Chapter 158

Chapter 158
## Chapter 158

The heritage of the Northern Royal Family was fundamentally distinct from the magical relics held by the Empire.

While the collection did contain certain sets of defensive plating and blades, the bulk of the hoard was comprised of raw resources awaiting refinement and investigation. The vaults held a diverse array of uncommon, supernatural flora, metal blocks smelted through forgotten ancient processes, and an immense library of arcane manuscripts and architectural diagrams for the creation of mystical objects.

Apart from a select few armaments, the treasure offered little in the way of an instantaneous surge in military capability.

Nevertheless, whereas the inner workings of the Imperial relics remained an enigma, these archives provided the means to resurrect vanished ancestral traditions—provided the necessary study was undertaken. It served as an ideal cornerstone that, with the passage of time, could foster a center of influence capable of rivaling the Empire during its most prosperous era.

“I have kept these riches concealed until this moment to prevent interference from the Imperial throne, but now that I have brought them into the light, they are powerless to intervene. I plan to commence the investigative work in earnest.”

“Do you not fear that other provincial rulers will lust after this wealth? The silence from the Imperial palace suggests there is no longer a deterrent against territorial conflicts,” Raymond remarked, expressing his unease.

Lucian responded with a brief, mirthless chuckle.

“If they desire it, let them attempt to seize it. I suspect few would be so bold as to strike when they cannot distinguish an ally from a traitor.”

The period of total instability had already arrived.

In a climate where one could not even rely on the person standing at their back, who would dare an invasion into the far North simply out of greed for royal treasures? It was certain that the second they diminished their own border defenses, they would be besieged from every direction.

“In truth, as the days go by and the boundaries between friend and foe solidify, they will eventually find the breathing room to look toward our lands. This current state of doubt, where trust is non-existent, is the optimal moment to announce our possession of the legacy.”

“I see your point. In that case, whom do you plan to put in charge of the various departments of study?”

“Ian is the obvious choice for the botanical research. We lack a qualified specialist for metalworking at present, so we must search for one at a deliberate pace. Regarding the matters of the arcane…”

Lucian turned his attention toward Marius.

Marius lowered his head, attempting to look as though he were oblivious to the gaze, though he was unable to stop the slight shaking of his arms. Lucian observed him with a neutral look before addressing him in a quiet tone.

“Marius.”

“I am here, Your Grace.”

“Reports indicate that you managed your previous assignments with great skill.”

“That was only achieved through the assistance of my two pupils. I would have foundered had I been on my own.”

“Discard the false modesty. I attached them to your side specifically for you to utilize their talents. Had you attempted to carry the burden solo, I would have reprimanded you for wasting their presence.”

“I am moved by your words.”

“Consequently, as a token of my appreciation, I am naming you the Chief Mage.”

Marius’s eyes flew open as he snapped his head upward in shock.

He had previously expressed a desire for the title of Chief Mage within the Northern territories. With his level of expertise, it was a role he was naturally qualified for. Yet, due to his earlier errors, he had convinced himself that he would be lucky to serve in a position subordinate to his own students.

“You—Your Grace.”

“I trust I do not need to emphasize that this is your final opportunity. Should you engage in any further foolishness, you will truly spend your remaining years tucked away in a corner translating scrolls.”

“My thanks! I am eternally grateful!”

Tears began to fall down Marius’s cheeks.

He had been plagued by the dread of ending his career as a teacher who merely clung to the successes of his pupil, the actual Chief Mage. He was uncertain how many years he had left, but he would at least be able to leave behind the title of ‘Chief Mage of Asagrim.’ It felt as though a rescue line had been tossed to him from the very pits of ruin.

“Colin, I owe you an apology. It appears I have reclaimed the title of Chief Mage that I had previously granted to you.”

“Not at all, sire. I am simply thankful for Your Grace’s kindness in showing such favor to my mentor.”

Colin spoke his gratitude to Lucian with deep sincerity.

In his heart, Colin had felt a sense of sorrow, worried that his teacher might die in misery without any recognition. Now, by stepping aside, he allowed his master to secure a small piece of history. The thought brought Colin peace.

Lucian sensed the nature of Colin’s thoughts, but as his ruler, he intended to provide full restitution. Even if Colin was content, the fact remained that Lucian was withdrawing a promotion he had already bestowed.

“When the time comes for Marius to retire from the role, it shall return to you at once. Furthermore, regardless of your specific title in the future, your compensation and status will be equivalent to that of the Chief Mage. I trust that is acceptable.”

“Acceptable? It is far more generous than I am worth.”

Lucian gave a small nod as he looked at Colin, who appeared stunned yet could not suppress a grin.

The last traces of tension seemed to evaporate from the young sorcerer, replaced by the comfort of Lucian’s empathy. Having settled the initial leadership roles, Lucian extracted the royal signet from his inner pocket.

The moment had arrived to provide the world with the physical manifestation of the Northern Royal Family’s Legacy.

—

“What was that? Duke Lucian has publicized the Northern Royal Family’s Legacy?”

“Wait, are you claiming that no one realized such a treasure was stashed beneath White Castle for ten centuries?”

“More to the point, how did the Duke discover it? I was told he had no ties to his mother’s kin!”

The Empire was thrown into fresh turmoil as the announcement of the inheritance spread.

This was a heritage from a monarchy a thousand years old—and it wasn’t just a collection of artifacts used blindly, but the very foundational lore behind their creation. This meant that through diligent study, they could potentially manufacture magical items in the present day.

“Curse it all, can we do nothing? It will be catastrophic if we allow him the time to develop this.”

“What ‘something’ do you propose? Are you suggesting a full-scale invasion of the North?”

“The mere act of concealing the royal inheritance from the Crown all these years is a high offense. If we organized a coalition force…”

“The Imperial house is staying silent! How are we to organize a coalition without a leader at the center?”

“And what makes you so certain we would prevail? Have you forgotten that we are dealing with the Conqueror of the North?”

The nobility debated a Northern campaign for a short time, but the enthusiasm quickly faded.

Because the Imperial family was failing to provide a rallying point, it was nearly impossible to gather an allied army, and the sheer power of their adversary was intimidating. Lucian held the impenetrable White Castle and led the veteran former Imperial battalions as well as the Blue Rose Knight Order.

Furthermore, he had recently bolstered the population of Asagrim with fierce Northern barbarians.

A thoughtless strike would not bring triumph; it would likely end in a loss so total that it would mark the beginning of their own extinction.

Once the nobility grasped the grim reality and abandoned thoughts of conflict, it was the academics and craftsmen who came forward next.

“Dozens of botanical species thought to be lost to history are in Asagrim? And not just dried samples, but actual seeds for farming? I must depart immediately!”

“I have grown too old to hope for creating weapons of legend. But if I might at least work with the ores that only exist in ancient fables with these very hands…”

“We must go to Asagrim. To save our dying tradition, we have no choice but to seek those arcane volumes. If luck is on our side, we might earn the Duke’s favor.”

Private researchers who were disgusted by the dishonesty of the Alchemist Guild.

Smiths who longed to secure a lasting legacy before their passing.

And even rogue sorcerers from forgotten lineages.

Those who yearned to witness the ancient heritage firsthand began to move toward Asagrim. Among the travelers were many of average skill who thought too highly of themselves, but there were also individuals of genuine brilliance in the crowd.

Malcolm the blacksmith was among the latter.

“Heh… Hehehe. Hahaha.”

Seated in his crumbling workshop, Malcolm turned over the rumors he had picked up in the market earlier that day.

The reports that Red-Gold Stone, White Star Iron, and even Fairy Light—minerals whose refining processes had been lost for ages—had surfaced in the North.

“How can this be? How can such a thing be possible?”

These were mythical metals that, while perhaps not as durable as Adamantium, were essential for all types of enchanted gear.

Malcolm whispered those names over and over before limping toward a dark corner of his shop. He retrieved a stack of volumes he had kept hidden away amongst some kindling.

These were texts passed down through many generations of his bloodline, containing the precise refining steps for those ancient ores that had vanished long ago.

“If only this had occurred sooner. If only it had been revealed when I had more youth in my bones…”

Warm tears tracked through the soot on Malcolm’s face.

He could not count how many times he had been mocked, told it was tragic to cling to worthless smelting guides as if they were gold. Even as a grown man, he had resolved many times to use them to start his forge fire, yet he could never bring himself to burn them.

To think the moment would finally arrive when these books, which had been preserved as nothing but heavy regrets, would actually find a purpose.

Malcolm stood in a daze for a few moments until he heard the footsteps of his son sprinting toward him.

“Fa—Father! They say the Northern Royal Family’s Legacy in Asagrim is…!”

“I am aware.”

Malcolm stood straight, stopping his son’s excitement with a brief word.

Now that his objective was certain, there was no requirement for long talk.

“We are leaving.”

“Where to?”

“To Asagrim.”

“…!”

“Pick up your forge hammer and get your things ready.”

“Yes, father!”

Malcolm listened as his son hurried away with a loud, energetic shout.

At his time of life, he had no interest in bragging about the status of his forefathers. He simply desired to bring to life the refining techniques they had left behind with his own two hands.

Only by doing so could he confirm that his ancestors had not spent their lives holding onto a hollow dream.

A short time later, Malcolm and his son began their journey to Asagrim, bringing with them refining secrets that had not been practiced in centuries.

—

“This is excellent.”

Viscount Harald was unable to suppress his grin whenever reports of Lucian’s activities reached him lately.

Not only had Lucian utterly dismantled and integrated the House of Calix, but he had also brought the tribes beyond the frozen wastes under his rule to populate Asagrim. On top of those feats, he had acquired the power to sway the Imperial line using the First Prince as his tool, and now he had even unveiled the Northern Royal Family’s Legacy.

*I saw that he was a remarkable individual from our very first encounter, but now I cannot even fathom how high his star will rise.*

All Harald had originally desired was for Lucian to restore the old monarchy and bring stability back to the North. Even that would have been a legendary feat, and it was greedy to hope for more.

However, Lucian’s successes were far surpassing what Harald had imagined.

Exactly where would that champion eventually reach his peak?

If it were possible, Harald wished to survive long enough to witness Lucian’s ultimate achievement with his own eyes.

*For when he finally completes his journey, the House of Osgor and my boy, Thorkel, will be standing right beside him.*

It was just as a beaming Harald was raising his cup for another sip.

An aide approached with a frantic look and spoke softly into Harald’s ear.

“My Lord, Viscount Lesta has arrived.”

“What?”

Harald blinked, caught off guard by the unannounced guest.

Was Viscount Lesta not a companion of his son, Thorkel? He was a young nobleman who had removed his father from power for supporting Calix and had since become a staunch follower of Lucian. Harald had heard he was prospering recently, winning Lucian’s confidence by managing the transport of officials and various logistical duties.

“Did the Viscount arrive personally, without even a prior notice?”

“Yes. He came in shadows and asked for a meeting with the utmost discretion.”

“Well, well.”

If it were a nobleman who had once been a partisan of Calix, even a minor encounter would be viewed with suspicion. But Harald and Lesta were part of the group that had backed Lucian with passion from the beginning. Now that Lucian ruled the North, they had no reason to hide their meetings, yet Lesta had arrived in secret.

It felt somewhat odd, but since they were part of the same alliance and the man was his son’s comrade, Harald could not simply send him away.

“Show the visitor to the private lounge and tell the staff to leave. A significant guest has come; I will wait upon him myself.”