The Lord Just Wants to Have Fun

Three days after the urban battle, the funeral of Lothar III took place as scheduled at the Grand Temple of Water.

Due to the relic theft and the recent city skirmish, there had been speculation that the funeral might be delayed again. However, Prince Karl’s faction refused to change the schedule.

The rationale was that they needed to proceed swiftly with both the funeral and the coronation to solidify Karl’s position.

“Nobles from all over the kingdom are watching how you handle this. Act boldly and decisively, like a true monarch!”

It was Marquis Marteze who had given this advice.

Karl agreed.

While the Duke’s faction and the Princess’s faction would likely object, he no longer needed to concern himself with their reactions.

“We shall now begin the Ascension Ritual. All mourners, please rise.”

A solemn and majestic funeral hymn echoed through the temple as High Priest Paolo conducted the ceremony.

The Ascension Ritual, which sent the late king’s soul to the heavens, was performed with grandeur and reverence.

“Wait, I haven’t heard anything about the relic being recovered.”
“The temple requested assistance from the Royal Magic Tower.”
“Ah, so this must be an illusion created with light and water magic.”

As the ceremony dragged on, nobles and their attendants—who had come as mourners—began whispering amongst themselves.

Philip’s group was no exception.

Due to guest restrictions, Philip had only brought Terry, Helen, Siria, and Midas with him.

While Terry and Helen had worried about Siria causing trouble, she had unexpectedly remained quiet.

Because… she had fallen asleep standing up out of sheer boredom.

“Siria, wake up. Now.”

“Huaaahm… What? Is it an enemy attack, darling?”

“No, the funeral is over.”

As Terry said, mourners were already leaving their seats.

Midas, who had been observing the departing guests, leaned in toward Philip.

“My lord, I hardly see any nobles from Duke Volzard’s faction or Princess Amelia’s faction.”

“Hah! After causing chaos in the capital and fleeing, how could they possibly return? They’d be torn apart by criticism.”

Even if that weren’t the case, many nobles were likely trying to distance themselves from those factions, keeping them busy with internal struggles.

“By the way, darling, why do you think Prince Karl called for you? Could it be that he knows you orchestrated the fight between the factions—”

Gasp!

Before Siria could finish, Terry clamped a hand over her mouth, quickly scanning their surroundings.

Fortunately, most nobles were engrossed in their own conversations, and no one seemed to have overheard them.

“Be careful! If a noble overhears that, we’ll be in serious trouble.”

“S-Sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

Siria smacked her own lips with her palm as punishment.

The nobles of the South and West had become disillusioned with the battle between Duke Volzard and Princess Amelia. As a result, many shifted their support to Karl.

That wasn’t all.

The Central Army, which had remained neutral, and even the Royal Capital’s Central Knights, declared loyalty to Karl.

This solidified Karl’s position, placing him far ahead of both Duke Volzard and Princess Amelia.

With this, his ascension as the next king was now all but certain.

But if word got out that Philip had manipulated events to pit the factions against each other…

The two defeated factions would immediately cry foul, claiming they had fallen victim to Karl’s schemes.

That could tarnish Karl’s hard-earned reputation, despite him now holding the advantage.

And that wasn’t the only problem.

If Baron Brandel’s name became associated with cunning deception and sparking a civil conflict, his family’s reputation would plummet.

Philip’s name would be cursed across noble circles.

“Everyone, remember this: that night, we were simply avoiding the battle between the two factions. That’s all. Understood?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Philip firmly warned his attendants, ensuring that their story remained consistent.

Just then, a familiar figure approached from a distance.

It was Cavaney, the junior baron whom Philip had met previously.

Bowing respectfully, Cavaney spoke in a quiet voice.

“His Highness is waiting for you.”

“Understood. Lead the way.”

*****

The Grand Temple of Water – Inner Courtyard

The temple’s courtyard was heavily guarded, with royal guards stationed throughout.

Dressed in mourning attire, Prince Karl stood by a fountain, where a statue of the Goddess Arkina had been erected.

When Philip and his entourage approached, Karl welcomed them with a smile.

But then—

“That guy…!”
“No doubt about it! That’s him!”

The royal guards standing closest to Karl immediately tensed when they spotted Terry.

They looked ready to draw their swords and attack, but Karl signaled them to stand down, and they reluctantly removed their hands from their hilts.

“Your Highness, is this the young man who bested our knights?”

“That’s right. Isn’t it impressive?”

Standing beside Karl was a man in his late forties with a sharp, disciplined presence—like a finely honed blade.

This was Count Markel, the Captain of the Royal Guard.

Known as the Royal Sword, he was one of only three top-tier Aura Experts in the entire Arteria Kingdom.

Markel locked eyes with Terry as the latter approached.

Terry, in turn, held his gaze.

‘Wait… they’re not actually going to fight, right?’

Philip glanced at the tense standoff between the two warriors, then turned his attention back to Karl, who was smiling at him.

He gave a polite bow.

“It is an honor to meet Your Highness.”

“A pleasure, Baron Brandel.”

Karl acknowledged Philip’s bow and then glanced at the rest of his entourage.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“The girl from that night is missing.”

“Pardon?”

“I mean, the blue-haired woman who was with you that night…”

Philip remained expressionless.

“Perhaps Your Highness is mistaken. This is my first time meeting you.”

He had considered various ways to handle this situation since Cavaney’s visit during the bazaar, and this approach seemed the safest.

“Now that I think about it, I might have seen someone who looked similar to Your Highness somewhere… Ah, but perhaps it’s best not to mention names aloud. Vol-something, Ame-someone…”

Philip grinned mischievously.

Karl chuckled and nodded.

“I see. I must have been mistaken.”

‘So it really was Philip de Brandel I saw that night in the temple vault.’

Karl was certain now.

‘He’s called the Apostle of Eldir, isn’t he? If he truly serves a god, he might know what happened to the relic.

‘More importantly, he was at the scene when it vanished…’

Karl had considered using this as leverage to bring Philip under his control.

If he could recruit a rapidly rising noble from the West, who also wielded a formidable fire-based ability, it would further strengthen his position.

But in the end, Karl decided against it.

‘If the relic’s disappearance was ordained by the gods, meddling in it could be dangerous—even politically.’

While losing the relic was unfortunate, it wasn’t a personal loss for Karl.

After all, the temple had been the one profiting from it.

Regardless, Karl was still keen on recruiting Philip for his own purposes.

“I heard you held a bazaar in the inner city the other day. I was told you donated a portion of the proceeds to aid the displaced.”

“Yes, I donated it to the Temple of Lupole.”

“Lupole? But aren’t you the Apostle of Eldir?”

“I was told that commerce falls under the domain of Lupole.”

As Philip responded, he recalled the ordeal that followed the bazaar.

*****

[A Few Days Earlier – After the Bazaar]

“The profits far exceeded our expectations, my lord!”
“Even excluding contract orders, we earned nearly 10,000 Dalants!”

As Philip’s subordinates celebrated their success, Philip himself was dealing with… a different issue.

With a god.

[Lupole demands that you donate half of your earnings to his temple.]
[If you refuse, expect… difficulties in all future commercial dealings—particularly with Mercury Trading.]

‘That damned greedy god!’

Philip shook his head as he read Lupole’s divine scroll.

‘Wow. He might not be holding a sword, but this is outright robbery.’

Even the medieval tithe system on Earth seemed benevolent in comparison.

[Lupole reminds you that this is not Earth—it is Laterran.]
[If you don’t like it, you should stop meddling in commerce and stick to smithing.]

‘Ugh, fine. I’ll pay up, you greedy bastard.’

But just as Philip relented, another god erupted in outrage.

[Eldir is furious that his Apostle is yielding to Lupole’s demands.]
[He proclaims that one day, Eldir’s Hammer and Gaia’s Scythe shall shatter Lupole’s treasury in a revolution.]

‘Dir Hyung, when did you turn into a communist?’

To make things worse, Gaiana, the Goddess of Earth and Agriculture, seemed to have her own grievances against Lupole.

With divine politics swirling above him, Philip decided to end the nonsense quickly.

Philip headed to the nearest Lupole temple, located near the outer city market.

The temple, lavishly adorned with marble and gold, stood as a testament to the god’s obsession with wealth.

“My lord, why are we suddenly visiting the Temple of Lupole?”

“It’s… something I have to take care of.”

Too exhausted to explain the divine extortion, Philip brushed off Terry’s question and entered the temple.

A senior priest, dripping in gold jewelry, emerged to greet him.

“Welcome, brother. What brings you here today?”

Philip gave the priest a once-over, then spoke.

“I’m here to make a donation.”

“Ohhh! May Lupole’s blessings shine upon you!”

‘Yeah, right.’

Philip handed over a heavy pouch containing 5,000 Dalants—half of the bazaar’s profit.

The senior priest took the pouch but hesitated when Philip did not let go.

“…Brother?”

“Use this for disaster relief. Every last coin.”

“Ah, of course, of course! It will all go to good causes.”

The priest, eager to pocket a portion for himself, casually reassured Philip.

But before he could secure the money, Philip turned on his heels and shouted to the bustling marketplace.

“People of the capital! The Temple of Lupole has pledged to provide disaster relief immediately!”

“Wha—?! Seriously?”

“Indeed! I, Philip de Brandel, have just donated to the temple, and they have promised to distribute over 5,000 Dalants worth of aid in Lupole’s name!”

“WOOOO! LUPLOLE! THE GREAT GOD OF WEALTH!”

As cheers erupted in the marketplace, the senior priest clutched his forehead in horror.

Then, a flurry of divine messages flooded Philip’s vision.

[Lupole is skeptical of your sincerity.]
[Eldir scolds Lupole: ‘You got the praise you wanted, didn’t you?’]
[Gaia reprimands Lupole: ‘Instead of leeching off other gods’ Apostles, why don’t you try working for a change?’]
[Lamuze, the God of Art, warns Lupole: ‘Do not mess with those under my patronage.’]

In the end, Lupole’s attempt at extortion failed spectacularly.

*****

‘Hmph. Given how quiet Lupole has been since, he must have gotten ganged up on by the other gods.’

Philip finished reminiscing, just as Karl got to the point.

“Baron Brandel, I need someone as upright as you by my side.”

“…Pardon?”

“I am offering you a position in the central government. Stay in the capital and assist me.”

‘Ah, I knew this was coming.’

Philip had already expected Karl to make such an offer.

But the next words out of Karl’s mouth truly shocked him.

“I am offering you the position of Grand Minister of Public Affairs.”