Chapter 187

Chapter 187
## Chapter 187

Folkar could only stare in a daze at the accusation falling from Felicia’s lips.

A preemptive strike before the duel had even commenced?

The sorcerer serving as the official arbiter had undoubtedly finished the opening announcement and retreated from the center.

The combat should have been live the moment he stepped back, so what was this woman talking about?

He was so stunned that he jerked his head up to protest the absurdity, but the sight met him instead.

“…”

“…”

Thousands of frigid, condemning eyes were boring down into his soul.

Among that sea of judgment were the very warriors of his own House of Lerum.

The knights of the Viscounty, their complexions turning a ghostly white from the shock, began screaming at the top of their lungs.

“This—this was Sir Folkar acting entirely on his own! Our House had no part in this madness!”

“The turncoats who stain the pages of history always spout the same drivel the moment their sedition collapses—claiming their crimes were born of fealty.”

“We speak the truth! We take an oath upon the Eight Gods!”

“Cease invoking the names of the divine so casually. The mere sound of it makes my ears feel as though they are festering.”

Folkar’s gaze darted frantically between his own men and Felicia, his mind reeling.

It was becoming painfully clear that not a single soul believed he had followed the protocols of the duel.

The narrative that he had cowardly ambushed Hugo before the signal was already being treated as an undeniable reality.

‘What is happening? Why is there no one to speak for me?’

A wave of vertigo washed over Folkar as he tried to process the impossible situation.

What of the Mage’s proclamation he had heard only seconds ago?

Was it possible he had suffered a hallucination brought on by the crushing weight of the moment?

‘Wait… the Mage?’

Folkar’s eyes snapped wide with a sudden, horrifying realization.

He was no scholar of the arcane, but he understood that magic was capable of defying all logic.

He knew of spells that birthed fire from thin air, summoned lightning from a clear sky, and even manipulated the very climate of a region.

The potency of such arts naturally depended on the caster’s prowess, much like the skill of a blade.

But for a Court Mage of the North, twisting the perception of sound would be a trivial feat.

If that sorcerer had woven a spell to ensure that only Folkar heard the signal to begin…

‘Those devils…!’

The realization of the trap finally dawned on him.

His opponent, Hugo, was the Duke’s shadow and closest ally. He was never meant to be slain.

The referee was a master of illusions. There was no way to detect his handiwork.

The person labeling him a disgrace was the Sword Saint herself. Who would dare challenge her word?

It was the perfect environment to manufacture a conspiracy.

With thousands of witnesses manipulated into seeing a lie, he was being branded a traitor with no path to redemption.

“H-hold on for a moment…!”

“Be silent, Folkar!”

*Thwack!*

“Guh!”

Folkar attempted to scream his innocence, but he was silenced by a heavy scabbard swung by a knight of House Lerum, sending him crashing to the dirt.

Given their previous brotherhood, such a betrayal was brutal, but the knights of the Viscounty were acting out of pure terror.

To them, Folkar appeared to be a maniac who had tried to assassinate the Duke’s favorite subordinate without waiting for the start.

They couldn’t risk letting him speak and dig their collective grave any deeper.

If he started shouting grievances or profanities, the fallout would be catastrophic; they had to break his consciousness to save their own necks.

“I repeat, we had no hand in this treachery…!”

“That is enough.”

The desperate excuses died in the knights’ throats as Lucian’s voice cut through the air like ice.

Beside him, Viscount Oleg stood like a statue, the color drained from his face.

Lucian’s gaze swept over the Viscount, the knights, and the slumped form of Folkar with clinical detachment.

“Take Sir Hugo inside and see to his wounds immediately.”

“At once! By luck, the Viscounty possesses a rare elixir…!”

“Quiet.”

Oleg’s attempt to grovel for mercy was severed by the sharp, singular command.

Even for a King addressing a lower noble, the tone was scathing, yet no one moved to defend the Viscount’s dignity.

After watching Hugo being carried toward the manor, Lucian rose to his feet.

“The contest is over. All of you, disperse.”

—

The conclusion of the duel was hollow and bitter.

A disqualification for Folkar, the man who struck before the bell.

Calling it a loss was almost too formal; in truth, it felt as though the duel had been erased from existence.

A confrontation that ended in a heartbeat without a single meaningful exchange of steel wasn’t even worth the breath it took to discuss it.

However, the political aftershocks of this void were gargantuan.

“First they mock our King, and then they pull a stunt like this during a formal duel.”

“The sheer gall of these people. Do they have no shame at all?”

“Disgusting! Do they truly believe the West is their personal playground? They’ll learn soon enough.”

Any lingering warmth vanished instantly, replaced by the simmering rage of 5,000 soldiers who now viewed the House of Lerum as an enemy.

They began leaving their camps to prowl through the territory as they pleased, never seen without their blades.

With bands of armed foreigners roaming the lands, the local commoners lived in a state of constant, trembling anxiety.

The knights of House Lerum attempted to intervene, unable to stomach the disorder, but their authority meant nothing.

The northern soldiers would offer a mocking nod of compliance only to return to harassing the populace the moment the knight’s back was turned.

“This is intolerable. We must file a formal grievance!”

“A grievance? You want to walk up to the Duke and complain right now? Have you lost your mind?”

The seasoned veterans looked at the younger knights with weary annoyance.

In a time of peace, they could have demanded satisfaction for a common soldier defying a noble’s order.

Knights from any land would typically stand together to protect the sanctity of their rank.

But those rules had burned away in the fires of the current crisis.

In this climate, one’s factional loyalty was far more vital than the status of one’s birth.

“Blood runs thicker than title. If you try to discipline them based on rank, there’s no telling how their own knights will retaliate.”

“So we are just supposed to sit on our hands while these bastards run wild?”

“What is your alternative? Shall we stop being patient and just start the war today?”

“…”

“Keep your mouth shut and stay in line. Unless you have a desire to see this entire province turned into a funeral pyre.”

It was a bitter pill for the youths to swallow, but the old soldier’s assessment of the reality was flawless.

Even their liege, Viscount Oleg, was practically pressing his forehead to the floor to keep Lucian from erupting.

“Finish that bridge immediately! I don’t care if we exhaust every scrap of lumber in the stores—bring the completion date forward by any means necessary!”

Viscount Oleg scrapped his original strategy of delaying Lucian’s progress.

Now, his only priority was getting the man out of his sight.

If the Northern army remained in Lerum territory a day longer, it was only a matter of time before the tension ignited into a full-scale massacre.

“I have done everything possible given the circumstances. To hold the Duke any longer would be suicidal. The Marquis will have to understand.”

“Understood, My Lord. However, Sir Folkar is still screaming about his innocence from the pits…”

“Ignore him.”

Oleg dismissed the report with a wave of his hand.

Whether Folkar’s actions were the result of a plot or a moment of insanity was irrelevant now.

The reality was that the second Folkar was set free, the fury of 5,000 soldiers would boil over.

“Even if he truly was deceived, I have no choice but to let him rot in that cell for the time being. Once they have crossed the border, I will listen to his story.”

Setting the truth aside for the sake of survival, Oleg focused every resource on the bridge.

The labor bore fruit; the repairs moved at a blistering pace, and it looked as though they would be done ahead of schedule.

Lucian hadn’t made a move, and the Viscount was just starting to breathe a sigh of relief when a devastating report reached him.

“The bridge we just mended has been destroyed!?”

“Yes, My Lord! It wasn’t an accident! There are clear signs that someone arrived under the cover of night and smashed the supports with overwhelming force!”

“…!”

Oleg’s face contorted.

He didn’t need to ask who was responsible.

After sitting in agonizing silence with his eyes squeezed shut, the Viscount finally spoke to his subordinate, his voice shaking.

“…I need to see the Duke.”

—

“The bridge has fallen again?”

“It has. And the damage was clearly intentional.”

“Ha.”

Lucian let out a dry, mirthless laugh.

He looked as though he were so shocked by the news that he had run out of words.

However, Viscount Oleg met Lucian’s eyes with a desperate, knowing look.

“Your Highness, I beg of you, do not do this.”

“Do not do what? I don’t follow.”

“You know precisely what I am referring to.”

“Are you speaking in riddles now? Stop with the linguistic dancing and say what you mean.”

Oleg flinched as Lucian’s voice turned lethal, but he held his ground.

Steeling his resolve, the Viscount spoke with total clarity.

“I know that the person who shattered that bridge was Your Highness.”

“…”

“I am prepared to open the path for you this instant, so please, let this end. Have you not had enough? What is there to gain by continuing this psychological siege? Do you truly want a war?”

“War? That actually sounds rather pleasant.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Lucian’s lips curled into a predatory sneer as he glared at the man.

“Your people spat upon my name, nearly killed my knight, and now you have the audacity to accuse me of sabotage. I have reached the absolute limit of my patience.”

“Y-Your Highness, please.”

“I am no longer your guest. I will move my forces outside the walls and wait for three days. Prepare your ramparts. I, Lucian Grimaldi Valdek, in the name of the Grimaldi Bloodline, formally declare war upon the House of Lerum!”

“…!?”

Oleg was paralyzed by the sheer insanity of the declaration.

He was actually going to spark a civil war right here in the heart of the West?

“Have you lost your senses!? Your Highness will be making an enemy of every House in the West!”

“And while I am busy fighting the entire West, you will be finding your eternal rest in a casket.”

“…!”

“I can manage my own affairs; you should worry about your life. The House of Lerum will be ashes in three days.”

With his decree delivered, Lucian turned his back on the stunned Viscount and walked out.

A moment later, a frantic Oleg scrambled after him.

“Your Highness, be reasonable! I never intended any insult!”

“Felicia, Marius. Call the men. We are vacating the House of Lerum this moment.”

“By your command, Your Majesty.”

“Listen to me, please! I was in the wrong!”

“And remove this buzzing insect from my sight. His voice is starting to give me a migraine.”

“Your Highness! Gasp!”

Oleg, who had been trying to grab Lucian’s sleeve, froze in his tracks.

The sudden, biting cold of a blade was pressed firmly against his throat.

“V-Viscount!”

“Drop that weapon this instant!”

The Lerum knights were horrified as Felicia drew her steel.

They reached for their own hilts, ready to strike, but Felicia didn’t even flinch.

“As long as you refrain from touching His Majesty, I have no desire to spill your blood. Now, move back.”

Oleg was forced to retreat under the shadow of Felicia’s threat.

Sheathing her blade with a sharp click, Felicia followed Lucian and Marius.

A short time later, Lucian marched his battalion toward the Great Gates.

Then, he raised his voice so that it echoed across the entire valley.

“In payment for the mockery and the insults heaped upon me by the House of Lerum, I declare war upon you! Your only options are total submission or total ruin. You have three days to choose!”