Chapter 78

Chapter 78
## Chapter 78

‘It is finished.’

Palmyr felt the weight of that realization deep in his gut.

Even though the passage of time had altered many traditions, the North remained a realm defined by its fighters. No matter the justification for a challenge, the weak were always cast aside—particularly when a decorated knight suffered a loss to a common soldier who, by every rule of status and logic, should have been beneath him.

“Tsk, tsk.”

Palmyr lifted his head weakly at the sound of that dismissive click. He met the gaze of Lucian, who was staring down at him with eyes as cold as ice.

“You have been defeated.”

“I… I…”

“Spare me the rationalizations. Do you have a final word? Our contest is concluded, so if there is something burning in your mind, let it out.”

“….”

Palmyr’s jaw worked soundlessly, but he ultimately dropped his chin to his chest. He had a thousand protests ready, but what was the point? After such a humiliating downfall, his voice held no power. Even if he attempted to bargain, he would be steamrolled, having surrendered every shred of leverage in the exchange.

‘A negotiation under these terms would be worse than silence.’

He had no choice but to retreat. He would return home branded with the shame of losing to a mere squad leader, empty-handed. He would have to explain this catastrophe and receive the full brunt of his master’s rage.

Grinding his teeth against the bitterness of his situation, Palmyr managed to croak out, “This event… the House of Calix will not…”

“Pfft.”

“….”

“Oh, forgive me. Do go on.”

At Lucian’s blatant derision, Palmyr’s skin turned a violent shade of crimson as he looked away. He had tried to hide behind his lord’s shadow one last time, but rather than providing protection, it had only made him a laughingstock. Understanding that further speech would only deepen his disgrace, Palmyr turned on his heel and scrambled away.

“What a tiresome individual.”

Lucian watched the man flee into the distance, letting out a soft chuckle before shifting his focus to the crowd. The eyes that had been filled with mockery just a short while ago were now overflowing with reverence the moment they locked onto his.

The sharp contrast in their demeanor brought Lucian a sense of grim pride.

‘The grandson of Grimaldi, who struck down a knight of the House of Calix. The legend is now firmly rooted.’

The House of Calix wasn’t going to collapse because of one failed knight. As a clan that had dominated the North for generations, this would likely be viewed as nothing more than a minor bruise on their reputation.

The crucial detail, however, was that Lucian was the one who dealt the blow.

By invoking the Grimaldi name, Lucian had effectively issued a challenge. The public was now watching with held breath, waiting to see how the House of Calix would manage this insult.

‘The House of Calix would prefer to bury this, but the people will demand a response.’

Silence on their part would be interpreted as a retreat. Whether it suited them or not, the House of Calix was now forced to engage in order to save face.

‘I am eager to see their next move.’

Lucian fought back a smirk and turned to address his visitors. While he waited for Calix to react, it was time to begin the serious work of building a coalition.

—

“Ha… ha.”

A dry, hollow laugh rasped from Norbeck, the patriarch of the House of Calix. He spent a long moment tugging at his beard before speaking in a voice devoid of warmth.

“So, your report is that you simply walked away? After being humiliated by a common squad leader who lacks even a title, you didn’t manage to say a single word?”

A shiver raced down Palmyr’s spine at the sheer disappointment in that voice. Terrified that he was about to be discarded, he blurted out a desperate defense.

“He wasn’t some random soldier; he was a master of high-level swordplay! Based on his prowess, it’s possible he hails from a disgraced noble line…”

“Sir Palmyr, I trust you realize that is irrelevant.”

“….”

“The reality is that you were crushed, and as a consequence, you ran away like a frightened dog before a single term could be discussed. You have dragged the Calix name through the dirt.”

“But, my lord…!”

Palmyr tried to protest further, but he went still the moment he saw his master’s face. Norbeck’s expression wasn’t just cold; it radiated a lethal intent.

“If you lacked the skill to win, you should never have drawn your sword. You should have swallowed any insult he threw at you. But to start a fight without measuring your opponent and invite this catastrophe…”

“….”

“Because of your incompetence, he has exactly what he wants. He will be free to recruit supporters without any pushback. I sent you to put a leash on him, but you ended up breaking the chains he was already wearing.”

Palmyr lowered his head, unable to defend himself against the biting sarcasm. He understood better than anyone the massive advantage Lucian had secured through this fight.

After staring him down in silence, Norbeck eventually clicked his tongue and dismissed him.

“Regardless, you’ve done your part. Go and find some rest.”

“…!”

Palmyr winced at the underlying meaning. It sounded like a mercy, but it was a clear signal that his career as a trusted agent was over. Shaking with fear, Palmyr opened his mouth to plead, but seeing the total lack of interest in his lord’s eyes, he walked out of the study in despair.

Click.

“Whew!”

The moment the door latched, Norbeck let out a heavy breath. Godfrey, his eldest son and successor, had been observing from the shadows and was shocked to see such a rare display of vulnerability from his father.

“Father, are you feeling unwell?”

“How could I be well? The situation has become incredibly messy. At this rate, we might actually lose our claim to the Grimaldi legacy.”

Norbeck shook his head at his son’s question. Godfrey blinked, looking at his father’s stressed features.

“We took a hit to our pride, certainly, but is it truly that dire? He’s only just begun to gather a few followers.”

“The size of his following isn’t the issue. It’s that the fundamental power dynamic has shifted.”

“The dynamic? I don’t follow.”

“He is a Valdek. No matter how much he tries to act like a man of the North, his roots are in the South. That fact was our greatest weapon against him.”

He might be the grandson of the former Duke, but he was still a newcomer who knew nothing of Northern ways. He was a foreigner with the right blood but no Northern identity. It sounds simple, but it was the perfect tool to keep other lords from joining him.

“Think on it. No matter his birthright, if his spirit is that of a Southerner, would the other lords truly want to follow him?”

“Certainly not. Only a madman would make that choice.”

Godfrey shook his head firmly. The North was only in a state of unrest because they feared the reach of the Imperial Family. Why would any Northern lord hand the Grimaldi inheritance to someone who was essentially an agent of the Empire?

“Exactly. Even those who hate our family wouldn’t be stupid enough to side with the Empire just to spite us. That is why I haven’t been worried.”

Birthplace is the one thing a man cannot change. Norbeck had been unbothered even when he heard Lucian intended to prove himself in a duel. If it were anyone else, it might be a risk, but the opponent was Harald, the ‘Wolf Slayer.’ It was a certainty that Harald would fight to kill, even against a sixteen-year-old boy.

“Of course, I had a small worry that Harald might throw the fight out of spite for us. That’s why I sent Sir Palmyr to monitor the situation, but this… this result…”

“Father?”

Slam!

“How in the world did this happen?!”

Norbeck surged to his feet, his face red with fury. He kicked his desk, but it wasn’t enough to vent his rage, and he began pacing the room like a caged beast.

“He’s sixteen! He should be shaking in his boots at the first sight of blood! And yet he took down Harald the ‘Wolf Slayer’?! Even against a family heirloom?!”

“F-Father, please, keep your voice down…”

“How can I be calm?! What do you think the people see when they look at that Southerner now?! They see a hero! A warrior of the highest caliber, a royal scion who carries the true spirit of Grimaldi!”

The populace was already drowning in nostalgia for the old Northern Kingdom. Now that a royal descendant had performed a feat of legendary strength, they would be falling over themselves to worship him as the true heir. Norbeck felt a physical weight of frustration in his chest.

“If it were just the commoners, it would be manageable! But thanks to that fool Palmyr, Lucian is now seen as our equal! He has become the perfect alternative to Calix! Now the lords will swarm to him like rats to a granary!”

“He’s still just a boy, Father. He can swing a sword, but he’s no politician. He doesn’t understand the intricacies of the North; he’s bound to trip up eventually. We just need to be patient.”

“We don’t have time for patience! Because of the failures of people like Torik, there are already factions waiting for any excuse to tear us down…!”

“Father!”

Norbeck jumped at Godfrey’s sharp warning. In his anger, he had almost mentioned things that were meant to stay hidden.

“Ahem, cough! Regardless, our window of opportunity is closing fast. If we don’t crush his momentum now, the house we’ve built will start to crack.”

“Then, since the situation has changed, perhaps we should use a more direct strategy.”

“A direct strategy?”

“I mean, we should use our own traditions against him.”

Godfrey gave a wide, confident smile to his father, who was looking at him with confusion.

“If he wants to be a man of the North so badly, he’ll have no choice but to honor our customs, wouldn’t he?”

—

In the days following his victory over Harald, Lucian was buried under a mountain of visitors. Most were knights acting as messengers for their respective masters. These men generally sorted into three camps.

‘The loyalists, the fence-sitters who want to avoid trouble, and the ones who absolutely loathe Calix.’

The first group was straightforward. They were the ones who had been chafing under Calix’s dominance but stayed silent because they had no leader to rally behind. Since they already detested Calix, they moved the moment Lucian proved himself.

“My master recognizes your birthright, Lord Lucian. It is only right that the Grimaldi legacy returns to its rightful owner.”

“That is a very honorable stance. Please give my regards to your lord.”

“I will. To be honest, it was an insult for Calix to even claim the Grimaldi name. What standing did they ever have?”

Lucian was polite and grateful, but in private, he knew these verbal supports did little to change the military reality. In the North, where his family name meant little, he needed soldiers, not just well-wishes. Still, the political optics were valuable.

The second group was even more transparent.

“We do not challenge your claim, Young Master, but one cannot say Calix is entirely without merit. It is a complicated situation, so we find it best not to take sides.”

“So you’re saying you’ll wait to see who wins before you decide who to follow.”

“Ahem! We simply trust in the judgment of the heavens. We pray the Eight Gods guide us all to the proper conclusion.”

It was a flimsy excuse, but considering they lived in small territories near Calix’s borders, it was a logical survival tactic. This was a war between the powerhouse of the North and the third son of the Valdek family. If they guessed wrong, their homes would be burned, so their hesitation was expected.

The third group, however, caught Lucian completely off guard.

“If you raise the Grimaldi standard this instant and march on Calix, my lord and I are yours to command! Just give the word!”

“…!?”

“Do you lack faith in my oath? I will sever my own arm right here to prove my devotion! If it earns your trust, a right arm is a small price to pay…!”

“No, stay your hand!”