Wilhelm van Astrea was old. Sure he wasn't about to keel over and die but he was old. He had been there when Melromarc went to war against Siltvelt and unlike the youngsters in the capital, he had seen how bloody and horrifying life could be. He had lost his wife to the war. His sweet Theresia who had never wanted to take arms against any other living being but had been forced to train in the ways of sword because of her father's pressure. And to take place in the war because of the pressure of the people of their village.
He had lost her to an ambush of demi humans and her death… it had almost changed him. He had wanted to slaughter every demi human around him, to make them hurt as they had hurt him, to kill them as they killed his wife. To his eternal shame it wasn't Theresia's memory that had snapped him out of his hatred, no what had snapped out of him was the hero of Cane, Aultcray.
'Wise King' they called him in Melromarc. It was the most tasteless joke Wilhelm had ever heard. Aultcray was a mad dog through and through, one that Wilhelm had no idea how but had captured the Queen's love. Aultcray was a monster and through his deeds Wilhelm had seen what he could have become. A monster that had paraded the heads of demi human children on pikes as if he had done some glorious deed rather than butchering innocents. That was what made Wilhelm realize the folly of hatred.
After that he had found himself a new family on the battlefield. A young lord who had been on the frontlines even though he had been pathetically weak. Alaric Mansour had been different from other soldiers. He had been weak but brave and honorable. Never going after a downed enemy and even trying to stop those who would. He had always aimed for the neck with a remorseful look, trying to kill his enemies in a painless way even though he wouldn't be shown the same courtesy. A gentle man, one that had been almost as gentle as Theresia. That was why he had sworn himself under him, learning about manners he had scoffed about in his youth and becoming his servant, to help the young lord. He had seen him grow up, get married and even become a father. He just wished that he hadn't seen his funeral as well.
Both Alaric and his wife had been killed in an ambush by bandits. Or that was how it had been claimed. Wilhelm had some doubts about that because of the fact that both his lord and lady had slit throats with their jewelry still on their person. There was something far more unsavory about their deaths, something he would find out about later no matter what.
But currently his concern was the son of Alaric, and his new lord, Kyros. He had been a part of the boy's life since his birth and had even changed his diapers so it had always been rather hard to take him seriously no matter what he did. The boy had been a studious individual, both in mind and body. But rather than going towards some goal it had been done only to keep his parents satisfied. And now that his parents were gone, Wilhelm had been afraid that the young lord would let himself go in grief and waste even more of his potential, more because the old butler always believed that young Kyros had never fully applied himself to anything.
His worriers were unwarranted as it seemed like the death of his parents had lit a fire under young Kyros. The boy's presence itself had changed, even in his half naked state he had commanded respect.
Maybe things wouldn't go bad like he had thought.
The thing that you never even thought about clothes of nobles…
They suck!
Honestly what kind of moron had designed these overly frilly clothes with stupid stripes! He had seen clowns with similar clothes in his last life! So in the end he simply wore a black muscle shirt he used while training and a cloak around his body.
He had problems, both of his parents were dead and while, callous it might sound, his father's absence would not cause too many practical problems. The real problem was his mother's death, Euphemia Mansour had been the one to deal with politics and economy of the land. And even if he hadn't been too important in the workings of his lands, his father had been a part of the war against Siltvelt, combining that with his royal status he was considered to be a small time hero and his death would lower the morale.
Mother's death created work and his father's death decreased the morale of those who were supposed to work. A real killer combo.
So he had to not only find a way to raise the moral but also to deal with politics cause he had no doubt that he would be called to the capital soon. They would allow one grieve only so much before wanting to know how their territory was being managed.
Sure they wouldn't interfere as long as certain standards were fulfilled otherwise they would have interfered with nobles like Idol Rabier long ago.
As he neared the meeting room where Wilhelm had gathered the important people, Kyros couldn't help but think if he could actually deal with what this world had for a future. It had been four years since the end of war with Siltvelt and they were supposed to have a decade of peace with Melromarc before the Trash King summoned all four heroes and pissed off everyone. So even if he did survive the Waves, Kyros would still have to deal with a world that was ready to go into war at any moment. And their best hope for survival was the four heroes. Consisting a chuunibyou loner swordsman, an archer whose idea of justice would have Emiya Shiro punch him in the face, a horny and stupid spearman who can be manipulated anyone with a pair of breast and a shielder who was too angry to die.
Yeah no, no way he was leaving the gate of the world into those four, only Naofumi would have any chances at succeeding and the world was always trying to go against him so he very well might abandon it as well, Fitoria be damned. No, Kyros would have to deal with this shit.
He pushed the doors open, his Charisma skill flaring as he smiled at the three people in the room.
"Gentlemen, we have work to do!"
