Regressor of the Fallen Family

### Episode 105: Beneath the Phoenix Banner Soaring into the Sky

Beneath the soaring banner of the phoenix, the nobles, who should unite as one, were split into two factions, east and west, showing disjointed movements similar to a partitioning curtain. Following the official arrangement, the regional lords were assigned seats, but with most factions already split between east and west, it inadvertently resulted in a seating plan that clearly separated the factions.

Even Prince No. 1 and Prince No. 2, who were supposed to show sorrow at least for the sake of appearances, were busy glaring at each other at the center of these noble factions. Only the few surviving former queens and Prince No. 3 seemed to mourn with a gloomy expression. But their appearances likely mirrored worries for their future rather than grief.

In the midst of a chaotic and busy atmosphere that was anything but suitable for commemorating the deceased, Logan summarized the atmosphere succinctly. “What a mess.” It would have been particularly embarrassing for a noble like Logan, so it was no wonder that the archbishop, about to deliver his prepared speech, hesitated for a moment before reading it.

The disorder peaked when the archbishop began to read out the late King Samuel von Grandia’s achievements, starting from his days as the crown prince forty years ago. Even Logan, who was prepared for a lengthy eulogy, couldn’t help but wonder about its length as nobles began to look away from the podium in disinterest one after another. It would have been just another shameful display among the kingdom’s nobles had it not been for the presence of Logan, a particularly bothersome individual, seated right beside him.

“With only a week left, McLaren, I suggest you enjoy it to the fullest. A life so short is too precious to spend in gloom,” whispered Count Roger Bifrost with a sardonic smile, taunting Logan and his father. There was no need to respond, just like his emotionless father.

“This eulogy is hell itself.” As the archbishop droned on about events from 39 years ago, Logan decided to step in for a bit of diversion.

“Oh, it seems you haven’t heard the news yet,” Logan teased.

“You wish to live—I understand that…but there was an offer of recruitment from your faction.”

“Maybe we’ll be on the same side, so choose your words carefully, Count.”

“Nonsense…!”

“If you think it’s nonsense, why not ask Count Luther Kyle directly?”

Bifrost’s face turned grim as he caught sight of the towering figure of Count Luther Kyle, standing out even from a distance. With a half-smile, Logan added, “I’m kidding.”

“You scoundrel…!”

“Depending on what you do, it might not be a joke.”

Watching Bifrost’s complexion change, Logan was quite amused. However, the interest waned when Max Perretta, who had slithered underneath Bifrost’s wing away from McLaren, suddenly appeared with an obsequious snicker.

“Just a dog barking because it’s scared……”

“Enough!” A soft voice spoke up, stopping Max Perretta’s excessive flattery. Bifrost was deep in thought.

“It would have been more amusing if he had just snapped.”

Disappointed, Logan turned his attention back to the podium, only to see his father secretly giving him a thumbs up.

“And 38 years ago…” The never-ending eulogy remained.

* * *

“The ceremony for the first day of the national mourning is now concluded.” When the royal guard announced the end of the day’s ritual, the sun had already set. The archbishop’s eulogy, lengthy enough to cause tears and laughter only for the speaker and the forsaken nobles at the head of the crowd, had taken up the bulk of the ceremony.

As soon as the ritual ended, sighs of relief could be heard from all corners of the royal plaza. While most nobles hurried away, Logan and Patrick McLaren faced another set of unwelcome guests.

“Viscount Jeremy Poulson, serving the Walterheim Ducal Family, seeks an audience with you, Lord Patrick McLaren…”

“Gino Levanson, retainer of the Douglas Ducal Family, wishes to speak with you, my lord…”

The reactions were starkly different from when Logan had previously visited the capital. Instead of being greeted as the disciple of the Swordsman, they were now receiving recruitment offers, and Roger Bifrost couldn’t help but watch the scene unfold with an increasingly dreadful expression.

Later, after Logan and Patrick had refused most offers and left, Subcommander Rentor approached Bifrost tentatively. “Count Bifrost, it’s time we should be heading back…”

“I must see the Duke.” Bifrost’s gaze remained fixated on the spot where the McLarens had disappeared, even as the surroundings grew dark. “No one who has touched what is mine has gone unpunished. And that will not change…”

* * *

“You have no intention to use the factions to your advantage?” Patrick asked Logan as they exited the palace. Logan’s short, decisive reply left Patrick in contemplation and eventually sighing, suggesting that Logan must share his plans in advance. But Logan knew that some things simply couldn’t be shared openly.

* * *

“Philippe Claude. It’s been a while, Lord.”

“Ah, Philippe. Indeed, it’s been a long time since we last met in town. But I’ve heard you’ve been quite busy lately?”

“Well, the highness has requested…”

After returning to the estate with the preparations in place, Logan greeted Philippe warmly. Curious about the purpose of the requested items, Philippe was met with an evasive chuckle.

The strange item that Logan held, unknown to the present times but all too familiar in a different time, evoked mixed emotions within him. “I never thought I’d use this again.”

With the necessary items secured, it was time to wait for the right moment.

* * *

As the national mourning continued, Logan’s demeanor, or McLaren’s to be precise, slowly began to change. The offers from various factions kept coming, their nature subtly shifting. The fake cordiality of the messengers became a source of mockery as they revealed their disdain for the McLaren’s seeming opportunism.

“Still, Bifrost is desperate enough to scorn me,” Logan mused with amusement at his adversary’s fruitless struggle.

More pressing matters caught Logan’s attention, including the unexpected call from his future father-in-law, Count Roberts Floyd. Juggling to keep him from speaking to his own father, Logan had to reassure Floyd that the engagement was on hold due to recent events in their land. All the while, Logan knew that now was not the time for wedding plans.

‘Now’s not the time to waste on a wedding.’

Fortunately, the pressure from Floyd ceased, and as if on cue with Logan’s firm stance, no more emissaries from the factions visited during the national mourning period.

When the mourning was nearly over and Patrick’s anxiety grew, a proclamation was made—a Grand Noblesse would be held, gathering all the nobles of Grandia. The time Logan had been waiting for had finally arrived, earlier than in his previous life, taking place two weeks sooner. The stage was set for the significant events that lay ahead.

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