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Translator: penny
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: That's the Rahel Tani Right There
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"Didn't you promise to settle things and come back!"
Inside the tent where the banner of the blue lion fluttered. The marquis's voice sliced through the air, ringing out sharply. His rage was so intense that the veins in his neck bulged prominently.
"I did settle it, didn't I?"
"You just stirred up more conflict!"
"Are you saying our Barsha family has to kowtow to some lowly count's whims?"
The Marquis Barsha's wife crossed her arms and stared down her husband. Her expression was composed enough, but a suppressed sneer lurked beneath the surface.
"If the 'settlement' you wanted meant crushing our daughter's pride and forcing her to bow her head... well, that leaves me a bit perplexed."
The marchioness had already heard the full story from her daughter. The count's heir disguising himself as a merchant—an utterly rude stunt.
If friction arose from that, the blame clearly lay with them. She even thought they owed her an apology.
"Aren't you going too far? Beating our child over something like this and making her bow her head. All for some piddling count's family..."
"Piddling?"
The marquis stared at his wife in disbelief, pressing a hand to his forehead. Deep furrows etched between his brows bore the marks of long years of worry.
But the marchioness dismissed his torment as trivial.
"Anyway, I've handled this mess. Don't worry about it anymore."
The wife let out a sigh laced with indifference and turned her head away. Her nonchalance left the marquis too deflated even for a sigh.
"Do you... even know why the Rahel Tani family received their title?"
The marquis's voice was low and heavy. Swallowed fury weighed down every word.
"Do you think I'm an idiot? I know it was a title personally bestowed by His Majesty for their feats in the war a decade or so ago."
"And you still treat them like that?!"
The marquis's roar tore through the tent. Startled by the sound, his wife flinched and took a step back. She'd never seen her husband this furious before, and it left her flustered.
"Y-You're yelling at me over some count's family?!"
Indignation colored the marchioness's voice, but to the marquis, it seemed like shallow acting—completely transparent.
"Do you think we're still in the old days of absolute class hierarchy?!"
Two hundred years ago, the demon king's sudden emergence drenched the continent in blood and plague. The catastrophe didn't just claim millions of lives; it shattered the old order of nobility.
No longer did noble blood alone place one above the masses.
A lowly priestess could be hailed as a saint overnight, and a peasant digging in the fields might rise as the empire's hero, sharing a table with the emperor.
The empire was changing. Power now flowed not to time-honored houses bound by blood, but to those who could defend it.
This was an era where a border guard wielding a sword outranked a fat, indolent noble. No matter how prestigious the lineage, without the strength to hold it, they'd be torn apart by street hyenas and fall into ruin—that was reality.
Even the black fiends, the monsters that had claimed more human lives than any other, adapted to this shift.
The empire might seem at peace on the surface, but beyond its borders lay a hellish battlefield.
And right in the heart of that inferno, a mere fifteen-year-old had felled over a thousand black fiends. That boy was none other than the current Count Rahel Tani.
His exploits were the stuff of legend, sung by bards far and wide. Tales spread of how merely meeting his gaze could suck the soul from a man's body, delivering instant death.
Even now, the black fiends' lair he'd charged into bare-handed was said to be choked with their corpses and blood.
Thanks to his feats, the empire reclaimed a mana-rich, resource-abundant territory from the fiends' grasp.
For that merit, he'd received his countship at just twenty-five. And the daughter he'd sired was a once-in-centuries magical genius, securing the family's bright future.
"And you're picking a fight with that Rahel Tani?!"
"D-Darling...!"
The wife trembled at the corners of her mouth and hastily averted her gaze. She seemed about to retort, but just then—
Bwoooong—!
A trumpet blast shook the earth. Beneath its majestic vibrations, the marchioness's emotions froze in an instant of silence.
"Oh, dear! Let's go see our son's ceremony first, darling. We can talk about this later."
As if her earlier rage had been a dream, the Marquis Barsha's wife painted a smile on her lips. Like a noblewoman heading to a grand festival, she stepped out of the tent.
The Marquis Barsha watched her back, then let out a short sigh. It was a breath mingled with profound disappointment and resignation.
Their marriage had been a political alliance of family interests, but had he known she'd be this incompetent and tactless from the start, he would have broken off the engagement somehow.
Still, inwardly anticipating his son's achievements, he left the tent.
The freshly concluded subjugation battlefield still reeked of blood, smoke, and lingering mana.
The central plaza, packed with nobles, had transformed into a grand tournament ground. Dressed in finery emblazoned with crests, jewels, and ornaments, they awaited news of their heirs' feats.
Soon, the imperial herald took the stage.
After perfunctory praises for their service to the empire's safety, he announced the long-awaited merit rankings.
Names called from 30th place onward.
"10th place! For slaying ten goblins and one orc—the second son of the Marquis Barsha family, Diellin Barsha!"
Before the words even finished, the marchioness's cheer erupted first.
"See?! What did I tell you! How could our house, with such an outstanding son, ever falter?"
Her triumphant attitude left the marquis speechless, but as a father, he couldn't help smiling at his son's top-ten finish.
But that smile didn't last.
"8th place! For slaying three malrangs, four goblins, and a troll—Bella Rahel Tani!"
The herald's resounding voice froze the smile on the marchioness's face. With trembling eyes, she stared at one girl.
The girl fidgeted with her hem, head bowed. Her shy, blushing cheeks made her look every bit the ten-year-old child she was.
"A t-troll...? You're not joking, right?"
"...You're hopeless to the end."
A girl so young her baby fat hadn't even faded, hunting a troll? It was too absurd to swallow at face value.
But if she was adopted by that Count Rahel Tani, it changed everything. How could she be ordinary?
"2nd place! For slaying twenty goblins, five orcs, and even a wyvern—Camilla Rahel Tani!"
Another Rahel Tani name rang out. The marchioness went rigid on the spot.
The marquis glared at his wife with a twisted expression. Contempt burned in his eyes.
Of course, this mess wasn't solely her fault. Plenty had underestimated the Rahel Tani before.
The family was shrouded in rampant rumors, but few had witnessed their prowess firsthand.
They'd never once joined a public subjugation like this, so the world dismissed half those tales as exaggeration.
But this time was different. For whatever reason, the Rahel Tani had stepped forward themselves. As if to prove it to the world, they'd etched their prestige indelibly on the stage.
"Remember this well. A house where a baby-cheeked girl racks up feats even grown knights struggle to match. That's the Rahel Tani."
The marchioness swallowed dryly. Her eyes quivered as realization dawned on the blunder she'd made.
This subjugation left their family scant comfort—merely their second son's top-ten spot—and the gnawing anxiety of an irreparable rift with the Rahel Tani.
Back at the Rahel Tani estate after the subjugation, I stood with my shoulders squared, feeling rather proud.
And why not? I'd outranked promising heirs older than me to claim a solid 8th place. Every time I recalled the marchioness's jaw-dropping stare, a wave of satisfaction washed over me.
Good thing I hadn't backed down from that troll. Roselia must have thought the same.
But no.
In Roselia's study, for some reason, I had my skirt hem hiked up to my calf. And behind me, Roselia was pressing a thin wooden switch against my leg.
"Stand straight. It'll hurt more if I miss."
No sooner had she spoken than a whoosh cut the air, and a sharp sting bloomed on my calf.
"Ow...!"
I'd been punched by grown men's fists before. Beaten with clubs as thick as my arm multiple times. But this pain was utterly foreign.
Not agonizing enough to kill, but too nagging to shrug off—a peculiar, prickling ache.
"Two more to go."
"Ugh..."
Why on earth?
I couldn't fathom why Roselia was switching me after I'd upheld the family's honor.
"Do you know what you did wrong?"
I couldn't answer easily. I'd expected praise, not this.
"Tell me, Bella. Do you know why you're being punished?"
"...Because I only got 8th?"
Why did Roselia's glare sharpen even more?
I couldn't understand it at all.
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