Chapter 002: Constantine of Connery Reeves

After a few seconds of silence, the Duke spoke. There was no sense of reverence, joy, or anything similar; his demeanor remained unchanged, and his voice carried a faint hint of sarcasm, as if he were merely a neighbor grumbling about his wife's cooking. Yet, in that instant, Karlkassas felt a strange heat in the air, almost raising the temperature of the surrounding atmosphere slightly, causing even the Deputy Foreign Minister of the Empire to involuntarily shrink back.

The poor little creature, he probably cannot even begin to imagine what kind of fate awaits him in the future... The viscount's gaze drifted over that somewhat frail figure, and he couldn't help but let out a faint sigh in his heart...

The peculiar pressure vanished in an instant. The duke clasped his hands together, supporting his chin while obscuring half of his face, his expression remaining calm, showing little change. However, the deputy minister, relying on the unique sharpness of a businessman, noticed a slight twitch at the corner of the other's brow and the flickering gaze hidden within the reflection of the lenses.

For example, lying on the ground and using the strength of both hands to lift the body up, then lowering it, and lifting it again... Or squatting on the ground with hands behind the back, jumping around a tree like a frog. Moreover, he must maintain a split-leg standing position in one place every day until he is completely exhausted

However, it is feared that no one facing him would regard him as an old man on the verge of death—his black attire is smooth and crisp, showing no signs of wrinkles despite his slightly stooped body. The only shortcoming lies in his left arm, where the empty sleeve is folded flat. Yet, this physical imperfection still fails to diminish the presence of the person before us; from this slow and lifeless body, there seems to emanate a subtle yet persistent aura.

The deferential assistant to the Minister of Foreign Affairs bent down without paying attention, habitually squinting his eyes slightly as he carefully scrutinized the man behind the pearwood desk, while his mind rapidly reorganized the information stored within.

A priest who harnesses the power of the deities can completely heal wounds, as long as time permits... Therefore, only crude mercenaries and the wild inhabitants of the wasteland would consider scars as a form of boastful capital. Ordinary nobles would regard such a scar as a disgrace, seeking every means to conceal it, even if it were inflicted by the fierce orcs or the most noble and elegant elves of legend...

Before the charming, commercial smile faded from the face of the viscount, an elderly man, over sixty years of age, appeared within his line of sight. The impeccably tailored black butler uniform he wore aptly reflected his identity. He slowly uttered the formal greeting, but both his voice and movements were equally sluggish, lacking any vitality

The young man obediently nodded, yet his gaze still appeared vacant, as if mechanical. After bowing, he continued to exit the room with a somewhat slow and clumsy gait

... ...

However, it is undoubtedly very suitable for that plan

The reason why the Duke has kept him hidden so meticulously is likely due to the fact that this little fellow's mental development is not quite sound. One of the most capable intelligence agents under the Viscount managed to bribe a newly arrived servant in that estate, and among the rumors obtained, there was one stating that this child did not learn to speak until the age of 4, and his greatest pastime is to sit in one place in a daze or perform some incomprehensible actions.

Good day, Your Grace Duke George de Friedrich Connerivis. I have brought the exalted decree bestowed upon you by His Majesty the Emperor from the Palace of Fakenser..." The Viscount took a deep breath, drew out the scroll bearing the emblem of royal authority from his bosom, and slowly unfurled it

Members of the Constantine family are born to command thousands of troops! It is as if they are granted military ranks from birth? At least now, Viscount Casas clearly cannot agree with this statement any longer

Respect does not necessarily bring about goodwill. Just as the viscount straightened his body, he noticed that the old steward's expression had become more serious. This cough was certainly not caused by any physical ailment. It was only after the old man shifted his body slightly to the side and gestured with his eyes that the dazed viscount finally noticed a figure behind the other person.

The floor is covered with a brown wool carpet, a full inch thick, crafted by the hands of the spirits of the Tor grasslands from the south. Stepping on it feels as if one is treading on lush grass, evoking an impulse to lie down upon it. In one corner of the room stands a bronze-cast heater, the contents of which are unknown, emitting fragrant smoke that wafts through the room, filling the air with a refreshing aroma.

Your Excellency, Viscount Karl Kasas von Brausich. Welcome to your visit

The Duke waved his hand once more, his deep voice rich with magnetism; however, the subtle tone seemed to indicate that he did not welcome the arrival of the Viscount as his words suggested.

The viscount, born into a merchant family, did not understand martial skills, nor could he discern the significance represented by the seemingly precise footwork akin to a ruler's measurement. However, this did not hinder his respectfulness—his eyebrows subtly twitched twice, and while responding in a low voice, he pressed his hand against his right chest and bowed, appearing even more respectful than the usual encounters among nobles, reaching the standards of etiquette expected when meeting an elder

This does not seem to be an expression of any dissatisfaction with one's own actions— the coin in Casas's palm silently flipped over. From a hint of restraint on the other person's face, he made such a judgment, or rather... The other party does not seem to have much experience in dealing with people.

However, now, after a careful observation, the viscount began to curse his own foolishness in his heart

In fact, his vacant gaze and somewhat disability-like manner of walking made the journey much slower than expected, which reminded the viscount of certain rumors

Indeed, imagining this person as a servant is largely influenced by the environment—if one were to merely consider appearances, the imperial viscount might even think that this individual is just a lowly creature from the Ninth Avenue, surviving by engaging in pimping and thievery among those ruffians. Of course, such a disrespectful thought only flickered briefly in the baron's mind—having such a character appear in the home of a provincial governor or an imperial duke would likely be even more unacceptable than the goddess Melike appearing in a brothel. Of course, such a disrespectful thought only flickered briefly in the baron's mind—having such a character appear in the home of a provincial governor or an imperial duke would likely be even more unacceptable than the goddess Melike appearing in a brothel.

Your Excellency, the Viscount, welcome

In contrast to his excessively thin lips and not particularly high nose bridge, only his hair color somewhat aligns with the term "nobility". The silvery hair reflects the light in the hall, revealing a hint of faint golden strands, commonly referred to as platinum. It is considered an indispensable part of a perfect noble appearance—provided that he can manage to groom it properly.

The duke's old steward, but that is merely a nominal title—anyone who has a basic understanding of the affairs of the Griffin Knights should be aware that this elderly servant, dressed in a manner befitting his station, was once the deputy leader of the Griffin Knights and held the position of second-in-command, subordinate only to the former duke.

The unnatural coughing sound caused Carl Casas to pause in surprise

It is evident that this duke is not merely the valiant general of legend; he also possesses a considerable appreciation for enjoyment. Upon entering the room, the viscount said to himself

Karl, Cassas clenched his fist, feeling somewhat dizzy from such a significant oversight, for the person before him, whom he had almost mistaken for a pimp and a thief, was none other than the Duke's son, ... Konstantin di Friedrich Connarivis ... . ... He was one of the key figures involved in this visit.

In addition, it is said that he suffers from a chronic headache, which even the grace of God cannot alleviate from his body; this may also be one of the reasons why he is able to maintain that pale complexion

Moreover, it is likely that there are no servants in this world who could dress in such a manner... Kassas could swear he had never seen such a bizarre outfit; it was not at all the attire befitting a noble, nor did it resemble any style of warrior or spellcaster from his memory. The garment, akin to a robe but featuring a front with lapels and a large collar, along with a lined hunting vest and baggy trousers tucked into long boots, appeared more like something that would occasionally come from afar to Hayden, an attempt to attract the attention of lesser nobles lacking any artistic appreciation, a so-called avant-garde artist's attire...

This scar, for the duke who once led the griffins at Jiajiji Mountain, facing an army of 120,000 beastmen that was ten times his own size and ultimately achieving victory, undoubtedly represents his military exploits more than any medal could.

This room is arranged quite beautifully; it is not particularly large, yet it is exceptionally exquisite. The ceiling features a coffered design with a crystal chandelier that includes magical lighting. The dark brown oak wainscoting is polished to a gleaming shine, and the surroundings are adorned with intricate gilded decorative patterns. Velvet curtains, matching the color of the walls, hang at the windows.

This absurdity compelled the viscount to once again shift his gaze towards the peculiar boy ahead

"Dear Father." Just as the Deputy Minister was contemplating how to showcase his diplomatic eloquence and break the deadlock, a boy named Konstantin spoke up, shattering the silence. He did not say anything further, but his even paler complexion and the slightly trembling wrist covering his forehead were enough to convey a great deal.

The reputation of this first princess is indeed somewhat too prominent, even among the second-generation nobles far on the frontier, her name resonates widely. Such a figure is certainly not meant to be a mere pawn in a political transaction of this nature. However, Karkasas is equally aware that some matters cannot achieve perfection; even those artworks that have been celebrated for millennia are not exempt from this. Moreover, how could a transaction conceived by the human mind be any different? In fact, this is precisely why he finds himself in this place. Since it is a human endeavor, the task of compensating for its shortcomings must also be undertaken by humans.

It can be said that the previous oversight was not the fault of Karl Kassas. Among the meager information he received about the duke's legitimate son, there was not even a portrait of his appearance, and the trajectory of his life over the past decade and more remains a complete blank to the outside world. The only reliable statement is that this duke's legitimate son can be considered a rather mysterious figure, as the duke seems to have kept him secluded in an estate in Mideheim.

To say that he is kept in captivity may be somewhat disrespectful, but in fact, it is true. Even the residents living around the estate of Duke Mieheim have no impression of this duke's legal heir. For this reason, the little information that the informants could gather exists only in various legends. "It seems that this duke has adopted some habits of the great dragons?" A ridiculous thought flashed through Karkasas's mind—according to those legends, evil dragons would imprison human princesses in high towers or caves. "It seems that this duke has adopted some habits of the great dragons?" A ridiculous thought flashed through Karkasas's mind—according to those legends, evil dragons would imprison human princesses in high towers or caves.

"Ahem... I beg your pardon." With a slight clearing of his throat, Karl Kasas focused his mind once more, took a deep breath, and then proclaimed in as solemn a voice as he could muster: "On the 14th day of the 4th month in the year 791 of the Age of Light, His Majesty Emperor Godfrey Gordon Raelv VII of Phoenix announces the betrothal of His Royal Highness Konstantin de Friedrich Connerivis, the eldest son of Duke George de Friedrich Connerivis, to Princess Miali Galanode Raelv of the Empire. This decree shall take immediate effect"

This appears to be an entirely ordinary young man, his face bearing a pallor seemingly formed by a habit of being active at night and resting during the day. There are even noticeable dark circles under his eyes. Aside from the somewhat unique style of his clothing, there is nothing particularly remarkable about him. It is precisely for this reason that just a few seconds ago, Baron Karl instinctively regarded this slender fellow, who stands nearly five feet tall, as a hapless servant suffering from lack of sleep, yet obliged to be at his master's beck and call.

I am deeply honored by your esteemed presence

Although it was their first meeting, the viscount had to admit that the impression the duke made on him was almost entirely in line with his preconceived notions—a sharply defined face, characteristic of a warrior, even though the relentless passage of time had left its marks in the form of wrinkles on his broad forehead. However, the half-inch beard, gently resting on his chin, and the neatly groomed appearance softened the contours of his face somewhat. Additionally, the well-combed, light golden hair and the single crystal eyeglasses further enhanced this gentle aura, permeating his entire visage.

Then, Karl Kassas saw the objective of his journey... the Imperial Governor, Commander of the Western Army... or rather, George D. Friedrich Connerivis

The soft filaments are generally still drooping, but certain molecules stubbornly defy the direction of growth, thus forming a peculiar pattern. The intertwined parts remind the baron of the few canaries he has kept—perhaps the nests they build during the breeding season bear some resemblance to the scenery above their heads. There is a smoothness interspersed with a hint of disorder. The intertwined parts remind the baron of the few canaries he has kept—perhaps the nests they build during the breeding season bear some resemblance to the scenery above their heads. There is a smoothness interspersed with a hint of disorder

Yet all of this was marred by a broad scar that ran from the temple, through the eye, and directly to the edge of the mouth. It seemed to be caused by a weapon that was not particularly sharp, a long-standing purplish-red scar that clung to one side of the face like a serpent. The dark red flesh at the depth of the scar twitched slightly, as if it were still oozing blood. It resembled the slender pupil of an otherworldly creature, glaring menacingly at anyone who fell within its gaze. The long-standing purplish-red scar clung to one side of the face like a serpent, and the dark red flesh at the depth of the scar twitched slightly, as if it were still oozing blood. It resembled the slender pupil of an otherworldly creature, glaring menacingly at anyone who fell within its gaze

In fact, it was not behind him; he had been standing in a very conspicuous position all along. However, from the very beginning, the viscount's attention had been entirely captivated by the old butler, leaving no notice of... It should be said that he had already seen him, but had left no impression whatsoever—compared to the old man's robust presence, the existence of this person, who was so close at hand, was indeed somewhat weak.

Indeed, it is quite a violation of decorum, but what of it? The governor of the Western Frontier before me is not one of those bureaucrats who are subservient to imperial authority, nor is he a commoner who can only bow and scrape. Military figures seem to have an inherent aversion to politics and authority; they prefer to focus their energies on their troops and defenses. In their eyes, politics is something only emperors and elders engage in. They are soldiers, and they possess an instinctive disdain for politics.

He should have known long ago that this little rascal was not an ordinary servant, for he stood casually beside the old butler, not bowing his head like a typical servant—in fact, he did not make any movement at all

In comparison, the current matters are merely trivial issues... Moreover, the news I bring is certainly not good

No matter how much one squints to concentrate, the boy standing before me, who is over 4 feet tall, is still difficult to remember. Upon closer inspection, the pale skin on his face could be described as delicate, yet combined with his featureless facial features, it becomes a barely perceptible existence. His nose and brow may have inherited the noble lineage of his parents, characterized by a straight and high deep contour. However, paired with a pair of eyes that can only be described as dull and lifeless, along with slight dark circles, this small measure of excellence is completely submerged in an overall blandness.

In the distant eastern continent, there was once a saying: "As long as one is a servant of a state minister, even if one is a doorman, one holds a status equivalent to that of a baron"

This duke is evidently a standout among them—reportedly, he completely rejected the officials sent by the Senate to the western regions of Turad and Hud, and even once struck the former chancellor in the presence of His Majesty the King. Although it was merely a couple of punches, the other party subsequently lost four teeth. Regarding such an act of great disrespect, His Majesty the Seventh could only respond with a smile in the end

However, his voice soon experienced a slight pause—according to general etiquette, when proclaiming the will of that supreme authority, the subjects should adopt a respectful posture; even a duke, such a high-ranking official, should kneel on one knee. Yet the man before him remained firmly seated, showing no intention of moving.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Excellency, Baron Karl Kasas von Brausich. I am Konstantin di Friedrich Connarivis..."

Karl Casas once again recalled the intelligence he had gathered thus far in his mind, becoming more familiar with his task, which was very helpful for its completion. More importantly, it was a good method for relieving stress— the Imperial Duke's residence, even though it was a palace-like building, was of a size that was difficult for the average person to imagine. The multiple staircases and corridors were enough to make a viscount, who was also a noble but could never own such a large estate, feel dizzy. Although he maintained a smile while following the old steward, a sense of annoyance had already begun to arise within him.

The current situation is undoubtedly far from ideal, but it is certainly a vast improvement compared to the worst-case scenario envisioned in one's mind. The Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs strives to make the smile on his face appear more dignified and sincere, yet he cannot help but let out a slight sigh in his heart.

The corner of the viscount's mouth twisted into a mocking arc, but he quickly shook his head, dispelling that thought from his mind—his party had already arrived at their destination, where a heavy, intricately carved wooden door stood open at the end of the corridor. An ivory-carved screen separated their view.

The man, standing over six feet tall, strode in with heavy footsteps from another door, seemingly oblivious to the Viscount of the Empire, and walked directly to the rosewood desk in the reception room. Only after taking his seat did he raise his head and casually wave his hand, performing the customary gesture among nobles

Constantine di Friedrich Connerivis ... ... Constantine, meaning a person who holds steadfast to their beliefs ... ... the eldest son of Duke George di Friedrich Connerivis, aged thirteen years and three months

Has it flared up again? Never mind, you don't need to be present for what comes next... You should go rest. The Duke's voice lost some of its sharpness, gaining a touch of gentleness. It resembled that of a strict father occasionally showing concern for his child: Once you feel better, have Walter arrange for a trip to Hayden City... Just to stroll around, after all, it's not every day you come here, and you can't just stay cooped up in this manor.

This statement may not align with the actual situation in the Western Continent, but it does indicate certain issues. Moreover, the elderly man before us is not just any gatekeeper— for this particular mission, the viscount has already utilized his own channels to gather various individuals around this duke, with a particular focus on this seemingly frail yet oddly imposing elder.

However, the duke clearly has no such intention, nor does he need to do so at all

The First Princess... is that the 'Holy White Lily'?

Welcome to your arrival, Your Excellency the Viscount, my father is waiting for you... The young man nodded dumbly at the Viscount, which was not entirely appropriate as a gesture of courtesy, but this was all that the welcome from the Duke's eldest son amounted to. He then shifted his gaze to the old butler, and thus the line of people turned towards the main entrance of the residence

Although the channels of communication are not very smooth, even the rough information is sufficient for him to know that this individual, who was once the Chief of the Imperial Guard, is part of a glorious record. In fact, this limited information is already worthy of the attention of the Honorable Vice Minister of the Viscount. Even though he has become a manager of internal affairs, it is rumored that this elder still holds a certain influence over the Duke's various decisions.

At this time when the barbarians are about to attack, let me abandon those little cubs who are already howling with bloodlust, traveling thousands of miles from the western frontier back to Hayton... just because of this trivial matter

What happened? Are you thinking? The awkward pause was met with a voice clearly tinged with displeasure... The duke remained unperturbed, as if his actions were entirely unremarkable.