Feverish and bedridden, I worried Ilmera deeply. My new name is Reinhardt von Barei, eldest son of the new noble, Baron Dirk von Barei. But my mother, a commoner concubine, makes my younger brother Ingo—born to Viscount Arnold's daughter, Erna—the rightful heir by noble standards. Father, bound by love for my mother, insists I inherit, a promise recorded by Scarab Sacre as she died. She never explicitly demanded I be heir, but Father vowed to raise me nobly for House Barei.
Father suspects Erna's faction poisoned my mother. Scarab Sacre's records confirm it: one of Erna's retainers killed her and tried assassinating me, but Scarab Sacre, ordered to protect me, killed them with dragon-slaying poison. The assassin bled from every pore, a death matching the late king's, though no one linked them—too much time passed, and the king's death wasn't publicized. Viscount Arnold's side hushed it up, and knowing I have an unseen guardian, they've abandoned overt assassination attempts.
"To honor Father's will and Mother's regret, I must inherit House Barei. But reality offers no future. Noble society, obsessed with bloodlines, won't let a commoner's son survive. Viscount Arnold's house will interfere."
I've switched from "I" to "boku" to fit a 14-year-old. Rolling onto my stomach in this plush bed, I reflect. I'm 14, not 10 as expected upon awakening. The delay—my first rebirth, splitting my soul with Scarab Sacre? At 15, nobles can formally apply for inheritance at the Noble Council, recognized as adults. Disinheritance or renunciation is allowed earlier, revealing noble society's dark underbelly. Survive to 15, you gain rights; before, you're disposable.
"I must renounce inheritance and live as a commoner. I planned to live as a mage anyway. No more power struggles—once was enough."
The Noble Council would accept my disinheritance instantly; it's expected for a commoner's son. The challenge is convincing Father and Ilmera, driven by their promise to my mother to make me heir. Their devotion is profound, but whether she wanted this is unclear—perhaps blind conviction.
"No one knows I'm a mage. The false me was quiet, trained in swordsmanship like Father, decently skilled. Ingo, though, is lackluster. His poor ability kept me, the capable eldest with bad blood, alive. Everyone prefers competent heirs."
Ingo's not cruel, just introverted and slow. Erna, too, is kind. When I lost Mother at 12, Erna genuinely comforted me, unaware her retainer poisoned her. She hugged me, a lonely 12-year-old, saving me emotionally. She likely wants Ingo as heir, though.
"Father and Erna haven't openly opposed me, so I've survived. But next year, at 15, who knows?"
I must leave soon, live as an adventuring mage. My current magical ability, tied to this body, needs training to wield my past life's power. I excel in water and earth magic, the latter enabling alchemy and golem creation. At my peak, I commanded 1,000 metal golems. Now…
I summoned three metal golems and collapsed from mana depletion. Ilmera's scream upon finding me and the golems exposed my magic.
"Explain, Reinhardt," Father demands. "I never heard you could use magic."
"Indeed, Reinhardt-sama!" Ilmera cries, hands clasped, eyes teary. "I thought my heart stopped seeing you collapsed!"
Father's furious. Ilmera's distraught. Erna and Ingo crowd my bedroom, turning it into a family meeting. I see them in person for the first time: Father, late 30s, a dashing, muscular deputy knight commander; Erna, barely 20, a gentle beauty married at 15; Ingo, 13, slightly chubby but potentially handsome; Ilmera, 18, baby-faced, looking 15, cute but flat-chested.
"Father, Lady Erna, I hid my magic for House Barei's future."
No point hiding it. Two days after awakening, I'll discuss renunciation and my future before Erna's retinue or Viscount Arnold interfere.
"House Barei's future?" Father says. "At 15, you'll inherit!"
Erna flinches but doesn't object. Too kind. Her retinue and family likely push for my disinheritance. All eyes are on me. Ilmera's clenched fists, white-knuckled, sense my intent.
"Father, I renounce House Barei's inheritance. Ingo, with noble blood, is the rightful heir. As a commoner's son, inheriting brings only harm. Father, please apply for my disinheritance at the Noble Council."
"Fool! You're my eldest son! Why say such sad things? We're discussing your magic, not inheritance!"
Even as a false father, his love is real, making it harder to inherit.
"Thank you, Father. That's enough. As a noble-raised child, I understand the constraints. If I inherit, Viscount Arnold's house won't stay silent. It's natural, and I don't object."
I meet Father's gaze, resolute. After a minute, he looks away first. Erna and Ilmera cry; Ingo's dumbfounded, clueless.
"When did you get that look?" Father says. "Yennie's death hit you hard, but you never neglected sword training. I missed you training as a mage. My eyes must be blind…"
"Exactly!" Ilmera says. "I thought I knew everything about Reinhardt-sama. Summoning three splendid golems? Unbelievable!"
True, the false me only trained as a knight, gaining decent swordsmanship and physique. Their shock is natural, and summoning peak-era metal golems was reckless. I crafted them at my prime; now, I can summon but not control them. I dispel the golems, scattering magical essence as they dissolve. I'll summon weaker ones and train up.
"They're gone…" Father mutters. "I wanted to use those swords and shields…"
I ignore him. Those golem-crafted weapons, copies of masterworks, would disrupt markets.
"My magic teacher… was Mother. As a high priestess, she noticed my mana and secretly taught me control. She learned basics from Rotal, a mage she adventured with, calling him Grandpa. I hid my magic because I'll eventually leave House Barei. A rare mage in a noble family tied to inheritance—what happens?"
"True," Father says. "It'd put you in a tough spot. But is this okay? Disinherited, you could stay, but the house would claim you as a mage. Can a noble-raised boy live as a commoner?"
Fair point. A 14-year-old noble brat surviving as a commoner isn't easy. But staying means being kept by Ingo, manipulated by his retinue, even if he's well-meaning.
"I'll live as an adventurer. Father, please permit my enrollment in the Adventurer Training Academy."
The academy teaches adventuring basics—knowledge, combat, magic—for a fee. Anyone can join the guild, but it's a haven for noble third sons or wealthy heirs leaving home. Naive nobles can't handle seasoned adventurers without being exploited or shaming their families. The academy's hidden goal is networking among similar youths. Many form parties with classmates. To live freely, unbound, I must convince Father.
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