I'm the third son of a viscount's family, but I have a claim to the throne. - Episode 2

“I’m sorry.”

Being unconscious for five days had taken a far greater toll on my body than I initially realized. Even after regaining consciousness, I was too weak to get out of bed. The doctor ordered me to remain in bed for a few more days to recover.

Looking back, I had been unconscious without any form of intravenous support or similar medical interventions. They had barely kept me alive by forcing recovery potions down my throat—likely through mouth-to-mouth (I think?). Considering I had been unable to eat for five days, I should count myself lucky that my condition wasn’t worse.

While dehydration didn’t seem to be an issue, I couldn’t help but wonder just how much potion had been administered and by whom.

Some things are better left unknown, so I decided not to ask.
…Or rather, I chose to believe that even in my unconscious state, I instinctively managed to drink whatever potion or water was placed near my lips.

That evening, my father came to visit me and offer his apology.

“No, Father. You had been drinking, and it was thoughtless of me to ask such an insensitive question,” I said, trying to smooth things over.
…Although, let’s be honest—hitting a child is never acceptable!

That said, in this world, how parents treat their children is considered entirely a family matter. Whether it’s abuse or neglect, no one intervenes unless it’s something extreme, like public murder. Angering my father and leaving things unresolved could only lead to trouble.

“Even though I carry royal bl00d, I was born into a low-ranking noble family. While my marriage into the Calberg Viscount family cleared their debts, this territory isn’t developed enough to give meaningful roles to three sons.

That’s why I instructed your tutor not to teach you about the royal family, so you could at least enjoy your childhood without worry.

But when you asked such a painful question while I was drunk, I lost my temper and lashed out. Forcing a seven-year-old to bow and scrape to survive is utterly inexcusable.

No matter how much I apologize, I can’t take back what I’ve done. But at the very least, allow me to express my regret,” my father said, slumping into a chair beside my bed.

Huh.
After becoming “I” and reassessing the situation, I had felt that “I” was being undereducated for someone with a claim to the throne. It turns out, my father’s decision stemmed from kindness—a desire to let me enjoy a carefree childhood.

“…Do you regret your current life, Father? Do you resent losing in the political conflict and being married into the viscount family?”

Since he was here to apologize, I took the opportunity to ask something I wouldn’t normally dare to. Even if we pretended to be a normal family starting tomorrow, I wanted to know if he considered me, my mother, and my brothers as symbols of his failure.

“No.

I do regret that my choices have led to a harder life for all of you. But personally, I enjoy working with your mother to develop and manage this modest territory.
In fact, I think I’m living a freer, more enjoyable life than Fernand, who became king and now has to deal with the endless power struggles of the nobility.”

He answered without hesitation.

Wait, what?!
He was drowning in alcohol and gloom, worrying so much about his child’s future that he punched me hard enough to nearly kill me? That’s… totally counterproductive!

“Didn’t you compete with King Fernand because you wanted to be king?”

From what my tutor had cautiously phrased, I had understood that my father was perceived as a serious threat to the throne, which led to his exile via marriage into the impoverished viscount family.

“My rivalry with Fernand wasn’t about the throne itself. It was a proxy battle between the Marquis of Bricton and the Duke of Kesbart—Fernand’s fiancée’s family.

At the time, I didn’t realize that Count Deslarza, my fiancée’s father, was aligned with the Brictons. I was raised as a spare in case Fernand turned out to be completely unfit to rule. My fiancée was chosen from a neutral faction for that purpose.”

He leaned back in his chair and began explaining calmly.

It seemed he was going to tell me about the political intrigue from 15 years ago.
To be fair, I wasn’t sure if this was appropriate for a seven-year-old to hear…

“Count Deslarza was a fence-sitter, and his daughter, Ainetta, fully supported the Kesbart duchess as the next queen consort.

But about a year before graduating from the royal academy, Ainetta started coming to me about problems with the Kesbart duchess. Eventually, Deslarza himself brought evidence that the Kesbart family was involved in illegal activities like human trafficking and drug trade—and even had ties to the Parfan Empire.

I brought this evidence to the former king and suggested reconsidering Fernand’s fiancée, but my father refused to listen. The documents Deslarza provided weren’t enough to convict the Kesbarts, and my father doubted their credibility.”

Hmm. Would a family tied to the future queen consort really engage in such illegal activities? With so many eyes on them, it would be foolish to take such risks.

“I thought the only way to stop the Kesbarts was to prove I was superior to Fernand and claim the throne.

But after everything was over, I found out that the Marquis of Bricton had just as many shady ties as the Kesbarts. In the end, the Kesbarts emerged victorious.

The Marquis of Bricton lost a third of their land and was demoted to an earl. Count Deslarza had to relinquish his title over a minor tax issue. And I… I lost my engagement to Ainetta and married your mother, Keerafarn Calberg.”

He explained it all without any bitterness, his tone calm and detached.

For a power struggle over the throne, it was surprisingly peaceful. Nobody died.

“Then… working as a civil servant in the royal palace might be a safe option for me?”

“…You’d better hope your superior isn’t the kind of person who gets off on ordering around someone with royal bl00d. Unless you marry into a high-ranking noble family or marquess household, your life would likely feel unfulfilling.”

Yikes. Sounds like the palace is full of petty nobles who enjoy stepping on royal bl00d for their own ego.

“What about joining the knight order?”

I wasn’t particularly athletic, but I wasn’t bad either. With strong magical power as a royal, proper training could make me a formidable knight.

“That’s even riskier. Achieving too much would make you a target. Unless you become close with a high-ranking noble or marquess’ son and join their knight order, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Fair enough. A knight with royal bl00d and military achievements could easily be seen as a threat.

“Then what should I do?”

My father sighed and shrugged.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t figure it out either, which is why I turned to drinking.

Your mother suggested starting a business or even becoming an adventurer.

For now, focus on discovering your strengths and interests. Learn what you can and build your skills.”

A shopkeeper or an adventurer with royal bl00d?
Neither seemed plausible, but for now, I’d focus on figuring out my talents and honing my abilities.