Chapter 181

Chapter 181
## Chapter 181

Lucian was not at all caught off guard by the abrupt transformation in Claude’s demeanor.

With a face like stone, he reached out and placed his palms on the shoulders of the prostrate man, making a show of assisting him to his feet.

“To see the First Prince dropping to his knees before a Duke and speaking with such deference… it is a bit much for me to stomach. I must ask you to stand.”

“T-this isn’t a joke! You have essentially attained the throne already, so how could I possibly treat you with anything but the highest regard? By the laws of the land, a King and a Prince hold equivalent standing, so I am merely beginning to show you the respect you deserve.”

“There is no necessity for such displays. Your Highness the First Prince provides enough value to the realm simply by breathing. On a related note, Dennis mentioned recently that it is time I selected a Crown Princess for you…”

“I beg of you! Please, do not do that!”

The moment the conversation turned toward a potential marriage, Claude lunged forward and grabbed Lucian’s feet, overcome by dread.

Lucian’s brow furrowed in irritation, and he kicked the man’s hands away as if shaking off a persistent insect.

“Why such a reaction? Your Highness has long since reached the age where a consort is required. You have moved past the standard window for marriage; do you truly plan to keep stalling indefinitely?”

“Just a little while longer! I only ask for a bit more time!”

“I cannot grant that. As the proper heir to the line, it is your obligation to ensure the continuation of the dynasty. This is a burden you cannot escape, so you should simply resign yourself to it.”

“Ugh, h-huhu! Great King! I am pleading with you, give me one more opportunity!”

Gaps of air and fluid escaped Claude’s face as he wept in absolute terror.

As Lucian attempted to step back, Claude scrambled across the floor, wrapping his arms tightly around Lucian’s leg.

“E-even if I were to father a child this very second, what use would a nursing babe be to the Great King? They cannot talk—they won’t even be housebroken for years! Keep using me instead!”

“I fail to see your point.”

“I will transcribe any Imperial Decree you desire with my own hand! Better yet, I will be the one to conduct your coronation ceremony! Yes, think of the optics—would it not be far more legitimate if the true successor of the Empire was the one to place the crown upon your brow?!”

Lucian looked down, staring at the pathetic, begging figure of Claude.

The man was so consumed by his own cowardice that the rhythmic shaking of his body was felt plainly through Lucian’s thigh.

With a heavy exhale, Lucian finally relented and spoke.

“Be at peace; I have no current plans to end your life. You might spend the rest of your days without ever feeling the soil of the earth beneath your boots again, but your existence will be one of luxury.”

“…!”

“Your Highness has shattered my confidence in you on several occasions. To my mind, it is far more prudent to keep you under lock and key rather than granting you any measure of freedom.”

“No, no! You misunderstand! Please, have faith in me! Trust me just one last time!”

“I have offered you plenty of trust, and I have been repaid with plenty of betrayal.”

“I will step down!”

Lucian, who had been trying to pry Claude off him, stopped moving.

Sensing he had found a leverage point, Claude shrieked through his tears and mess.

“The moment I take the throne, I will pass it to you! There is no reason to rely on a newborn! Does a child ever actually grow into the person their parents intend? Once they develop their own will, they are guaranteed to have their own agendas!”

Lucian found himself inclined to agree with Claude’s reasoning.

The man was likely just rambling whatever desperate thoughts entered his head, but the First Prince was indeed the living embodiment of that very theory.

Regardless of how much effort the Late Emperor had poured into molding him, he had turned out to be this specific brand of filth.

‘In truth, it is the same for anyone. Even if you raise a person from birth in a vacuum, you cannot govern the way they think.’

It is human nature to rebel, even when provided with every comfort.

No matter how one attempted to carve their character, they could veer off the path in a heartbeat.

It was entirely possible that a son of the First Prince would develop his own ambitions the second he grasped his lineage.

He might decide that his life’s work was to ‘eliminate the usurper Lucian and take back what is mine.’

Rather than inviting such a volatile variable into the future, it seemed wiser to utilize the First Prince, who understood the grim reality of his situation and was willing to grovel so miserably.

“And what is your price for this?”

When Lucian finally asked the question after a pensive silence, Claude didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Please, do not allow any high-born women into my chambers.”

It was a vow that he would never father a successor for as long as he drew breath.

To an outsider, the request might have seemed absurd, but Claude was acting out of pure survival instinct.

The day a child was born to him, he would lose his status as the ‘sole option.’

Lucian, along with the various provincial lords, would naturally shift their attention to the grooming of the infant rather than the maintenance of Claude.

In a worst-case scenario, he might suffer a sudden ‘fatal illness’ as soon as the boy was old enough to stand.

Lucian let out a faint, mocking smile at the request.

“Do you truly believe you can tell the difference between a noblewoman and a commoner?”

“…!”

“The daughters of ruined houses frequently lack any sense of polish. On the other hand, a masterfully trained courtesan of high standing can possess more poise than a lady from the provinces.”

To put it plainly, if Lucian chose to trick him, Claude would be none the wiser.

As the terrified prince began to stammer another plea, Lucian leaned in and whispered.

“Therefore, do not grow comfortable. Do not harbor the delusion that I am beholden to you because there is no substitute, or that it is time to return to a traditional master-servant bond… The very second those thoughts take root, an heir to Your Highness might just appear out of thin air.”

“Y-yes! I shall keep that in mind! I will never let it slip my memory!”

Even though the words were a blatant threat, Claude nodded his head with frantic energy.

He knew that if it were Lucian, such a scheme could be made real in an instant.

Lucian smiled, satisfied by the total submission.

“Excellent. Then I have one request for Your Highness.”

“W-what is it you require?”

“It is a simple matter.”

Lucian gave a casual shrug to the trembling man.

“I need you to pen some invitations to be delivered to the lords.”

—

Two months following the burial of Eisen, Lucian once again sent out a summons to the rulers of the North.

This time, the occasion was not a funeral, but a formal invitation to witness his rise to the Kingship.

The lords, who had only recently departed Asagrim and were now forced to prepare for the arduous journey back, were visibly annoyed.

Even if it was Lucian calling, what was the point of this constant back-and-forth?

However, their irritation vanished and turned into pure astonishment the moment they examined the missives.

“The First Prince’s actual script? Are you claiming the First Prince himself penned all these, and not a scribe or the Duke?”

“He didn’t even use standard courtly platitudes; he wrote every sentence with intentionality. One might mistake these for personal letters sent to an intimate comrade.”

Typically, mass invitations share the same boilerplate text with only the recipient’s name swapped out.

However, the letters sent by the First Prince were tailored specifically to each recipient.

They touched on the specific economic state of each territory, family dynamics, and local rumors.

They were packed with granular details that could only be unearthed by a deep investigation into each noble house.

The lords—from the powerful Counts down to the minor Barons—were left stunned by the sheer effort required to write a unique letter for every single person.

“There is no world in which the First Prince wrote these of his own free will. This reeks of the Duke’s coercion.”

“But he was so thoroughly disgraced at the parting feast just weeks ago—has he truly capitulated already?”

While the Northern lords were shocked, they couldn’t help but be impressed by Lucian’s cunning.

Regardless of the tactics used, there was a massive strategic gap between hiding the First Prince in a basement to use as a signature and parading him out in public to say exactly what was required.

Under the watchful eyes of the Northern nobility who had rushed back to Asagrim, Lucian held his investiture.

Because a grand, official ceremony was slated for after the liberation of the capital, this event was relatively low-key.

It was modest enough to be called sparse, but the focus wasn’t on the decorations; it was on the man holding the crown.

“I, Claude Fin Bay Astria, the true heir to the Empire and the First Prince, acting in the stead of the Late Emperor, do hereby grant the title of King to Duke Lucian.”

“I accept this honor with humility.”

Lucian took the crown from Claude’s hands and took his seat upon the Jade Throne.

A wave of complex emotions washed over the onlookers at the proclamation of the Northern Kingdom’s total restoration.

It was a moment of pride to see the ancient prestige of the North returned, but it also served as a reminder that they now answered to a new sovereign.

Then, Claude, remaining at Lucian’s side, spoke once more.

“Furthermore, I, Claude, shall take up residence in Asagrim until Tivron is secured, and as the voice of the Late Emperor, I shall oversee all Imperial matters! Any recognition of merit that passes my lips shall be enacted at once, and if immediate execution is not possible, it shall be prioritized as soon as resources are available!”

“…!”

The Northern lords were struck dumb.

By those words, it meant that new titles or lands could be distributed even during this period of instability.

This wasn’t a hollow promise of “rewards once the war is won,” but the prospect of immediate advancement.

If they navigated these waters correctly, it was possible to expand their family legacies significantly in the heart of this turmoil.

Faced with such a lucrative opportunity, the Northern lords finally broke into genuine cheers.

“Long live the Northern Kingdom! Long live His Highness the First Prince!”

“To the glory of the Kingdom! To the eternal Empire!”

Lucian wore a broad, satisfied grin as the cheers echoed through the hall.

He had established his legal right to rule, solidified his grip on the North, and given his subordinates a reason to fight.

Now, only one task remained.

‘Shall we begin the march?’

It was time to utilize the strength he had gathered to push beyond the borders of the North.

—

The potential of Asagrim was staggering.

Even if he stayed behind his borders and focused entirely on domestic growth, the region would flourish.

However, in Lucian’s estimation, it was better to strike while the iron was hot rather than wasting years in preparation.

‘Focusing solely on preparation means I am giving my rivals time to do the same. Unless the enemy is a static target, the idea of “perfect preparation” is a myth.’

The goal wasn’t to reach perfection, but to ensure the distance between his power and the enemy’s was as wide as possible.

Even if his own plans were slightly incomplete, if the enemy was caught entirely off guard, he could deliver a decisive blow.

For Lucian, that window was now.

‘First, I must move quickly to secure a foothold outside the North. I need to ensure that the other factions, even if they feel threatened, won’t dare attempt to blockade the Northern Kingdom.’

While he had mitigated the North’s unnatural freezing temperatures using an artifact, the food supply was still precarious.

A slight warming didn’t mean that centuries of neglected farmland would suddenly produce a harvest.

Until the North reached self-reliance, they would remain dependent on imported grain.

He needed to seize an external hub to prevent his enemies from cutting off trade during a crisis.

‘It will be far from the main force and prone to attack for a time… but I can leave that burden to Tristan. The outpost we establish will also serve as the jumping-off point for our campaign against the Grand Ducal House of Valdek.’

Losing that bridgehead would mean Tristan’s dream of reclaiming Valdek would be delayed indefinitely.

Tristan was well aware of this, so if he were tasked with holding the new base, he would defend it with his life.

Lucian could simply let Tristan pay the price in blood to stabilize the region, then arrive at his leisure to take command.

Having settled on his strategy, Lucian was prepared to call for his advisors.

However, a visitor from the south reached him before he could give the order.

“…What? A messenger has arrived from the House of Marquis Roglan?”

Lucian blinked, surprised by the sudden arrival.

Why would they travel all the way to the frozen North?