Chapter 73

Chapter 73
## Chapter 73

“….”

Lucian found himself momentarily speechless.

He had come seeking a strategy to expand his reputation, only to be instructed to topple the Viscount himself in combat.

“I… pardon me, but is this some sort of allegory? Are you suggesting I demonstrate superior intellect, or…?”

“Intellect be damned. I’m talking about a genuine scrap. Fists or steel, the choice is yours.”

“Understood.”

It was clear he hadn’t misinterpreted the offer.

Harald was dead serious about Lucian attempting to strike him down.

As Lucian paused, his mind racing with a dozen different questions, Harald tipped more ale into his mug.

“Centuries have passed since the Northern lands fell under Imperial thumb. Our customs grow more diluted every year, and the paper-pushing of those sickly, frail weaklings is becoming the latest trend.”

“….”

“But regardless of how much it has withered, heritage is still heritage. There are plenty of folk left who cling to the ancient path and give due to a real warrior.”

“In other words, you’re asking for a display of power? Not through legal standing or cleverness, but through raw martial skill?”

“Now you’ve got the right of it.”

Harald smirked, slammed back another drink, and brushed the froth from his mustache.

Despite the staggering amount of liquor he’d put away, his gaze remained sharp and predatory.

“Naturally, brawn isn’t a cure-all. If some foreign raider came for the North with power, we’d label them a foe, not a leader to be honored.”

“But I’m not exactly a stranger. I am the final kin of my mother’s father, a man who once held the North’s highest esteem.”

“Precisely. Even if you weren’t bred in these snows, if the grandson of Duke Klaus—a man with that lineage—proves he cherishes Northern ways, no soul will be able to dispute your claim. However…”

The grin vanished from Harald’s features, replaced by a look of lethal intensity as he locked eyes with Lucian.

“If you can’t even manage that, there’s no cause to respect you, Duke Klaus’s blood or not. Northern business must be settled by Northern hands.”

“I see.”

Lucian gave a quiet nod, acknowledging the icy stare directed at him.

It wasn’t the look of a man grateful to a savior who had stopped a coup; it was the look of a man measuring a foreigner.

Unless he cleared this hurdle, that perception would never shift.

And it likely wasn’t just Harald; every noble in the North would share that sentiment.

“If I best Your Lordship, will I gain the North’s validation? You appear to be a formidable combatant yourself.”

“Hahaha! I appreciate the sweet talk, but toppling one old man won’t win over the whole region. I merely want to confirm you have the baseline requirements.”

*Because if you can’t even handle a veteran like me, you won’t survive a second against the House of Calix.*

Lucian caught the unspoken warning and nodded firmly.

“Then I shall show you with pleasure.”

“Hah, I admire your grit.”

Of course, they didn’t bolt outside to trade blows the second the challenge was taken.

This fight was a trial, but it was also designed to broadcast Lucian’s combat talent.

It couldn’t be a hurried scuffle in an alleyway; it needed to be structured and treated like a formal event.

Ideally, the tale of the duel would ripple outward through everyone who watched it.

“And since we only just put down the coup, there’s more mess to mop up than I anticipated. It’ll be a nightmare if any rats try to shiv us in the dark, so I need to purge them properly.”

“That is wise.”

Lucian had no interest in seeing his victory overshadowed by some random mishap.

Furthermore, though Harald had used healing elixirs, his frame hadn’t fully mended.

Lucian preferred to wait for those wounds to close rather than hear whispers later that he only triumphed because the Viscount was crippled.

“Don’t fret over me; please get some rest. If you push yourself to meet my pace and falter during the match, it would be an affront to my pride.”

“Good heavens, you don’t lack for gall. Are you not even considering the chance that you might lose?”

“What’s the point in picturing failure? It’s far more productive to plan for the aftermath of victory than to imagine crawling away with my tail between my legs.”

“…You’ve got a point there.”

Harald chuckled, but his brow twitched.

His warrior’s pride had clearly been nudged, perhaps feeling a bit slighted.

“Very well. As you wish, I’ll take a week to recuperate and finish settling the land. We’ll duel after that.”

“Will seven days suffice?”

“Truthfully, three would do for the body, but the logistics take longer.”

“Then it can’t be helped.”

“Hahaha.”

“Haha.”

A brief, sharp exchange of wills passed between them, wrapped in dry laughter.

Once their talk—a blend of posturing and truth—concluded, Harald rose to his feet.

“Stay here for the night. Once the purge is finished tomorrow, I’ll send a formal summons to the Manor. I’ve spoken to the innkeeper; he’ll see to your needs. As for the traitors we seized earlier…”

“Take them. I leave their fate to your discretion.”

“My thanks.”

With a somber half-smile, Harald descended the tavern stairs, his frame looking a bit weighed down.

It seemed even a man of iron could be hollowed out by a son’s betrayal.

—

Lucian immediately convened his inner circle on the second floor.

After laying out the plan to everyone—minus the ten-man squad of commoners—Raymond spoke up, his expression dark.

“Validating one’s worth through martial skill. It’s the old way. There is no more certain path to being accepted here.”

“For someone saying that, you look remarkably grim.”

“It’s because I doubt this stops at just one encounter.”

Raymond exhaled a heavy breath and went on.

“While I was downstairs, I picked up some rumors from the townsfolk. It seems the House of Calix is moving with aggressive intent. They’ve been seen here quite often.”

“If they’ve pushed this far to the Northern gateway, we have to assume they’ve touched nearly every noble house.”

“Exactly. And many have likely been pulled into their orbit. If not, they wouldn’t have had the nerve to meddle in another lord’s internal politics and spark a revolt.”

According to Harald, the three knights guarding Torik were strangers he’d never encountered.

Since they owed no personal fealty to the true Lord, they had turned their swords against him without a second thought for honor.

To provide three knights for someone else’s coup meant their resources were substantial.

Even without squeezing Torik for answers, it was obvious the House of Calix was pulling the strings.

“If their reach was short, a few displays of strength would do. Any critics would just look like bitter losers. But if their reach is vast, the game changes.”

“Because they can use their leverage to validate utter nonsense.”

“Precisely. To silence people like that, you have to accomplish something so undeniable that no one, regardless of their status, can pick a hole in it.”

“In other words, I’m going to have to bleed quite a bit more.”

“Just so. Which is why I wonder if it wouldn’t be wiser to head back to the family now?”

“What are you suggesting, Sir Raymond?!”

Felicia’s eyes popped at Raymond’s abrupt proposal.

If they retreated now, Lucian’s name would be dragged through the mud—how could he even think of suggesting a retreat!

However, Raymond didn’t budge.

“Proving martial dominance is something a determined enemy can nitpick forever. Viscount Harald likes my Lord, so he wants a fair test, but others might send my Lord into the Snowy Mountains to hunt a Frost Giant or some other suicide mission.”

“We can just ignore the demands of such dishonorable people!”

“In the Empire’s political pits, the tactics of dishonorable people work terrifyingly well. Even Sir Felicia’s own father was famous for such maneuvers.”

“….”

Felicia went quiet and looked at the floor.

Even she had to concede her father was exactly that sort of player.

It was just hard to accept the world was full of men like Marquis Bernhardt.

“When several powerful voices unite, they can make even a living legend look like a charlatan. If we aren’t careful, you might endure hell and return with nothing to show for it.”

“So, you’re suggesting we cut our losses and leave early?”

“If you walk away now, there won’t be a stain of dishonor on you, my Lord.”

“I appreciate the concern, but you’re being paranoid. Are you worried about something happening back home while I’m gone?”

“….”

Raymond winced as Lucian hit the mark.

It seemed Lucian wasn’t the only one who had smelled something foul regarding Jordi.

Lucian let out a soft laugh and shook his head.

“I get why you’re worried, but I have no intention of retreating like this.”

“My Lord.”

“It’s not because I’m too proud to go back after talking big. It’s because I see a straight path to winning this.”

“A path to victory?”

“Firstly…”

*Thud, crash, bang!*

Before Lucian could finish, a racket erupted from outside.

It sounded like someone was sprinting up the stairs.

As everyone in the room instinctively gripped their hilts—

*Knock, knock, knock!*

“M-milord! You’re awake, aren’t you?! Milord!”

The innkeeper hammered on the wood, his voice frantic.

Confirming there were no hidden threats, Lucian called out.

“I’m here. What’s the emergency?”

“Ah, thank the gods! You need to get to the Manor immediately!”

“What are you shouting about?”

“The Calix dogs just arrived! Our Lord says he wants you there to look them in the eye with him!”

“…!”

—

The delegation from the House of Calix was minimalist.

No tributes, just a single knight and ten guards.

They had maintained only the absolute baseline of decorum required for an embassy.

One could easily interpret it as a slap in the face.

It wasn’t by design, though. Did they truly not expect the coup to fail?

The knight serving as the envoy was struggling to keep his face neutral, but the underlying shock was visible.

It seemed they had planned to walk in tall and dictate terms to Torik, the puppet they thought would be in charge, but the script had flipped.

Under the weight of dozens of hateful glares, the knight stepped forward and gave a stiff bow.

“Dane Huskarga offers greetings to His Lordship, Viscount Harald. I am pleased to see you in such health.”

“I’m sure it’s a massive disappointment. You probably hoped to install my son as a plaything and run this place as you saw fit.”

When Harald bared his teeth, Dane’s brow twitched, but he quickly tilted his head in feigned ignorance.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean. I heard of some local unrest, but the House of Calix had zero involvement in it.”

“Despite three of your own knights being caught in the act?”

“How shocking. To think they would go rogue when my Lord gave no such command. I shall see them punished with the utmost severity upon their return.”

“Pathetic worms.”

A wave of pure disgust hit Dane as he continued his charade.

“Your lot was always like this. ‘Show me the proof. If you can’t prove it, it didn’t happen.’ You block out the sun with your hands and then laugh, claiming the world has gone dark.”

“I tell you once more…”

*CRASH!*

An axe whistled through the air and slammed into the stone right next to Dane’s boots.

Stunned by the spray of debris, Dane lurched back, his voice cracking.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

“Do you have a death wish?”

“….”

“You seem to think you’re my equal because you’re riding the coattails of your master, but my patience is thin. I’m not in the mood to entertain the babbling of a peacock messenger.”

Dane went silent at Harald’s murderous tone.

He clearly realized there was nothing to be gained by pushy behavior toward a father whose eyes were red with the fury of a son’s betrayal.

“Say your piece while I’m still inclined to let you breathe, and then vanish. If I decide I’ve heard enough, I’ll take your head as a souvenir.”

“…Very well. I shall ask but one thing. Do you still refuse to join the House of Calix in reclaiming the North’s former majesty?”

“Hah.”

Harald snorted and propped his chin on his fist.

“The glory of the North? Such pride. Since when did Calix get to speak for the whole of the North?”

“Your Lordship, Calix is the only house fit to bear the legacy of Grimaldi. Who else but Calix could possibly represent us?”

Lucian, who had been watching the exchange from the shadows, stepped into the light.

“And what if I can?”