The Terminally Ill Prince is the Mad Dog of the Underworld (Novel) - Chapter 8

Chapter 8. First, the Family’s Martial Arts

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“Learn mental techniques? Of course! If you, young master, can’t learn the family’s secret mental techniques, who could?”

Peter responded as if I’d asked something obvious.

“It doesn’t seem that simple to me.”

“Whaat? Why not?”

Looking at Peter’s foolish question, I answered.

“To other young masters and relatives, suddenly wanting to learn mental techniques after living like a dead mouse won’t look pretty.”

“Ah, that.”

Seeing Peter at a loss for words, I crossed my arms and fell into thought.

Until now, they left me alone because I lived like a half-invalid, but if I start taking serious action, I should expect interference from all directions.

‘If I act recklessly without preparation, I might end up as a headless corpse from an assassin who comes without knocking.’

At best, I’d spend my remaining life unable to control my bowels after being poisoned.

‘That won’t do.’

How futile would it be to die before my already limited time, being terminally ill?

It would be as meaningless a death as dying in an explosion while breaking a jewel box.

‘Ah, that b*st*rd Ivan.’

Recalling faces that angered me, I thought about the hardships of this life that would surely be as brutal as those times.

‘Can’t tell if this is a ducal castle or a battlefield.’

Anyway, I don’t think I’ve missed my chance yet.

‘In one more year, I’ll be of age for the coming-of-age ceremony. I’ll receive some title then.’

My conclusion is that there’s enough time to build strength until then.

Actually, it was presumptuous to worry about assassination or poisoning already. Right now, I was truly nothing.

* * *

While Peter went to clear the meal trays after our Q&A, I sat on the hard floor. As food entered my starved body, vitality was flowing through me.

Like winter plum blossoms sprouting after greedily absorbing nutrients, I felt hot blood and vigor returning to my extremely weakened body.

I closed my eyes and entered meditation to observe my body.

‘Looking again, there’s quite a bit of dissolved mana.’

Either left unfinished, or blocked from long neglect. I’ll have to check which it is gradually.

But I had no intention of tampering with it carelessly. Everything has its proper order.

‘The most important thing is which mental technique you use to open the path first.’

Because I started with cheap third-rate mental techniques from the streets, and never had the chance to take good medicinal supplements in my youth, I had to suffer many disadvantages.

Getting good mental techniques later was meaningless. I couldn’t destroy already-formed paths, and using belatedly learned methods would only cause conflicts leading to self-destruction.

‘A ducal house of this caliber must have many mana cultivation methods sleeping in their library.’

Among them would be the family’s secret techniques.

‘I’m curious. While I could copy sword techniques endlessly, there was no way to learn the complex and subtle cultivation methods that happen inside the body.’

What level of martial arts would I have access to now? If it’s insufficient, I’ll have to force it. I’m a thick-skinned man.

‘They completely block me? Then I’ll become a phantom thief.’

Once I get my hands on them, everything else will fall into place. Even without a master to guide me, I already have sufficient talent and experience. Who would dare doubt that I’m a genius?

But while Allenbert was in seclusion, fierce battles must have been raging outside. Retainers, vassals, various influential people… They would have built their forces by recruiting, persuading, and attacking each other.

The underworld and noble houses operated on the same principles. When an organization’s head ages and needs to determine succession, the next generation’s candidates compete to determine the fittest.

‘From the perspective of an heir challenging for supreme power, my situation is newly the worst.’

Terminal illness, mixed foreign blood, a weak and incompetent boy who’s been in seclusion for years. I, Allenbert, must have been the young master with nothing going for him except his face.

Separate from my sympathy for him, that’s the cold truth.

But Mad Dog Karzan was a man who started as a slum orphan and conquered the underworld. How much more advantageous is this fight compared to then?

Thinking of that, I didn’t regret at all being seventeen or having a body far from trained.

“Good.”

When I opened my eyes after meditation, Peter was quietly watching me.

“Who told you to watch without making a sound?”

“You looked serious so I stayed quiet.”

“Oh? Well done. You stood guard.”

“Guard? What’s that?”

“It’s a thing.”

I’m a man who dislikes trivial explanations.

“But what were you saying was good just now?”

“I said it’s a thing.”

“Yes.”

“More importantly, I need to go somewhere, guide me.”

“Where to?”

“The library.”

“Whaaaat?”

Peter was startled.

“The library is very close to the main building.”

“So?”

“I’m worried we might run into someone.”

“Am I the child of a traitor? At worst I’m just an unwanted young master.”

“When you put it that way, I suppose… mm. Alright.”

Peter nodded as if convincing himself of something.

“It would be disloyal to question everything, right? I’ll follow what you say, young master.”

“What disloyalty?”

I said with a smirk.

“No need to be too serious. Holding back everything you want to say isn’t good either.”

“I understand.”

“Just don’t be uncontrolled like Marco.”

“Oh my, of course not.”

Peter made a face as if asking how could you compare me to him. By now, I was getting curious about that fellow’s face.

‘Anyway, I need to learn the family’s martial arts first.’

It’s the law of noble houses that if you can’t become heir, you must be demoted or die without anyone knowing. If you don’t want that, you should either submit early or become a meritorious retainer by supporting another sibling.

But I had no such intentions.

‘For whose benefit?’

How difficult it might be doesn’t matter. I planned to build power and influence to enter the succession battle for this family.

And mastering the family’s martial arts would be the minimum qualification for that fight.

* * *

Since the annex was on the outskirts of the ducal castle, it was quite a walk to the library.

“The days are getting shorter.”

“Yes, it’s harvest season.”

The sky that had been brilliantly blue and clear was gradually turning to sunset. Soon the red sun would sink below the sea, and pitch-black night would come as it did yesterday.

Once, the night was my time. But now I’m in the position of a small bird that must hide in its nest from predators.

‘I’m curious about the duchy’s nights.’

But I’m still a man who lacks even the minimum strength to walk those nights. Though I’m impatient by nature, I understand the virtue of patience well.

“Young master!”

“What?”

Peter urgently whispered while pulling my collar.

“I-it’s the head butler!”

I had been sensing the presence of the man walking near the annex for a while. That man slowly turned to look at me.

“He seems to be coming this way. H-his name is Sir Aiden. He’s a vassal with a count’s title…”

Peter’s words trailed off. The moment he met the head butler’s eyes, his mouth automatically sealed.

“Gulp.”

Just from the sound of swallowing, I could tell how much the servants feared this man.

‘He’s tall.’

Monocle, white hair, well-pressed suit, tall and slender. He was truly an elegantly aged man.

The head butler walked toward me with his back to the gradually coloring sunlight, keeping his back perfectly straight. His stride was quite peculiar – though it seemed slow and dignified, in just five steps he was right before my nose.

‘Ah, he breaks through intervals so comfortably.’

In actual combat, that alone would have given him the initiative. I realized this dignified man was both a great master and someone who perfectly concealed that fact.

‘Wow, this is…’

This was the true strength of this ducal house.

This man isn’t the sword or shield protecting this ducal castle. He’s just the head butler managing the castle’s affairs, more an administrator than a martial official. Yet he possessed rare strength and an even more mysterious atmosphere.

“Young Master Allenbert, it’s been a while. What brings you to the main building?”

“So it’s Head Butler Aiden.”

The head butler pushed up his monocle with his fingertip.

“You remember. I heard your memories were hazy from the fever.”

‘Indeed, there must be very little happening in the castle that this man doesn’t know.’

I muttered inwardly. Yet he hadn’t come to visit.

“Of course they were.”

But how foolish would it be to react emotionally to such matters? I’m not a stupid puppy who ‘scolds an adult vassal with real power for being disappointing.’

I patted Peter’s shoulder and replied:

“Actually, thanks to Peter, I’ve recovered some memories. He’s a loyal and sharp boy.”

Peter swallowed with a “huk.”

“Is that so? That’s good news.”

The head butler said with a face that showed no joy at all. He neither caught onto nor showed surprise at my attitude and speech that must be different from usual. He was like a man carved from stone.

‘Head butler of the ducal house, count, vassal.’

A position that could look down on a cut-off terminally ill young master and more. Yet he merely watched me with dry eyes containing neither contempt nor disdain.

Gazes have power. But does he know that just as he observes me now, I too am observing him?

“…”

I simply remained silent. Just as with Peter and Josef, I didn’t try to hastily extract information from this man. Revealing what information you’re trying to get is equivalent to clearly showing what you don’t know.

My conclusion is that with neither information nor standing now, trying to use clumsy tactics against a suddenly appeared big shot would be suicide. That was the difference in class between me and this man now.

“Where are you heading?”

The head butler who had been quietly staring at me finally asked. I answered briefly:

“On my way to the library.”

“The library? That’s unusual. For what reason are you going?”

The head butler’s gaze was infinitely direct and sharp.

‘He knew I was coming.’

Then during the short time I walked here from the annex, had the head butler already received detailed reports of my movements and been waiting here?

It was a much more plausible assumption than considering it coincidence, and thus one that chilled my heart. And bad assumptions tend to be more accurate than good ones.

I finally opened my mouth while analyzing this man’s intentions.

“Am I in a position where I must report that to the head butler?”

I didn’t miss the slight twitch of the head butler’s eyebrow.