"MARCH FOR HONOR, MARCH FOR PRIDE
KNIGHTS OF HOUSE ALTHARION NEVER HIDE. MARCH FO—"
The battle cries of the men-in-metal grew ever so distant as they continued marching on, away from the Baron's residence.
Sigh… Finally I'm free from that haunting chant.
Good thing I hadn't invited any of my friends over—they'd be panicking, thinking we're under attack or something. What a strange tradition. I hoped it had been scrapped, but alas, I guess nothing really changed since I left.
Vraine had sort of expected it to become obsolete, to fade with time. But it seemed his father still refused to let it go.
Sure, most "normal" tourists were scared off by it—but it attracted a different kind of crowd. War nerds. Battle reenactment enthusiasts. The weird kind of tourist.
Now that he thought about it… maybe it balanced out after all.
Only his father could come up with the "ingenious" plan of using his army as an alarm clock for the town; it served as both training and sleep control.
The routine was as inconsiderate as it was effective—no one could sleep through the howling of a thousand grown men and you'd definitely get jacked after shouting and running for kilometers every morning.
Forgetting all about the earlier commotion, Vraine moved quickly, desperately trying to escape the sweet, sweet embrace of his bed.
Shoot, I can't believe I forgot how strictly they take timing over here. The maids will probably arrive by seven, this little period is likely going to be the only time I'm gonna get for myself—I can't afford to waste an extra second.
Successfully fleeing the foam paradise, Vraine took a moment to observe his room—The one that had been meticulously arranged and prepared for his arrival the day before.
It's not that bad…. I guess.
Beside his feet lay a lone shoe, its counterpart? Well…that's a story for another day.
The room was small.
A meticulously scattered bed sat in the northwest corner. Across from it, on the eastern wall, stood a plain chair and table. Atop the table lay a briefcase, its latch half-open, with several NSFW comics peeking out.
Despite his noble status, the space was painfully simple. Nothing about it whispered luxury.
The chair, on the other hand, was serving its usual purpose as a clothes rack—though not doing a perfect job, as some items still managed to escape to the floor.
Sheesh. I don't remember putting those there. I also thought I closed that briefcase before going to bed. I should…No, I've got more important matters to attend to.
Stepping forward, he soon reached the wardrobe in the southwest corner of the room.
It doubled as a mirror causing him to see his reflection: Black eyes blurred behind a pair of glasses, brown ruffled hair, and a heart shaped face padded with a noticeable amount of fat. He had a chubby frame—not yet fat, but on the way there.
Damn, I'm losing my jawline. I should probably start exercising.
A wave of deja vu washed over him, like he had said those exact words in front of a mirror a million times before.
Not forgetting his goal, Vraine slid open the door of the wardrobe. Neatly hung clothes sat between two shelves: the shelf on the right held more clothes and underwear, and the one on the left contained shoes of different styles and fashion. None of these were what he was looking for.
Beneath the hanging clothes was a white colored wooden floor—different from the golden marble flooring present in the room. He crouched, placing his hand on the wooden panel and slid it towards the side, revealing a hidden compartment containing a single box clearly labeled "BAH" .
Opening the box revealed a VR headset with the same word written on it.
"Young Master Vraine, the bathing room has been prepared for you. The Lord has requested that you arrive there in the next few minutes," came a familiar voice from the other side of the door, filled with warmth and unmistakable.
I'll be damned. I'm fairly certain it's just a few minutes after six.
Vraine shifted his gaze to the only clock in his room, further confirming his suspicions.
"Madame Naomi, I'm quite certain you misjudged the time. It's only five minutes after six. You are getting old—such mistakes are bound to happen. Don't let it bother you," Vraine said in a compelling tone, quite sure she had made a mistake.
"Come on now, suckling. You really don't expect the Lord to treat you the same way he treated you six years ago, do you. Your daily timetable has been revised to be a bit stricter"
Vraine didn't have time to focus on what she had just called him when the weight of the word "stricter" finally hit him.
A sudden wave of weakness overcame Vraine.
Oh God… I can't believe that old man decided to make my life harder. How much suffering does he think I can handle?
I can't even check out my Battle Against the Heavens account.
What has become of my life?
"Fine, I'll be out in a sec," Vraine said with a tone of resignation.
"Good. I'll wait right here."
Vraine carefully closed the box, making sure not to damage its contents. He slid the wooden panel back to its original position, then turned towards the briefcase on the table, determined to seal it properly this time around.
Well, that's done. Guess I can head out now.
Standing in front of the door, Vraine placed his palm on the frame. A quick finger print scan followed, and the door readily gave way.
He now stood face-to-face with Madame Naomi.
Vraine lifted his head to meet the gaze of the nearly seven-foot-tall giant that stood before him. She wore a maid uniform in the colors gold and white. Her short black hair did a bad job at hiding the scar on her forehead.
Without warning, Naomi pulled Vraine into a bear hug with her immensely muscular arms.
Vraine flailed, frantically trying to escape the titans grip—a task that, unsurprisingly, ended in failure.
"Ooh… my little suckling has grown into a man," she cooed without a care for his struggles. "I can't believe you grew up so fast. I still remember when you learned how to walk—it feels like just yesterday."
"I can't… breathe," he wheezed, his voice muffled by the twin peaks completely engulfing his face.
After a moment of excitement, Naomi, noticing his struggles, let him go.
"Gasp… Nana, I'm not a child anymore," Vraine groaned, catching his breath. "So please stop treating me like one. And can you please stop calling me a suckling?"
"Says the boy who couldn't give up breast milk for four whole years," she said, sporting a cheeky grin. "But well I suppose you're an adult now. I'll have to treat you like one."
She sighed, her gaze softening as she looked at him.
Where did my cute little Vraine go? I miss the Vraine who'd come to me at night asking for milk… oh, the good old days, she murmured, half lost in nostalgia.
"The Lord is waiting for you in the gym," Naomi said, patting him on the head. "Go have your bath quickly so you don't keep him waiting,"
"Unless of course you want me to bath you personally."
"Eww, no." Vraine physically shuddered at the thought.
Naomi laughed heartily "Hahaha! It seems you are becoming a man physically too, I see."
By now, her back was turned as she gradually walked out of sight.
"Sigh… An old lady such as yourself shouldn't make those kind of jokes," Vraine muttered.
Her steps paused for a split second—her back still facing him.
"Oh, I'm quite certain you would get your chance to see how old I've become before the day runs out," Naomi replied, her voice turning low and demonic.
She continued walking away, fading slowly into the empty hallway.
A chill ran down Vraine's spine.
"Wait, what do you mean by tha…"
And she's gone.
Well… I'm pretty sure it's nothing. Probably. I'll deal with that problem when it comes.
Vraine continued down the hallway, towards the bathroom.
The hallway was empty, save for the occasional sound of clashing metals or distant shouting—a faint reminder that he wasn't alone.
With nothing else to do, he began observing the intricate patterns on the marble floor. This made him notice just how spotless they were.
Wow… I can't believe the hallway's already been scrubbed this early. Father's really working them to the bone
Before long he reached a door labeled "Men's Bathroom."
He stepped closer.
Sensing his presence, the door opened on its own accord, silently beckoning him in.
The bathroom was a sight to behold—easily three times the size of his bedroom.
It had a dedicated section for everything: from showers to cosmetics, from a private spa to a cooling area. You name it, it was there.
But the true centerpiece sat in the middle of it all—a pseudo-swimming pool that doubled as a bath tub.
A grin slowly crept onto Vraine's face.
This is one activity I could never come to hate.
__________
Refreshed but still mentally unprepared, Vraine made his way toward the gym.
He arrived within a few minutes.
From the entrance, he spotted his father on the treadmill—running at such speed that his legs were a blur, leaving only afterimages behind.
"Vraine, you really took your time," his father said, not even glancing in his direction.
"Well, I suppose I am to blame for your ignorance of the changes to your daily schedule."
He paused briefly, then added,
"So don't let it bother you."
As if you actually care.
"Come on now, don't give me that look," his father frowned. "Seeing as you'd rather not spend time with your old man, I'll get straight to the point."
He operated the treadmill, bringing it to a halt. Then he stepped down and walked toward Vraine.
"I want you to be my successor. You're going to start training to take over the family as from today."
Wait… did he just say successor?
"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Vraine said, half-convinced he'd hallucinated his father's words.
"Oh, please. Don't act like you didn't hear me. Be a man for once," his father snapped, giving him a firm tap on the shoulder.
Vraine's legs buckled slightly under the pressure.
"I'll have to humbly decline: I'm ill-suited for such an immense responsibility," Vraine said with his head bowed. "I believe either of my siblings would do a much better job than me."
I can't let this old man drag me into his political shenanigans. I'll lose my easy life the moment I get involved in his power struggles.
"You're right. Either your siblings would be better suited to take over this family's affairs," his father said calmly.
Well… that still stung.
"But you and I know it'd be impossible to get your eldest brother, Astolfo, to even consider the position."
"Yeah, that won't be possible." Vraine admitted. He had to agree with his father on this one.
"Come to think about it, no one's ever explained why he hates the House of Altharion so much—despite being a part of it."
"Now that you've come of age, you'll naturally learn everything you need to know about this familia," his father said reassuringly. "So that you're ready to take control."
"I haven't agreed to your proposition yet. Besides, what about big sis Lisa?" Vraine asked. "From what I heard you trained her in preparation to make her the head, didn't you, so then why the sudden switch up?"
"What you said is indeed correct. Mona Lisa was trained by me to become the next family's head," his father confirmed. "But a sudden turn of events has put all previous plans to nought."
"I confirmed two months ago that she officially joined the L'Oreale family."
"The cosmetics company?" Vraine blurted out without thinking.
"It's to be expected that you know nothing concerning the L'Oreale family—and no, it has nothing to do with cosmetics." His father's expression suddenly sharpened.
"It is one of the only three aqua-badged families on Earth."
Aqua? That's a tier above gold.
That's insane, considering our family is the only gold-badged house in all of Australia.
Noticing the slight change in his expression, his father continued, "You can see even I can do nothing in this matter, given the powers involved."
"That is why I, Magnus Altharion—left with no other choice—have decided to name you, Vraine Altharion, as my one and only successor."
Vraine was dumbstruck for a moment. Unsure of how—or what—to reply.
"You should understand," his father added, "that I am not forcing you to accept this position."
Really?
"Should you decline, I will press no further. However, if you choose to accept… I will make it worth your while."
"Sigh… I'm sorry to disappoint you but I don't care about power or wealth, I just want to live an easy—, wait what's that?"
Vraine's formerly nonchalant expression shifted to one of visible shock.
Magnus was holding up a card. Vraine couldn't see what was written on it from where he sat—but one word stood out with startling clarity: Biboleothēcha.
Vraine, drowning in both shock and excitement, instinctively reached out with trembling arms.
"You haven't given me an answer yet," Magnus said coolly, withdrawing the card from Vraine's view.
With the card not out of sight, Vraine took a deep breath, all in a bid to steady his turbulent heart.
Wait a second… something's not right. He shouldn't know about my desire to go to Thecha. There's no way he'd use something that valuable as bait without knowing how badly I want it. Unless...
"As you may already know," Magnus started. "That card was a student membership card for Biboleothecha—the number one hall of knowledge throughout the universe."
"And although it only grants access to their branch here on Earth," he added. "You must realize that even that branch is the most prestigious educational institute in the entire Milky Way."
Vraine, fully composed at this point, could no longer hold back his suspicions.
"But why?" he asked.
"Why go to such great lengths just to bait me into accepting the position of your scion?"
Vraine, not waiting for a response, continued. "And don't give me some crap like 'it wasn't that hard to get.' I know how hard it is to get one of those, a mere Baron such as yourself has no chance of getting his hand on something so valuable."
Magnus, unfazed by the barrage of questions, replied calmly.
"You're right. Although we're a gold-badged family, we're still only a barony."
"In terms of resources we can only compete with counts of crimson-badged families— two tiers beneath us. While we may have a strong backing, we lack the resources to match it. This means that I do not have the ability to get my hands on such an Item unless it's very necessary."
He paused for a beat.
"This… is one of such moments."
"But why me?" Vraine asked, still confused by his father's actions. "Wouldn't someone like Lisa be a better fit? She's way more... qualified."
His father sighed.
"Everyone sees you as lazy. Unambitious. Average. Even I used to think that was true—until a few months ago."
He examined Vraine's face, taking note of his bewildered expression. "It seems you don't recall the event I'm talking about. Let me remind you."
I really hope he's not talking about Aurelia.
"On March 15, the Bureau of Education hosted a pre-adulthood campaign that lasted three days. During that time, you met Aurelia—and quickly developed feelings for her. You later learned she's based in England."
Magnus paused again, his tone deliberately measured.
"You then found out she plans to join Thecha this year. So, hoping to see her again, you looked into applying. But when you saw the requirements, you gave up."
How in the world does this old man know so much about my personal life.
Vraine's face was heating up by the second.
"Not willing to give up entirely," Magnus continued, "you tried reaching her through other means—Battle Against the Heavens. You grinded your way to the top in just a few months, hoping she'd notice—"
Vraine's face was completely red at this point. The fact that his father knew all about his personal life, made him want to vanish into the floor out of shame.
Magnus's expression suddenly turned serious, his personality reverting back to that of a Baron.
"The fact that you reached the leaderboards of such a widely recognized game in under two months is all the evidence I need of your potential. All you lack is motivation."
"Since I've answered your questions, I think it's time you answer mine."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Are you willing—or not?"
How the hell am I supposed to say no.
I spent over four months trying to find a way into Thecha. I finally have a shot—I can't just turn that down.
But I also don't want to be responsible for this family.
what am I supposed to do now?