Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage-Chapter 502: Kron, the Disillusioned I

CH502 Kron, the Disillusioned I

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Ostmont City, Belloc Barony, Holy Lumeria Empire

Kron Belloc arrived before the city gates of the massive metropolis that served as the crown jewel of the Belloc Barony.

He tilted his head, staring up at the towering city walls—over thirty metres high—standing like an iron sentinel around the last true relic of House Belloc’s former glory as a marquisate.

For a brief moment, he simply stood there, letting the scale of it sink into his bones.

It was impressive.

A city like this could rival even a ducal capital.

But the next moment, Kron exhaled sharply and shook his head.

’How far we’ve fallen...’

In its heyday, House Belloc had ruled two other cities only slightly smaller than Ostmont, alongside five towns and more than ten villages.

Now?

Their territory had been reduced to this single capital city.

And even then, it was a miracle they had managed to hold onto it.

Ostmont City was one of the more important—and iconic—cities within the Holy Lumeria Empire.

Seen as a gateway to Celnaer, the Imperial Capital of Lumeria as well as the Holy City of the Temple of Juror itself, Ostmont had become a central meeting point for trade, craftsmanship, and education.

Thanks to the relentless effort of Kron’s father—Baron Luth Belloc—the city, despite lacking any true speciality of its own, had carved out a niche in the service economy.

It leveraged its geographic position with ruthless efficiency, transforming into one of the empire’s most valuable hubs.

Merchant houses, Artisan workshops, Educational institutions... Many of them who had either failed to thrive in the Imperial Capital, or grown tired of its cut-throat politics, had come here instead.

They found a home in Ostmont.

Like its liege lord, Ostmont City had become a beacon of diplomacy...

A concord city.

Not only within Lumeria, but—at least to some extent—across the continent itself, Ostmont had become a neutral ground, free of factional attachments.

Its judges and mediators were infamous for their strict impartiality.

Because of that, the city became the ideal location for settling disputes, forging treaties, and reaching long-lasting agreements between nobles and aristocrats alike.

In recent times, whenever Lumeria was forced to step in and resolve conflicts between foreign territories, the diplomatic talks were almost always held in Ostmont City.

For that singular reason, the city was protected like a priceless gem of Lumeria—by the Imperial Faction, the Aristocratic Faction, and the Holy See Faction alike.

No matter how mouth-watering the Belloc Barony—or rather, Ostmont City itself—might have been, no one in the Holy Lumeria Empire dared stretch their paws towards it.

Not from the nobility nor the aristocracy.

Because the powerhouses behind the empire’s three great blocs would never allow it.

And even those same powerhouses did not dare claim the city for themselves.

The three factions kept one another in check, like wolves circling the same carcass—each waiting for the other to blink first.

Much of that balance existed for one reason.

Baron Luth Belloc.

The man sat at the centre of it all, navigating the murky waters with such precision that even his enemies had no choice but to respect him.

Of course... that protection came with a strict condition.

Ostmont City was not allowed to raise a true armed force.

Even the city militia was carefully negotiated with the powers-that-be before any expansion was approved— so the city wouldn’t give off the wrong idea.

Kron’s lips tightened.

’Is that really living, though?’

’Living at the whims and mercy of others?’

He shook his head as he approached the gates. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

A guard who clearly didn’t recognise him was stationed there.

When Kron stepped forward, the guard reached for his spear and moved to search his possessions before allowing entry.

But Kron calmly raised a hand and presented a medallion.

The guard frowned, studying the crest engraved into it... yet he couldn’t recognise it.

His expression tightened.

Offending a noble was a mistake that could cost more than a job.

It could cost a head.

So the guard halted the line and called for a superior.

A moment later, the superior arrived—and the instant his eyes landed on Kron, surprise flashed across his face.

"Young Master Kron? You are back?" the man blurted out.

Kron ignored the question entirely and asked his own, voice flat.

"Can I enter?"

"Yes—yes, of course!" the guard stammered, stepping aside at once.

The gates were opened, and Kron rode into the city with his two horses.

The first guard stared after him, curiosity burning in his eyes.

"Who is that?" he asked quietly.

"The baron’s youngest son," the superior replied.

Then the older man looked at the younger guard and gave him a firm nod.

"You were smart to call me instead of making trouble," he said grimly. "You would’ve lost your head if you hadn’t."

"How could I cause trouble here when I know the number of nobles who come and go from the city?" the young guard replied with a shrug. "I like having my head on my shoulders."

"You’d be surprised how many foolish guards we’ve had over the years who can’t realise something so simple," the older guard said with a snort.

"Alright. Go resume the line."

The younger guard hurried back to his post.

Meanwhile, the older guard remained where he was, watching Kron’s back as he disappeared into the city.

’The cowardly son who ran away instead of competing with his older brother has returned,’ he thought.

’Has he changed... or is he still the same coward?’

His eyes narrowed briefly, but then he sighed.

’Well, it’s none of my concern. That’s a matter for the nobles.’

As Kron walked through the streets, he couldn’t help shaking his head in quiet self-mockery.

’The young master of the city returns home, and no one even notices.’

His gaze drifted over the faces passing by—merchants, labourers, craftsmen, travellers—and not a single one spared him a second glance.

’Have I been gone so long that the people of my own fief don’t even recognise my face?’

It had been years since Kron left home.

Not because he wanted freedom, nor because he wanted adventure. But because he refused to compete with his elder brother for their father’s seat.

He had petitioned his father to name his elder brother as successor.

Yet Baron Luth Belloc had refused.

He was adamant about following noble tradition— using sibling rivalry to force out the best candidate.

But Kron knew he lacked his brother’s viciousness.

So he chose another path.

He had hoped that by leaving the fief, by walking away from everything, his father would finally make his choice.

And House Belloc would be spared the cycle of bloodshed that could cripple an already weakened House.

Back then, Kron believed he understood the price of that decision.

But returning now—only to find that so few recognised him—left a bitter sting in his chest.

He exhaled slowly.

’Even the city and I are strangers.’

Ostmont had changed in the five years he’d been away, slogging through mud as an adventurer... and sometimes as a mercenary when coin ran thin.

The streets felt unfamiliar, the buildings felt taller... And the people felt colder.

He barely recognised anything.

And yet, as if the world was mocking him for that very thought, there was one place he recognised instantly.

One of the largest structures in the entire city.

A monument that hadn’t changed at all.

Ostmont’s Grand Cathedral.

A magnificent temple raised in the era of Marquis Belloc, built as the fief’s central Temple of Juror— an offering of stone and devotion meant to honour their Lord Juror.

Once upon a time, the sight of it alone had filled Kron with reverence... With peace.

But now?

Now, there was a marked disinterest in his chest.

No—more than that.

A quiet disdain.

He realised now how much he had been brain—

Kron halted the thought midway.

’No... disillusioned,’ he corrected himself.

Disillusioned by Alex... disillusioned by the expedition party, by their words, their doubts, their certainty that the so-called divine were not divine at all.

He no longer felt reverence towards Juror.

And in his mind—although he couldn’t truly see it—he could feel it.

The faith link.

The invisible tether between worshipper and Navi.

He felt the soft glow of Eleanore’s enchantment spell wrapping around it, hiding its fractured nature... disguising the cracks like silk over broken glass.

Normally, this close to the cathedral, the clergy should have sensed it.

They should have appeared immediately to mend the link... Or ’eliminate’ the crack.

But nothing happened.

There was no divine premonition... no judgement... nor divine intervention.

’A mere Gold-ranked sorceress... no. A healer... can block the eyes of a so-called omnipotent god?’ Kron’s lips almost curled into a sneer.

"Child, do you want to go into the temple?"

***