Chapter 146

Chapter 146
## Chapter 146

“Ahem! Hrmph! I ask that you review the records yourself. I applied myself as best I could, though I am certain my efforts fell short in various regards.”

Lucian let out a soft laugh as he observed Hans clearing his throat, looking for all the world like a man trying to shake off a sudden, inexplicable chill.

“There is no call for such modesty. For a debut performance as the Acting Lord, your management of provincial matters was remarkably precise. I am thoroughly pleased.”

“I am honored by your words, Your Grace.”

“You simply need to maintain this standard of excellence moving forward, so ensure you retain the feel of the work. It is quite likely I will need to delegate the Acting Lord’s responsibilities to you again in the near future.”

“…Beg pardon?”

Hans, who had just begun to exhale in relief, found his eyes bulging at Lucian’s parting comment.

He had endured such a grueling ordeal that he had vowed never to repeat it, yet here he was being told a second term was imminent. Just as the panicked Hans opened his mouth to object, Lucian shifted the subject with a question.

“Changing the subject, I do not see Sir Eisen. I assumed he would be present to greet us, particularly with Felicia returning after such a long absence. Is he recuperating within the fortress?”

“….”

At that inquiry, Hans fell into a heavy silence, the color draining from his cheeks.

Sensing the sudden shift in the air, Lucian turned his gaze to study Hans’s pinched expression.

“What has happened? Has something gone wrong?”

“The honest truth is… his physical condition is quite poor.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

Before Hans could even finish his sentence, Felicia broke in, her voice sharp with alarm.

“My father was in perfect spirits when I departed from Asagrim. How could his health have withered so drastically in such a brief window? What has transpired?”

“N-nothing specific occurred! He has merely lost a great deal of his former vigor!”

Hans blurted out the answer in the face of her interrogation, but Felicia’s piercing glare did not soften.

Recognizing that she would settle for nothing less than a full account, Hans released a heavy, weary sigh.

“Sir Felicia, I recognize your deep concern for him, but in truth, there was no incident. Who would possess the audacity to strike at the Sword Saint? Leaving aside the question of motive, no one possesses the raw power to succeed.”

“Then, if no one harmed him, why has my father’s health declined so…?”

“I ask that you take his years into account. It would be entirely natural for his strength to wane simply due to the passage of time. It might sound callous, but I have never encountered a man of a more advanced age.”

In terms of raw years, he was suggesting that the man had reached a point where passing away would not be a medical mystery.

Finding herself unable to offer a counterargument, Felicia retreated a step, her face clouded with worry.

It was an undeniable truth; Eisen’s candle had burned nearly to its very end by human standards.

However, Lucian felt a prickle of doubt regarding Hans’s assessment.

‘How can this be happening? Sir Eisen should have been granted at least five more years of life.’

In his previous existence, the Sword Saint Eisen did not draw his final breath until five years from this date.

The accounts had claimed he remained so robust that he never missed a single morning of blade practice until the very day he expired.

Yet now, he was reportedly so frail he couldn’t even manage a walk to greet his beloved Felicia.

“Are you certain there were no incidents? No signs of a specific malady or strange behavior?”

“It certainly does not manifest as a sickness… I am unsure if this qualifies as ‘strange,’ but it appeared as though he had simply surrendered his will to remain.”

“Surrendered his will?”

“He frequently remarked that his work was finished and that he held no remaining ties to this world. We even discovered a draft of a final testament he had begun to compose.”

Lucian let out a dry, mirthless chuckle at Hans’s explanation.

He finally grasped why Eisen—who had survived much longer in the original timeline—was now fading away.

—

Upon his arrival back at the White Palace, Lucian’s first priority was seeking out Eisen.

The old man, confined to his sickbed, looked deeply regretful when he saw Lucian enter the room.

“Your Grace, my sincerest congratulations on your safe return and your magnificent triumphs. I beg your indulgence for my lack of manners, greeting you from this bed instead of standing at the gates to welcome you.”

“There is nothing to forgive. Do not attempt to rise; simply remain still.”

Lucian placed a steadying hand on Eisen, who was struggling to prop himself up.

Despite the gentle touch, Eisen’s diminished strength could not resist, and he settled back against the pillows.

Witnessing her father’s withered state, Felicia dropped to her knees by the bedside, her vision blurring with tears.

“Father.”

“There, there, my girl. His Grace is watching us.”

Though his words carried the tone of a reprimand, his gaze was overflowing with fatherly warmth.

Observing that tender look, Lucian felt a pang of guilt.

‘As I suspected, the fault lies with me.’

To be more exact, the issue was that Eisen no longer harbored any desperate reasons to linger, a stark contrast to the previous timeline.

In that past life, the Sword Saint Eisen had lived out his final years haunted by the regret of never having secured a worthy apprentice to carry on his legacy.

Naturally, that lingering obsession would have fueled his survival until the last possible second.

But in this timeline, Lucian had resolved that heartache by bringing Felicia into his life.

Furthermore, he had lost his former master, Grand Duke Sigmund, and Lucian had matured into a leader who no longer required the Sword Saint’s protective wing.

‘Has he concluded that his purpose is served? To think that by removing his reasons to suffer, I have inadvertently hastened his end.’

For Eisen, this version of his life was likely far more fulfilling than the last.

To endure five more years of existence fueled only by a bitter grudge would have been a form of torture.

Still, Lucian could not quite banish the heavy feeling that his interference had cut the old man’s time short.

Eisen, noticing the grim shadow crossing Lucian’s features, misinterpreted the cause and offered a weak smile.

“Your Grace, do not let your heart be heavy. The fragility of the flesh is a debt we all must pay. Is it not a grand miracle that I have reached this age without ever being bedridden by a common pox?”

“Sir Eisen.”

“If you truly wish to comfort this old soul, then regale me with the tales of what lies beyond the frozen wastes. I suspect my vitality would return in full if I could hear of the adventures you and Felicia shared.”

“I would be honored to share them.”

Lucian took a seat at the bedside and began a measured account of their journey beyond the great snowfields.

He described the bone-chilling frost that would freeze a Northerner’s blood, the strange folk who claimed dragon lineage, and the cryptic words of Marius’s prophecy.

He spoke of the Chieftain’s fierce efforts to repel them and the harrowing trials that followed.

Eisen listened with rapt attention, breaking into a hearty laugh when Lucian described how those who had dismissed Felicia were forced to change their tune in a single day.

“Hahaha! Those arrogant fools who looked down on her for being a woman were brought to their knees in twenty-four hours! What a magnificent sight that must have been!”

“It was quite a spectacle. Every time I walked alongside Felicia, they treated her with the reverence usually reserved for a visiting deity.”

“If only I had been healthy enough to travel with Your Grace, I could have witnessed her glory myself. What a pity.”

Eisen, having enjoyed his laugh, kept a pleasant expression, but his physical state betrayed him as he began to labor for breath.

Noticing this, Lucian stood up, masking the bitter sorrow rising in his throat.

“I have many more tales to share, but since I have only just arrived and the paperwork has surely piled high, I must take my leave for now.”

“Goodness, this old man has monopolized Your Grace’s time. My apologies.”

“Think nothing of it. I am certain a father and daughter have much to discuss, so I shall leave Felicia with you. You can hear the rest of the details from her.”

“I am grateful for Your Grace’s kindness.”

Lucian offered a final smile to Eisen and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door softly.

The moment he was out of sight, his smile vanished, replaced by a cold, hard mask as he located Hans.

“Hans.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“I am asking for confirmation: does Sir Eisen have any knowledge of the current state of affairs outside?”

“He does not. I judged it unnecessary to burden a man in his condition with troubling news, so I have restricted the flow of information as much as possible.”

“You acted correctly.”

There was little Eisen could have done to stop the merchant guilds from squeezing Hans anyway.

Eisen was a master of the blade, not a diplomat or a master of backroom politics.

Knowing the truth would have only caused him needless anxiety, which would have surely accelerated his decline.

In a way, it meant that without Hans’s discretion, Eisen might have already been gone.

“Call for the merchants.”

Lucian turned to Hans, his voice dropping to a freezing temperature.

“It is time to settle these outstanding accounts.”

—

“T-this lowly servant greets His Grace the Grand Duke, Master of Asagrim and the true successor to the Northern Throne!”

“We offer our humblest greetings, Your Grace!”

The leaders of the various merchant syndicates who had been summoned fell to their knees before Lucian, their bodies trembling.

Given the treachery they had committed during his absence, their faces were drained of all color.

Lucian let his gaze drift over the bowing figures before speaking in a flat, clinical tone.

“Welcome. I presume you have been informed by your peers why I have requested your presence?”

“We were told that you intended to settle the unpaid balances, however….”

“Correct. A man of honor must always settle his debts. I fully intend to pay back what is owed to you at this moment.”

At those words, the guild masters’ expressions brightened with relief as they dared to look up.

They had lived in fear that he might refuse to pay, but to think he was actually going to clear the books!

However, Lucian was not finished.

“And by that same logic, I must also collect the debt you owe to me right here and now.”

“…!”

“You used underhanded tactics to pressure my appointed representative, imposing absurd terms. How little did you value my sovereignty that you thought such a pathetic ploy would go unpunished?”

“Y-Your Grace.”

“If there is a single reason why I should not have your heads struck off this instant to line the castle battlements, I suggest you provide it now.”

Hearing the lethal intent in his voice, the merchants shook violently, their complexions turning ghostly.

They had felt secure under Dominic’s assurances, but now they found their necks directly under the axe.

At that critical moment, Dominic—the only one among them who had kept his composure—spoke up.

“What justification could we possibly offer? A mere merchant has soured Your Grace’s temper in pursuit of a trivial gain; I have no right to complain even if I were executed a hundred times over. However.”

“However?”

“If you would grant me this wretched life, I pledge to serve Your Grace with every fiber of my being to atone for my transgressions. I beg for your clemency.”

Lucian fought the impulse to laugh out loud.

Was there anything more worthless than the ‘loyalty’ of a cornered merchant?

Especially when that merchant happened to be Dominic Ryler.

Suppressing his amusement, Lucian adopted a look of mild curiosity, as if he were genuinely considering the offer.

“In what manner do you propose to serve me? I have accepted many oaths of fealty from knights, but never from a merchant.”

“There are myriad ways for a merchant to prove his worth, but there is one specific service I can offer Your Grace immediately.”

“Stop testing my patience and speak. I am not known for my long temper.”

Under Lucian’s pressure, Dominic took a lungful of air and made his pitch.

“I will provide Your Grace with a metal that rivals the strength of Adamantium. I can provide enough to fully arm a legion of ten thousand men.”

“…!?”

In response to Dominic’s startling claim, a wave of shocked silence swept through the room.

A metal comparable to Adamantium?

When had such a substance ever been found?

And to have the capacity to mass-produce it for ten thousand soldiers at once?

“Do you take me for a fool? Cease this fabrication at once.”

While the others were reeling, Lucian maintained his icy stare.

Dominic flinched at the hostile reception, which was even more severe than he had anticipated, but he pushed forward with a steady voice.

“I realize the claim sounds improbable. Because of that, I wish to demonstrate its properties directly before Your Grace.”

“You are simply vomiting lies in a desperate bid to stay alive. What penalty will you pay if your claims are proven to be smoke and mirrors?”

Deceiving an Acting Lord might cost a merchant his head.

But to lie to the Lord himself—a Grand Duke of the Realm—would bring a ruin far more absolute than a simple execution.

Facing Lucian’s threat, Dominic spoke with a hardened resolve.

“I will forfeit every asset of the Dominic Merchant Group along with my own life. These will pass to Your Grace as a matter of legal right, ensuring no one can challenge your claim.”

Having finally elicited the exact terms he wanted, Lucian allowed a predatory smile to touch his lips and gave a sharp nod.

“See that you do not forget that promise.”