Lincoln was found alone in his tent, and the exact circumstances of his death remained unclear. The truth might be discovered by summoning a grand mage from the capital to question Lincoln's lingering soul, but his death hardly warranted such effort or expense. It was neither noble nor heroic.
In his vanity, Lincoln had pitched his tent away from the common soldiers, seeking to maintain a pristine, aristocratic appearance even in the wilderness—a decision that cost him his life. Two guards stationed near Lincoln's tent testified that a large creature, likely the bear, had knocked them unconscious. By the time they awoke, Lincoln was already dead.
Rumors spread that Lincoln's penchant for eating alone in his tent had attracted the bear. His death became a subject of mockery, not mourning.
Baron Crassus, Lincoln's father, was devastated. The son he had sent away to ensure his survival had met his end in such a foolish manner. If Lincoln were still alive, the baron might have beaten him to death himself.
More pressing than grief was the issue of succession. Without a recognized heir within six months, the barony's status would be jeopardized, requiring complex and costly interventions.
"Lincoln, you fool…" the baron muttered. Though a moment of sadness flickered within him, it was short-lived. The world was ruthless, a place where only the strong survived. Considering the hereditary nature of intelligence, perhaps it was better for the family that Lincoln was gone.
The resources invested in Lincoln were a waste, but dwelling on it now was pointless. The baron resolved to focus on the family's future. Summoning his retainers, he began planning his next move.
Among those gathered was Ronald, the barony's sole knight aside from Michael. Ronald, known for his martial prowess but not his intelligence, stepped forward.
"My lord," he said, "allow me to fetch Michael. If we show him the proper respect, I'm sure he will gladly accept his role."
The baron shook his head. Only someone ignorant of the past would say such a thing. Ronald might be a skilled warrior, but his lack of insight was glaring. Then again, if he were both clever and strong, he wouldn't still be in this barony.
A scribe seated beside Ronald leaned over and whispered in his ear. Ronald's face paled as the details sank in.
"Th-that's… If that's true, my lord, this is no ordinary matter. Returning to them after what happened would be shameless," Ronald stammered, horrified.
The other retainers avoided his gaze, their faces flushed with discomfort. Ignoring Ronald's blunder, the baron addressed the treasurer.
"Even devils can be swayed by profit. Treasurer, how much can we offer as a gesture of goodwill?"
After a moment of calculation, the treasurer replied, "We could manage 5,000 gold coins. That should be enough to purchase a growth elixir. Along with a warhorse from the Pamir Highlands, a high-quality longsword, and full plate armor, it would be a substantial gift."
The baron nodded thoughtfully. Such gifts could elevate Michael's status as a knight, enabling him to ascend from a mere 9th-tier novice to an 8th-tier or even a 7th-tier knight if he had the talent. Growth elixirs, rare and valuable, refined a knight's mana channels, accelerating their development.
While most knights plateaued at the 7th tier, exceptional individuals might reach the 6th tier by middle age. Growth elixirs were often exclusive to ancient noble families, passed down as secret formulas. As a baron, Crassus could only acquire one through auctions or connections.
"Secure the gifts immediately," the baron ordered. "Once everything is ready, Sir Ronald and I will personally seek forgiveness and bring Michael back. As for Lincoln…"
Despite his frustrations, the baron couldn't entirely suppress his paternal grief. Suppressing the emotion, he continued to issue commands.
The baron's voice rang out as the meeting concluded.
"Lincoln's funeral will be a private affair for family only. There's no need for anyone else to attend. As for the succession, Michael will be the next heir. You may all leave."
The retainers exchanged uneasy glances before bowing and departing, leaving the baron alone to grapple with his emotions.
Meanwhile, the news of Lincoln's death left Michael with mixed feelings. The manner of his brother's death was pathetic—killed by a bear while camping during a beast subjugation mission. Though it was unfortunate for a young noble to meet such an end, Michael couldn't summon much sympathy.
Lincoln had never shown him kindness. They barely interacted, meeting only once or twice a year, and every encounter was marred by Lincoln's scorn and intimidation. For the original Michael, Lincoln's cruelty had culminated in the fateful shove that sent him plummeting from the castle wall, ending his life.
For Michael, Lincoln's death at the hands of a bear seemed almost poetic—a form of karmic retribution.
Still, the situation forced Michael to confront an uncomfortable reality: as the barony's new heir, he might have to leave the home he had grown to love.
Despite the short time he had spent with them, Michael had come to see his maternal family as true kin. Clara's warm smiles, Henry's patient guidance, and Alfred's silent but steadfast support had built a sense of belonging he hadn't felt in either of his lives.
Even Alfred, whose piercing gaze sometimes seemed to penetrate Michael's secret, felt like family. Michael didn't want to leave.
But another part of him—a part growing stronger every day—hungered for more. His body was changing, growing stronger and faster, and he couldn't help but yearn for greater purpose and challenges. If leaving this place was inevitable, he resolved to extract the best possible terms from the situation.
The baron and Sir Ronald arrived the day after Lincoln's death was announced. Standing in the front yard of Alfred's house, the baron looked around impatiently before clearing his throat to prompt Ronald.
Ronald, oblivious, stood awkwardly until the baron nudged him with a whisper. Startled, the knight stumbled forward and knocked on the door.
Henry answered, his expression neutral.
"What brings you here?" he asked.
Ronald glanced at the baron, unsure of how to respond.
"I… I've come to… fetch Michael," he stammered, his voice incongruously meek for someone of his size.
Annoyed by Ronald's fumbling, the baron stepped forward. "There's been an incident at the castle," he began.