Chapter 38

Chapter 38
## Chapter 38

The gaze of Grand Duke Sigmund sharpened as he processed the unexpected intrusion.

“My lady, my statement was that I would accept those who stepped forward willingly. I have no memory of requesting a proposal for a candidate. What is the intent behind this?”

“This is no mere proposal. I am pointing out that by simple logic, the third son stands as the sole viable option. Consider the facts.”

Lady Veronica remained entirely unphased by the Grand Duke’s cold tone. She stood with a refined air, her fan tracing a slow arc as she surveyed the assembly.

“The scale of this insurrection is far too great for us to treat it as a training ground for children to ‘test their mettle.’ A commander here must have experienced the heat of a real conflict at least once. By that standard, both the second and fourth sons are ruled out.”

“Hmm.”

The Grand Duke tightened his jaw as if preparing a rebuttal, but the tension in his face soon eased into a reluctant nod. He could not deny that quelling this uprising was a task far beyond a simple learning exercise. This was no trivial border tiff; the risks were tangible and the outcome uncertain. Though they would ideally remain behind the lines, the chaos of war offered no certainties. A baseline of veteran experience was mandatory to navigate sudden disasters.

“Following that line of reasoning, however, the eldest would also be a viable contender.”

“Tristan has spent a significant duration in Bornholm under your direct command. It is far too soon to ship him off to the frontier once more. Furthermore, his record of service already dwarfs those of his siblings.”

“An abundance of merit is hardly a disqualifying factor.”

“On the contrary, it is the most critical factor. Do you truly wish to tether the child currently leading the race for succession to the First Prince—the very man the Emperor is championing?”

“Even if the eldest son cultivates a bond with His Highness the First Prince, it provides him no leverage in the struggle for this house’s succession.”

“But what if the Emperor draws a convenient conclusion? Would that not result in a monumental complication for us all?”

A muscle in the Grand Duke’s brow jumped. She had touched upon the exact anxiety that had been gnawing at him. Was she implying the Emperor might unilaterally designate Tristan as the inevitable heir to the family?

“The leadership of the House of Valdek falls to me. I alone determine who follows in my footsteps. His Majesty may rule the Empire, but have you forgotten that I am the sovereign of this household?”

“No one in this hall is more aware of that than we are. The issue lies in the Emperor’s personal ambition. While it is a breach of etiquette for a ruler to meddle in a vassal’s internal lineage, His Majesty’s recent requests have been getting rather bold, have they not?”

“….”

The Grand Duke remained silent, foundering for a response. The very existence of this council was a direct result of the Emperor’s overreaching demands. Given the monarch’s recent patterns, there was no reason to believe he would stop here.

‘His Majesty intends to link the First Prince with my son to secure the crown’s future. He might see the others as secondary options, but if I dispatch Tristan, the frontrunner for my seat…’

It was one thing if people merely assumed the future master of House of Valdek favored the First Prince. In a darker scenario, the Emperor might actively interfere to ensure Tristan secured the succession to keep that alliance intact. While the Grand Duke might eventually talk the Emperor down, the friction caused to their relationship would be permanent.

“Does the logic not hold? I urge you, send the third son.”

“I… I also believe the third son is the most fitting choice for this mission….”

As he weighed his options, the other two wives voiced their agreement with Veronica. Grand Duke Sigmund’s expression soured. The logic was sound, but the underlying motive was transparent: they were trying to sabotage Lucian. It was expected for the brothers to compete, but for the wives to coordinate a strike…

“Now, listen here, ladies!”

Just as the Grand Duke’s temper reached its breaking point—

“Those points are incredibly well-taken. In this current climate, who else could possibly fulfill this role as effectively as I? Father, please, appoint me!”

“…!?”

The room fell into a stunned silence as every eye fixed on Lucian, who had stepped forward with sudden confidence.

Grand Duke Sigmund was the first to find his voice. He stared at Lucian with a look of pure shock.

“Lucian, are you conscious of the gravity of your words?”

“Perfectly. Am I not being asked to represent you at the head of the legion and aid His Highness the First Prince in crushing the revolt?”

“Well, yes, but…!”

The Grand Duke faltered, the words dying in his throat. He couldn’t exactly explain to his son that volunteering for this specific task carried no personal benefit—especially when the situation required him to sacrifice one of his heirs to the duty anyway.

Lucian met the Grand Duke’s speechless gaze with a calm smile.

“Do not let it weigh on you. I am fully aware of the dynamics at play. You have my word; I will not go out of my way to foster a bond with the First Prince.”

The atmosphere in the room turned even more surreal. He wasn’t some naive child blinded by duty; he saw the political traps clearly, yet he was walking into them anyway?

Veronica, unable to contain her suspicion, questioned him directly.

“What is your angle? What are you plotting?”

“Plotting? That is a peculiar accusation. Were you not the one who just advocated for my appointment, my lady? It has barely been a minute; surely your memory has not failed you so quickly?”

Veronica’s eyes flashed at the jab, but she was trapped. She couldn’t retract her own recommendation just because his cooperation felt like a trap, especially after she had spent so much effort cornering him.

Having checked Veronica, Lucian turned back to the room with a composed air.

“It is exactly as stated. I am the only logical candidate. The eldest brother’s involvement might mislead the Emperor, and neither the second brother nor Joshua have any combat history. Thus, I should step up willingly. However….”

“However?”

“I have a single condition for you, Father. I require absolute command over this campaign.”

“Absolute command? You are traveling as my surrogate. That role already carries the weight of a plenipotentiary; what further power could you possibly need?”

The Grand Duke looked at Lucian as if he had lost his mind. But Lucian held his ground, his eyes locking onto his father’s with intent.

“Is that the reality of it? Or will there be a seasoned officer shadowed behind me with the title of ‘consultant’? A safety measure in case my ‘inexperience’ causes a failure or results in a poor tactical choice.”

“….”

The Grand Duke winced, his hidden intentions laid bare. He had indeed planned to embed a veteran commander in the ranks. Truthfully, he wasn’t prepared to hand the reins of an entire army to a boy who hadn’t seen twenty winters. War was unforgiving; one bad call could lead to a massacre. He needed a shadow commander to act as a fail-safe.

“…Such a person would only intervene if a catastrophe were imminent. Provided you don’t commit a massive error, the lead remains yours.”

“Meaning my authority can be revoked the moment things get difficult.”

“Again, only in a dire emergency.”

“And the definition of that emergency rests solely with the consultant.”

“Whoever I assign to you will possess ten times your life experience. Are you suggesting you wouldn’t trust the intuition of such a veteran?”

The Grand Duke’s face darkened, but Lucian remained unmoving. Normally, he might have compromised, but this was the Krepelt uprising. For his plans to work, Lucian needed total control.

“Trust isn’t the issue. This is about the chain of command. As the ranking officer, I must possess the right to override the consultant’s maneuvers. The consultant cannot have the power to override mine.”

“Hah.”

A sharp, breathless laugh broke from the Grand Duke. The request was both arrogant and perilously bold. Young men of that age were often blinded by bloodlust or a desperate need for glory, leading to reckless charges. Giving him unchecked power was a massive gamble.

‘I want to deny him on the spot, but the political tightrope is too thin.’

Lucian was the only one who had stood up without hesitation while his stepmothers tried to throw him to the wolves. If the Grand Duke denied him even this, it would look as though he, too, viewed his son as a disposable asset.

‘If I refuse him and force one of the others to go, they’ll fight me every step of the way…’

He was boxed in. Letting out a heavy breath, the Grand Duke gave a slow, solemn nod.

“Very well. I grant you full authority.”

“I am grateful, Father.”

“But mark my words: because you lack time in the field, I will still provide a consultant. Since the power is yours, the choice to listen is yours—but do not ignore their counsel out of pride.”

“I shall keep that in mind.”

Lucian offered a thin smile. The brothers and wives looked equally content. From their perspective, Lucian’s demand for power looked like the typical vanity of a youth obsessed with making a name for himself.

‘Well, they aren’t entirely wrong.’

He did want the fame, and his actions would certainly be viewed as reckless. The only difference was that Lucian intended to win. Because of this decision, the trajectory of the world was about to shift. It would be a long time before any of them understood the magnitude of what had just happened.

—

—The march begins in two months. You won’t see home again until the fires of rebellion are out, so take this time to rest.

“More time than I anticipated.”

Lucian felt a trace of irony as he thought back to the Grand Duke’s timeline. It was a reminder of how the world functioned before the Great Chaos arrived. The process was slow: forming the ranks, securing the grain lines, mustering the levies, and finally issuing a formal warning before a single sword was drawn. It was a civilized way to wage war, compared to the future where armies were always poised to strike without notice.

‘But that civility dies with this war.’

The Krepelt rebellion wasn’t just a sign that the Empire was rotting. It was the moment the old world order shattered. It was the dawn of the Age of Chaos, where treachery was the new standard and honor was a relic. Lucian’s goal was to push back that darkness, if only by a few years.

‘I still require more time.’

The Empire was a sinking ship that could no longer weather the coming storm. However, Lucian wasn’t yet strong enough to claim the throne and steer through the wreckage. He needed to manufacture a delay and build his foundations.

As Lucian turned to find Hugo and Hans—

“I wonder what kind of dark thoughts are swirling in that head of yours. Planning some new scheme?”

“Brother?”

Lucian stopped and turned toward the voice. Jordi had approached him silently, his eyes sharp and accusatory.

“You seem quite pleased with yourself. You’re heading into a meat grinder just to get tangled up with the First Prince, yet you’re smiling.”

“I suppose it depends on the man. Some see only a disaster, while others see a chance for advancement. It’s a matter of perspective.”

Lucian met Jordi’s jab with a biting edge of his own. He expected the usual fiery outburst, but Jordi remained uncharacteristically still. After a long, cold silence, Jordi spoke.

“Are you familiar with the concept of a ‘branch family’?”

“Establishing a secondary house apart from the main line? I’m not an idiot, Jordi.”

“Clearly. But you seem blind to how disgusting the act of branching off truly is.”

Jordi stepped closer, staring directly into Lucian’s eyes as if trying to peel back his skin and see his thoughts.

“Starting a new house because the main inheritance is out of reach. It sounds noble on paper. But people like that are usually nothing but failures. ‘Self-made’? Don’t make me laugh. Most of them spend their lives draining the lifeblood of the family they left behind.”

“….”

“They use their bloodline to pretend at legitimacy and use their name to scavenge the family’s assets. After looting what should belong to the true heir, they have the nerve to call themselves the founders of a new legacy.”

“Those are remarkably harsh words. There are plenty of respected branch heads. And if one isn’t the heir, there’s nothing to steal. They lack the status to take anything.”

“No! Every single thing gained through that blood is a theft!”

Jordi’s calm shattered into a shout, his hands balled into tight fists.

“From the moment they’re born, they learn the secrets of the house, trade on the family’s favors, and eventually hijack those connections! Because of their name, they are granted titles and the right to rule! They even demand a share of the ancestral hoards! If that isn’t robbery, what is!?”

Bastards. Scavengers. People who deserve to be broken. Jordi spat on the ground, his face twisted in disgust. Lucian watched the display, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“So? If you hate branch families so much, what does that have to do with me? I fail to see why you’re giving me this lecture.”

“…Lining up with the First Prince is a massive gamble for this house. If it works, fine. But if it fails, you could easily become the part of the family that gets amputated to save the rest. Playing for the throne is a death trap, even for a Valdek.”

“I don’t disagree.”

“And yet, you didn’t even flinch. It was as if being discarded by the family meant nothing to you. As if you could just walk away and start fresh somewhere else if the headship was out of reach.”

Before Lucian could defend himself, Jordi’s hand clamped onto his shoulder. It wasn’t a violent grip, but the weight of it was suffocating. Jordi leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.

“Keep this in your head. You are a Valdek. I am a Valdek. So are Tristan and Joshua. We rise with Valdek and we rot with Valdek. Aside from the one who takes the seat, we all go down together.”

“….”

“If you fail, you sink with us. Don’t you dare think for a second about plucking the family’s wings to fly on your own. I won’t allow that kind of theft. You either win it all, or you lose everything. There is no middle ground.”

Without another word, Jordi shoved past Lucian. He vanished around the corridor before Lucian could respond. Standing in the silence, Lucian eventually let out a dry, short laugh.

“Good grief, that guy….”

…He’s much more perceptive than he lets on, isn’t he?