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~Chapter 17~
Belmour Marquisate, Spirit Castle.
Inside the territory of Spirit Castle was a modest neighborhood filled with small houses.
Most of the residents were commoners who worked as tenant farmers or did odd jobs.
“First we had floods, and now a drought…”
A farmer sighed, worried about how all his crops had dried up and there was nothing to live on.
“My mother still needs her medicine, but it’s so hard to find a healer or an apothecary.”
A woman who worked as a maid at the marquis’ castle looked gloomy.
A middle-aged man, who lost his lifelong mill to an earthquake, hiccupped as he held his bottle.
“The old days of prosperity feel like a dream now. The land was fertile, there were plenty of resources.”
The people of Spirit Castle were suffering from never-ending disasters—natural calamities, disease, and more.
When things are hard, people always need someone to blame.
“Isn’t it all because of the marquis’ eldest daughter, who angered the Spirit King? She was born out of wedlock with another man.”
Ciella was the perfect target for everyone’s resentment.
For the marquis, she was a convenient excuse to shift the people’s anger and escape his own reputation as an incompetent lord.
“But didn’t the disasters get even worse after the eldest daughter was kicked out of Spirit Castle? Maybe there’s another problem.”
An old man spoke up with the facts, but nobody’s prejudice changed.
“That wicked girl must have cursed us out of spite. Who knows—maybe she joined up with black mages in the underworld?”
The old man looked sad.
“…Lady Marciela was always kind to the servants. And the late madam had a heart of gold too.”
He was once a gardener at Spirit Castle.
The man with the bottle rolled his eyes.
“Old man, do you really believe nobles are that sincere?”
“Someone who experienced it would know better. Spirits are pure. They only like good people, no matter their birth or status.”
He remembered the little spirit who loved his garden—a pure, bright being like a child.
How could something like that cause disaster?
The middle-aged man stood up and glared at the old man.
“Are you bewitched? Or maybe you’re a follower of black mages. I’ll report you right now.”
The old man waved his hands, startled.
“No, I’m just telling the truth!”
But most of the people only cared about their own suffering.
No one wanted to listen to someone who defended the “root of all evil.”
“Hey, everyone! At sunrise tomorrow, let’s—”
The man shouting suddenly felt frozen, and shut his mouth.
Everyone else stiffened and stared at the same spot.
Wooooom—
“Is that… the grass spirit?”
The old man muttered, eyes wide.
A low-level spirit, who once loved his garden and disappeared when its master died, floated near him before vanishing into the dark sky.
Flash.
Suddenly, the entire Spirit Castle and the night sky were wrapped in bright light.
The main Belmour family and all its branches were urgently gathered in the main castle’s conference room.
Most of them were powerful nobles of the emperor’s faction, with major influence over politics and society.
The Belmour family was famous for their spirit powers, seen as the empire’s best defense against demons.
The reason for the sudden meeting was a family heirloom called the “Arness Statue,” a gift from the Spirit King in the distant past.
Now, with the Spirit King supposedly angry and disasters everywhere, the statue had turned black.
“Lord Marquis, last night the Arness Statue shone with a rare light. Hasn’t it been over a hundred years since that happened?”
Count Bjern, the marquis’ youngest brother, asked eagerly.
Last night, a huge light from the statue had covered all of Spirit Castle.
It meant someone in the family had awakened a Spirit King-level power, and that the Spirit King had chosen the next head of Spirit Castle.
“But since no one awakened that level of power, maybe it’s a sign that the Spirit King will choose one of this generation’s spiritists.”
“Elizabeth awakened as a high-level spirit summoner recently. Maybe the Spirit King picked her?”
Count Bjern tried to promote his 18-year-old daughter.
Duchess Arcess, the marquis’ older sister from a foreign grand duchy, scowled.
“I rushed here for an ‘emergency’ only to hear that some statue glowed? That’s supposed to be a sign?”
“Sister, it’s a very big deal.”
It meant another branch of the family—not the direct line—could become the next head.
The marquis looked around at his relatives with an unreadable expression.
“A long time ago, during the holy-demon war, the first head of our family made a direct contract with the Spirit King.
Since then, the heads of the family have always been chosen by the Spirit Kings.”
The duchess still looked doubtful.
“But since your grandfather, hasn’t no one made a contract directly with the Spirit King?”
Count Alec Neuyer, the marquis’ first brother, cleared his throat.
“You have no real direct heir. Shouldn’t you call Marciela and confirm?”
He was criticizing the marquis for exiling his true daughter Marciela and making an illegitimate child his heir.
“I recognized their mother as the marquise, so Basilie and Lerazie are my direct descendants. There’s no need to call that girl.”
The marquis declared, while Alec, who’d always liked Marciela, looked uneasy.
“Marciela was smart and kind. Maybe her powers just awakened late? That happens sometimes. And the late marquise wasn’t that kind of person either…”
“You’re only seeing the good side. I know better than anyone.
Besides, she looks nothing like me.”
Alec looked at the marquis with pity.
“She looks a lot like her grandmother. The portrait shows she had gold hair and green eyes too. She was beautiful.”
“My real children are only Basilie and Lerazie. It’s over. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
The marquis narrowed his eyes at his brother.
“Alec, did you have feelings for the former marquise? You treat that exile like your own child.”
“Of course not.”
Alec’s worry grew, but he said nothing more.
He hadn’t helped Marciela openly because the marquis was always suspicious of his relationship with the late marquise.
The duchess scowled and found a new point to attack.
“Anyway, the recognized children’s mother wasn’t a noble, was she?”
Even if the deceased mistress was recognized as the marquise, the rest of the noble families would never accept the children’s legitimacy.
It was an insult to their noble bloodlines to be outranked by an illegitimate child.
“I heard Basilie awakened with a high-level spirit, but still, her birth…”
“If Marciela isn’t the real child, then the successor spot is basically empty, right?”
The marquis’ face grew dark as he listened to the murmurs of the family.
If this continued, there would be a power struggle among the branches.
“In that case, we have to gather all this generation’s spiritists and confirm it.
The Spirit King sometimes hides their identity and makes the choice themselves.”
Count Bjern smiled, already plotting to get his daughter picked.
“Of course, Marciela is excluded, right? Since you don’t believe she’s your child.”
As the marquis thought of Marciela, a strange look came into his eyes.
