Chapter 42

Chapter 42
## Chapter 42

Lucian gave a small, skeptical nod.

Based on the whispers he’d caught wind of, it appeared he had gained the reputation of a master manipulator—a man masking his true strength while nursing a private ambition.

‘I suppose if a person remains shut away for years and then upends the entire family hierarchy the second they emerge, people are bound to assume it was all a long-term calculation.’

In truth, the occupant of the body had simply been replaced.

Sensing the discomfort of the moment, Lucian scanned the surroundings and smoothly pivoted the conversation.

“Looking around, there seem to be many individuals here close to our age. I hadn’t realized the Empire possessed so many youthful heads of households.”

“That isn’t exactly the case. The majority of them aren’t the actual lords of their manors. They are mostly heirs serving as stand-ins or sons currently fighting for their spot in the line of succession.”

“Excuse me? You’re telling me that nearly everyone here, not just a handful, is a proxy?”

“For the same reason you are, naturally.”

The same reason?

Lucian blinked, processing Nigel’s pointed remark.

Wait, has this man known my identity this entire time and simply been playing along?

Nigel offered a smile, his expression suggesting Lucian shouldn’t bother acting clueless.

“The presiding commander is His Highness the Crown Prince. If a family head were to attend this campaign personally, it could easily be interpreted as them formally entering his political circle. Sending a child or an heir provides them with a safety net later on.”

“…Ah, I follow. Even if someone attempts to associate them with the Crown Prince’s faction, they can simply deny the alliance later by pointing out that the master of the house was never physically present.”

“Everyone is playing the same game. I’m doing it, and you are as well, right?”

Nigel cast him a look of shared understanding, but Lucian found himself momentarily speechless.

In reality, the motivation behind Lucian’s presence was practically the polar opposite of theirs.

‘One group sends their offspring as proxies to create an escape route, while the other side turns me into a proxy because they’re busy plotting to marry their children off.’

The blatant irony of the misconception forced a dry, self-deprecating smile to his face.

However, he couldn’t risk causing a scene by refuting the claim, so he was preparing to offer a non-committal response when a new voice sliced through the air.

“How incredibly disrespectful. To think they hunt for technicalities to avoid commitment even after a direct command from His Majesty the Emperor. For individuals who claim to lead great houses, it is a truly pathetic display.”

A deep, commanding voice echoed from behind them.

Nigel spun around, his temper flaring at the comment that disparaged every family head who had sent a representative. Since he was one of those representatives, it was a direct slight against his own bloodline.

Yet, the second Nigel’s eyes landed on the speaker, the color drained from his face.

“Th-that! No, I…!”

“Now, now, compose yourself. Is this not an environment where we are all concealing our true names? It would be improper for me to be greeted with formal ceremony here.”

The middle-aged man made a dismissive gesture with a tone of feigned magnanimity.

However, despite his polite words, the look he leveled at them was nothing short of patronizing.

Lucian took a quick mental inventory of the intruder.

‘Dark navy hair and beard, with an eagle emblem carved into his belt.’

That was all the evidence he required.

There was only one prominent lineage in the Empire characterized by that specific hair color, and their heraldry centered on the eagle.

‘House Roglan.’

With that established, the man’s identity was undeniable.

The current patriarch of House Roglan, Bernhardt Roglan.

The chief political antagonist of Grand Duke Sigmund Valdek and the spearhead of the Noble Faction.

“By the way… who might this young gentleman be?”

One of the titans governing the Empire’s fate stroked his chin while pinning Lucian with an intense stare.

Lucian let out a faint smirk in response to the Marquis’s pointed gaze.

Who might this friend be?

‘We certainly haven’t been introduced, but there’s no chance you don’t recognize me.’

Even if Lucian were unfamiliar with the Marquis, the Marquis would undoubtedly know him.

A figure of the Marquis’s influence would possess one of the most sophisticated spy networks in the realm.

Moreover, Lucian was the very person who had completely dismantled the Marquis’s recent maneuvers.

Even setting aside strategic necessity, he would have scrutinized Lucian’s background out of pure resentment.

‘Is he feigning ignorance because he’s waiting for me to bow first?’

The man was practically a walking billboard, given his navy hair and eagle ornament. He clearly had zero intention of actually hiding who he was. He wanted Lucian to catch the clues and show submission.

Even if their families held comparable prestige, the status of a third son was a far cry from that of a ruling patriarch.

However, Lucian had no interest in playing a submissive role.

“How incredibly blunt. Who are you to wander into a conversation and insult other family lords so casually? Judging by your appearance, you seem old enough to have mastered the basics of social grace.”

“…!?”

The Marquis stiffened at Lucian’s retort, which bordered on a verbal assault, while Nigel looked as though he might faint from shock.

Amidst the paralyzed silence, Nigel finally found his voice and gripped Lucian’s shoulder, giving him a frantic shake.

“Y-Young Master! This individual is…!”

“Ahem! Have you forgotten that His Highness the Crown Prince commanded us to keep our identities secret? I may have spoken out of turn, but revealing a name on purpose would be a blatant act of disrespect toward the Imperial Family. You must remain silent.”

At those words, the Marquis’s expression twisted into a mask of fury.

‘This insufferable brat intends to maintain this charade until the bitter end!’

Only moments ago, the Marquis had condemned the lords who sent proxies, accusing them of dodging the Emperor’s decree.

If the Marquis were to declare his identity now, violating the Crown Prince’s specific orders for the gathering, he would be contradicting his own high-and-mighty stance.

No matter how many obvious clues he dropped, he was powerless if the other party committed to being oblivious.

“Why the sudden silence? If there is something on your mind, please, speak up.”

‘Curse him.’

Marquis Bernhardt ground his teeth at Lucian’s insolent posture.

He had intended to force the boy into a submissive greeting, but at this rate, he would be forced to endure being addressed as an equal by a mere youth.

If it were another actual family head, they would at least stand on level ground, but this was just a third son—not even the primary successor.

If he continued this dialogue as a peer, regardless of the masks they wore, it would be a permanent stain on his pride.

“…You have my apologies. I was out of line. However, I am clearly your senior by many years. Could I not expect at least a baseline level of courtesy?”

The Marquis shifted his tone from arrogant to a more structured, neutral formality. It was a silent negotiation: I will treat you with respect, provided you do the same.

Lucian gave a sharp nod and softened his delivery.

“You make a fair point. I was in a sour mood and spoke too harshly. Please accept my apologies.”

“Think nothing of it. It’s perfectly understandable to be irritated when an outsider interrupts so abruptly.”

You little pest.

The Marquis kept a pleasant smile plastered on his face while cursing the boy in his head. He had tried to break the youth’s spirit, but instead, he had been forced to lower his own standing just to secure a polite response.

“Ahem! To be honest, the reason I approached was to seek your perspective. A particular dilemma has recently surfaced, and I was curious to hear another’s take on it.”

“And what might this dilemma be?”

“It’s a minor curiosity. A sword belonging to an eagle was taken by a lion, who subsequently adorned it with magnificent gemstones. Now, the lion argues the sword belongs to him because its worth has increased. In your view, to whom does that weapon truly belong?”

It was a thinly veiled allegory, but Lucian grasped the meaning immediately.

The eagle and the lion represented House Roglan and House Valdek.

The sword was a reference to Felicia, and the magnificent gemstones signified her new status as the pupil of the Sword Saint.

‘So he’s claiming Felicia was always the property of House Roglan? That I moved her to House Valdek without his consent, and now I should hand her back? The man has incredible nerve.’

Most listeners, following the logic of the metaphor, would agree the weapon belonged to the first owner regardless of the upgrades.

The Marquis was essentially demanding that Felicia, now the Sword Saint’s apprentice, be surrendered to him.

Given the cruelty Felicia had suffered under his roof until now, the demand was laughable.

“Well, let’s see. If the eagle had truly valued the sword, then the lion would certainly be a thief. But if the lion discovered a discarded, rusted piece of scrap and painstakingly restored it, only for the eagle to demand it back once it started shining, wouldn’t the ethics of the situation shift?”

“I disagree. Regardless of how the sword was treated, it was the eagle’s legal property from the start. The moment it was moved without the owner’s say-so, the lion forfeited any right to claim it.”

“I have to wonder if the sword would even want to return to its original holder. If it is truly a masterwork, perhaps it would select its own wielder.”

“For a simple tool to presume to choose its master is the peak of conceit. Regardless of the sword’s inclinations, it is the owner’s right to utilize it however he deems appropriate.”

“Is that how it is? Hahaha!”

“Precisely. Hohoho!”

Invisible sparks of hostility crackled between Marquis Bernhardt and Lucian.

Nigel, trapped in the middle, broke out in a cold sweat as he felt the crushing weight of the subtext.

As their hollow laughter stretched on for a long moment, Lucian spoke up with a look of feigned thoughtfulness.

“Actually, I believe there is a very uncomplicated answer to this.”

“An answer? Pray tell.”

“The eagle wasn’t even aware he possessed the sword until this very moment, was he? He could simply pick up a common branch, wrap it in fine silk, and tell himself, ‘This is my sword.’ He wasn’t using the original for anything anyway, so the result is identical.”

“…!”

“The lion, who recognized the object’s true worth from the beginning, will put it to excellent use, so there is no cause for concern. Isn’t this the perfect outcome where both the eagle and the lion get what they want?”

The smile vanished from the Marquis’s face instantly.

It was a stinging mockery, highlighting that a man too foolish to value his own assets had no business making demands now.

After a tense silence, the Marquis narrowed his eyes at Lucian and spoke with a low chill.

“And what if the eagle refuses that arrangement? What if he is absolutely committed to taking back what is his? Even if it results in a violent clash with the lion?”

Lucian met the Marquis’s gaze with a frigid smile of his own.

“Then the eagle will have to venture into the lion’s territory. If he had kept the sword close to his heart, the lion might have had to visit the eagle’s nest, but the circumstances have shifted. I truly wonder how much strength an eagle can muster when he’s fighting in the lion’s backyard.”

The moment the words left his mouth, both men fell into a dead silence.

The Marquis no longer attempted to mask his rage; a clear, lethal intent burned in his eyes.

After staring Lucian down for a long, heavy interval, Marquis Bernhardt turned his back and growled.

“We shall see the outcome soon enough.”

It was impossible to tell if he was talking to himself or issuing a final threat.

Once the Marquis had retreated, Lucian let out a sharp exhaled laugh and whispered under his breath.

“See the eagle get torn apart, you mean? The desperation of a man who couldn’t recognize a gem until someone else polished it.”

“Y-Young Master….”

Soaked in cold sweat, Nigel called out to Lucian with a voice that shook.

Having stood through the entire exchange, there was no way he hadn’t pieced together Lucian’s true identity.

Lucian waved a hand dismissively, a trace of a smile on his lips.

“Take a breath. I’m not upset with you.”

“I… that is… I was so casual with you….”

“I told you, I’m not angry. These kinds of social gatherings are always full of this sort of thing. I’ll have forgotten the whole interaction by tomorrow morning.”

“Th-thank you. I am truly grateful.”

“Don’t give it another thought. I actually found it quite entertaining.”

After giving the shoulder of the incessantly bowing Nigel a reassuring pat, Lucian made his way toward his personal tent.

Now that his cover was effectively blown, they wouldn’t be able to talk with the same ease as before.

Once Lucian stepped inside his tent and pulled off the mask, a voice came from the shadows.

“Young Master, was it truly wise to bait the Marquis like that? Given his reputation, he isn’t the type to let an insult go unpunished.”

Raymond, who had been observing the entire scene from the periphery, stepped forward and spoke in a low tone.

Discarding his hood, Lucian gave a casual shrug.

“Let me ask you this, Raymond. Between a man who lets his enemy lead him around by the nose hoping to avoid a fight, and a man who prepares to take a blow but makes sure to land the first punch himself—who would you rather follow?”

Raymond stared at Lucian for a moment, stunned, before a broad, genuine grin broke across his face.

He then gave a deep, theatrical bow and replied with a laugh.

“It is truly a privilege to serve someone so worth following.”