The Lord Who Levels Up by Devouring - LLD Chapter 108: Capital, Battenbart (Part 1)

The capital of the kingdom—Battenbart.

Located in the central region of the continent and at the heart of the kingdom, Battenbart bordered both the Silva River and the mountain ranges.

Outside the window, the outskirts came into view—fertile farmland near the Silva River, providing water and food to the capital.
Livestock farming was also flourishing based on those resources.

Past the outskirts, the gates of Battenbart finally appeared.

Iron doors and stone ramparts.
They cast bold shadows beneath the sun, proving the might and history of the kingdom’s final line of defense.

As the carriage approached—

The capital guards lined up along the walls raised their spears and shields in unison.
They must have already been informed of our arrival.

“It’s the House of Whitewolf! Open the gates!”

With a simple verification, the gates opened, and the guards all saluted in sync.

Soon after, the carriage entered the bustling streets.

We had arrived at the Outer City of the capital.
Merchants, craftsmen, and commoners mostly resided here, and the Silva River split through the heart of the district.

Colorful flags fluttered above merchant ships floating on the stream—a scene quite different from Frecce.
It highlighted the prosperity of the capital, far beyond that of the County of Whitewolf.

“Wow!”

Serapia’s eyes widened as she gazed out the window.
Having rarely left the County, she wasn’t used to the outside world.

Lately, due to the Curse of Frost, she hadn’t even stepped outside the Lord’s Castle.
But now, she had awakened the Power of Cold [P].

‘Looks like the effect of the Curse of Frost is gone too.’

…Should I really keep calling her Serapia?

That question lingered in his mind—

And before long, we reached the Inner City of the capital.
This district, home to nobles, high officials, and upper-class merchants, was filled with dignified mansions.

There were also libraries, grand plazas, and academic institutions.

The nobles regularly invited bards to host musical, painting, and theatrical events.
Scholars and artists frequently visited to share their knowledge and talents.

This was the cultural heart of the Battenberg Kingdom, where elite traditions were born and exchanged.

“Wooooow!!”

Serapia’s eyes grew even larger than before.
She couldn’t stop marveling at the scenery like an excited child.

While she was enthralled, the carriage turned northward, climbing a hill where the royal palace came into view.

And just like that, we arrived at the palace.

“Woooooow!!!”

Serapia’s eyes looked like they might tear from excitement—

“Waaahhhhhh!!”

She practically exploded with what could only be described as a berserk display of awe.

The golden-decorated gates.
The marble floors shimmering in sunlight.
The royal gardens overflowing with fragrant flowers—it all felt more like a fairy tale than reality.

“Woooooowwwwwww!!”

Serapia couldn’t help but gasp at the majestic sight.

“Stop making a scene and get down.”
“…Y-Yes.”

Shrinking her shoulders, Serapia stepped down from the carriage.
But the moment her feet touched the ground, her eyes widened again at the grand view of the palace.

“Wow, this place is really—”

Then she trailed off, sneaking a glance at Adrian, who was just stepping down from the carriage.
At that moment—

“Welcome. You must be tired from the long journey.”

The palace gates opened, and a man in a formal suit stepped out.
Every move and word he made exuded elegance and authority.

“I am Edmund Harens, Chief Steward of the palace.”

As someone who served the royal family, the Chief Steward’s status was no small thing.
He held the title of Pfalz—a court count.
Similarly, the Chief Handmaid of the palace was of noble rank, often a Countess.

In contrast, a borderland count was called a March, like the House of Whitewolf, which belonged to that classification.

“I’m Serapia Whitewolf.”
“I’m Adrian Whitewolf.”

Serapia and Adrian bowed to Edmund in turn.

“His Majesty has heard of your arrival. However…”

Edmund gave a slight nod.

“His health isn’t well, so he won’t be able to grant an audience right away.”
“Then…”
“Until His Majesty recovers, you’ll be staying in the guest chambers.”
“The guest chambers?!”

Serapia couldn’t help but cry out in surprise.
It made sense—those rooms weren’t given out lightly.

They were reserved for foreign royalty and high-ranking nobles.
And the two of them weren’t even officially recognized as successors to the County title yet.

“It was the Queen’s command to accommodate the debuting lady and her household in the guest chambers.”

“Ah, I see.”
“I’ll personally escort you.”

At Edmund’s gesture, the palace’s maids and stewards bowed deeply to welcome Serapia and Adrian.

It felt just like becoming a fairy tale princess.

“This way, please.”

As Edmund led them deeper into the opulent palace—

“Well, well, look who it is!”

A sudden voice rang out.
They turned to see a young man with a youthful face.

A cocky smile. Rounded jawline.
A calculating, cold smile.
And a familiar air.

But Adrian didn’t recognize the face.

Activating Predatory Instincts [S], the information about the person popped up.

====
Name: Walter Battenberg
Type: Mammal, Human
Gender: Male
Age: 15
Traits: None

‘Walter…’

The third prince of the Battenberg Kingdom.
Second son of Queen Marceline.

Walter strode confidently toward him.

He examined Adrian up and down, like a snake slithering around its prey.

“So this is the kingdom’s infamous thug, Adrian.”

For a 15-year-old, his gaze was shockingly cunning.
He clearly knew Adrian’s reputation—and intended to exploit it.

Naturally, the incident at Baoless had kept Adrian’s name out of the records.
Credit had gone to Isolde and the Holy Kingdom.

While those in the County knew Adrian was no longer the troublemaker of old, others did not.

And so, Walter wore a smile laced with ridicule and mockery.

It was obvious he came here just to provoke him.

But it didn’t feel random or impulsive.
It was far too deliberate.

‘Did someone put him up to this?’

It smelled like a setup—someone trying to stir trouble through provocation.

‘It wouldn’t be Queen Marceline.’

She didn’t care about Adrian. Her focus was on Serapia.
With the royal social event approaching, she’d want to avoid chaos—she’d likely oppose such provocations.

So who inside the palace could pull something like this?

‘The Marquess of Segretus, perhaps.’

The kingdom’s chancellor—Marquess Segretus.
It had to be him.

Word must’ve reached him that Adrian was supporting Iliana.

‘So even Marquess Segretus can move royalty like chess pieces?’

He was second only to the king in political power, but even then, his reach was greater than Adrian had expected.

“Your Highness, these are royal guests who’ve come a long way.”
“I know, I know. That’s why I’m being so friendly, isn’t it?”

Translatin_Otaku

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