Chapter 66

Chapter 66
## Chapter 66

The collective gaze of the room intensified, eyes stretching wide in response to Felicia’s profound pledge of fealty.

To seek nothing more than the honor of servitude while explicitly rejecting any form of compensation or prize—it was a display of commitment that seemed to touch the edge of obsession.

As the crowd stood paralyzed, the impact hit Lucian’s siblings with the force of a physical blow.

“What in the world is happening…!”

“Ah… no…!”

Tristan’s eyes seemed ready to leap from his sockets at the staggering turn of events. Beside him, Joshua remained frozen, his jaw dropped, the ability to speak having entirely deserted him. Jordi’s complexion deepened into a frantic, bruised crimson, his teeth digging into his lower lip so violently that droplets of blood began to surface.

Ignoring the internal breakdown of his kin, Lucian unsheathed his blade and delivered a light, ceremonial tap to Felicia’s shoulders.

“Then I, Lucian Valdek, give my word that our paths shall remain entwined, even should they lead us into the depths of the abyss!”

With the formal bond between sovereign and servant solidified, Felicia inclined her head in a low, respectful arc before taking her station at Lucian’s flank.

In that single heartbeat, the fate of the one destined to inherit the title of Sword Saint was tethered to a master.

The assembled knights exchanged glances, their minds struggling to process the whirlwind of the last few minutes. Tradition dictated a celebratory outburst, yet the sheer weight of the shock left them too breathless to raise a cheer.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The silence was punctured by a steady, rhythmic cadence.

A handful of knights began striking the floor with the tips of their scabbards, a motion soon mirrored by soldiers who began thumping the butt-ends of their spear shafts in unison. It was a solemn martial custom, usually reserved for the crimson theater of war to signal deep reverence for a formidable peer.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The percussion started as a ripple but quickly swelled into a wave as more men joined the rhythm. As the ranks aligned, the sound grew into a thunderous vibration that seemed to make the very foundation of the earth tremble.

The knights who had been paralyzed by confusion soon grasped the underlying message of the display.

‘These are the veterans who marched to crush the Krepelt uprising!’

‘They are offering their highest salute to the Third Young Master, the one who commanded them in the fray.’

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The pulsing tremors radiating through Kelheim felt like the heartbeat of a giant—a vocal-less testimony that Lucian was, without question, a leader worthy of the Sword Saint’s successor.

As the rhythmic greeting reached a deafening peak:

“Waaaaaaaah!”

“Victory to the Third Young Master!”

“Eternal honor to Sir Felicia!”

“May the glory of Valdek never fade!”

A volcanic roar of approval burst forth, raining blessings upon the lord and his new follower. The soldiers’ display had reignited the memory of Lucian’s recent triumphs. Even the skeptics, caught in the infectious energy of the moment, found themselves screaming along in a state of instinctive fervor.

Beneath the canopy of noise, Lucian and Felicia exchanged quiet words.

“It is my honor to serve you, my Lord.”

“The honor is mine as well.”

—

—The heir to the Sword Saint is actually a woman!

—And she has pledged her life to the Third Young Master!

In the wake of the investiture, these twin revelations tore through the Valdek lands with the destructive grace of a gale.

The populace was in a state of upheaval. The emergence of a legendary female warrior was a fantasy come to life, but her choice to serve the Third Young Master—previously seen as a mere “rising star”—was a tectonic shift.

“How can this be? The Third Young Master is undoubtedly improving, but does he truly possess the stature to command the Sword Saint’s shadow?”

“Is this perhaps Sir Eisen’s design? If he is using his disciple to signal his backing for the Third Young Master…”

“Absurd! It hasn’t been that long since he declared his total neutrality in family politics. Why would he backtrack now?”

“But there’s no other logical conclusion! She’s already inviting enough scrutiny just by being a woman in armor; why would she tie her fate to him of all people?”

The ripples didn’t stop at the House of Valdek; knights from neighboring domains were equally obsessed with the news. Such was the gravity attached to anything involving the Sword Saint.

While theories grew more outlandish by the hour, snippets of the actual story began to seep out from the manor walls.

“I heard a whisper recently—it was actually the Third Young Master who suggested Sir Felicia to Sir Eisen in the first place.”

“What? Then where was she hiding before that?”

“Word is she was an unacknowledged daughter of a minor house. They say the Third Young Master spotted her brilliance while she was being oppressed by her kin and rescued her.”

“Ah, the picture is clear now. He is the savior who pulled her from the dark.”

“Precisely. If that’s the case, her loyalty is absolute. A knight’s soul belongs to the one who first sees their true worth.”

As the context surfaced, the narrative shifted from suspicion to admiration for the bond between Lucian and Felicia. Even a talent that could reshape the world is nothing if it remains buried in obscurity. To a warrior governed by a code of honor, the debt owed to a person who provides the stage for their excellence is a burden heavier than the world itself.

But as the idle chatter settled, a more calculating segment of the population began to move.

‘Regardless of her motives, she is the next Sword Saint. That symbol carries more weight than any army.’

‘The name of the Sword Saint is a magnet for knights. Whether they wish to challenge her or follow her, warriors will gravitate toward her like moths to a flame.’

‘Moreover, her gender will draw challengers eager to test her. This is a crisis. At this pace, a power base will solidify around him before we can even find a seat at the table.’

The power players who had previously kept Lucian at arm’s length, viewing him as a “long-term prospect,” were suddenly gripped by a sense of FOMO. No matter how impressive his record had become over the last year, they had judged it too early to commit their resources. Now, they feared the prestige of the Sword Saint would build a fortress they couldn’t enter later.

If they waited until the inner circle was full, their influence would be negligible.

‘This won’t stand. I need to forge at least a superficial link before the door closes.’

‘If nothing else, the Third Young Master lacks a treasury. I shall begin courting his favor with a steady stream of tributes.’

‘Is it time to abandon my current ship? My previous investments are a loss, but if I can board the vessel of the future Grand Duke…’

These weren’t just low-level opportunists; these were influential figures capable of shifting the balance of gold and steel.

—

“Young Master, another tribute has arrived.”

“From whom?”

“The regional director of the Lotte Merchant Group.”

“Toss it in the pile over there.”

Lucian gestured vaguely toward a corner, not even bothering to break the seal on the accompanying missive. Hans looked on with a pained expression as the new item was added to the mountain of wealth.

“Is this wise, Master? At the very least, shouldn’t a formal acknowledgment be sent for such a gift?”

“Why bother? They are only clawing at my door because they’ve realized they’re behind the curve. They aren’t powerful enough for their slighted feelings to hurt me. And besides…”

Lucian turned his head and offered a confident grin.

“I have the future Sword Saint standing right here. Even if those merchants hold a grudge, they can’t touch me.”

“Your confidence is my greatest reward, my Lord,” Felicia replied, bowing deeply.

Following the ceremony, Lucian had officially designated Felicia as his personal guard, ensuring she was never far from him. It was a dual-purpose move: to signal his ironclad alliance with the Sword Saint’s lineage to the public, and to solidify the rapport between them.

‘I’m grateful Sir Eisen isn’t a traditionalist. Considering how vital her training is, I couldn’t have complained if he’d locked her away to finish her lessons.’

Lucian felt a quiet surge of relief. With Eisen’s time being limited, one would expect him to be frantic about passing on his legacy. Yet, the old master had been surprisingly accommodating of Lucian’s request.

—*Do as you see fit. A knight vanishing from her lord’s side the moment she takes her oath… even I find that a clumsy beginning. It is better to let the dust settle before she commits to the final stages of her training.*

Despite only coaching her for a few months, the urgency had bled out of Eisen’s eyes. It was a serenity born from the realization that Felicia was so gifted that even with these delays, she would master everything he had to offer.

‘To think her talent is so vast it can make a dying man feel he has all the time in the world.’

Lucian was in awe of her potential, feeling a localized sense of pride. This world-ending talent was now his shield.

Suddenly, the memory of his brothers’ faces flickered through his mind.

“Tell me, Hans, any news of my brothers? Things have been quiet since the knighting.”

He remembered their faces—pale, twisted with a mix of fury and impotence at losing such a prize. He had expected them to lash out immediately, yet the silence was deafening.

“Only whispers, sir. The First Young Master has effectively disappeared into his quarters since the event. They say he hasn’t crossed his threshold once.”

“And the others?”

“They meet frequently, but the servants say it usually ends in shouting matches before they storm off. Their alliance seems… strained.”

Tristan was paralyzed by the shock, while Jordi and Joshua were too consumed by mutual paranoia to form a cohesive front. Lucian smirked at the irony. He had prepared for a united assault, but instead, they were imploding under the weight of their own failure.

‘Well, that makes my life easier.’

With his rivals distracted, he could focus on his own growth. Lucian looked back at the hoard of gifts and gave Hans a firm directive.

“Take all of this to Hugo. Have him turn it into liquid capital. I need every coin for the medicinal herb procurement.”

“More? The profit from the last batch of ‘gifts’ was already a small fortune.”

“It’ll vanish faster than you think. I need to fill the coffers while the sun is shining.”

“Master, at this stage, wouldn’t it be more efficient to simply accept a formal financial patron…?”

“Absolutely not.”

Lucian’s expression hardened, his head shaking in a definitive negative. He couldn’t afford the strings that came with that kind of help.

‘It’s not just about the current deficit; I have no recurring revenue. If I take on a patron now, they’ll entrench themselves as my bank. Once you rely on someone else’s wallet, you lose the ability to say no.’

If he wasn’t careful, the foundation of his future power—his funding—would be owned by an outsider. No matter how many oaths they swore, they would eventually show up with a bill, demanding influence and high-ranking positions in his future administration as payment for their early “charity.” Unless it was someone from his inner circle, he wasn’t letting anyone else hold the keys to the vault.

‘I must own my own purse. I’d rather struggle through a slow start than build a faction on someone else’s terms.’

“I understand. I’ll see to it that Hugo handles the liquidation immediately.”

Sensing the gravity of Lucian’s mood, Hans didn’t push further. He recognized when his master’s thoughts were anchored in a long-term strategy.

“Good. And Felicia.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“I want you to teach me. Show me your swordsmanship.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

Felicia’s face went blank with confusion. She looked as though he had asked her to teach a fish how to swim. Lucian felt a prickle of embarrassment at her shock.

“Is the request so strange? Most people would kill for a lesson from the future Sword Saint.”

“No, it isn’t that… but do you truly have anything to learn from me?”

“I’ve been practicing the Lion Heart Sword, but beyond the technique, my fundamental blade-work is lacking. You know as well as I do that a high-tier manual doesn’t automatically make the wielder a master.”

“That may be true, however…”

Felicia paused, searching for the right words before being blunt.

“You bested me, my Lord. And with the talent you possess, your growth since then must be staggering.”

“….”

Lucian looked away, a bead of sweat forming. It appeared the first thing he needed to “teach” her was the truth about his supposed genius.