Chapter 176

Chapter 176
## Chapter 176

“That is enough.”

When Lucian’s quiet command resonated throughout the grand hall, a sudden tension gripped the guests, who fell silent and fixed their eyes upon him. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation; every person present understood that the future hung on his next words. Would Lucian finally unveil a hidden hunger for the throne, or would he choose to retreat into the shadows and wait?

As the weight of their collective stare pressed upon him, Lucian began to speak.

“Since the era of the Founding Emperor Wilhelm, who first carved out this Empire, there has never been a recorded instance of the Imperial Family bestowing a kingship upon another. Traditionally, every royal line that was conquered and absorbed was stripped of such titles and reduced to the rank of Duke. The only exceptions were the vassal states that managed to preserve their status as kingdoms through specific means.”

The Great Unification War, which had occurred a millennium ago, had pushed the Empire to its absolute limits. While the constant annexation of neighboring realms allowed the Empire to swell in size, it brought a mountain of logistical burdens. The crown was forced to juggle the legal and administrative systems of occupied lands, manage an exploding population, and figure out how to integrate defeated aristocrats. Internal instability grew alongside external power, reaching a point where even the Founding Emperor was left drained by the effort.

The few vassal states that endured that era were those that had traded their pride for survival, surrendering instantly to maintain a level of self-governance. Consequently, any royal bloodline still in existence today was a remnant of those who survived that ancient transition; they were not families who had been granted the title of King by the Empire’s grace in later years.

“The laws of the Empire do not explicitly outlaw the title of King. However, in the absence of any modern precedent for such a promotion, it would be an act of extreme arrogance for me to simply claim that rank. At the very least, such a transition would require the official blessing and decree of His Highness the First Prince, who stands as the rightful heir to the Late Emperor.”

The various heads of the noble houses shifted uncomfortably, their brows knitting together at Lucian’s evasive logic. They were left in a state of deep uncertainty. Did he truly desire to be a King, or was he content remaining a Duke? Had he given a clear signal, they could have rushed to support him to gain favor, but his neutrality made any move feel like a gamble.

As the lords wavered, trapped in the ambiguity of Lucian’s response, a voice suddenly cut through the confusion.

“His Grace is absolutely right! There is no historical basis for the Imperial Family to hand out crowns, so it is reckless and improper for us to even mention the idea of a throne!”

The room rippled with shock.

“Unless the First Prince himself initiates the proposal, no one should dare speak of kingship so casually! Your Grace, I implore you to disregard the babbling of these short-sighted men and move past this nonsense!”

The noblemen watched in stunned silence as the speaker’s identity became clear. He sounded like he was defending Lucian’s honor, but his words were a sharp, desperate strike against the idea of restoring the old kingdom.

The man standing there was Herman Glauber.

As the leader of the House of Glauber, he had once been a staunch supporter of Calix during the era when Lucian was locked in a bitter feud with the Crawford family. Even though Herman had frantically cut those ties after the failed assassination plot, he could never truly wash away the stain of having once been Lucian’s enemy. He was the same man who had recently been forced to pay a massive ‘donation’ to Lucian just to keep his head, yet here he was, sticking his neck out again.

The other lords exchanged bewildered glances. Had Herman lost his mind? To openly oppose the Duke after already being on his bad side seemed like a death wish. They whispered among themselves, assuming he had simply snapped under the pressure.

However, Herman had a cold, calculated reason for his defiance. He felt he had to block the rebirth of the Northern Kingdom, regardless of the personal cost.

*‘I am already a puppet because of my past mistakes,’* Herman thought, his pulse racing. *‘But if he becomes a King, it’s truly the end for us. His word will become law in a way I can never challenge.’*

Currently, Lucian held the North through the sheer weight of his reputation as the Conqueror of the North. His power was immense, but it was essentially the pressure of a superior military force. It wasn’t yet the absolute authority of a sovereign; he could lean on the nobles, but he couldn’t legally command their total submission as a divine right.

If the Northern Kingdom were to be restored and Lucian crowned, the paradigm would shift. His orders would no longer be mere ‘suggestions’ backed by a sword; they would be the mandates of a King. Disobedience would not just be a personal slight—it would be an act of high treason against the state, providing a legal justification for his enemies to be wiped out.

*‘The moment he wears that crown, any defiance makes me an enemy of the entire North. It’s a different world than just being a rival Duke. I have to kill this idea now.’*

Herman knew this would make Lucian loathe him even more, but he viewed it as the lesser of two evils. He could survive a Duke’s spite, but he could not survive a King’s decree. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for a roar of fury from the man at the head of the table.

“To call them foolish is perhaps too harsh, Lord Glauber,” Lucian said, his voice surprisingly calm. “These men are merely expressing their concern for the Empire’s future in their own way. There is no need for such judgment.”

Herman’s eyes snapped open in confusion.

“Nevertheless, you have raised a valid point. The throne is not a prize to be sought after unless the First Prince suggests it first. Our thoughts are in alignment on that matter.”

The assembled nobles were flooshed by Lucian’s lack of emotion. There was no anger, no sarcasm, and not even a trace of irritation. His stoicism made it impossible to read the game he was playing.

Lucian stood up, his gaze sweeping over the bewildered faces of the aristocracy.

“This farewell celebration has lost its spirit. It would be a shame to end our time together on such a sour note. Therefore, I shall host this banquet once more in three days’ time. I expect to see you all then.”

—

“I cannot for the life of me fathom what the Duke is planning.”

“I’m in the same boat. He refuses to take a firm stance.”

The moment Lucian exited the hall, the nobles huddled into small groups, their voices low and frantic. Regardless of their political leanings, everyone was asking the same question: What did Lucian actually want?

“Do you really think he’s against the idea of the Northern Kingdom coming back?” one asked.

“If he truly hated the idea, he wouldn’t have been so vague,” another replied. “He clearly wants it.”

“Then why the cryptic response? It’s driving me mad.”

The noblemen were in a state of high anxiety. They were willing to give Lucian whatever he wanted to secure their own safety, but they couldn’t give him an answer to a question he hadn’t clearly asked.

Ironically, the only person who truly grasped the subtext of Lucian’s speech was not a high-ranking lord, but a servant.

*‘Those words weren’t for the nobles,’* Dennis thought, his skin turning clammy as he stood in the corner of the hall. *‘They were meant for me.’*

Dennis, who had been monitoring the political climate in Asagrim, felt a chill run down his spine. He had deciphered the hidden signal within Lucian’s speech perfectly.

*‘Duke Lucian intends to bring the Northern Kingdom back to life. But he won’t do it as a usurper. He wants a restoration backed by absolute legitimacy—and he wants the First Prince to be the one to hand it to him.’*

By specifically mentioning the ‘sanction of the First Prince,’ Lucian had provided a script for the opposition to follow. It was a calculated move to show Dennis the path forward: Lucian would not move until the heir to the Empire gave his blessing.

The message was clear: *Go to the Prince and get me that permission.*

Dennis let out a heavy, weary breath at the magnitude of the task. *‘I have no choice. I have to talk to His Highness.’*

Wasting no time, Dennis made his way to the depths of the prison where the First Prince was being kept. Thanks to Lucian’s prior orders, the guards and jailers allowed him to pass without a word.

Inside the cell, Claude was pacing like a caged animal, his face twisted with resentment. When he saw Dennis approach, his eyes lit up with a desperate spark.

“Finally! Well? How is the plan coming along?”

Dennis felt a pang of frustration. He had explained countless times that Claude’s ‘plan’ was a fantasy, yet the Prince refused to let go of his delusions.

“Your Highness, as we discussed, that scheme is not feasible. I beg of you to set aside your anger and look at the situation logically.”

“…So you’re saying you haven’t done anything? You haven’t even tried to set things in motion?” Claude’s voice dropped. “I truly am alone. There isn’t a single soul I can trust.”

Claude slumped against the cold stone wall, a bitter, hollow laugh escaping his lips.

Seeing the Prince appear defeated, Dennis felt a flicker of hope. Normally, seeing his master lose his spirit would be a tragedy, but with Claude’s volatile personality, his ‘will’ usually just meant more trouble. If he had finally reached his breaking point, he might actually listen to reason.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but I have a message for you.”

“What now?” Claude muttered.

“A proposal from the Duke.”

Claude scowled, but to Dennis’s relief, he didn’t fly into a screaming rage. Seizing the opportunity, Dennis quickly laid out the terms of the arrangement. When he finished, Claude sat in silence, his face an unreadable mask.

“So,” Claude said slowly, “he wants me to officially authorize the rebirth of the Northern Kingdom and name Lucian as its King?”

“That is correct, Your Highness.”

“And if I agree to this… what is he prepared to offer me in exchange?”

Dennis nearly stumbled back in pure astonishment. He had expected Claude to scream about how a subject dared to bargain with royalty. Instead, the Prince was asking for the price of his signature.

Heartened by what he perceived as newfound maturity, Dennis bowed deeply.

“He didn’t give me a specific list, but he made it clear that by appearing in a formal public setting, you would be treated with the respect and status your bloodline demands.”

“In other words, once the world knows I’m alive and present, they’ll be forced to treat me like a Prince to avoid a public scandal?”

“Exactly. And the debt he will owe you for the kingship is a separate matter entirely. How you choose to call in that favor later is up to you.”

“Fine,” Claude said, his voice cold. “Tell the Duke I accept. I will sanction his kingdom and give him his title. Just tell him to get me out of this godforsaken hole.”

“Understood!” Dennis replied, his voice brimming with genuine relief.

He had been privately disgusted by Claude’s earlier tantrums, but this sudden decisiveness felt like the mark of a true leader. To adapt so quickly to a harsh reality… perhaps there was hope for him yet.

*‘If the First Prince continues to evolve like this, he might actually be able to hold his own against Duke Lucian in the future,’* Dennis thought optimistically.

The Empire wasn’t dead yet. With a renewed sense of purpose, Dennis hurried back to Lucian’s quarters, unaware of the dark, burning hatred simmering in Claude’s eyes as he watched the servant leave.

—

“So, the First Prince has agreed to authorize the Northern Kingdom and grant me the kingship?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“…Excellent. We shall have His Highness attend the rescheduled banquet in three days. Inform him that while a permanent change of residence is not possible immediately, he will be presented then.”

“I will relay the message.”

Lucian watched Dennis depart. The servant had a spring in his step and a smile on his face, clearly believing he had successfully brokered a peace that saved everyone.

As the door clicked shut, Lucian let out a sharp, mirthless laugh.

*‘The First Prince thinks he’s in a position to demand a price for his cooperation?’*

The idea was absurd. This was a man who had nearly been killed by his own brother because he was too incompetent to see the danger. There was no way a man that arrogant and deluded would truly ‘negotiate’ with a subordinate he viewed as a mere tool.

*‘I know exactly what is going through that head of his.’*

Lucian thought back to the ‘Execution Plan’ that Vincent had uncovered recently. It was a laughably bad strategy, but it was exactly the kind of desperate, reckless move Claude would try to pull. Dennis seemed blind to the fact that his master was still a cornered, irrational beast.

“Actually, this plays right into my hands.”

Lucian had never planned to keep the First Prince a secret forever. If he wanted to utilize the boy’s legitimacy, he had to put him on display. This banquet would serve as the perfect stage to announce that the heir to the Empire was under his ‘protection.’

And while he was at it, he would provide the First Prince with a much-needed lesson. He would show him exactly how much ‘legitimacy’ mattered when you had zero power in a world of monsters.

Lucian’s expression turned icy as he turned to the attendant standing by the door.

“Gather all the retainers at once.”

It was time to prepare for the first public appearance of the Empire’s rightful successor. It was only fitting that the occasion was celebrated with immense grandeur.

So much grandeur, in fact, that the Prince would never be able to scrub the memory of it from his mind.