Chapter 114

Chapter 114
## Chapter 114

“A pathetic threat.”

Herman attempted to force a loud, confident laugh as he uttered those words.

In any high-stakes parley, the fundamental rule was to present a bold front, even if the deception was paper-thin. However, his facial muscles were so rigid with tension that they failed to cooperate.

Curse it all, the opponent had played the most devastating card possible.

To drive a wedge between their ranks, offering clemency to one group while branding the others as insurrectionists? Herman didn’t need to deliberate to foresee the outcome. Those granted mercy would retreat into fearful silence to protect themselves, while those labeled as rebels would be annihilated by the military divisions closing in from every direction.

“Do you truly believe such transparent words can unsettle us?”

Herman managed to find his voice and pushed out a desperate bluff, but Lesta responded with nothing more than a mocking twist of his lips.

“I’m not so sure. From my perspective, you appear quite shaken already.”

“Do not overstep. No one in this room is so naive as to miss that your offer is a blatant attempt to sow discord among us.”

“And yet, such strategies are effective precisely because the target understands the stakes. If succumbing to the scheme ensures one’s survival, wouldn’t it be idiocy to refuse?”

“You insolent whelp!”

Herman snarled at Lesta, but the outburst lacked the ferocity of his earlier commands. It sounded hollow.

After observing Herman’s struggle for a moment, Lesta turned his gaze away, surveying the chamber with an air of complete indifference.

“If His Grace’s terms are so offensive to you, then by all means, publicly assert Calix’s virtue and mobilize your banners. If you wish to ignite a war of retribution for the sake of your precious alliance, who would have the power to stop you?”

“…”

Following Lesta’s challenge, the gathered lords fell as silent as stone monuments.

Unify as a single front to defend Calix’s honor?

Damn it, if that were a viable path, we would have taken it months ago.

These men were not simpletons. Had there been any hope of repelling Lucian by rallying behind Calix, they would have done so in a heartbeat. The issue was that Calix had stepped over a boundary that left no room for legal or moral defense.

A mere assassination plot might have been buried with enough influence, but the employment of unsanctioned sorcerers was a different beast entirely.

How could they possibly mask a literal act of high treason? There was a limit to the protection they could provide.

Muffled sighs rippled through the minds of the lords. The second they stood in solidarity with him, their own status as traitors would be etched in stone, barring any hope of retreat. Even knowing they might be targeted next, they were paralyzed.

If we attempt to claim such a noble cause now, after watching the House of Calix crumble without lifting a finger, we will be the laughingstock of the entire world.

Furthermore, if they distanced themselves from Calix, they possessed no legal grounds to assemble an army. Their only valid reason for war was a direct external provocation, yet Lucian had explicitly promised to leave half of them untouched.

The future was easy to read: they would disintegrate like dry sand, standing by in quiet compliance as those marked for death met their end.

“…We were completely in the dark regarding the specifics of Calix’s attempt on your life,” Herman muttered, reaching for a fragile justification.

It was an argument implying that Lucian lacked the authority to condemn those who hadn’t personally participated in the plot. It was a significant retreat from his earlier aggression, but to Lesta, it was merely pitiable.

“And who do you expect to believe that plea of innocence? The Throne? Or perhaps the other lords of the North?”

“…”

Herman’s jaw tightened, and he fell silent once more.

The Imperial Family was a dead end. They had been transparently aligned with Lucian since the beginning. Regardless of how much they complained of unfair treatment, the royals would simply look the other way and tell them to resolve their own provincial disputes.

The remaining northern nobility were just as hostile. Many had endured heavy losses because Calix had incited earlier unrest. Regardless of legal guilt, they were likely honing their swords simply because these men had once walked the same path as Calix.

“Wake up. This isn’t a debate about morality; it’s a binary choice between being a comrade or a corpse. You’ve been handed a lifeline to become allies, yet you cling to your status as enemies out of nothing but pride.”

Clicking his tongue in disappointment, Lesta turned his back on the group. His body language suggested that if they remained this dense, he was finished wasting his breath.

“I will state this one last time. This is your final opportunity. His Grace the Grand Duke has made it clear that no further leniency will be granted, so choose wisely.”

With his message delivered, Lesta exited the council chamber.

A heavy, oppressive quiet filled the room long after the unwelcome messenger had vanished. Hesitating, Herman cleared his throat and looked toward the other nobles.

“Everyone.”

I trust you didn’t let the ramblings of such a boy affect your resolve.

Herman cut himself off. He watched as the lords who had filled the hall began to rise from their seats one after another, readying themselves for departure.

“Ahem, it seems we should conclude our business for today.”

“I doubt further conversation will yield any better strategies at this stage.”

“If a clever solution occurs to me, I shall be in touch.”

Herman squeezed his eyes shut as the excuses piled up. Despite their polite phrasing, it was painfully clear they were returning to their estates to weigh Lucian’s terms in earnest.

It’s over.

Sensing that the final spark of resistance had been extinguished, Herman gave a grim nod.

“Since we are in agreement, this meeting is adjourned.”

Having dismissed the assembly, Herman bolted from the room faster than his peers. If he was to have no backup, continuing to fight was suicide. In that case, wouldn’t it be more strategic to be the first to display his ‘loyalty’ and secure his own safety?

—

“…I’ve truly never witnessed a betrayal happen this quickly.”

Lucian gave a dry, incredulous laugh as he stared at the pile of correspondence. He had anticipated his strategy would be effective, but he hadn’t imagined every single lord would scramble to send a letter swearing to prove their ‘devotion.’

“I assumed at least a few might try to hold onto their dignity for the sake of their old ties.”

“It’s logical, really. You offered to trade a death sentence for high treason for a simple demonstration of loyalty. Anyone who fails to read the room and continues to fight at this point is essentially asking for a grave.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

Lucian smiled at Lesta’s blunt assessment. To Lucian, it was a calculated move of performative mercy, but to the lords, it was a life-or-death crossroads for their entire lineages. No matter how much they loathed the situation, anyone with a shred of sense had to submit.

“Excellent work. By the way, when are you planning to return home? Surely your own lands require your attention.”

Lucian’s eyes shifted toward Lesta, who had been lingering nearby. He had called upon Lesta to help break the spirit of the pro-Calix faction, but the man seemed to have no intention of departing now that the mission was accomplished.

“Regardless of how much work awaits me, could it possibly take precedence over Your Grace’s needs?”

Lesta bowed his head swiftly, sidestepping the inquiry. Given his evasiveness, it was clear he planned on sticking around for a while.

Lucian grinned, shoved the letters to one side, and said, “Be blunt. What is it you’re looking for?”

“How could you think I have an ulterior—”

“Talk while I’m in a good mood. I’m a man of fair exchange. No matter how long you loiter here, I won’t compensate you beyond what your actions actually earn.”

Lesta winced like a child caught in a lie. After a brief moment of internal struggle, he finally confessed his true concerns.

“It wasn’t a falsehood that my territory is stable. My kin are well aware that I have Your Grace’s favor. My father’s attempt to reclaim power has been utterly crushed as well.”

“Then where is the trouble?”

“It’s the neighboring rulers. They aren’t privy to Your Grace’s true thoughts, so they’re salivating at the thought of carving up my borders and then seeking a new patron…”

“I understand.”

Even though Lesta had sided with Lucian, that alliance hadn’t been formally broadcasted. More accurately, there hadn’t been a quiet moment to do so. He had missed the timing at the feast, and the Calix assassination attempt had followed immediately. When he was assigned to manage the retainers, the legendary reputation of Sword Saint Eisen was so massive that Lesta was effectively invisible in his shadow.

As a result, the provincial lords who weren’t in the inner circle had no way of knowing exactly where Lesta stood with Lucian.

They likely assume he is just using my reputation as a shield on his own, so they aren’t afraid of how I might react.

Under the guise of punishing a son who rebelled against his father, they wanted to seize as much territory as they could before the Northern unrest settled. It made sense why he was hovering near Lucian instead of returning to his post. He wanted to prove to his rivals that Lucian was his foundation. It seemed he had been struggling to find a way to ask, as it was a bit shameful to request such a thing openly.

“I am deeply sorry to burden you, but if Your Grace were to simply issue a single statement, those men would—”

“I’ll send Felicia.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“She will travel to your estate and remain there as an honored guest for a couple of days. That should be sufficient, wouldn’t you say?”

Lesta stared at Lucian in stunned silence. Felicia was the adopted daughter and the premier pupil of the Sword Saint, Eisen Brightner. She was renowned as the guardian who never strayed from Lucian’s side; her presence in Lesta’s home would be a deafening message. That single act would announce to the entire North exactly how much weight Lucian put behind Lesta.

“Th-thank you, Your Grace!”

“Think nothing of it. Just ensure she is treated with the utmost respect. Do not let her gender lead anyone to underestimate her.”

“If any man dares to be disrespectful to Sir Felicia, I will personally remove his head and preserve it in brine!”

“I’m pleased to hear that.”

Lucian returned his attention to the letters, a silent cue that the conversation was over. Lesta bowed so low his head nearly hit the floor before scurrying out of the office with a beaming face.

A short time later, after finishing the last of the correspondence, Lucian stood up, carrying a handful of the notes.

—

Lucian made his way toward the subterranean dungeons. Unlike the previous security, which had been so porous it was useless, the current guard was incredibly disciplined and dense.

Moving into the deepest level, Lucian came to a halt before the final cell.

“Is a night in the sacred heart of the North proving manageable?”

“You absolute devil…!”

Norbeck’s voice was faint and ragged. It was still filled with venom, but beneath the anger was a palpable sense of defeat, as if he knew the end had arrived.

“What is this? Have you come to gloat?”

“No. I’ve come to provide an update on the world outside these walls.”

Lucian slid several of the letters through the bars. Norbeck rushed to grab them, and as he read the words on the parchment, his entire frame began to shake with rage.

“Those treacherous dogs! Only yesterday they were lining their pockets using the Calix name, yet they have the audacity to…!”

“Audacity? Did you truly expect them to sink alongside the House of Calix? Your pact was built on greed; you were naive to expect anything else.”

In lieu of a verbal retort, a balled-up letter was hurled at Lucian through the gate. Lucian caught the paper effortlessly and tucked it away.

“Relax. You’ll have a heart attack at this rate. If you must die, you should at least survive until the executioner is ready for you.”

“Keep your mouth shut! If you only came here to mock me, then leave!”

“I already told you, mocking you isn’t my goal. I came because I have a question.”

“And you think I’ll just give you the answers you want?”

Lucian ignored the sneer and continued.

“Why didn’t you retreat before things escalated to this point?”

“What?”

“Exactly what I asked. You had numerous opportunities to fold your hand. When I claimed Asagrim, if you had simply bowed your head, you could have spent your remaining years in comfort as the patriarch of a Great Family. Your son would still be breathing, too.”

But Norbeck hadn’t stopped. Even when his position was hopeless and the odds were entirely against him, he continued to make erratic, desperate gambles. To Lucian, it was baffling. Why would a man who had lived a quiet life in the previous timeline suddenly be so consumed by the desire to rule the North?

“Why start such a fire in your twilight years? Were you chasing a dream that escaped you in your youth?”

At the question, Norbeck looked up and glared with intense hatred.

“Why? I should be the one questioning you. I also carry the blood of kings, so why should I have to live out my days as a mere Count?”

Lucian blinked, caught off guard by the admission.

What in the world is he talking about?