Regressor of the Fallen Family Novel - Chapter 232 (New)

Chapter 232 – Minister, Felix Esperanza. I pledge my loyalty to the ruler of the new kingdom.

The sudden proclamation from the Sword Sage ushered in an unsettling quiet that felt entirely out of place within the charged air of the throne room. The assembled aristocrats were questioning their own hearing, exchanging bewildered glances before their eyes stretched wide with shock.

“The Sword Sage?”

The great hall grew so deathly silent that even the fall of a tiny needle would have echoed. In that heavy stillness, Logan’s gaze underwent a slow transformation. His once-unsteady eyes found their focus, and his parted lips pressed together in a hard line. His face now wore the mask of a man who had reached a final, immutable conclusion.

Patrick, who had been observing his son with bated breath, felt a wave of relief wash over him.

‘The Sword Sage has given Logan his blessing.’

The mystery of how he had entered the hall at this specific moment or why he chose this particular path was secondary. Knowing the agonizing internal struggle his son had been enduring, Patrick could finally let out a long-held breath. Thus, the two most powerful men in the room, father and son, remained motionless and silent.

In the vacuum of that hushed chamber, the Sword Sage spoke once more.

“I have been informed that the citizens of this realm have made their choice. I beg of you, Your Majesty, make a definitive move for the sake of the commoners who have endured years of tragedy.”

Your Majesty.

The weight of that title caused Logan, currently occupying the regent’s chair, to shudder with suppressed feeling. His white-knuckled fists and the slight tremor in his mouth betrayed the storm of emotion inside him. Yet, when he finally spoke, his voice rang out with a clarity and strength that seemed to banish any trace of his previous hesitation.

“I accept your pledge.”

In an instant.

“Ah.”

“Could it be…”

“So it begins…”

Faint gasps and murmurs of realization rippled through the nobility across the hall. Logan, his expression now set in stone, announced his ironclad intent before the gathered witnesses.

“I, Logan McLaine, hereby embrace the mandate of every soul in this territory and decree the dawn of a new sovereign line!”

“Hooray!”

Thunderous applause and shouts erupted, signaling the birth of a fresh age. Following this, Patrick McLaine’s voice boomed across the expanse of the room.

“Let the ministers commence the coronation rites and broadcast the rise of the new dynasty! Let the world know a new era has arrived!”

“As you command!”

The news of the new kingdom began to surge out of the palace like a flood. Meanwhile, Logan found himself face-to-face with his mentor, who had orchestrated this entry in a way he never could have imagined.

“Master, what is the meaning of all this?”

“I made this choice the moment I stepped onto that field of battle. The vanquished must yield to the victor. This is for the well-being of the people of this land.”

The Sword Sage’s reply was steadfast, though his formal tone was something Logan found difficult to process.

“…Please, Master, speak as you always have. It is unsettling when you address me with such formality.”

Logan looked at him with an awkward, pained expression.

“No, that would be improper. If I, your teacher, do not show the sovereign proper respect, the standing of the new reign we are building will be undermined from the start.”

“It makes me uneasy. At the very least, when we are alone, I wish you would speak freely.”

Despite the plea, the Sword Sage remained unyielding in his posture.

“No, a cracked vessel leaks whether it is inside or out. This is the correct path. In light of that, there is a matter for which I must seek your pardon.”

“…Pardon?”

“I broke out of my confinement and struck down several knights in my haste. I ask Your Majesty to pass judgment on this transgressor.”

Thump.

Confronted by his mentor’s increasingly rigid and self-sacrificing demeanor, Logan found himself momentarily speechless. After a long pause, Logan sighed and reached out a hand to the older man.

“Please, stand up. Not once have I ever considered you a criminal.”

At those words, the Sword Sage, who had been bowing low, allowed his eyebrows to twitch slightly. Yet, his disciplined behavior didn’t waver.

“I am grateful for Your Majesty’s compassion.”

With a tone that still felt jarringly polite, the Sword Sage rose. As he did, Logan began to voice the deep-seated anxieties he had been carrying.

“Did you know? Before you walked through those doors, I was paralyzed by doubt.”

“Yes. I suspected as much.”

“…You did?”

“That is precisely why I came to sweep away those uncertainties, Your Majesty.”

“Ah…”

As he spoke, the master’s face came into clearer view, still slick with cold sweat. His features were stiff and his skin possessed a ghostly pallor that was entirely uncharacteristic of a high-level Aura User.

‘Master…’

This was the man Logan had once idolized without reservation, and later, the man he had clashed with so violently. Yet, even when their ideologies were at their most polarized, his mentor had been looking out for him. From the sudden surrender of the Esperanza forces to the spectacle in the throne room. It was a duel fought with blades to uphold personal honor, yet planned with the foresight to handle the fallout of a loss.

‘What if the roles had been reversed?’

Logan’s mind flashed back to the climax of their fight. At the very end, the Sword Sage’s power had plummeted unexpectedly. Perhaps he had been trying to incapacitate Logan rather than kill him. Meanwhile, Logan had swung his blade with a desperate intensity that ignored whether his master lived or died.

‘It’s clear now…’

As his thoughts spiraled down that path, a heavy realization took hold.

‘Even if I lacked the mental space to notice it then…’

A sense of shame washed over him. Almost reflexively, Logan blurted out.

“Master, that day…”

“The past is behind us. We must look toward what lies ahead.”

The mentor cut him off before the question could be fully formed.

“…You truly have no regrets?”

“What room is there for regret? My heart is decided. Rather, I wish to verify one thing with Your Majesty.”

“Yes?”

“Regarding the imperial threat you spoke of—how certain are you of the invasion?”

Those piercing blue eyes, which had debated this very topic once before, searched Logan’s own. But the context had shifted entirely. Previously, the Sword Sage had viewed Logan’s warnings as mere propaganda to justify a coup, demanding proof that didn’t exist. Now, however.

“One hundred percent. The empire will launch an assault. I give you my word again; I would bet my life on this truth.”

There was no longer any political need for deception. Logan’s voice was as steady as a mountain.

‘No. He was just as certain before; I was the one who blinded myself with my own pride.’

Having received the confirmation he needed and acknowledging his own past arrogance, the Sword Sage let out a long, weary sigh.

“Once more, I give you my oath. I, Felix Esperanza, will sacrifice my very soul to repel the empire and safeguard this realm.”

Thump.

Logan could only look on with an awkward, conflicted face as the Sword Sage knelt before him once again.

“Our young master is the King!”

“Is it true?!”

“What happens to the rest of us now?”

“What do you think? Our lives are going to get a lot better, obviously!”

“Do you really think so?”

“Well… I’m not sure! But if the young master is on the throne, isn’t that a reason to celebrate?”

“You’re right!”

“Quiet down!”

The knights struggled to maintain order as the streets of McLaine Town and the surrounding territories filled with the sounds of people cheering for their new monarch and the birth of their nation. In contrast, the citizens of other regions outside the McLaine sphere of influence were far more hesitant.

“A new country?”

“Does this mean Grandia is a thing of the past?”

“They’re saying the whole place is called McLaine now.”

“I don’t get it. It feels wrong…”

The alleys were thick with skeptical whispers. Even with the birth of a new dynasty, the name of the kingdom mattered far less to the common folk than whether they could put food on the table.

However, for the architects of the new state, the symbolism of this beginning was paramount. Because of this, the meetings in the great hall regarding coronation plans were exceptionally heated.

“The sequence of the ceremony…”

“We will utilize the great hall, the palace plaza, and then a grand parade through the city…”

“Is a parade necessary? Perhaps we should…”

The room hummed with the intense debates of the council, and nobles from every corner of the land had traveled to attend. In a technical sense, every aristocrat had signaled their consent to the change in power. But while they appeared to be watching the ministers, many were focused elsewhere.

Their eyes were fixed on the grand dais. Specifically, on the man standing beside Logan McLaine, who was now seated upon the throne. They were watching the Sword Sage, Felix Esperanza.

Many of these nobles had held secret discussions before arriving at the capital, and they were finding the current sight very troubling.

– If the McLaine line takes over like this, the King’s word will be absolute.

– Power like that leads to ruin. We have to stick together for the sake of the realm.

– We need to protect our traditional rights as nobility.

– We will serve the new King, but we must have a unified voice to keep him in check.

The nobles had quietly planned to use the Esperanza family—the high-ranking house that had resisted McLaine until the bitter end—as the focal point for a new ‘Noble Coalition.’ They expected the Sword Sage to lead this political counterweight. Yet, here he was, the supposedly fallen head of that house, standing as the right hand of the new King.

Furthermore.

“Given the recent unrest, we should keep the coronation costs to a minimum…”

“That is out of the question, Your Majesty. A dynasty intended to stand for a thousand years cannot have a meager beginning. If the treasury is low, I will provide the funds from the Esperanza vaults. Your only concern should be the glory of your house.”

This was the man they hoped would lead the opposition, showing the most profound deference to his former pupil. The dream of a new Noble Faction evaporated in an instant.

“You are still in recovery; there is no need to push yourself so hard so soon.”

“It is fine. By being here, I ensure that no one dares to harbor treasonous thoughts at the dawn of your reign.”

A light sweat beaded on the Sword Sage’s brow, but his resolve was as sharp as his blade, regardless of his physical state. Having lived his life outside the political fray, he understood the opportunistic nature of the nobility perfectly. He was determined to solidify the foundation of Logan’s rule, just as he had promised. His mere presence was a shield against dissent.

And so, the planned noble opposition died before it could even draw its first breath.

“Then, we shall proceed with the coronation schedule as outlined.”

The council meeting concluded, and the official date for the start of the McLaine era was set.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

“Hold your lines!”

“Stay in formation!”

“You! Shift to the right!”

The main thoroughfare leading from the inner gates of Grandia to the royal palace was packed. The crowds shifted back and forth, guided by the barked orders of the soldiers.

“Why are we gathering outside the palace gates?”

“The word is that His Majesty wanted to honor his original journey to the palace by retracing his steps for the coronation.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

“Well, if we get a glimpse of the new King, we’re supposed to have good luck, right?”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Silence in the ranks!”

As the knights finally settled the restless crowds, a sense of order took hold of the capital by midday.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

The rhythmic thumping of drums began again, and a powerful voice boomed through the air.

– Long live Logan McLaine, His Majesty, the founding father of the McLaine Kingdom!

At that shout, the western gates of the inner fortress swung open, and the royal procession appeared. A man clad in shimmering, intricate armor rode a magnificent horse with a fiery mane. It was a striking image; his own hair mirrored the horse’s vibrant color as he led his followers into the inner city. It was noted by many that his entire escort consisted of high-ranking knights, not mere servants.

As the knights, dressed in gleaming armor that complemented the King’s, began their rhythmic march.

“Whooa!”

The cheers were so deafening they could have spooked even a war-hardened Rubens stallion. The capital erupted in a roar that celebrated the birth of the new nation.

“Long live the Kingdom!”

“Long live the McLaine Kingdom!”

“Eternal glory to His Majesty Logan McLaine!”

The air was thick with the chants of ‘long live.’ Logan had to use his own aura to keep his startled horse under control, guiding it forward one slow step at a time. As he moved, a rain of petals fell upon him. From the balconies and rooftops lining the street, endless flowers were tossed into the air, creating a dreamlike scene. Amidst the thunderous noise and the swirl of colors, Logan looked out over his new subjects and rode steadily toward his future.