Chapter 188

Chapter 188
Chapter 188

Upon concluding his unilateral ultimatum, Lucian immediately commanded his forces to depart from the Lerum Viscounty.

The moment they cleared the fortress gates, Lucian steered the march toward a natural basin situated a short distance from the Viscount’s seat of power. The location was strategically balanced—far enough to avoid immediate entanglement but close enough to serve as an ideal staging point for a siege or a sudden strike.

The Viscounty erupted into a frantic state as the inhabitants observed Lucian boldly occupying such a vital military position. It was no longer a mere war of words; his intent to launch an assault if provoked was undeniable.

“My Lord! What is the meaning of this?!”

“Is this some kind of joke?! What did you say to the Duke to trigger such a violent response?!”

Knights crowded around Viscount Oleg, demanding explanations, but the Viscount was paralyzed. Lucian’s final ultimatum continued to ring through his mind like a physical blow.

‘Submit or face total annihilation? Submit or face total annihilation?’

Viscount Oleg felt the world spinning around him.

Had those threats been exchanged in a private chamber, they might have been dismissed or negotiated away later. However, declarations uttered before a crowd cannot be rescinded, not even by divine intervention.

The second Lucian mentioned the word “war” in the presence of his battalion, the possibility of a diplomatic exit evaporated. If Lucian were to retreat from his stance after such a theatrical proclamation, he would be mocked by every noble house on the continent.

“How did it come to this… Agh!”

“M-My Lord!”

“The Viscount has fainted!”

Crushed by the weight of the nightmare he had authored, Viscount Oleg collapsed. His panicked retainers caught him before he hit the stone and hurried him back into the inner sanctum.

While the Lerum Viscounty descended into hysteria, the five-thousand-man legion gathered in the basin was buzzing with newfound aggression.

“Look at those cowards. They’re getting exactly what they deserve.”

“They should have shown us some respect when we first arrived.”

“I hope we get the order to tear that place down.”

“Exactly. It’s time we showed them who they’re dealing with.”

Lucian’s sudden declaration of hostilities had caught the soldiers off guard, but it was a development they had been craving in silence.

When they first entered the Western territories with such pomp, their pride had been stoked by the sight of local lords trembling in their wake. Yet, since arriving at this specific spot, they had been sidelined by a “natural disaster,” wasting their days in forced inactivity.

As their stay stretched on, the Viscounty’s hospitality had turned cold. Eventually, their hosts claimed the granaries were empty, forcing the troops to rely entirely on the emergency rations from their own supply wagons.

“It still makes my blood boil. They treated us like common beggars.”

“We tried to be patient because they claimed they were broke, and this is the thanks we get? A knife in the back?”

The infantrymen ground their teeth, recalling the day their hot meals were cut off. They weren’t fools; they knew the Lerum Viscounty lacked the sheer scale of resources to host five thousand soldiers indefinitely.

Still, logistics aside, there is a matter of respect. When the Viscounty could no longer provide, they didn’t offer apologies; they simply turned their backs with icy indifference. That shift in attitude was a direct insult to the soldiers’ honor.

A legendary army of five thousand, once the terror of many a noble, had been treated as five thousand “useless mouths” to feed.

“Let’s slaughter those who insulted the Great King!”

“Justice for Sir Hugo! Avenge the man who fell to their treachery!”

“Let them feel the might of the North!”

Realizing the hour of retribution had arrived, the five thousand men let out a unified cry that seemed to pierce the clouds. There was no dread or hesitation in their ranks. To them, this wasn’t a grueling “conflict”—it was a simple cleanup operation against an opponent who didn’t even belong on the same battlefield.

—

“The Viscount is likely nursing quite a migraine at this moment.”

Lucian let out a sharp, mocking laugh as the cheers of his men drifted over.

“His strategy was transparent: use hospitality to lower our guard, then use delay and shame to erode our dignity. Now, he’s the one trapped, facing the concentrated fury of every man under my command.”

“He has no one to blame but himself for dreaming up a scheme he didn’t have the stomach to finish,” Marius noted.

“Quite right. One should never attempt a grand gambit if the stakes exceed their own talent.”

Lucian agreed with Marius’s assessment. To be fair, Viscount Oleg’s initial concept wasn’t inherently flawed. Had it been executed perfectly, Lucian might have found himself in a very awkward political corner.

The flaw was that the Viscount became so enamored with his own cleverness that he overlooked two crucial variables: Lucian’s willingness to burn the table down, and the fact that in these chaotic times, such a move wouldn’t even cause a scandal.

“The man had some competence, but he’s clearly a product of a peaceful era. He actually believed that political maneuvering could bridge such a massive gap in raw military power.”

“He relied too heavily on his patron, Marquis Bernhardt. Considering their history, he probably expected the Marquis to bail him out again.”

“The Marquis would certainly try if he knew the situation, but given the distance, there is no physical way he could arrive in time. It’s a moot point.”

Lucian chuckled, casting a glance down at Hugo. However, Hugo, with his arm heavily bound in white cloth, remained perfectly still with his eyes shut, mimicking a deep slumber.

When the silence became too much, Lucian sighed and delivered a sharp slap to Hugo’s cheek.

*Smack!*

“Ow!”

“Stop playing dead, you idiot. We’re alone now; there’s no need to maintain the performance.”

“Look, the sleep might have been an act, but this broken bone is the real deal! Look at the state of this arm!”

As Hugo grumbled his defense, Felicia offered a thin, knowing smile.

“It is indeed a very deliberate fracture. It looks as though someone took the impact at just the right angle to ensure it would heal without any permanent weakness. In fact, it might be more durable once the callus forms.”

“Hah, I can’t even run a con without you two critiquing the technique.”

Hugo shook his head, finally relaxing into a grin.

“Regardless, those Viscounty idiots got what they deserved. I’d bet they’re shaking in their boots right now.”

“They definitely didn’t think one conversation would push things to the brink of war. They’re probably choking on their own regrets.”

“Regret isn’t enough for me. Whether they fight or crawl to us, I won’t be satisfied until I’ve taken a pound of flesh from them.”

The humor left Hugo’s eyes as he remembered the insults he’d heard from the Viscounty knights. They were the ones badmouthing Lucian at the exact moment Hugo was hunting for a reason to start a fight.

They had essentially gift-wrapped the provocation he needed. But even so, he couldn’t let their words go. The things they had muttered about his Lord had crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.

“It made my skin crawl, pretending to lose to such pathetic losers. If I hadn’t been following your orders, My Lord, I would have carved them into pieces right there.”

“You played your part perfectly. Because you held back, the entire narrative has shifted in our favor.”

Lucian laughed, giving Hugo a firm pat on the shoulder.

The Viscount had only felt comfortable hosting a massive foreign legion of five thousand because he assumed his initial “warmth” would prevent the soldiers from turning violent.

But because of the clash between Hugo and the local knights, that redirected rage was now focused entirely on the Lerum Viscounty. Now that the situation had turned toxic, Viscount Oleg’s primary goal would be to get Lucian’s men out as fast as possible. He had to realize that five thousand vengeful soldiers in his backyard was a recipe for his own destruction.

‘But I’m not moving just because he wants me to. Did he really think he could toy with me and then send me on my way without a bill?’

Lucian had gone to the nearly finished bridge in secret and sabotaged it once more. He intended to mirror the very tactics used against him.

Truthfully, if the Viscount had swallowed his pride and begged for mercy earlier, Lucian would have been satisfied with a hefty fine and a quick exit. The deception had been annoying, but the actual harm was minor.

Instead, the Viscount had chosen to hide behind the name of Marquis Bernhardt, trying to negotiate as if they were equals.

‘The arrogance of the man.’

A cold fire burned in Lucian’s gaze. Since the man had rejected the path of a graceful exit, there was only one conclusion left for the Viscount.

‘If you won’t admit you were wrong, I’ll break you and make you confess it from the dirt.’

—

Viscount Oleg eventually woke from his faint and immediately called for his advisors. When the group was assembled, the Viscount’s voice was thin and desperate.

“What is our move? Tell me, what do we do?”

“…”

“…”

His retainers remained silent, staring at the floor. The sight made the Viscount’s chest tighten with anxiety.

“Speak up! Tell me we should hold the walls, or tell me we have to surrender—just give me an answer!”

Despite his outburst, the retainers only shifted uncomfortably. Finally, a senior aide stepped forward with a grim face and a low bow.

“My Lord.”

“Yes? Do you have a strategy?”

“I do not.”

“…Are you mocking me at a time like this?”

The Viscount’s face reddened with fury. But even under that glare, the aide only let out a long, weary breath.

“We have to capitulate.”

“Isn’t that a bit premature?”

“There is no other path. With the bridge destroyed, we are cut off from the Marquis. Even if a message got through, this castle would be a ruin long before any relief force arrived.”

Viscount Oleg ground his teeth at the mention of the bridge. The very structure he had sabotaged to trap Lucian had now become his own cage.

But surrendering the moment things looked grim would leave him as nothing more than a common prisoner. The Viscount tried to find any tactical advantage.

“…In a defensive siege, a garrison can repel an army ten times its size.”

“The enemy possesses a Sword Saint and a High Mage. That parity completely erases any defensive advantage the walls provide.”

“The Sword Saint is still a mortal man, and that Mage is a walking corpse who could die of old age at any second.”

“A few years ago, the First Prince was nearly leveled by a single lightning strike. Do you think the Duke, who saw that with his own eyes, would travel with a Mage any less powerful?”

“Even if that’s true, do you really think he can commit such an atrocity and escape the West with his life?”

“We aren’t in the heart of the Western territories where he could be boxed in. If he razes the Lerum Viscounty to the ground and flees North, there is no force close enough to intercept him.”

“Is all you can do tell me how we’ll lose?! Give me one plan that doesn’t involve giving up!”

The Viscount’s frustration boiled over into a scream. After a tense silence, the aide bowed his head even lower.

“If that is your command, My Lord, I will lead the defense.”

“…”

“I will give my life on those walls, so please, give the order to fight.”

“Heh… hehehe.”

The Viscount let out a sound that was caught between a laugh and a sob. After a moment of visible trembling, he finally spoke the truth.

“Fine. We can’t win.”

“…”

“I’m not a total fool. I know a fight is suicide. But… what happens to me if I give up?”

Viscount Oleg shook, his terror born from a very clear understanding of the consequences.

“I played games with that young Duke. He knows I mocked him. If I surrender now, in the shadow of a war I caused, how do you think he’ll treat me?”

“The ancient laws of war dictate that an enemy who surrenders without bloodshed is treated with leniency.”

“That ‘leniency’ only means they won’t kill me or take my title. It won’t stop them from stripping the treasury bare and dragging my name through the mud.”

“My Lord, you cannot expect to walk away from this without a scar.”

The aide’s words were a cold reality check. It was the simple truth.

Looking back, the second Lucian seized control of the situation, the Viscount should have dropped to his knees. He should have buried his ego, confessed his deceit, and paid whatever price was asked.

Instead, he tried to avoid the consequences by invoking his powerful friends. As a result, the “interest” on his debt had grown so large it was now crushing him.

‘If I try to cheat him one more time…’

Submit or face total annihilation.

Once that sentence was in the air, even Lucian was bound by it. If Viscount Oleg tried to dodge the bill again, Lucian would fulfill his promise and leave the Lerum Viscounty a smoking crater.

“…Get me the ink and parchment.”

Viscount Oleg spoke in a fractured whisper, his eyes squeezed tight in defeat.

“I have a surrender to write.”