Chapter 109

Chapter 109
## Chapter 109

### The Royal Legacy

Eisen felt his entire body seize up at those words.

Even in this modern age dominated by the Empire, a handful of royal bloodlines endured. A tiny number of sovereign states had managed to maintain their status as vassals rather than being swallowed whole by the imperial machine.

However, the addition of the term “Legacy” shifted the gravity of the topic to something far more profound.

“Are you referring to… an object passed down by the previous Duke Grimaldi?”

“To be more accurate, I am referring to ‘objects.'”

The plural caught him off guard.

Could the ruined House of Grimaldi truly have possessed the resources to leave behind multiple such treasures?

Despite the whirlwind of questions spinning in his mind, Eisen’s natural curiosity won out, and he pulled the lid from the container.

“A set of armor?”

Inside lay a breastplate of such brilliant, snowy white that it immediately evoked the image of polished platinum. It appeared to be the central piece of what was once a full suit of plate.

As Eisen gripped the metal and lifted it, his expression transformed into one of pure shock.

“Good heavens…!”

The mere texture against his skin told him everything he needed to know. There wasn’t a smith alive in the present day who could replicate such craftsmanship. Though the specific alloy was a mystery to him, the piece felt significantly lighter yet far more robust than any protection he had encountered in his long career.

Furthermore, the complex runes etched into the surface seemed to vibrate, warping the mana in the air as if creating an impenetrable vacuum against outside forces.

It isn’t just physical protection. This was forged specifically to nullify sorcery.

Regrettably, Eisen couldn’t fully grasp the intricate workings of the engravings. He was a paragon of the blade, but a total novice when it came to the complexities of magic.

It was the sound of Lucian’s voice that finally pulled Eisen back from his daze.

“I’d like you to put its durability to the test, Sir Eisen.”

“A test? You don’t mean the sort of destructive trial I’m imagining, do you?”

“That is exactly what I mean. I want you to strike it with every ounce of your strength.”

“Ha!”

Eisen nearly choked on a gasp. He had spent his life around weaponry and had rarely seen a piece of equipment so flawlessly executed. Now, he was being ordered to shatter it right where it stood.

“Your Grace, a trial is unnecessary for a work of this caliber. Even a brief inspection confirms this is a masterpiece—perhaps one of the finest items in the world.”

“Even so, wouldn’t it be prudent to understand exactly how much force it can take before failing?”

“If this were a common, mass-produced item, I would agree. But with a relic this unique, you would be doing nothing more than destroying a priceless work of art with your own hands.”

“In that case, please proceed with the strike as I asked.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This armor is, in fact, a mass-produced item.”

“…!”

For the first time, Eisen’s professional mask crumbled. Mass-produced? A marvel like this?

Stunned into disbelief, Eisen rose to his feet and pressed the issue.

“Are you telling me this is actually a common-issue piece?”

“It is an ancient mass-produced model, to be precise. Roughly one thousand of them are still in our possession.”

“Ha! Hahaha!”

A dry, incredulous laugh burst from Eisen. To think there wasn’t just a small handful, but a full thousand of these artifacts. He felt a shiver run through him as he imagined the sight of a thousand soldiers marching in unison, clad in this white plate.

Even a band of untrained peasants could likely topple a fortress in such gear.

The realization was chilling. This was the kind of equipment that turned novices into conquerors. But what if the men wearing them weren’t green recruits, but seasoned veterans?

Even worse, what if every man in that line was a knight who had mastered his craft?

“Sir Eisen.”

Lucian’s call brought him back to reality. Eisen looked at the breastplate again. It was still a magnificent treasure, but if a thousand more existed, he supposed there was no harm in testing the limits of one.

Accepting the task, Eisen reached for a practice wooden sword leaning against a nearby wall.

“You intend to use a wooden training tool instead of steel?”

“If I were to use a real blade, there would be no test to speak of.”

It sounded like the height of arrogance, but it was the simple, objective truth. Regardless of the material’s hardness, the object was stationary and defenseless. With a proper sword in his hand, he could slice through almost anything, making a durability check a pointless exercise.

*Vroom—*

As Eisen wrapped both hands around the hilt of the wooden sword, visible mana began to radiate from the wood. The impact would be blunter than steel, but reinforced with that level of energy, the strike carried the momentum of a massive siege ram.

Eisen regulated his breath and brought the wood down with the speed of a falling bolt.

**CRACK-BOOM!**

“Ugh!”

The explosion of sound was like a close-range thunderclap in Lucian’s ears. It was the sound of the protective runes screaming as they were shredded by the Sword Saint’s power. The engravings fractured one after another, strobing with desperate light in an attempt to disperse the kinetic energy.

Finally, when the last rune flickered out and the magical barrier collapsed—

“…Hoo.”

A heavy breath, filled with a mix of respect and disbelief, left the Sword Saint’s lips.

Lucian peered through the rising dust at the wooden weapon. The training sword had bitten deep into the metal, carving through two-thirds of the plate’s thickness, but it had finally been halted.

A person wearing the armor would have perished instantly from the shock, but the fact that the metal held together rather than being cleaved in half by a Sword Saint was a testament to its incredible quality.

“Your Grace, what exactly did the late Duke leave for you?”

Eisen’s eyes were filled with nothing but raw awe. How could the collapsed Grimaldi family have hidden away a thousand such relics? Lucian met the old man’s eyes and allowed a thin, cold smile to touch his lips.

“I will give you the full story once we have wiped the House of Calix from the map.”

—

Norbeck stared into space, his voice hollow as he processed the news.

“They actually took the bait? They accepted the duel?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“But… why?”

“….”

Palmyr, a senior knight of House Calix, offered no reply. He had no way of knowing what was going on in the minds of their enemies.

Norbeck realized the question was futile, but he couldn’t stop himself from speaking. He had thrown the challenge out as a desperate measure, never truly believing they would take it.

*Have they become so arrogant they’ve lost their wits? They’re actually going to abandon their fortifications and meet us in the open?*

The ramparts of Asagrim were legendary; they were effectively invincible unless betrayed from within or countered by high-level sorcery. To be blunt, a commander wouldn’t even need a full watch to hold them. Norbeck’s proposal had been a shot in the dark, born of his own powerlessness to scale those walls.

And yet, they were trading that absolute security for a duel on the field.

“Do they truly expect a fair fight?”

“I highly doubt it, sir.”

What reason would they have to trust Norbeck, a man who had already sent assassins after them? They surely had a trap of their own prepared and had accepted the duel with full knowledge of the danger.

“Maybe they’ve abandoned their public image. They might be planning to ambush us while feigning a parley for the duel.”

“If that were their plan, they would have stayed behind their walls and simply let our supplies rot. To throw away their moral high ground and attack us while we are at full strength… it defies logic.”

“The rumored Sword Saint might be their trump card. With his backing, they might feel bold enough to draw us out rather than endure a long siege.”

“If he has to beg the Sword Saint—who serves his father, not him—to win his battles, he’ll lose all respect in the North. Unless he’s a complete idiot, he’ll want to be the one to deal the final blow.”

“My apologies, my lord. This is as far as my strategic mind can take me.”

Observing Palmyr’s quick surrender to the unknown, Norbeck let out a tired sigh. In the past, the knight would have struggled to find an answer, but since accepting his likely death, he had become remarkably curt. Norbeck knew it was because the man no longer cared to please him, but the bluntness was grating nonetheless.

“I suppose if the enemy were easy to read, we wouldn’t be in this position.”

“What is your command? If the suspicion is too great, you can still withdraw the challenge.”

“No. We proceed. The advantage of getting them out of that fortress is too massive to pass up, regardless of the risk.”

He didn’t understand their game, but they were offering to step into the open. It was a golden chance, worth any gamble.

“The location is Crow Hill? How pathetic.”

It was a spot positioned perfectly between Asagrim and the four neighboring territories. It earned its name because the summit was a patch of dark mud that looked like a bird’s head. With zero cover for miles, any attempt at an ambush would be spotted instantly. The opponent’s message was loud and clear.

*Is he claiming that as long as there are no hidden troops, he can beat me no matter what I bring to the table?*

*Grit.*

Norbeck’s teeth ground together in a fit of sudden fury. To think that House Calix, a pillar of the North for centuries, was being treated like a minor nuisance by a child.

*Fine. Revel in your arrogance while you still have your head.*

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but that feeling of superiority would be a short-lived dream. When the end came, the boy would regret every choice he’d made. If he could just witness that child’s face twisting in terror, Norbeck would endure any insult.

—

Three days later, Lucian arrived at Crow Hill at the head of his forces to meet Norbeck.

Lucian rubbed his jaw as he observed the Calix army forming up in the distance.

*The reports were accurate. They have roughly double our numbers.*

Lucian was backed by the Blue Rose Knight Order—on loan from the Emperor—and two thousand high-tier soldiers. Norbeck, meanwhile, commanded the White Bear Knight Order and four thousand infantry. Numerically, Calix held the field, but Lucian’s troops were better equipped and far more disciplined. A direct collision was a coin flip.

“Lucian! You arrogant brat! If you aren’t trembling in your boots, pull your blade and face me! Or are you planning to run away after asking for this yourself?”

While the two armies stood in a tense stalemate across the slope, Norbeck rode forward and bellowed his challenge.

In response to the taunt, Lucian let out a sharp laugh and raised his voice.

“Not a chance! Why would I ever retreat from a crumbling old man? Since we’re finally face-to-face, I’ll take you on myself!”

“…!?”

The reaction was instantaneous; Norbeck and the soldiers on both sides were stunned. Did the supreme commander actually intend to engage in a duel? It hadn’t even been a formal request, just a standard insult, yet he had jumped at it.

As the ranks buzzed with frantic whispers, Lucian shouted again.

“However, it would be beneath my station to step out immediately! If you want a piece of me, try getting past my knight first!”

“What are you playing at—!”

“If my champion falls, I will personally step into the ring! Do we have a deal!?”

Palmyr, riding at Norbeck’s side, squinted at the enemy line. If they beat just one man, the commander would offer himself up? He couldn’t see the trap, but he knew one was there.

“My lord, this is bizarre. We should wait and see—”

“Are you for real!?”

Before Palmyr could finish his warning, Norbeck roared his response. As the knight turned in shock, he saw Lucian smiling as he hoisted a formal banner.

“In the names of Valdek and Grimaldi, I swear upon the Eight Gods of Heaven! The moment my knight is defeated, I shall come forward to face you in single combat!”

An oath taken not just for Valdek, but in the name of Grimaldi. By invoking that name before the people of the North, the promise became unbreakable. Unless the Calix forces cheated first, Lucian was now bound by his word.

Norbeck’s hands tightened around his reins as he spoke.

“Sir Palmyr.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I don’t care who you have to throw away. Send them out one by one. Do nothing else until we have dragged that boy into the mud.”

Palmyr felt a cold chill. To abandon every strategic preparation they had made just to walk into the specific arena the enemy had built…

He wanted to scream a protest, but Norbeck’s eyes were bloodshot with an obsessive rage; he was beyond reasoning.

*We’ve walked right into it.*

Finally, Palmyr understood the enemy’s true gambit, and he closed his eyes in resignation.