Reborn as a Hated Noble Family, We Start an Industrial Revolution

Chapter 80: Chapter 80: Bringing Home a Husband (The Most Surprising Souvenir)

Northreach Lightning Rail Central Station. Afternoon – Two Days After the Silent City Mission.

The sleek, silver bullet of the Lightning Rail glided into the platform with a soft, melodic hum of discharging mana. Its silver-plated exterior shimmered, reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun, while the neon-blue ley-lines along its chassis pulsed like the steady heartbeat of a living machine. The hydraulic doors hissed open, releasing a pressurized gust of cool, recycled air.

Thousands of passengers poured onto the platform, a vibrant sea of merchants in silk, engineers in soot-stained overalls, and tourists marveling at the Northern ”City of Light.” But even in this bustling crowd, one particular pair stood out with an aura that commanded a wide berth from the surrounding commuters.

Leading the way was a woman with short, obsidian-black hair that brushed her shoulders. She was clad in a black tactical combat suit that had clearly seen better days—it was torn in several places, caked in dried mud, and stained with the dark, copper-scented residue of enemy blood. Her face was a mask of cold ferocity, her gait as steady and commanding as a general marching toward a victory parade.

Dragging behind her was a man who looked like he had been exhumed from a shallow grave. He was painfully thin, his skin a sickly, translucent pallor. He wore oversized, thick-rimmed glasses that threatened to slide off his sweat-slicked nose, and he carried a rucksack so gargantuan it looked like it was trying to consume him. His left shoulder was wrapped in a thick, blood-stained bandage, and he walked with a pained, lurching stumble.

Rhea Sudrath and Professor Arvid had arrived.

”Red... I mean, Rhea...” Arvid gasped, his breath coming in ragged, wheezing bursts. ”Could you... please... decelerate? The sutures in my shoulder feel like they are being subjected to a high-tension stress test every time my stride exceeds fifty centimeters.”

Rhea stopped abruptly, causing Arvid to nearly collide with her back. She spun around, her eyes flashing with a mixture of impatience and a hidden, simmering anxiety.

”We don’t have the luxury of time, Bookworm. My mother has likely already blanketed the continent with ’Missing Person’ posters by now. If I don’t set foot inside the castle before the dinner bell rings, I will be subjected to a seven-day lecture on the ’Perils of the Outside World’ and the importance of appropriate evening wear.”

”But...” Arvid reached up with a shaky finger to adjust his crooked glasses. ”Is this truly the most logical approach? I mean... a spontaneous proposal? Without a formal ring? Without a letter of introduction or a verified genealogical chart? From a sociological perspective, this violates at least twelve articles of Aethelgardian noble etiquette regarding—”

Rhea didn’t let him finish. She reached forward, grabbed the lapels of Arvid’s crumpled, grimy shirt, and yanked his face inches from hers. The scent of gunpowder and lavender radiated from her.

”Listen to me, Professor. You have exactly two choices.”

Rhea held up one finger, her voice dropping into a dangerous whisper.

”Choice One: You return to your dilapidated library alone. Within forty-eight hours, an Iron Empire death squad finds you because you’re holding the Core Data of the Silent City. You die a pathetic, unrecorded death in a salt-stained gutter.”

Rhea held up a second finger, her grip on his collar tightening.

”Choice Two: You come with me. You enter the inner sanctum of the most powerful family on this continent. You receive twenty-four-hour protection from heavy armor battalions and a legendary War General. You eat five-star meals every day. But the price of admission is high... you have to become my husband.”

Arvid swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. His face, previously pale, suddenly flared a brilliant, alarmingly bright crimson.

”That is... an undeniably logical cost-benefit analysis. But... will your family truly accept a creature like me? I am merely a penniless academic. I cannot wield a blade. I am physically fragile, and I am quite literally allergic to the dust found in high-pile castle carpets.”

Rhea offered a thin, predatory smirk. She reached up and gave Arvid’s cheek a sharp, playful pat.

”Relax. As long as you don’t faint when my brother Riven tries to crush your hand, you’ll be fine. And besides...”

Rhea looked away for a split second, a rare, genuine blush touching her own cheeks.

”...I’m the one who chose you. They don’t have the legal or moral right to refuse.”

She released his collar and grabbed his hand—or more accurately, she began dragging him toward the station exit.

”Move. Before I change my mind and decide to just kidnap you instead.”

Iron Hearth Castle – The Main Family Lounge. 19:00 PM.

The atmosphere inside the Sudrath family lounge was at Condition Red.

Duchess Aurelia was pacing a furrow into the expensive carpet in front of the fireplace. She snapped her silk fan open and shut with the rhythmic violence of a repeating crossbow.

Duke Lucian sat in his armchair, ostensibly reading the evening newspaper, but the fact that he was holding it upside down betrayed his internal turmoil.

General Riven was sitting at the oak table, meticulously polishing the edge of his massive battle-axe with a white cloth, his face dark and brooding, radiating a ’Killing Intent’ that was making the nearby servants tremble.

Elena sat on the sofa, calmly feeding Kael a bottle of warm milk, acting as the only anchor of sanity in the room.

”Three days!” Aurelia shrieked, her voice reaching a pitch that made the crystal glasses rattle. ”That girl has been missing for three days! No word! No telegram! Only a cryptic note and a half-eaten apple! She is a defiant, ungrateful child! When she returns, I am going to lash her to the leg of the dining table!”

”Calm yourself, Mother,” Riven said, his voice a low, vibrating growl. ”I’ve already ordered Garrick to sweep the port districts. If anyone has so much as laid a finger on Rhea, I will level that harbor until not a single stone remains standing.”

”She wasn’t kidnapped, Riven! She ran away! She probably grew bored of me talking about the new lilac curtains!” Aurelia began to dab at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, her drama levels peaking. ”I only wanted her to be happy... I only wanted her to find a stable, wealthy husband who wouldn’t spend his nights stabbing things... sob...”

BANG!

The massive double doors of the lounge were kicked open with a thunderous force.

The room went silent. Riven stood up instantly, his hand closing around the haft of his axe.

Standing in the doorway was Rhea Sudrath.

She looked like she had just crawled out of a war zone. She was covered in grime, smelled of sweat and dried blood, and her hair was a chaotic mess. But she stood tall, her chin raised with an arrogance that was purely Sudrath.

And in her left hand, she was firmly dragging a scrawny, bespectacled man who looked like he was seconds away from an adrenaline-induced cardiac arrest.

”Rhea!” Aurelia screamed.

”Evening, you noisy bunch,” Rhea greeted casually, her voice sounding like sandpaper on silk.

She marched into the center of the room, pulling Arvid onto the Duchess’s pristine carpet. With a sudden shove, she pushed the scholar forward.

THUD.

Arvid stood there, trembling, surrounded by the most powerful—and most eccentric—noble family in the world. He felt like a mouse that had accidentally stumbled into a den of lions who were currently hungry.

”Mother,” Rhea said, pointing a thumb at Arvid. ”Stop the waterworks. I’ve returned, and I brought back a souvenir.”

”A souvenir?” Aurelia narrowed her eyes, scanning Arvid from his messy hair to his scuffed shoes. ”Is this... a human being?”

”This is Arvid,” Rhea declared, her voice ringing through the hall. ”He’s a Historian. He’s brilliant. He knows how to bypass ancient security locks that explosives can’t even scratch. And he was reckless enough to act as live bait for an Imperial sniper just to save my life.”

Rhea took a deep breath and dropped the metaphorical nuclear bomb.

”And he is my future husband. Marry us next week. End of discussion.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

Even baby Kael stopped chewing on his rubber dragon toy.

Aurelia’s jaw dropped so low it looked painful.

Lucian slowly lowered his upside-down newspaper.

Elena’s eyes widened, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her face.

And Riven...

The General began to walk. His footsteps were heavy, making the floorboards groan under his weight. His massive, two-meter frame cast a shadow so vast it seemed to swallow Arvid whole. Riven stopped inches from the scholar, his muscles bulging like the roots of an ancient banyan tree.

”You...” Riven’s voice was a low, guttural vibration. ”...are the one my sister wants to marry?”

”G-Good evening, General,” Arvid squeaked, his voice cracking twice. He reached up with a trembling hand to stabilize his glasses. ”S-Strictly speaking, the status is currently ’proposed’ by Lady Rhea, and has yet to be formally ratified by the appropriate legal and ecclesiastical authorities—”

Riven ignored the babbling. He reached out and gripped Arvid’s healthy right shoulder.

Riven squeezed. Just a fraction of his strength. A ’Warrior’s Handshake.’

”You’re thin,” Riven commented with a look of pure disgust. ”Your arms are like twigs. How do you intend to protect Rhea? With a poem? With a footnote?”

”Riven! Let him go!” Rhea shouted, moving to intervene.

”STAY BACK, RHEA!” Riven barked, a rare display of genuine authority over his sister. He locked eyes with Arvid, his gaze a blade of steel.

”Answer me, Bookworm. If a monster lunges at my sister, what will you do? Will you run? Or will you hide behind her skirts?”

Arvid was shaking. His knees felt like water. Primal, ancient fear was screaming at him to flee. But then... he remembered Rhea’s gaze in the cave. He remembered the feeling of being called ’cool’ by the woman who was currently the center of his universe.

He refused to be a coward again.

Arvid took a deep, shaky breath. He straightened his hunched spine as much as he could. He stared back into Riven’s eyes—though he had to tilt his head back significantly to do so.

”General,” Arvid said, his voice trembling but gaining a sharp, intellectual edge.

”Physically, I am utterly outmatched. My muscular mass is approximately fifteen percent of yours. I cannot lift a sword, and I would likely be killed by the mere wind-pressure of your swing.”

”However...” Arvid pointed a spindly finger at his own temple.

”...I know the history and biological weaknesses of every monster in Aethelgard. I know the structural flaws in the Iron Empire’s latest armor alloys. I understand the ancient political mechanisms that can topple a kingdom without a single drop of blood being spilled.”

Arvid gestured toward Rhea.

”Rhea is the strongest blade I have ever witnessed. She does not require a physical shield. She requires a navigator. She needs someone to ensure her blade is never pointed at the wrong target. Someone to handle the variables she finds tedious.”

”I am not her shield, General,” Arvid said, his eyes unwavering. ”I am her Eyes.”

The silence stretched for five more seconds.

Riven stared at Arvid for a long time, searching for a lie, searching for the crack in his resolve. He found a man who was terrified out of his mind, yet a man whose courage to stand his ground outweighed that fear.

Suddenly, Riven erupted into a fit of thunderous laughter.

BWAHAHAHA!

The laughter was so powerful the crystal chandelier swayed. Riven delivered a massive, open-handed slap to Arvid’s shoulder—one that nearly sent the scholar spinning into the coffee table.

”The ’Eyes,’ eh? I like the philosophy!” Riven roared, a grin splitting his face. ”You’ve got massive balls for someone who looks like he could be blown away by a stiff breeze.”

Riven turned to Rhea. ”Fine. I approve. At least he’s a good talker. It’ll be useful to have someone smart around to teach your kids history so they don’t end up as thick-headed as me.”

”RIVEN!” Aurelia shrieked.

The Duchess marched forward, shoving her son aside. She stood in front of Arvid, her expression shifting into her ’Antique Appraisal’ mode. She grabbed Arvid’s face with both hands, turning it left and right. She pinched his bicep with a frown.

”Thin... Pale... These glasses are hideously thick...” Aurelia murmured. ”Not exactly what I had in mind. I wanted someone rugged, like your father.”

Arvid stood passively as his face was poked and prodded.

”But...” Aurelia’s gaze landed on the blood seeping through the bandage on Arvid’s shoulder. ”You’re injured?”

”Gunshot wound, Mother,” Rhea said quickly. ”He saved me. He baited an enemy sniper into revealing their position so I could strike.”

Aurelia’s eyes went wide. ”Him? This... this stick of a man? Saved you?”

Aurelia looked at Arvid again. This time, her gaze was different. It was filled with a maternal, fierce warmth.

”You risked your life for my daughter?”

”Technically, it was a probability calculation, Your Grace...” Arvid answered honestly. ”The likelihood of our mutual survival was mathematically higher if I accepted the role of a distraction.”

”Oh, hush with your complicated words!”

Aurelia suddenly pulled Arvid into a bone-crushing, perfume-scented embrace. Arvid felt like he was being smothered by a bouquet of highly aggressive jasmines.

”You pass! You pass!” Aurelia cheered happily. ”I don’t care if you’re thin or if you can’t fight! What matters is that you love Rhea and you’re willing to sacrifice yourself! That is a rare commodity in these dark times!”

Aurelia released Arvid and spun around to face the servants.

”PREPARE THE GRAND DINNER! WE HAVE A NEW SON-IN-LAW! BRING OUT THE VINTAGE WINE AND THE BEST CUTS OF MONSTER-BEEF!”

”AND CALL THE TAILORS! WE NEED A WEDDING SUIT BY MONDAY! SIZE EXTRA-SMALL!”

Arvid stood there, dizzy and confused. ”Wait... next week? Truly? Is that timeline—”

Elena walked over, still holding Kael. She offered Arvid a soft, reassuring smile.

”Welcome to the Sudrath family, Arvid,” Elena said gently. ”My advice: Never argue with the Duchess about event scheduling. You will lose every time.”

Elena glanced at his shoulder. ”Come to the infirmary after dinner. I need to re-examine Rhea’s handiwork. She usually sews wounds like she’s stitching a sack of potatoes.”

”Hey!” Rhea protested.

Rhea walked up to Arvid, watching the beautiful chaos of her family as they immediately began absorbing him into their ranks. She nudged his arm playfully.

”So, Professor?” Rhea whispered with a smirk. ”Which is more terrifying? The monsters in the Silent City, or the monsters in this room?”

Arvid straightened his glasses. He looked at Aurelia shouting about flowers, Riven laughing with his axe, and Elena’s kind eyes. Then he looked at Rhea—the woman who had dragged him into this madness.

”Honestly?” Arvid whispered back. ”This room is significantly more dangerous. But...”

Arvid offered a thin, sincere smile.

”...I think I could grow quite fond of it.”

Rhea laughed—a genuine, bell-like sound that wasn’t cynical or cold.

”Good. Because you can’t escape now. You’ve entered the Lion’s Den.”

That night, Iron Hearth Castle truly came alive. It wasn’t just because of the luxury or the lights, but because of the arrival of the most unexpected new member. A Bookworm who had managed to tame the Lioness.

And in the distance, high up on the balcony, Sir Rianor—who had finally emerged from his lab because he was hungry—watched the commotion below.

He saw Arvid. His eyes narrowed behind his own glasses.

”Hmm... that man...” Rianor murmured. ”He’s carrying a bag that is emitting a faint, high-frequency Pre-Calamity mana radiation. Fascinating.”

Rianor smiled.

”Finally, someone in this house who understands the beauty of science.”