Chapter 116

Chapter 116
## Chapter 116

The demise of Norbeck signaled the total obliteration of the House of Calix.

Yet, the collapse of Calix brought no respite to Lucian. If anything, this transition marked the beginning of his most exhausting period of labor.

“Call forth the civil servants who served the Calix line. I want every one of them present—the record keepers, the tax collectors, the diplomats, the administrators, and the clerks.”

“What of the power vacuum in the lands they formerly governed?”

“If those men possessed any foresight, they would have designated deputies for times of crisis. If no such successor exists, ignore those regions. A leader who fails to plan for his absence is not worth my invitation.”

Acting on Lucian’s instructions, Hugo rounded up the local bureaucracy.

The gathered officials soon filled the White Palace, pacing nervously before ultimately dropping to their knees in a deep kowtow.

“O Great Conqueror of the North, the legitimate sovereign of the White Palace…”

“Dispense with the empty praise. You were not summoned here for execution.”

At his frigid tone, the men shivered, though many let out quiet gasps of relief. It appeared he did not intend to purge them simply for their past associations with Calix.

After observing the assembly for a moment, Lucian cut straight to his objective.

“I plan to handpick those among you who will serve in Asagrim. I have use only for the most capable.”

“…!”

“The wages I offer will be triple what you previously earned. For those who prove their worth, I will provide residence within the Inner Castle free of charge. However, should you fail to demonstrate the talent required for such compensation, you will be stripped of your position and exiled immediately.”

The officials’ eyes grew wide with excitement.

They had walked in expecting their heads to be placed on spikes to satisfy his vengeance, but they were being presented with a golden prospect instead. The salary alone was tempting enough to make them lose their composure, but the promise of a home in Asagrim—specifically within the Inner Castle adjacent to the White Palace—was staggering.

If they chose to sell such a property in a decade or two, the proceeds would likely sustain them for the rest of their natural lives.

Still, a lingering uncertainty remained.

“How are we to demonstrate our fitness for these roles?”

A nervous archivist from the crowd voiced the question. They anticipated some form of trial or competition, but Lucian’s response caught them off guard.

“You shall argue your own case.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Describe your own value. Detail the specific traits that distinguish you from your peers and prove why you are a rare asset. If your reasoning holds weight in my judgment, I will hire you.”

“…”

Confusion rippled through the ranks of the bureaucracy. He was demanding they boast of their own virtues. Just as the men began to fear that a silver-tongued fraud might steal a position from a man of true merit—

“A truly brilliant examination. I had heard tales of Your Highness’s sagacity, but it is clear the rumors failed to capture the depth of your insight.”

An elderly official spoke up, his voice ringing through the hall. Lucian looked on with a flicker of curiosity, despite the obvious pandering.

“A brilliant examination, you say? Explain your reasoning.”

“A man capable of clearly defining his own talents understands both his capabilities and his limitations. He will step forward for tasks he can master and defer where he is lacking, ensuring he is never mismanaged or placed in a role beyond his reach.”

“Alternatively, I might simply be hiring a charlatan who knows how to manipulate his speech.”

“If a man describes his skills in meticulous detail and then fails to deliver, he has done nothing less than defraud and insult Your Highness. The moment such incompetence comes to light, his head would surely be displayed upon the ramparts. Who would be so foolish as to invite that fate?”

The old man bowed low, noting that even a simple laborer would have enough survival instinct to avoid such a gamble.

“Furthermore, the act of stepping forward boldly, knowing the stakes, proves that a person has confidence in their craft and a proactive spirit. Such individuals are the vital seeds needed to grow the foundation of a new domain.”

“Hmm.”

Lucian allowed a small smile to form, satisfied that this official had identified his exact requirements.

Asagrim was in its infancy, and the workload was staggering. Lucian could not micromanage every trivial administrative detail himself. He required reliable subordinates who could act on their own initiative and report only the critical developments.

The elderly man had read Lucian’s mind perfectly.

“What is your name?”

“I am known as Fritz, a Herald.”

“A Herald?”

Lucian blinked, surprised by the designation.

A Herald was a specialized official typically employed by high-ranking nobility, such as Counts or those above, usually reserved for the negotiation of vital pacts or international treaties. Because a standard runner lacked the nuance for delicate diplomacy, high-tier experts like Heralds were utilized.

In practice, however, few lords actually made use of them.

‘Most prefer to leave diplomatic matters to their inner circle.’

Regardless of how prestigious the title sounded, Heralds were ultimately just employees. They could never compete with the absolute loyalty of a personal confidant willing to die for their master. Consequently, lords usually chose their closest allies for sensitive missions. Since these aides were always present, their aptitude for negotiation was easily gauged.

‘Heralds are typically only utilized when the inner circle is completely devoid of diplomatic skill.’

Lucian paused his internal monologue and studied Fritz closely. Despite the heavy silence—which would have unnerved a lesser man—the official remained entirely composed. With this level of poise, he was someone worth employing as an envoy even if one had trusted aides, yet Lucian did not recognize him.

“Have we crossed paths before?”

He was asking if Fritz had been part of any previous diplomatic delegations. At the inquiry, Fritz’s voice wavered slightly as he replied.

“It has been a full decade since I last exercised the functions of a Herald.”

This implied he had been kept on a payroll merely for prestige, his skills left to rot. Some might view a decade of pay without work as a stroke of fortune, but the man’s tone was thick with melancholy. It was a relatable pain; a man of true talent longs to test his mettle, yet he had aged in obscurity.

‘A Herald.’

He wasn’t an immediate necessity, but he was a specialist Lucian had intended to recruit eventually. During the opening stages of the Great War, he recalled how many lords had sent aides with no diplomatic grace, only to have their severed heads returned in boxes. Many of those victims had been arrogant men who thought talking was the same as negotiating.

However, wartime diplomacy was akin to performing a dance in a den of lions without grazing a single whisker. A solitary misplaced word could ignite a catastrophe; it was an art that could not be faked.

And from what Lucian could see, Fritz was a master of that art.

“Fritz, you are hereby appointed as the Herald of Asagrim. Your duties will be light for the moment, but soon you will find no time for rest. Use this interval to gather your strength.”

“It is my greatest honor, Your Highness!”

Fritz shouted his response and pressed his face to the floor once more. Witnessing this, the other officials were jolted into action, their competitive spirits ignited. They too believed in their own worth; if Fritz could earn such a position, why couldn’t they?

A second man stepped out, offering a profound bow.

“I am Marco, formerly a tax administrator for the Sengel lands. While every region employs tax collectors, their methodologies are inherently inefficient…”

—

The day’s recruitment proved to be quite successful.

Perhaps because Norbeck had been a stickler for detail in his own hiring, the general caliber of the officials was high. Since Lucian had filtered for those with confidence and ambition, he felt secure that the internal management of the territory would be stable for the foreseeable future.

With the bureaucracy settled, Lucian moved to his next objective.

“What is the meaning of this? I asked for a show of your sincerity, yet you bring me these crumbs? Is this meant to be a deliberate slight?”

“Y-Your Highness… I beg you, stay your hand. There must have been a clerical error during the transport!”

“No outlaws waylaid the shipment, and no beasts harried your men. What possible error could result in such a pathetic sum?”

The lords who had once pledged themselves to Calix were now scrambling to prove their “devotion” to Lucian. However, despite their shared goal of survival, the amounts offered varied wildly. Lucian singled out those who had provided the most meager offerings and reprimanded them in person.

The accused nobles broke into cold sweats, stammering out weak justifications, though it was obvious they were merely testing how little they could get away with.

“No, perhaps I am mistaken. Are your lands suffering? If you cannot even match the contributions of lords with half your acreage, your situation must be catastrophic.”

“T-That is exactly it. No matter how we struggle, the overhead costs are simply overwhelming…”

“How tragic. It is truly a pity. The next person to rule your lands would much prefer to inherit a thriving territory.”

“I… I beg your pardon? Your Highness!”

“Leave. Return home and focus on your development. Disband your standing armies to avoid any further unfortunate incidents, and simply focus on accumulating wealth. They say a person of character leaves a beautiful legacy behind when they depart, do they not?”

“Your Highness, please! Grant us one more chance! We beg for your clemency!”

At Lucian’s final warning, the lords turned a ghostly shade of white and threw themselves onto the floor. Lucian was not known for making idle threats. If they walked out that door, it was a certainty that their lineages would be ended and their lives forfeit.

Staring down at the trembling men, Lucian finally spoke with a voice like ice.

“I plan to release the official register of traitorous families who supported Calix in six months. The document is finished; it only awaits public posting.”

“…!”

“However, I am prone to human error. It is possible I might find mistakes in my records and adjust the names on that list before the deadline.”

“T-Thank you! May the Eight Gods of Heaven sing of Your Highness’s compassion!”

It was a blatant ultimatum: if they did not provide a truly “sincere” offering within half a year, they would be branded as outlaws and hunted. The lords gasped in relief at the narrow window of survival they had been granted, singing praises of Lucian’s mercy.

In the end, those who had tried to be frugal ended up having to surrender far more than their peers to atone for their greed. To make matters worse, the initial small payments were completely ignored, meaning their attempt to save money resulted in a massive financial penalty.

“Allocate the incoming wealth to support the migration of the peasantry. Organize the housing sectors in both the Inner and Outer Castles. Ensure they are sanitized and ready for immediate occupancy.”

“What are the orders regarding the grain supply?”

“Given that we lack established farmland, we must implement a strict rationing protocol. However, ensure we use only the grain purchased from the markets. Do not touch the strategic reserves provided by the Imperial Family.”

While it was true that the North was a harsh environment for logistics, the locally sourced food was of notoriously poor quality. For the elite Blue Rose Knight Order from Tivron and the Imperial honor guards, Northern grain would feel like animal feed. Unless they were truly desperate, replacing their high-quality rations with coarse Northern grain would only foster bitterness and mutiny.

‘I cannot afford to look like a man who only cares for his own coffers, nor can I let them think I am neglecting their well-being.’

In a reality where the Imperial Family had essentially cast them aside, if Lucian treated them with the utmost care, their loyalty would naturally shift toward him. He intended to provide them with the best possible conditions until he was absolutely forced otherwise.

Lucian remained submerged in the logistical nightmare of preparing for the Great Migration.

“Your Highness.”

“Ah, Sir Rotier. Your timing is impeccable.”

Lucian’s mood shifted positively at the sight of Rotier, the erstwhile Captain of the Guard in Asagrim. He had been intending to suggest their departure soon. He had tolerated an independent armed force while the city was empty, but he could not have a rogue military group lingering once the civilians arrived.

However, before Lucian could speak his piece, Rotier dropped to one knee and spoke firmly.

“Rotier Termann and the full contingent of the Asagrim Guard wish to pledge our blades and our lives to Your Highness. We beg you to accept our service.”