their scorn and whispering critiques for generations.
Yet none of that ever mattered.
With their iron grip on military authority and the inherited prestige of their ducal name, the Viktor family had stood unshaken in the South—untouched and irreplaceable.
Now, as the Grand Duke arrived at the venue, the temperature seemed to drop several degrees. The nobles around him wiped cold sweat from their brows, forcing awkward smiles onto their faces.
After exchanging a few meaningless pleasantries, the Grand Duke slowly approached Edward.
"I've heard much about you," he said in a deep, even voice. "From General Wilhelm and… that person."
Edward blinked, caught completely off guard. He hadn't expected the Southern Grand Duke to be so well-informed—let alone take personal interest in him.
And the surprises didn't end there.
The Grand Duke continued without pause:
"I've seen both KonoSuba and Goblin Slayer. Objectively, the former is more aligned with the popular taste. But I find myself preferring the latter. The way the protagonist was portrayed—and the meticulous attention to the combat details—carries the spirit of the North."
"Uh… uh…"
Edward stood frozen, speechless.
The Grand Duke himself was a movie fan?
And not just casually—he had opinions, deep ones, delivered with the gravitas of a seasoned general.
Around them, the nobles were equally stunned.
Even Edward was sweating bullets, unsure how to even respond.
Meanwhile, the Grand Duke simply pressed on, unbothered:
"However, I do have one complaint. You brought my daughter to act in your film without consulting me. I believe I told Roy to inform you: if there was any news about her, I was to be notified immediately."
"Ah—uh—that was… my fault. I didn't notify you…"
Caught completely off guard, Edward could only bow his head in apology.
It was true—he'd deliberately not informed the Grand Duke, fearing the man might come and forcibly take Daphne back.
But the Grand Duke's next words caught him even more off guard:
"No, what I mean is—if you had told me earlier, I would have personally given her proper training. At the very least, she should have had the bearing of an adventurer. To think that a member of the Viktor family would be so frightened by a dark cave and some ugly monsters that she wet herself… It brings great shame to our name."
"Uh… wha…?"
At that moment, it wasn't just Edward who was breaking out in cold sweat.
From a distance, Daphne had turned beet red, both hands covering her burning face.
She looked like she wanted to dig a hole and bury herself alive.
Her father's bluntness had left her utterly humiliated—and completely speechless.
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