Chapter 185

Chapter 185
## Chapter 185

“The Marquis of Bernhardt has initiated his plan.”

“His Excellency has made his move!”

The second Viscount Oleg Lerum appeared, both Lucian and Ernst reached the identical conclusion.

If the Marquis had simply informed the Viscount of Lucian’s arrival, the man wouldn’t be standing there with such calm assurance. It was painfully obvious he had received precise orders on how to manage Lucian from this moment forward.

‘He is as sharp as they say!’

‘I am eager to see how he executes this.’

While Ernst felt a wave of comfort seeing his superior’s rapid countermeasure, Lucian felt a spark of rivalry ignite within him.

Even though Viscount Oleg stood directly in front of them, the true puppet master pulling the strings was clearly Marquis Bernhardt. In a sense, the intellectual duel between Lucian and the Marquis had officially commenced.

“I appreciate the warm welcome, Viscount Oleg. I expect to occupy your time for roughly three days.”

Lucian addressed the bowing nobleman with measured courtesy.

Viscount Oleg appeared taken aback, shaking his head dismissively.

“Only three days? Please, you are more than welcome to remain for an entire week. I have already coordinated supplies for at least that duration.”

“That is a generous offer, but I cannot delay my arrival for the one who invited me to the gala. I will depart after a short period of recuperation.”

“If your mind is set, I shall not insist. Please, utilize my home as you see fit.”

Viscount Oleg clicked his tongue with an air of disappointment and lowered his gaze. Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, he shifted his attention to the courier, Ernst.

“Ah, Sir Ernst. I have a correspondence for you from the Marquis.”

“From the Marquis? For me?”

“Indeed. His message was: ‘If you truly understand the gravity of your post, ensure the protection of our esteemed guest.'”

The phrasing was heavy with subtext, but its specific intent remained elusive even to Ernst, let alone Lucian.

Ensure his protection?

If meant as a taunt, Ernst wasn’t even close to being a credible threat to Lucian. If taken at face value, the instruction was far too vague to be useful.

“Goodness, I have forced our guests to linger in the cold with my rambling. My apologies. Please, enter the manor.”

As Lucian’s inner circle puzzled over the cryptic words of the Marquis, Viscount Oleg Lerum led the way with dramatic hospitality.

Since the riddle couldn’t be solved immediately, Lucian pushed his skepticism aside and followed. He understood that even if he didn’t hunt for the enemy’s motives, their true agenda would eventually come to light.

—

Oleg Lerum practically drained the Viscounty’s resources to provide flawless service to the five-thousand-man legion. It was an exhibition of logistics that could be studied as the perfect way to host a massive military force.

Lucian found himself impressed yet again by the seamless operation; there was absolutely nothing to criticize.

‘The Viscount is quite capable. He wasn’t prominent in my previous life, so I overlooked him, but he is far more formidable than I anticipated.’

Yet, despite his obvious talent, the Viscount didn’t attempt any overt sabotage. Lucian’s companions looked on with suspicion when no traps were sprung, despite the Viscount having the means to do so.

‘Is he truly going to just feed us and let us pass?’

Just as the staff—and Lucian himself—began to believe the visit would be uneventful, a crisis arose on the morning of the third day, the very moment they were set to leave the Lerum Viscounty.

“What? A landslide has obstructed the path?”

“Yes, My Lord. Massive stones have tumbled down, sealing the way entirely. It isn’t just one blockage; the road is severed in multiple locations. It will take significant time to clear the debris.”

Lucian blinked, processing the news from the scouts he had dispatched to verify the route. The timing was far too convenient to be accidental.

“Is this a natural disaster? Or did someone deliberately sabotage the pass?”

“There is no definitive way to tell.”

Felicia, positioned silently behind Lucian, provided the answer.

“The Western territories are famous for their violent storms. Landslides are a regular occurrence here. It isn’t out of the ordinary for boulders to shut down the transit lines.”

“Meaning even if this was orchestrated, we have no evidence to prove it.”

“Correct. If we voice our suspicions, we will appear as though we are overreacting to a common local mishap.”

“I see.”

Lucian paused to deliberate.

When he first told the Viscount he would only stay for three days, the man had pushed for a full week. At the time, Lucian dismissed it as standard etiquette.

Reflecting on it now, it felt calculated.

‘He didn’t just suggest a longer stay; he specified seven days.’

If it were mere politeness, he would have used a vague phrase like “stay as long as you wish.” The mention of a specific timeframe hinted that providing this level of luxury beyond that point would be impossible.

‘Housing and feeding five thousand soldiers is a massive strain that a single Viscounty cannot sustain indefinitely. But pointing out the exact duration is telling.’

It was as if he were framing any stay beyond a week as an unbearable burden on Viscount Oleg. Naturally, Lucian had no plans to overstay, but the dynamic shifted if he was forced to remain by an “unforeseen” catastrophe.

Smelling a rat in the middle of these perfectly timed events, Lucian went to see Viscount Oleg while maintaining a facade of ignorance.

“I’ve been informed that the path forward is blocked by stone. I would prefer to leave now, even if we must take a different route…”

“That would be unwise. This is a mountain range; a detour would set your arrival back by over a month.”

“Is that the case? How long will it take to open the main road?”

“Five days should suffice to clear the way.”

“Understood.”

Lucian nodded, though he scoffed internally.

If you added those five days to the three they had already spent at the Lerum Viscounty, the total was exactly one week. The malice behind the math was palpable, as if the calendar had been written in advance.

More than that, he doubted their troubles would end with a few rocks. The moment the path was cleared, some new disaster would likely manifest to keep them pinned down.

However, since he couldn’t interrogate the Viscount based solely on a hunch, he had to play along for now.

“Then I shall rely on your hospitality for a few more days.”

“It is my honor. Please, remain at your ease.”

Despite the financial drain of a five-thousand-man army staying longer, Viscount Oleg never lost his grin or his deferential manner. He even rode out to the landslide site personally to supervise the laborers, appearing desperate to fix the road.

Because of his “dedication,” the path was cleared in four days, and Lucian’s group prepared to move out.

Or, they attempted to.

*Rumble—!*

“…Didn’t you claim there was a road here?”

“There was certainly a road, but it appears to have been swept away. It seems a dam or levee upstream has collapsed.”

When Lucian asked this while staring at a churning, violent river, Ernst answered with a detached, calm tone. The anxiety he had displayed earlier was gone, replaced by a mask of total composure.

“This is a truly extraordinary coincidence. To have this happen immediately after the landslide… I’ve never witnessed such a string of bad luck.”

“Skip the commentary and tell me if there is a way across.”

“You should consult Viscount Oleg. Since these accidents happen from time to time, reconstructing the bridge shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“And how long does a bridge repair usually take?”

“It varies by the current, but given the water’s intensity right now, it will likely take fifteen days.”

“Hah.”

A dry, empty laugh left Lucian’s lips. He finally grasped the full scope of the Marquis’s strategy.

With no other options, he met with Viscount Oleg again, and the predicted script played out perfectly.

“Your Highness… I am profoundly sorry, but I cannot sustain this level of hosting for another fifteen days. I could manage for one week, but this…”

“Do not distress yourself. I have no intention of draining your stores further. We will live off the military rations from our supply lines; simply allow us to keep our current sleeping quarters.”

“I am truly mortified.”

Viscount Oleg bowed deeply, acting as if he were devastated by his own “limitations,” but Lucian didn’t even glance at him as he exited the keep. He retreated to a tent, dismissed the attendants, and summoned his inner circle.

Once the retainers were gathered, Lucian spoke plainly.

“Their goal is to keep us anchored here indefinitely.”

—

The retainers didn’t look shocked. By now, it was impossible to ignore the fact that their progress was being intentionally sabotaged.

Hugo scowled and asked, “I don’t grasp the end goal. Are they trying to annoy us until we retreat back to the North?”

“No, they likely want to bleed our treasury dry through the cost of maintaining five thousand men. And while we’re stuck, they want to force us into a position of being indebted to the Western nobility.”

“Is it such a disaster for a guest to owe a host a favor?”

“A single favor is fine. The problem is creating a narrative where we are incompetent and must constantly beg for assistance.”

Since they were strangers to the West, they had to rely on local lords to handle these “accidents.” The issue was that the more they accepted help, the more it appeared that they couldn’t survive without the Western lords’ permission.

Beyond public image, the soldiers under Lucian’s command would eventually feel a creeping sense of isolation and weakness.

“The Marquis is clever. He is stalling us while making us look like fools who can’t cross a river without a local guide. If this continues, even the minor Western lords will lose all respect for us.”

The Western nobility were likely terrified of a five-thousand-man army. But what if they saw Lucian repeatedly stranded, begging for bridge repairs? He would look like a paper tiger—imposing in size, but hollow and useless.

Marius, who had been quiet, spoke up tentatively.

“If I employ magic, I can clear most of these obstacles myself…”

“No.”

Lucian cut him off instantly.

“I trust your power, but we have to save your strength. We have no idea when a situation will arise where magic is the only solution.”

Magic wasn’t a limitless well. Like a warrior, a sorcerer drained mana with every spell, and recovering that energy took far longer than catching one’s breath after a sword fight. If they spent Marius’s power on chores now, they would be defenseless when a real threat appeared.

“Then what is the plan? Are we just going to follow the Marquis’s script?”

“Hardly.”

Lucian smiled at Hugo, who was pacing with agitation.

“There is no need for that. If the Marquis wants to paint me as a laughingstock, I simply need to remind everyone who is actually in charge here.”

“How do you intend to do that?”

“It means you are going to go out and challenge someone to a duel.”

Hugo stared in confusion. He hadn’t made any enemies in the West yet, so why a duel?

“Against who? And for what reason?”

“The person doesn’t matter, and you can invent the reason. Any knight serving the Lerum Viscounty will do.”

“Any knight…? Wait, why me? If we need to win a duel to make a point, wouldn’t Sir Felicia be the obvious choice?”

Felicia nodded in agreement. Hugo’s skill with the Lion Sword Technique was growing rapidly, and his potential was massive, but he was still just a high-ranking knight. He wasn’t invincible. He would win most fights, but he could be bested by a seasoned master.

Lucian’s smile widened as he clarified.

“Felicia is a Sword Saint; she literally cannot lose.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I am not looking for a victory. I want you to lose.”

“…!?”