Chapter 3

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 3

Chapter Title: An Invitation to the Hunt

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“...”

Enoch buried his face wordlessly in the towel proffered by the butler. Konrad was deluding himself right now.

Even if the house teetered on the brink of ruin, he was still the head of the marquisate—and the triumphant general of this war.

Would the lord truly be ignorant of what his vassal knew?

“Ben. The matter I ordered last time.”

“It’s prepared, my lord.”

The butler politely extended a bundle of documents.

<Agatha Noblesse>

Konrad’s eyes bulged as he confirmed the document’s title.

“No way! You mean you knew all along and just sat idle? How could you do that! You knew I’d been tearing my hair out over finances...!”

“Please calm yourself, Sir Konrad.”

While the butler soothed the hysterical Konrad.

Enoch, towel draped over the nape of his neck, scanned the report that had been brought up. In truth, he already knew a fair amount about Agatha Noblesse.

She was a woman who had endured two political marriages even before he lost his parents and was thrust onto the battlefield.

‘She was thirteen then, wasn’t she.’

Three years his senior, so she’d be just twenty-three now. He had only recently heard at the triumph banquet that she’d divorced her sixth husband.

The butler, having successfully quieted Konrad, added an aside.

“I’ve heard that after coming of age, she secured independence in marriage from His Majesty. Since then, she’s wed three times—and all ended in divorce, the latest included.”

“Impressive. Truly Noblesse. Even with inheritance rights, pulling off divorces so easily isn’t simple. Doesn’t this prove the Noblesse lady wields tremendous power?”

Konrad marveled. In noble houses, direct female lines couldn’t inherit titles but held succession rights.

Agatha’s case left her as the sole direct descendant, making every asset hers.

That storied history and bloodline, paired with wealth second only to the imperial house.

Her power was inevitable. And didn’t she have the emperor as godfather, childhood friends with the crown prince to boot?

“Assassination or kidnapping attempts?”

“Frequent ones. She’s the only direct descendant left. She secluded herself after the divorces but now seeks escorts for outings. Most venerable houses seem reluctant. Paid work raises honor concerns...”

“The next successor’s a foreigner.”

“Yes. Which is why His Imperial Majesty shows keen interest in the Noblesse lady’s heirs.”

If the direct line perished entirely, succession passed to collaterals. A surviving direct female’s children from marriage would inherit instead.

Kin reactions split here.

Some favored loyalty to the certain next successor over uncertain heirs; distant collaterals tried abduction marriages.

They knew only the head held rights to summon the knight order and enforce house discipline—making it impossible for Agatha to move freely.

Hence the constant attempts.

Enoch, who had stripped his kin of privileges and banished them from the capital the moment he returned as head, let slip a wry smile.

“To the study first.”

Once upstairs in the study, he sat at the desk and pored over the documents.

As the butler prepared tea, Konrad—standing before the desk—swallowed hard.

‘What conclusion will my lord reach?’

Ever since hearing the news, Enoch had grasped the risks all too well.

Intrigue over astronomical wealth.

The Noblesse offered zero military might to rely on.

When Agatha became sole heir at five, the knight order disbanded. Even as an adult, she wasn’t head and couldn’t summon them.

All that remained was an army barred from the castle.

Commanderless for eighteen years now, its state was anyone’s guess.

“My lord...”

“...?”

Enoch eyed the document Konrad had set down with puzzled eyes.

<Family Financial Status Report>

“...”

It was the sort of report that made one pinch their temples on reflex.

‘Right. As if anything’s ever been easy.’

From age ten—driven to war over his sister’s forced marriage—ease had eluded his life.

Sweet rewards always demanded fitting prices.

And he harbored no prejudice against paid escort contracts.

When had honor ever put food on the table?

“Very well.”

“Hurray! Finally, finally free from the financial stranglehold!”

As Konrad bounced around like a madman, butler Ben deftly set the steeped tea before his lord.

“We’ll sound out the Noblesse lady’s intentions.”

“Yes. See to it yourself.”

A few days later.

Society buzzed with rumors that Marquis Aratus had responded positively to the Noblesse lady.

Unlike the impoverished Aratus house—too strapped even for proper socializing—Agatha, entrenched in society’s circles, heard the news at home right away.

“...Lady Iris. You can’t imagine my joy at this good tidings...”

She fired off a delighted letter to Iris Domunia, the bearer of news, then rushed preparations for the palace.

Their intents aligned, true—but nothing was set in stone.

Before any contract, gauging capabilities and house temperament was essential.

In that light, how invaluable was the crown prince—able to summon any noble sans introduction?

His personality was utter trash, but his station? Rock-solid.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes, miss.”

Under security escort, Agatha entered the palace.

At the crown prince’s palace, no prince greeted her—only his chief servant.

“Welcome, my lady.”

“His Highness?”

“Still in his bedchamber.”

As expected. Her good-for-nothing childhood friend still wallowed in bed midday. The chief servant casually opened the bedchamber.

“Get up!”

Agatha stormed in and kicked the prince’s body—his face the only unmarred part. Groggily, his pale frame fumbled across the bed.

“Ugh... who...? Agatha?”

“I said get up! I need your help, Your Highness.”

“...”

Hardly the attitude of one seeking aid—but prince, Agatha, even the chief servant paid it no mind.

“I told you not to barge in while I sleep. Gotta wake me even then?”

“Then stay awake. Half your day in or out of bed—when else should I state my business? I’ll wait in the garden. Wash up and come.”

“...Ah, for real.”

Grumbling all the while, Crown Prince Antoni Roxiba sluggishly rose from bed.

His bare, muscled form was impressive—but far too familiar now to stir Agatha.

She promptly ordered the chief servant.

“Wash His Highness and escort him to the garden. Prepare his meal there too.”

“Yes, my lady.”

A mutter of you might as well be crown prince drifted by, but naturally, no one paid heed.

About twenty minutes into Agatha’s solo tea in the garden?

The wet-haired prince, dressed sloppily, ambled over and plopped down opposite. Eyes still hazy, but sleep had lifted somewhat.

“What is it today?”

“Fancy hosting a hunt?”

“Why again? Who to invite? Ah, right—you floated an escort offer to Marquis Aratus. He bit?”

“Yes. Want to check their skills. Broker it for me, Your Highness.”

“What’s the price?”

Godfather’s son and goddaughter sharing pains—cousins and childhood friends closer still—but Antoni Roxiba did nothing for free.

“That horse you had your eye on before.”

“Deal! I’ll send the invitation at once, Lady Agatha.”

Suddenly grave, Antoni bellowed for stationery. Written on the spot and stamped with the crown prince’s seal, the letter sped off to House Aratus.

This came roughly a week after Agatha had signaled her intent.

Lunch appeared swiftly on the table. As Agatha snatched a sweet dessert, an out-of-nowhere jab made her frown.

“Just how many marriages do you plan? Rewriting imperial marriage history?”

“What’ve I done? Look around—including Your Highness. Any decent husband material?”

“So that’s why you couldn’t stomach the Neuta dowager duchess, duchess, and lady—divorced ’em all?”

“Those men share blame for neglecting everything.”

Men razor-sharp at work, utter jellyfish at home.

That was Theodore Neuta, her sixth ex-husband. Antoni drummed on the report that had arrived on Enoch Aratus.

“So. This one’s your seventh candidate?”

“Who knows. Escorts are the priority now. Ah, there’ll definitely be an ambush on my way back today. Lend me some guards, Your Highness.”