Duke of Duskmere's sudden show of goodwill toward Kael now made perfect sense.
The Duke, whose days were numbered, had convened this banquet to bring the issue of succession to the forefront. Yet, despite having a male heir, he intended to name a woman as his successor, a move certain to provoke fierce opposition from his vassals. To circumvent this, he needed to use someone else's hand.
Kael Drakaryn, newly appointed as a vassal of House Tulvarein by Lia herself, was the ideal candidate to test the waters.
First, as a recent addition to House Tulvarein, Kael had yet to align with any faction. His words would carry greater weight, untainted by the biases of established lords.
Second, whoever first spoke out—whether acknowledging Lia's claim to succession or not—would inevitably offend one faction or another. It was a thankless task, and since Kael lacked power and influence, the Duke cared little about antagonizing him.
Third, though the Duke's life was nearing its end, he remained the Duke. Moreover, his earlier gestures of goodwill toward Kael hadn't been for naught. He was confident he had Kael exactly where he wanted him.
Duke Silon's words caught most of the vassal lords completely off guard, their faces betraying shock. Yet his move was flawlessly executed, drawing all eyes to Kael.
Half the lords in the hall now regarded Kael with newfound goodwill, encouraging him to speak his mind—a stark contrast to their earlier hostility.
The other half glared coldly, as if waiting for him to utter a single wrong word before tearing him apart.
The most malevolent gaze came from a blonde noblewoman seated beside the Duke, cradling a boy of seven or eight in her arms—evidently the second in line to inherit the ducal title.
Kael suddenly found himself the target of everyone's animosity even without doing anything.
Damn old fox, Kael cursed inwardly. He had been thoroughly outmaneuvered.
Glancing at Damon Tulvarein, rumored to covet the ducal title, Kael observed that the Golden Lion showed only mild surprise at the Duke's decision, reacting as if watching a play while leisurely sipping golden wine from his goblet.
Noticing Kael's gaze, Damon raised his glass in a toast and offered a faint smile.
Kael wasn't sure if this dissolute knight still harbored ambitions to inherit the title or is just hiding everything under a mask.
At the head of the table, the Duke of Duskmere was growing impatient with the growing silence.
He's treating me like a pawn, Kael thought.
But Kael had no intention of playing along. A sudden idea struck him.
He first bowed respectfully to the Duke, then turned to his brother, Damon.
"I'm not certain whether Miss Lia possesses the capabilities to inherit the title," Kael said, "but there's no doubt that the valiant and battle-hardened Lord Damon, both in terms of ability and inheritance, is the most suitable candidate for the title."
A faint smile played on Kael's lips as he surveyed the stunned nobles. "I believe no vassal of House Tulvarein would dare dispute this."
His words sent shockwaves through the hall, yet no one dared voice an objection.
To contradict him would mean offending Damon Tulvarein, and no one wanted to cross this impulsive, volatile, and dissolute knight.
Moreover, in terms of inheritance, after the Duke's only legitimate son perished in the lizardfolk uprising, Damon Tulvarein as the younger brother, was undeniably the first in line to inherit the title.
With his iron fist, Damon was more than capable of ruling the entire Southern Territory.
Even Damon was surprised by Kael words, but he seemed utterly unconcerned by Kael's attempt to shift the blame onto him. In fact, he even quipped in front of everyone, "That's right, I am my brother's most suitable heir!"
He believed this wholeheartedly.
"Silence!"
Duke of Duskmere, enraged by Damon's smug demeanor, roared furiously. "You will address me as Duke!"
His gaunt frame trembled with rage as his lion-like eyes glared at his younger brother, like an aging lion displaying its final vestiges of authority.
Duke of Duskmere had believed Damon had reformed and finally understood him, which was why he had recalled him from the border. But Damon remained incorrigible even now.
"I should never have recalled you from the border, only for you to seize this damned title!" the Duke snarled, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Damon, humiliated by his brother merciless public reprimand, lost his temper and smashed his wine glass against the floor.
CLANKKK!
"You just want me stuck on that damned border, babysitting those stinking lizardmen every day, far away from Duskmere!"
"You know I'm the rightful heir!"
"Yet you insist on letting a woman with only half Tulvarein blood inherit the title!"
"Why should I let you inherit the title?!" Duke of Duskmere demanded, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Because I'm your brother! We share the same blood!" Damon roared, venting years of pent-up resentment.
"And now you want to let a whore take the throne!"
"She's not a whore! She's your own nephew's only daughter! You're her great-uncle!"
The two men glared at each other, trading furious insults. They paid no heed to the assembled vassals, their bickering making them look like a pair of Thornia peasant women.
Watching the two tear into each other from behind the crowd, Kael clicked his tongue in amusement.
He hadn't expected his strategy of diverting attention to be so effective.
Now, all eyes were fixed on Duke of Duskmere and his brother, Damon, leaving Kael, the "insignificant figure," completely unnoticed.
In truth, Kael hadn't anticipated Damon would so readily admit to his accusations, instantly igniting the long-simmering conflict between the two brothers.
As their argument escalated, the already frail Duke of Duskmere suddenly gasped, his mouth wide open but unable to utter a word, only producing a raspy, wheezing sound.
"Haaa….haa…"
Finally, he slumped back in his chair, his eyes vacant and lifeless.
The sight terrified everyone.
"Your Grace!"
"Quick, fetch Grand Physician Panno!"
Everyone scrambled to check on the duke, but the White-Robed Iron Guard stationed on either side blocked their path, preventing anyone from exploiting the chaos to attempt an assassination.
Meanwhile, the burly man who seemed to possess giant bloodline heritage swiftly scooped up the duke and carried him toward the rear courtyard.
"Brother..."
Watching the duke collapse, Damon's expression turned complex, a flicker of concern flashing in his eyes.
He tried to follow, but several Iron Guard blocked his way.
With the Duke of Duskmere's sudden illness, the banquet abruptly ended.
Kael seized the opportunity to slip away unnoticed, his role in the drama concealed.
"Sir, this is your sword."
As Kael stepped through the double doors, the White-Robed Iron Guards, ever loyal, respectfully presented his sword with both hands.
"Well done," Kael said, patting the guard's shoulder with satisfaction. "If things don't work out for you in Duskmere, you can always come find me in the wilderness."
Without waiting for the guard's reaction, Kael strode toward his chambers, sheathing his sword at his waist.
As a newly formed, ragtag operation, his team currently consisted of only himself and one other... well, a bit of a simpleton.
Their strategy was simple: cast a wide net.
Whether they could pry any loose cornerstones remained to be seen, but leaving bait was worth every effort. Even landing one or two recruits would be a win.
The key was to cast the net first and worry about the rest later.