Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C91

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Chapter 91: The Gathering Storm Part 5

After finishing the report in his hands, Earl Jandel quietly placed the parchment on the mantelpiece of the nearby hearth. The seasoned nobleman, who had weathered countless storms, was unusually silent for a moment. Then, raising his head, he fixed his trusted aide with a dark look.

"He’s a fool, and so are his subordinates. How long ago did this report come in?"

"Half a month."

"A fortnight, and Tonygel has already spiraled into chaos."

"My lord, this may not be a simple uprising," the aide replied cautiously. "Even if Sir Minty were incompetent, he wouldn’t be defeated by a rabble of peasants."

"The enemy might be mercenaries. But mercenaries are like irritating flies—they don’t swarm unless they smell profit." Earl Jandel’s voice was sharp. "Someone is manipulating events from behind the scenes."

The report mentioned that Grudin had offended these mercenaries, but the old earl knew their kind well. Without sufficient incentive, they wouldn’t dare oppose a local lord of substance. They wouldn’t fail to consider that Grudin had the backing of House Jandel.

Earl Jandel grew even more composed, tapping the emerald ring on his right index finger with his left hand. Those familiar with him knew this gesture meant he was deep in thought—a process during which interruptions were unwelcome. Seeing this, his aide wisely fell silent, waiting for the earl’s decision.

"I care about two things," the elder earl said after a long pause. "First, is Grudin alive or dead? Second, who orchestrated this?"

The aide bowed his head respectfully, feigning attentiveness. He knew the earl wasn’t finished speaking.

But just then, the door creaked open, interrupting Earl Jandel mid-sentence. A tall young man strode in with an air of brash confidence.

"Father."

The youth’s voice preceded him, full of vigor.

Jandel paused, glancing—more like glaring—at the intruder. "How many times must I tell you to knock before entering?"

"Great men aren’t bound by trivialities. Isn’t that what you taught me, Father?"

The young man strode confidently to his father’s side. Clad in a black coat with gold embroidery along the sleeves and collar, and bearing a sword at his hip, he was Earl Jandel’s second son—the only one of his age without a fief. He had voluntarily renounced his claim to land, choosing instead to remain by his father’s side.

Earl Jandel understood his son’s intentions but didn’t object. "It seems you’ve heard?"

The urgent intelligence had stirred the entire Pädarson Castle. The earl wasn’t surprised his son had arrived so quickly. If he hadn’t known, it would have reflected poorly on his vigilance.

"Hmm, trouble?" The youth glanced around the room, then plopped onto a nearby sofa, leaning back casually. "What happened?"

"Your brother’s in trouble."

"Really?"

Earl Jandel raised an eyebrow, his patience finally fraying. "It sounds as though you’re delighted your own flesh and blood is in peril."

"My apologies, Father." The young man picked up a cup, then set it down with a grin. "I know it’s unbecoming, but I can’t help it—I’m not good at hiding my emotions."

The smirk on his face confirmed the earl’s suspicions.

Old Earl Jandel shook his head. Once upon a time, he had been much the same. But while familial squabbles were one thing, outsiders harming his lineage was another matter entirely. Among nobility, such precedents were intolerable. Even among rival houses, outright bloodshed was rare. Intrigue and violence were distinct matters; noble blood was precious and not to be spilled lightly.

Thus, upon receiving the report, Earl Jandel had already resolved to exact bloody retribution as a warning to others.

However, he knew the situation wasn’t so simple. Tapping the report, he said, "There’s been unrest in Tonygel. Your brother’s fate is uncertain—"

He paused. "Though I suspect the worst." With a cold snort, he gestured for his aide to recount the current situation.

Sir Minty had been defeated?

When the young man heard his brother had been killed by a mob, he couldn’t help but shake his head. To him, peasants were peasants. For a lord to die in a rebellion was utterly humiliating. He felt a shadow of shame fall over the family name.

Regardless, the deceased was still his brother. Having such a failure in the family was embarrassing enough in front of outsiders. But when he heard of Sir Minty’s crushing defeat, his expression shifted entirely.

This wasn’t a mere rebellion.

Though outwardly brash, the young man was astute. Rising to his feet, he addressed Earl Jandel: "Father, there’s foul play here. Allow me to rally the troops immediately—I’ll make whoever’s behind this pay."

Earl Jandel regarded his son with a trace of disappointment.

"Do you know who’s behind this?"

The youth hesitated, then replied, "Once our forces march, their true colors will show."

Not entirely foolish. The old earl’s expression softened slightly, but he still shook his head. "While your idea isn’t bad, there are those who’d relish seeing us humiliated. Mobilizing an army would only hand them fodder for mockery."

The young man frowned.

The seasoned elder tapped his forehead. "Always think carefully. Your sword may destroy your enemies, but it won’t lead you to victory. Consider again."

"It’s simple: whoever benefits has motive."

"Not wrong," Earl Jandel nodded. "The kingdom is divided three ways, but the most likely culprit is the princess’s faction. That cunning little wench is unpredictable. They lack time, so they’re trying to pressure us. They underestimate House Jandel."

"But it could also be someone sowing discord, Father," the youth countered, wary of his father siding with Duke Anlek. His plan was to secure Princess Grifine’s favor—ideally through marriage. With her support, inheriting the family seat would be all but assured.

Moreover, he’d heard much of the half-elven princess’s beauty. The crown jewel of Eruin’s ancient nobility was renowned not only within the kingdom but even in neighboring Cruze Empire.

Yet his ulterior motives didn’t escape Earl Jandel’s notice. The grim-faced elder shot his son a cold glance. "Rest assured, I won’t let emotion cloud my judgment. I’m past your age."

"Father?"

"Andrei," Earl Jandel spoke sternly, "you must remember this: whichever side House Jandel leans toward is irrelevant. What matters is that we maintain—or gain—an even more independent position than we currently hold."

His brow rose, his tone chilling. "Don’t covet what you cannot grasp. Setting clear goals is crucial. Greed only breeds contempt."

The young man blinked, then shrugged. "I understand. But what do we do now?"

Earl Jandel tapped his emerald ring, replying coldly, "That cunning little wench plays her tricks, and House Jandel will repay her in kind—with blood for blood. She kills my son, I take her pawn. Let’s see her next move."

"So?" The youth brightened, patting his sword hilt eagerly.

"No. Every danger carries opportunity. This matter cannot be handled so crudely. If quelling a minor rebellion requires my personal intervention, House Jandel loses face. Besides, both that wench and Duke Anlek are watching me closely. We cannot afford to appear weak."

The youth scoffed, tossing his sword onto the couch. "I see, Father. You have a plan."

The casual gesture nearly made even the patient Earl Jandel tremble with anger. But before he could reprimand his son, the latter interrupted.

"If we don’t act, Palas won’t stand a chance against those peasants, Father."

The young man leaned back comfortably, resting his arms on the sofa’s backrest. "That old knight commands a decent force, but his strength relative to Sir Minty is limited. If Minty suffered a crushing defeat, this knight won’t fare any better."

Earl Jandel nodded grimly. Though he disapproved of his son’s demeanor, he couldn’t deny that of all his heirs, this second son was the most capable. The rest, while not as useless as Grudin, were mediocre at best.

"I’ll think on it," the youth mused. "Surely you’re not considering sending Madara’s bone army? They have the capability, but they’re not of our kind. Palas, that honest knight, wouldn’t be able to control them."

"In other words, Father, do you truly trust them? That smiling Enstallone? I hear he’s merely a knight in Madara."

"Why not?" Earl Jandel’s voice was low. Turning away from his son, he addressed his aide standing nearby. "Prepare two letters for me."

"My lord?" The aide looked up.

"The first letter is for Madara’s dark lords. Inform them that what they seek remains in Cold Fir City. If they wish to complete our deal, they’ll need to lend their strength."

"The second letter goes to the mountain folk’s messenger. They want tax relief? Tell them that if they join this war, not only will I grant them exemptions, but I’ll also supply provisions for their forces."

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