Chapter 183

Chapter 183
### Chapter 183

In the days that followed, formal correspondence from the Crown Prince and Lucian was delivered simultaneously to the gates of every aristocratic manor.

The message contained within was startlingly blunt.

At the formal request of the House of Roglan, we are preparing for a journey to the Western territories. Consequently, every noble house is commanded to contribute a portion of their private military to serve as a protective escort.

“…What are we to make of this? Marquis Roglan actually extended an invitation to His Majesty?”

“Hmph, I cannot fathom what is going through His Majesty’s mind. No matter how you slice it, this is a clear setup.”

The patriarchs of the various families scratched their heads at the unexpected justification, but they felt a surge of adrenaline, realizing the turning point they had long awaited was finally here.

They had anticipated that a call for military mobilization for an external campaign would arrive sooner or later.

Thus, the summons itself wasn’t the shock; the true concern lay in the specific quotas being demanded.

‘If the King’s demand for soldiers exceeds my current strength, I am ruined. In a worst-case scenario, the very pillars of my family could crumble.’

‘Furthermore, it isn’t as if I can simply hand over the men and be done with it. The entire financial burden of supplying and feeding the troops I contribute falls squarely on my shoulders.’

The Royalists, who had stood by Lucian from the start, felt no such anxiety. Lucian would never impose crippling requirements on his loyal supporters.

However, it was unlikely he would extend that same grace to the aristocrats who had been his political rivals until this moment.

In truth, he might very well shift the entire weight of the Royalists’ military obligations onto his former enemies. Or, even more ruthlessly, he might demand an impossible number of soldiers specifically to bleed them dry of power.

‘Please, let the quota be within my means!’

The leaders of the former opposition swallowed hard as they broke the seals on their letters to check the troop counts.

Seconds later, they were staring at the parchment in a daze.

“…Is this truly all he requires?”

The number of soldiers Lucian asked for wasn’t just fair; it was practically negligible. There was no need for a massive mobilization; they could fulfill the request by pulling a handful of men from their existing garrisons.

The costs of maintenance would rise slightly as the supply chain stretched out, but even that was well within their budgets. The demand was so minimal that not a single soul would complain, even if the campaign dragged on for years.

The Royalist lords were just as stunned by these low numbers as their former rivals.

“Wait, is this not far too small a force? Surely he isn’t going easy on me simply because I am a Royalist?”

“If he burdened the former opposition too heavily, it would only incite a coup.”

The Royalists initially assumed the former opposition was carrying the bulk of the weight, but they were floored to discover the opposition had been asked for the exact same tiny contribution.

It was a bizarre situation where Lucian could have easily drafted half of the North’s total military strength, yet his demands were remarkably light.

“I cannot guess his strategy. Is the House of Roglan not one of the two pillars of power, equal in status to the Grand Ducal House of Valdek?”

“With Valdek currently compromised, it is no hyperbole to say Roglan stands alone as the most powerful individual family.”

“The force he is gathering is far too small to step into the territory of such a lethal clan. Is he truly going to be safe?”

The Northern nobility found themselves united in a single concern: Lucian’s survival. If Lucian were to fall now, the North—which had only just found stability as a kingdom—would spiral back into chaos.

However, there was one reality they failed to grasp.

Their perspective was still fixed on a time of relative peace, not total war. They had never witnessed firsthand the sheer magnitude of force that is unleashed when an entire region truly consolidates its might.

—

‘…How did things spiral out of control like this?’

Ernst, the messenger representing the House of Roglan, held his head in his hands inside his guest chambers.

Up until a certain point, the plan had been proceeding perfectly. A trap hidden behind a mask of hospitality, a request designed to be turned down, and the fueling of discord among the neighboring lords.

But every calculation had been shattered in a heartbeat.

All because of one condition: that there would be no ceiling on the size of the escort.

‘Curses. I never suspected a newborn kingdom would have the nerve to demand troops from its vassals so aggressively.’

Whether a King or an Emperor, the head of state was expected to call upon their lords for soldiers during a crisis. It was the sovereign’s inherent right and the subject’s core obligation—a request that had to be honored.

However, reality rarely matches the theory; such a request is nearly impossible to enforce if the monarch’s authority is shaky. Regardless of the feudal bond, there was always deep-seated bitterness about sending elite units, trained at great expense, to fight on someone else’s behalf.

Naturally, Ernst hadn’t expected Lucian to have the audacity to demand military backing in a Northern Kingdom that was still in its infancy.

‘It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d asked for troops before the kingdom was stable. The other lords would have simply snubbed him. The disaster is that they actually complied.’

The thought sent a shiver down Ernst’s spine.

Originally, his plan was to have Lucian murdered if the man was dim-witted enough to miss the subtext and actually accept the invitation.

But assassination is a tactic reserved for when a target is vulnerable to infiltration. If Lucian arrived in the West shielded by a massive legion, an assassination—or any direct strike—would be a suicide mission.

It might be attempted within the Marquis’s estate, but by that point, a massive foreign army would already be stationed on the Marquis’s soil. A leaderless, enraged army rampaging through the Marquis’s own lands was a far more terrifying prospect than a failed hit outside the walls.

‘This is insanity. I can hardly retract my statements now.’

It was far too late to claim he had misspoken or to adjust the terms. At this stage, even if he tried to change the arrangement, they would likely carry on as if he hadn’t said a word.

As Ernst spiraled through his anxiety over this pivot, a voice broke his concentration.

“Lord Ernst. His Majesty the King requires your presence.”

“…I shall attend him at once!”

Ernst answered the knight’s call and stood up. Since Lucian had taken the bait, the momentum was unstoppable. Since the situation had reached this point, he would simply have to minimize the damage.

‘Provided the assembled force stays under three thousand, we can contain them. Even if the lords are supportive, a fledgling kingdom’s logistics should only be able to sustain about two thousand soldiers at most.’

Ernst began to recalibrate his strategy. The scenario had shifted from his predictions, but if he looked at it differently, he might have gained more than he lost. Lucian himself was walking straight into the House of Roglan’s backyard.

If he played this correctly, he could potentially remove the most formidable rival of this era of upheaval right then and there.

Ernst had just managed to settle his nerves by forcing a positive outlook when Lucian began to speak.

“I have decided to bring five thousand soldiers as my personal escort.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“Was I unclear? Five thousand. Five. Thousand.”

At Lucian’s word, Ernst felt his mind go completely blank. He had assumed three thousand was the absolute ceiling they could manage. But five thousand?

He was so blindsided he couldn’t find his voice, but Lucian wasn’t through.

“Ah, and three hundred knights will be accompanying the unit as well.”

“…!”

“Why that look of shock? It is common knowledge that knights are not tallied as part of the standard infantry, is it not?”

Common knowledge, indeed.

Ernst barely managed to choke back the profanity that nearly crossed his lips. Five thousand footmen was already an absurdity, but adding three hundred knights on top of that?

“Y-Your Majesty. I must apologize, but that figure is excessively high.”

“Do not fret over the logistics. I will only be joined by three personal aides. There is no requirement to arrange formal seating for the rest of the knights.”

“That is not my concern…!”

“For your records, the aides traveling with me are Sir Hugo, Sir Felicia, and Marius. Make note of it.”

Ernst, who had been about to protest again, went rigid.

Hugo was merely a trusted companion who had served Lucian since his time as the Third Prince, but the other two were figures of terrifying significance.

They were none other than the legendary Sword Saint of the age and the Court Mage of Asagrim.

“Your Majesty! Please, I must insist…!”

“I will not entertain a refusal.”

“…!”

“I took you at your word and accepted this invitation. Formal letters signed in my name have already reached every corner of the North. Do you truly believe you can rescind the offer after things have progressed this far?”

Trapped by such flawless reasoning, Ernst was silenced.

If Lucian were to cancel the invitation now and disband the gathered troops? Beyond the massive waste of resources, Lucian’s reputation would be destroyed for issuing such a volatile order and then retreating.

Lucian offered a thin smile to the paralyzed, sweating Ernst and commanded, “Inform the Marquis. Five thousand soldiers and three hundred knights are descending upon his lands.”

—

“Five thousand soldiers and three hundred knights?! Are you mocking me?!”

Marquis Bernhardt Roglan was gripped by disbelief when he read the report from Ernst.

He had indeed instructed Ernst to mention there would be no limit on the guard. But five thousand was an impossible number. it far surpassed the threshold of what they could neutralize, even if they were prepared for heavy casualties.

“What was Ernst thinking, allowing such a ridiculous demand to stand?! Send word immediately—cancel everything and tell him to return at once!”

“T-The messenger is currently being held in Asagrim.”

“Explain yourself!”

“The envoy attempted to withdraw the terms several times, but the Duke is being unyielding. He maintains that once a sovereign has given his word, it is written in stone, and he refuses to let him leave. He says if the messenger wishes to return to the Marquisate, he must do so as part of the Duke’s procession…”

“That madman!”

A torrent of vitriol poured from Marquis Bernhardt’s lips.

He had witnessed Lucian’s boldness personally during their time in the Allied Forces. But for all his daring, Lucian had always shown a pragmatic streak, carefully calculating risks and rewards. He would push hard when profit was certain, but he was quick to retreat if the venture turned sour.

Because of that reputation, the Marquis believed Lucian wouldn’t take such a pointless gamble, yet here he was, marching toward the West with five thousand men.

“This is nothing short of a declaration of war! Has his meteoric rise at such a young age robbed him of his senses?!”

“Lord Marquis, I implore you to remain composed.”

“Do I look like a man who can be composed?! The brat is trying to ignite a war!”

“It is highly unlikely he has such an aim. It is a massive provocation, to be sure, but if his true goal was conquest, he would have mobilized far more than five thousand.”

“…What are you suggesting?”

As the Marquis’s rage cooled slightly, one of his tacticians moved to elaborate.

“Five thousand soldiers and three hundred knights are a force to be reckoned with, certainly, but it is an awkward number for a campaign intended to seize fortified positions one by one.”

It wouldn’t be a challenge to overrun the lands of a few minor houses, but the complication starts afterward. To secure a captured territory, one is forced to divide and leave behind a garrison. Naturally, the deeper they march, the more their main force would visibly shrink.

“If Asagrim and the West shared a common border, it wouldn’t be a fatal flaw. Even with a thin garrison, backup would arrive quickly.”

“But the distance between the North and the West is vast, making that impossible. If he intends to occupy territory, he has no choice but to fragment his army.”

“Precisely. Therefore, the Duke likely has no real intention of seizing the West. He is simply utilizing an oversized guard to intimidate his peers and ensure his person is untouchable.”

“Why on earth would he go to such lengths? Why would he risk a confrontation and possible assassination without even taking land? What is his motive?!”

The Marquis’s voice spiked again as he puzzled over the logic. The tactician hesitated for a long beat before finally offering his theory.

“It is a radical thought, but… could it be that the act of intimidation itself is his entire goal?”