The succession of titles proceeded more quickly than anticipated.
No sooner had the mother and son concluded their serious conversation and barely composed their emotions, than the imperial messenger arrived, as if awaiting that very moment, to summon Ian.
He had no choice but to be dragged off to the imperial capital.
‘Originally, the plan was to first inherit the position of family head and then go to the capital to receive the Duke title…’
Regrettably, the order of events had been completely overturned.
At this rate, he might end up receiving the ducal title first, and only then inheriting the position of head of House Volkanov.
Of course, if they hurried and held a modest succession ceremony for the new family head before departing for the capital, they could somehow manage the timing. But there was no need to force such an arrangement.
‘If a new family head were appointed, nobles connected to the Volkanov family would visit our territory, full of heartfelt congratulations.’
Some would come to strengthen old ties. Others might prepare lavish gifts, hoping to establish a new connection with the new family head, Ian.
In other words, the succession ceremony for the family head would be a time when all sorts of people flocked in at once, and a grand celebration would unfold to welcome them.
But… was the state of the household truly suitable for holding a celebration now?
Anyone who gave it a moment’s thought would realize how insane that would be.
‘They come expecting a celebration, only to find the mistress of the house on the brink of death, and the current head about to relinquish his position in tears at the thought of losing his wife.’
They might think they were attending a festival, only to discover it was actually more like a funeral.
It could very well become the perfect situation for invited nobles to label the Volkanovs as lunatics for staging such madness.
‘From being a hero who saved the world from peril, I would instantly become a degenerate who abandons his ailing mother to throw a festival just to hurry up and inherit the family headship.’
Even Ian Volkanov, who ordinarily didn’t care much about public opinion, could not tolerate that idea. No, anyone with a shred of human decency, whether they cared about perceptions or not, would know this was absolutely unacceptable.
That was precisely why, in the end.
“Ian Alex Volkanov, Count of Volkanov— You shall receive the Duke title in recognition of your loyalty and contributions to the great Kallos Empire. The Kallos Empire honors your devotion with the bestowal of a dukedom and hereby appoints Volkanov as the sixth pillar upholding the Empire.”
Ian silently responded to the Emperor’s summons and accepted the succession.
As Emperor Isaac Vernor Arcana of the Kallos Empire laid his sword upon Ian’s shoulder, a thunderous roar of cheers rang out, assaulting Ian’s ears.
Observing Isaac’s labored movements, Ian chuckled inwardly.
‘Who would have thought the Emperor would personally confer the title…?’
In truth, this was practically his first direct encounter with the Emperor.
In the original story, the Emperor never appeared publicly due to his illness, and all external affairs were handled exclusively through Erzebeth or Bedon.
‘In the original series of events, not long after the main storyline began, the Emperor passed away. Afterward, Empress Erzebeth and Ariel would eventually come into conflict.’
Perhaps this was the butterfly effect of Ian’s presence here. In any case, he didn’t feel bad about it. Ian turned his gaze to those standing silently behind the Emperor.
“Haha! What greater cause for celebration could there be?”
Bedon raised his voice and nudging Erzebeth cheerfully as he clapped his hands.
“Please maintain your reverence, Brother.”
Next to him, Erzebeth, trying hard to appear unaffected. Still, she couldn’t completely hide the faint upturn of her lips.
Besides them, the childish Second Princess, who had yet to shed her immature ways, and Piers Arcana, the First Prince who had declared he would leave the court to serve the Goddess Eris, also offered their applause, as if to grace the occasion with their presence.
Only then did Ian realize:
‘It’s over now…’
The moment had come to step forward into the future he had once only dreamed of.
***
The investiture ceremony for the ducal title proceeded smoothly without issue.
Originally, there had been plans for a grand parade around the capital by carriage, but Eri Everhart personally intervened to ensure such a lavish event would not take place, opting for a more subdued conclusion.
‘Eri probably has a general sense of our family’s current situation. She must have been considerate.’
From the officials’ viewpoint, having heroes roam the imperial capital would help heal the scars of war among the citizens and boost their morale.
But ultimately, the event’s true goal was to celebrate Ian receiving a ducal title as a hero of the Empire.
It would be discourteous to press ahead with an event on that scale without regard for the preferences of the one being honored.
‘If anyone’s disappointed about missing out on such festivities, I can always send Ariel around in my stead. Let them have their fun that way.’
Even if the officials had an image of how they wanted things to go, Ian Volkanov had no obligation to comply. After all, the citizens of the Empire knew nothing of the complicated circumstances within the Hero’s party; they only knew there was a hero among them.
To put it bluntly, if the Hero, Ariel Volkanov, personally took part in the parade, they might be even more delighted. Since there was no shortage of time, Ian could simply have her ride in a carriage, wave a hand, and it would hardly be difficult to quell the bureaucrats’ complaints.
As Ian smirked to himself, gazing out the window, Lia Hurst suddenly spoke up.
“Hey, Ian… Did you know all along?”
“Lia? What do you mean?”
“Eri… I mean, Her Highness Princess Erzebeth.”
Lia, her expression darkening, asked cautiously.
Originally, it had been Eri who followed Ian around. But during the title succession ceremony—an event all members of the imperial family were obligated to attend—Eri had naturally returned to her true identity.
Thus, with Eri Everhart absent, Ian had replaced her with Lia Hurst by his side. Unexpectedly accompanying Ian to the imperial capital, Lia had swallowed a “red pill” of sorts—the shocking realization that the friend she thought was just Eri Everhart had actually been the imperial princess Erzebeth Arcana all along.
Though Lia herself held the secure status of a Count’s daughter, accepting that “my friend is actually a princess” was no simple matter.
“I treated her casually, thinking we were just friends. And it turns out she’s a princess…”
Lia, who was normally good at getting along with others, had been friendly with Eri Everhart from their very first meeting.
In fact, the only person Lia had ever spoken to so informally—dropping honorifics—despite using polite language with Ian and Igor, was Eri.
Lia had initially done so to help the somewhat stoic Eri feel more comfortable.
In hindsight, however, one could say she had clung to an older woman, speaking in casual terms to someone four years her senior.
Now, Lia worried: would this discovery drive a wedge between them?
“You don’t need to worry too much about that. Even if Eri Everhart is a princess, the fact that she’s our comrade doesn’t change.”
Ian said, taking Lia’s cold hand in his own and comforting her.
“Is that really true? I mean, you and Igor spoke politely to her, but I was the only one who spoke so casually. I worry that might’ve made her uncomfortable now that I know who she is.”
“I only learned Eri Everhart’s true identity—that she’s Princess Erzebeth Arcana—quite recently myself. Of course I understand your concern, but if anything, Eri would feel grateful rather than annoyed.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Speaking in casual terms… that’s something you only do when you’re truly close to someone.”
If Lia’s intentions had been twisted or insincere, Eri might have pretended to be friendly before revealing her identity and cutting Lia off.
But what kind of person had Ian seen Lia Hurst to be?
Though a bit scatterbrained at times, she was a living example of the belief in innate goodness—almost a saintly figure.
If the qualifications for becoming a saintess were virtue and perseverance, then Lia could have easily taken Saintess Glendia’s place without raising any eyebrows.
There was no reason for Eri to dislike someone like that.
“Don’t worry too much. Whether Eri Everhart is a princess or a commoner, she’s precious to us, and that won’t change.”
“Precious… to us…”
“What’s the matter?”
“Ah, nothing! I just… have a bit of thinking to do.”
Lia waved her hands in a slight panic, and as Ian watched her with mild curiosity—
Bzzz!
“Excuse me for a moment, Lia.”
“Oh! Alright.”
The device in Ian’s pocket began to vibrate again. Had something happened?
Concerned by the possibility, Ian hurriedly took out the device.
‘The caller is Shulkin…’
Shulkin knew that Ian had gone to the imperial capital for the title succession ceremony. He wouldn’t contact Ian this way unless it was urgent.
In other words, this must mean there was an issue that couldn’t be handled without Ian’s permission.
“Whew.”
After a brief, steadying breath, Ian answered the call.
Immediately, Shulkin’s solemn voice came through from the other side of the device.
“Young Master Ian. This is Viscount Shulkin. I apologize for contacting you like this.”
“No need to worry. I’m on my way back after completing the title succession ceremony. What’s happened?”
“I’ll get straight to the point. The mistress of the house…”
“Go on.”
“She has returned to the embrace of the Goddess Eris.”
Returning to the embrace of the Goddess Eris—there was only one meaning to those words.
“Did she pass peacefully?”
“Yes. She closed her eyes with a serene smile.”
His mother had died.
At those words, Ian released the breath he’d been holding.
