Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner

Chapter 669: Episode 669

"I think you should go to your bedroom."

"What did you say...?"

This boy was, without a doubt, Yona’s son. The Grand Duke’s face twisted into a scowl.

"Insolent whelp! I give you an inch and you take a mile!" Her voice rose. "Just because I showed a moment of weakness from drinking, you dare mention my bedroom? How...!"

A moment later, she was lying in bed with a dumbfounded expression. Simon tucked her in considerately and smiled.

"Well then, please rest well. I’ll explain everything to the people outside."

Simon left, closing the door without another word. She touched her chin, a strangely frozen look on her face.

"Is he... really Yona’s son?"

---

After escorting the drunken Grand Duke to her bedroom, Simon returned to the banquet hall, looking rather tired as he smoothed down his bangs.

With the Grand Duke gone, the only person who could control the Northerners, the party had devolved into utter chaos. Axes and swords were embedded in the walls. Some people were passed out drunk, while others were asleep with their faces shoved into barrels of wine.

"I’m the one who planted the flag in the First’s head!" a man bellowed, brandishing a chair. He ended up smashing it over the forehead of an innocent general standing beside him, who slowly began to draw his sword.

As Simon watched the intoxicated Northerners, he spotted one person who seemed particularly out of place. The man looked deeply uncomfortable, fidgeting as if sitting on pins and needles. He had a slim build and wore glasses, a rare sight in the North. The warriors around him either ignored him or openly showed their contempt.

He had to be an outsider, just like Simon.

Just then, their eyes met. The man with glasses suddenly broke into a huge grin.

He held Simon’s gaze, his smile growing wider. Soon, he was striding toward him.

"Hello!" he greeted Simon. Simon could feel the murderous glares of a few Northerners shift in his direction.

"Ah, yes. Hello." Even so, there was no reason to refuse a greeting.

"You’re Simon Polentia from Kizen, correct?"

"...How did you know that?"

"Ahaha, how could I not know! Who wouldn’t recognize the current Kizen Student Council President?"

Unbelievable. This man really was an outsider. Here in the North, status and titles from the outside world meant nothing.

"Here," the man said, discreetly handing Simon a letter. He spoke in a hushed voice. "This is from my master. Please be sure to read it. W-Well then, I’ll be on my way."

Unable to bear the stares of the Northerners any longer, he bowed and scurried away. Simon fiddled with the letter in his pocket.

’From his master?’

He could feel a seal on the envelope. It seemed to be from a noble. He gently ran his finger over the surface, trying to picture the design, but it did not match any of the noble crests he knew.

’Hmm.’

Simon slowly rose from his seat and began to walk.

---

"Insolent one!"

The bedroom door flew open with a bang just as the party was reaching its peak. The Grand Duke stood there in her training clothes, shouting, "I need an answer now! Where is he?"

She could not sleep. She felt that if she was going to talk to him, it had to be now.

"Come up here at once! I have something to ask you about your father!"

As she caused a commotion, all the warriors’ eyes turned to her.

"Ooh."

The faces of the Northerners, already flushed with alcohol, turned even redder.

"As expected of the Grand Duke! I would give my life for you!"

"I would follow you to the ends of hell!"

A wave of renewed loyalty swept through the hall. One elderly warrior even had tears welling in his eyes.

"Sob!’ It feels like just yesterday the young lady was so tiny, and now she’s truly a woman...!"

With a crack, she ripped a piece of the wall out with her bare hands and hurled it. A warrior who was hit head-on went tumbling, blood gushing from his nose.

"Do you all have a death wish?" she snarled.

The warriors, their faces now completely sober, snapped to attention.

"Godric! Where is my disciple!"

"Ah, Grand Duke," the butler said, scratching the back of his head. "I believe he went outside. I saw him receive something from ’that man’s’ servant."

The Grand Duke’s expression hardened. "What did you say?"

---

Having slipped out of the castle, Simon was walking to the address written on the letter.

’ To Sir Simon Polentia,

’

’ I have something urgent to discuss with you. It concerns a secret of the North. Let us speak in a quiet place.

’

’ Sincerely,

’ Toringdon Boldmont.

He had plenty of time. Staying in a banquet hall where weapons were flying around seemed like a good way to get killed, so Simon decided to meet the person who was looking for him.

The destination was a spacious mansion located a fair distance from the Grand Duke’s castle. In terms of sheer luxury, it was far nicer. Guards were stationed everywhere, clean-shaven and wearing fine armor. They looked nothing like the rugged Northerners.

"Welcome to the estate of Count Boldmont. What is your business here?" two guards asked politely, crossing their spears as Simon approached.

’So he’s a Count,’ Simon noted.

He silently presented the letter. After seeing the seal, they lowered their spears and bowed.

"Please enter."

No sooner had Simon stepped into the garden than a group of butlers and servants appeared, bowing in unison.

"Welcome."

"The Count is waiting for you."

It was the first time he had received such a lavish welcome since arriving in the North, and Simon felt a little embarrassed. At the same time, a question arose. Normally, a count was the lord of a territory. But the Kalos North was the undisputed domain of Grand Duke Jin Arscalt; there was no reason for a noble of a count’s rank to build a separate mansion here.

’I’ll find out when I meet him.’

Simon pocketed the letter and followed the butlers.

"My Lord, Sir Simon Polentia has arrived."

"Excellent, show him in," a cheerful voice called out.

The door opened, and Simon stepped inside. The interior was exquisitely decorated, with flower pots everywhere and expensive paintings on the walls. One side was lined with shelves of old books. Sitting in a chair, a man waved cheerfully.

’He’s younger than I thought.’

He had been expecting a balding, pot-bellied man, but the face was surprisingly youthful. He looked to be around Simon’s age, or perhaps a year or two older. Simon greeted him according to the Kalos etiquette he had learned in his Royal Studies class.

"It is an honor to meet you, Count Boldmont..."

"Ah, no need for such formalities. Sit, sit," the Count said with a smile, standing up. "Would you like something to drink? Hot tea? Or perhaps a beverage or wine?"

"Tea would be lovely, thank you."

The words had barely left his mouth when the door opened and a servant appeared, pushing a cart. Simon was surprised to see several more servants waiting behind him with their own carts. The servant placed a teacup before Simon and poured respectfully. It was a vibrant orange liquid with a faint fruity aroma. Simon picked it up and took a sip.

’Oh.’

It was so delicious his jaw dropped. It was on a completely different level from the bitter, cold tea of the North.

"I’m glad it’s to your liking," Count Boldmont said, smiling as he sat on the sofa opposite Simon. "How old are you?"

It was a rather random question for a count to ask. Simon put down his teacup. "I am eighteen."

"Ah, then we’re practically friends! I’m a year older, but let’s just speak comfortably with each other. Sound good?"

"But..."

"It’s fine, I insist."

Count Boldmont kept pressing him to speak informally, so Simon had no choice but to nod.

"So," Simon began, wiping his mouth with a prepared handkerchief. "I’m curious as to why you called me here."

"Because I really wanted to meet you, of course!" the Count exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. "A Kizen student! And the Student Council President, at that! I never thought you’d come to the North. Are you really the president as a second-year? That’s amazing!"

Simon’s eyes grew serious. This was the main reason he had come. "How did you know I was Simon Polentia and the Student Council President?"

Simon was in the Kalos North for a special class. The only people who knew his name and status were a few of the Grand Duke’s associates, like the Grand Duke herself or Butler Godric. Everyone else just called him ’the disciple’ or ’the outsider.’ Yet now, people who knew his true identity had suddenly appeared and asked to meet him. Simon could not let it slide.

"I just heard from a friend," Boldmont answered casually. Simon nodded, mentally noting that someone in the Grand Duke’s inner circle was connected to the Count.

"Forget about that! Why don’t you tell me a bit about Kizen?" Count Boldmont said, his eyes shining. "I’ve only ever been homeschooled, so I’m really curious about what a necromancer academy is like! It’s a dream of mine! Do they really lock the kids up on an island and make them fight each other?"

"There are things like that," Simon admitted.

He gave a brief overview of Kizen, and Count Boldmont seemed extremely satisfied. He even clapped his hands and exclaimed, "Wow!" when Simon told him about the Dark Festival.

"Ah, that sounds like so much fun," Count Boldmont said, looking up at the ceiling with a wistful expression. "If it weren’t for my family’s affairs, I would have gone to a necromancer academy too."

"I was actually curious about that," Simon pressed, not missing the opportunity. "The Kalos North is the Grand Duke’s territory. Why is the Boldmont family here?"

The Count smiled bitterly, as if he knew this was coming. He picked up his teacup and took a sip. "I am a watchdog."

While it might differ between kingdoms, in the Kalos Kingdom, the title of ’Grand Duke’ meant being equal to the king within that territory. Before the current four-kingdom system, the North was an independent region. The Arscalt family was, for all intents and purposes, its ruling monarchy. Kalos wanted to annex the territory, but the risks of starting a war were far too great compared to the merits. Even if they won, how would they stop the endless flood of monsters and undead? What noble would be willing to crawl into the backwoods of the North to fight?

Most importantly, no noble had the capability to protect the North as perfectly as the Arscalt family.

In the end, the Kalos Kingdom offered the Arscalt family the title of ’Grand Duke,’ making them equal to the king within the region. In effect, the territory would simply be colored as part of the Kalos Kingdom on the map, while the Grand Duke retained complete command. In exchange, the kingdom promised to provide food from the fertile lands of the south all year round. The head of the Arscalt family at the time, struggling with an extreme food shortage, could not bear to watch his people starve and accepted the offer.

"But the nobles of Kalos have always feared the North’s military power," Count Boldmont explained. "They wanted a minimum safety measure. And that is—"

"The watchdog," Simon finished.

Count Boldmont was noticeably pleased. "That’s right! A family of count rank or higher would be stationed directly in the North, responsible for supporting and monitoring it."

"...Hmm, I doubt other families would be eager to do that."

"That’s true." Among the counts who could rule their own territories in luxury, who would want to come to this harsh North? The position of the North’s watchdog was effectively a place of exile for nobles who had lost in the central political arena.

But...

"I volunteered," Count Boldmont said, his eyes shining as he clasped his hands. "From the moment my father passed away and I became the Count, I requested of His Majesty the King that our Boldmont family take on the role."

"...Why?"

"This is a land of opportunity! They call it a place of exile because they don’t know any better." The corners of his mouth turned up, and for a moment, Count Boldmont’s mask slipped. "You see, the North has a hidden secret."