Chapter 81

Chapter 81
## Chapter 81

It was an elementary reality of the realm: a high-ranking noble with a pathetic territory often commanded less respect than a minor lord with a thriving one.

A title from the Emperor was little more than a cruel joke if the accompanying lands didn’t provide the wealth and power to support it.

Responding to Lucian’s skepticism, Glen offered a faint, knowing grin and retrieved a document from within his vestments.

“Naturally. I invite you to examine this, Your Grace.”

He smoothed a heavy sheet of parchment over the table’s surface, displaying an intricate map of the Northern territories. The level of detail was remarkable; it looked less like a geographic reference and more like a high-level strategic chart prepared for an imminent invasion.

“It is a matter of course that the ancestral domains once held by the late Duke Klaus will be returned to your custody.”

“I expected as much.”

Lucian’s reply was detached. He wasn’t particularly moved by the predictable gesture.

The Grimaldi line was a venerable royal bloodline that had long ago seen its influence wither, leaving behind only the husk of its former prestige. Their current holdings were laughable—a tiny, insignificant speck of earth that wouldn’t even impress a backwater baron.

‘The revenue is a pittance. My researchers noted that the cost of hiring guards to transport the physical tax coins to Valdek actually exceeded the value of the coins themselves. They eventually stopped bothering with the collection entirely.’

The land was just enough to maintain the facade of noble status, nothing more. Its symbolic worth was debatable, so regaining it didn’t change his standing. The real question was the nature of the additional territory he was promised.

“Furthermore, His Majesty has granted you the legal authority to reclaim any and all lands that were seized or illegally annexed by the House of Calix during past border disputes. Should you desire it, the Imperial throne is prepared to issue formal eviction decrees immediately.”

Lucian felt a sharp twitch in his brow.

The Emperor was “gifting” him the right to seize back every acre stolen by the House of Calix and its network of puppets?

‘Is the old man mocking me?’

On paper, it was a staggering amount of land. In reality, it was a death trap. The current lords of those territories weren’t going to simply pack their bags and leave because of a piece of paper. Even the Emperor’s own central authority had struggled to suppress these constant Northern skirmishes.

If Lucian marched up and demanded they vacate his new “property,” he knew exactly what the response would be.

‘They would burn the eviction notice and call out their knights to slaughter me.’

Without a massive military campaign, those lands remained out of reach. Since Lucian lacked a standing army of his own, he would be forced to beg for soldiers from his supporters. To pay for such a war, he’d have to carve up the very land he conquered to reward his mercenaries and allies.

“You don’t seem particularly grateful, Your Grace.”

“To speak plainly… I find myself questioning His Majesty’s motives. Is he expecting me to start a war to enforce these claims?”

Lucian kept his voice level and diplomatic, even though he was internally seething.

‘He’s trying to trigger a civil war to bleed the North dry. He wants to use my name as a legal pretext to weaken the Great Houses while I do the dying for him.’

If this was the extent of the offer, the title of Margrave was a hollow, dangerous burden.

Glen’s smile didn’t waver; he shook his head slowly, as if he could sense the dark direction of Lucian’s thoughts.

“Your Grace, I believe you are misinterpreting the gift.”

“Am I? Then please, enlighten me on the true meaning of this ‘blessing.’”

“The Grimaldi lands were already yours by birthright; they are a correction of history, not a gift. And the rights to the Calix-occupied zones are more of a commission—a request for you to act as a check against their ambition. That is hardly a present.”

It was merely an incentive for future service. Glen leaned forward and tapped the exact center of the map, revealing the Emperor’s genuine peace offering.

“His Majesty has seen fit to grant you the city of Asagrim.”

“…!?”

The shock was physical. Lucian stood up so abruptly his chair nearly toppled.

“Asagrim? You cannot possibly mean the legendary Asagrim?”

“The very same. Right here.”

Glen’s finger remained firmly on the central region of the map, which was shaded in bright yellow. In Imperial cartography, yellow was reserved exclusively for the Emperor’s personal crown lands.

As Lucian stood paralyzed by the weight of the revelation, Glen pressed on.

“The Emperor intends for the ancient capital of the Northern Kingdom to finally return to its rightful heirs.”

—

As soon as Glen had been escorted out, Lucian gathered his inner circle and sent an urgent summons for Viscount Harald.

Once the group was assembled in the solar, Lucian smoothed out the map Glen had provided and made the announcement.

“His Majesty has bestowed a gift of staggering proportions upon our house.”

“So the rumors are true? You’ve been named Margrave? But where is the seat of power…?”

“Asagrim.”

“…!?”

The retainers gasped in unison, and Harald reacted as if he had been struck by lightning. He lunged across the room, nearly vaulting over the table to grab the map. His hands shook as his eyes darted across the parchment.

“A-Asagrim? The jewel of the North? The seat of the High Kings?!”

“It is true. The Emperor has signed it over to me.”

“By the grace of the Eight!”

Harald slumped to his knees, clutching the map to his chest like a holy relic. His eyes were bloodshot and brimming with moisture.

The sudden outburst left Hugo and Felicia glancing at one another in confusion.

“Forgive my ignorance, but what makes Asagrim so vital? I know it’s the old capital and an Imperial territory, but is it really that significant?”

“It is the soul of the Northern people, a fortress that has never been taken by storm, and a treasure trove of ancient knowledge,” Raymond explained, his face grim.

He wasn’t swept up in the emotion of the moment like Harald. Instead, he was deeply troubled by why the Crown would part with such a strategic asset.

“It smells like a trap. Reviving your family name is one thing, but handing over Asagrim? It doesn’t make sense.”

The Imperial Family had held the old capital for centuries specifically to prevent it from becoming a rallying point for Northern secessionists. Giving it back to a Grimaldi—the literal heirs to the Northern throne—was practically begging for a revolution to start.

“Perhaps we should politely decline. The risk might be…”

“Decline?! Have you lost your mind?!”

Harald’s head snapped toward Raymond, his expression twisted with sudden, violent rage. He looked ready to draw steel then and there.

“What does a scheme matter compared to this? The spirit of the North is being reborn! You cannot understand the decades of humiliation and grief we have suffered! Let them plot; we will have our home!”

“My Lord, please, lower your voice…!”

“I will not be silent! This is the moment we’ve prayed for!”

“Viscount, that is enough. Sit down.”

“Understood, Your Grace.”

The transformation was instantaneous. The snarling, furious beast of a man vanished, replaced by a docile subordinate the moment Lucian spoke. The retainers watched in silent awe as Harald composed himself in a heartbeat.

“I don’t believe this is a simple trap. Based on the private correspondence I received from His Majesty, his motives appear genuine.”

“What did the letter say?”

“I won’t be sharing those details. It is the kind of information that carries a heavy price for anyone who holds it.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Even Harald looked pale. They all understood that “dangerous information” usually resulted in an early grave if it leaked.

“The bottom line is this: while he isn’t officially endorsing the recreation of the Northern Kingdom, he is prepared to look the other way while I establish myself as a Great Lord—essentially an Elector in all but name.”

“But what is the cost? There is always a price.”

“The Emperor wants my absolute backing for the Crown Prince. It appears the Prince’s position is far more precarious than the public realizes.”

“But why would the Emperor go to such lengths for… wait.”

Raymond started to question the Emperor’s fixation on his heir, but he suddenly cut his own sentence short.

‘A secret too dark to share, an insanely high-stakes gamble, and a refusal to even consider the Second Prince…’

As Raymond connected the dots, a terrifying realization began to take shape in his mind. He forced himself to stop thinking about it before he reached a definitive conclusion. Some truths were so radioactive they could burn a man alive just for knowing them.

“Regardless, if the offer is legitimate, it’s a miracle. Is there a catch?”

“The timing is the problem. This is a magnificent opportunity, but accepting it means I have to remain in the North to secure the territory.”

With the House of Calix looking for any opening, Lucian couldn’t leave his new lands to a subordinate. If he turned his back, he’d be assassinated or sabotaged within a month. However, staying in the North meant he would effectively be forfeiting his race for the succession of Valdek.

“His Majesty claimed he would protect my rights to Valdek, but that’s a hollow promise if my father decides to strike me from the lineage. I wanted to see if any of you had a solution.”

“…Actually, Your Grace, I have some news that might be relevant.”

Hugo, who had been unusually quiet, stepped forward with a hesitant look. At Lucian’s nod, he pulled a crumpled note from his pocket.

“A message arrived just a few moments ago. It was sent by Senior Hans from the main family estate.”

“Hans? He sent a letter all this way?”

“Yes. One of my former associates, who now works under him at the estate, hand-delivered it.”

Lucian grabbed the paper. He recognized the shaky, unrefined handwriting immediately. It was the script of a man who had only recently learned to write during his training as a servant.

[- Jordi is acting strangely. I suspect an uprising. I am bringing Ian to the North immediately. Do not send a reply; the risk of interception is too high.]

“…!”

Lucian read the note and then closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. The path forward had just been decided for him.

—

“Hans has been behaving quite peculiarly of late.”

“Hans? I don’t know the name.”

Jordi, the Second Son of the Grand Ducal House of Valdek, frowned at his advisor. He vaguely recalled the name as belonging to some lowly commoner, but it didn’t hold any weight.

“He is the personal attendant to the Third Young Master. He’s currently undergoing butler training within the manor.”

“Ah, that pathetic little rat that used to cower behind Lucian? What about him?”

“He has been quietly selling off his belongings for gold and stockpiling rations and gear for a long journey. It looks as though he’s preparing to desert the estate under the cover of darkness.”

“Ha!”

Jordi gave a dismissive, arrogant bark of laughter.

“That’s rich. While the rest of the fools in this house are blind to the coming storm, a mere servant manages to smell the rain.”

“Should I have him eliminated?”

“No. Leave the mouse alone.”

“Are you certain, my lord?”

“If we start killing servants now, it will only draw eyes we don’t want on us. Besides, losing a servant won’t hurt my brother. He already took everyone worth a damn when he left anyway.”

He thought of Felicia, the prodigy; Raymond, the veteran; and Hugo, the street king. Lucian had successfully drained the house of its best assets. Killing a leftover servant would be a minor annoyance at best.

“Let him run. There’s no point in jeopardizing our grand plan just to stomp on a cockroach.”

“As you command.”

“Focus on the preparations. Ensure every detail is flawless. The day of our strike is rapidly approaching.”

The advisor bowed low and exited the room. Jordi watched him go, then waited until the silence of the room was absolute before speaking to the empty air.

“If you have something to report, do it now. I don’t enjoy the feeling of someone breathing down my neck from the corners.”

[…You detected me?]

A cold, grating voice emerged from the darkness. It was a sound that would make a normal person’s blood run cold, but Jordi only smirked.

“The temperature in the room drops ten degrees every time you arrive. It’s hard to miss, especially after our many clandestine meetings.”

[I appreciate the feedback. Usually, the people I visit don’t live long enough to notice a second time.]

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

[It is a simple observation. I should thank you for identifying a flaw in my concealment.]

Jordi’s expression soured. This man was always deeply unsettling, but today there was an extra edge of malice in his presence.

“I’m not here for small talk. What do you want? Why are you here today?”

[I am here to deliver a message from my master.]

A small envelope slipped out of the shadows and landed on the table. Jordi scanned the contents and gave a sharp nod of approval.

“Understood. Tell him I will initiate the maneuver exactly as planned on the date he specified.”

[There is no room for error. See that you are meticulous.]

“My own life is the stake in this game; do you think I’m playing around? Tell your master to hold up his end and I’ll handle mine.”

Jordi watched as the letter he had just read was pulled back into the darkness and vanished. His face twisted into a predatory grin.

“Remind him that once I am seated as the Grand Duke, I will be a most loyal and powerful ally to His Highness the Second Prince.”