Chapter 90

Chapter 90
## Chapter 90

Locating the center of authority was a simple task.

It seemed a straight path had been intentionally maintained to lead officials directly into the heart of the White Palace.

Once he reached the threshold of the central chamber, Lucian took a stabilizing breath and pushed the grand doors open.

*Creeeak.*

Despite being sealed for nearly a millennium, the valves rotated as fluidly as if they had been meticulously oiled just moments ago.

Crossing the threshold of this surprisingly effortless entrance, his boots sank into the pile of a luxurious crimson carpet.

Lucian traced the path of the fabric with his gaze until his eyes landed on his objective.

There it was.

At the terminus of the red walkway sat a throne of shimmering white, appearing as though it had been hewn from a single block of snowy jade. Lucian strode toward it with singular focus.

The second he ascended the platform and placed his hand upon the side rail, a bizarre, haunting vibration surged through his frame.

*Wooooom.*

“My Lord!”

“Stay back, I am unharmed.”

Lucian signaled with his hand to halt Felicia’s frantic approach. The seat was simply reacting to the resonance of his ancestry; it wasn’t a threat.

He recalled the note claiming it was hidden beneath the chair.

Thinking back to the entries in his grandfather’s personal records, Lucian dropped to one knee to inspect the underside of the furniture.

Yet, despite a meticulous search of the base, he found no sign of a mechanical lock or keyhole.

Following a sudden intuition, Lucian retrieved the key from his coat and pressed it against the bottom of the structure.

*Shwaaaaa!*

“Just as I suspected!”

Mirroring the reaction in the cellar of his grandfather’s estate, the throne erupted in a brilliant radiance upon contact with the artifact.

As the light crept up toward his hand, it became evident that the mechanism required both the physical key and the blood of its rightful successor to function.

*Slid—*

A moment later, as the glow dissipated, a concealed staircase manifested. The transition was so quiet that it would have been impossible to detect without direct observation.

The main doors, and now this hidden vault… why do they function so flawlessly?

Nothing in this place had seen maintenance for ten centuries, yet the gears moved with more grace than a breeze through silk.

He felt a spark of wonder at this ancient engineering, but the inheritance took priority over his curiosity.

As Lucian moved to lead the way down, Felicia cut in front of him, her expression set in stone.

“My Lord, allow me to go first.”

“The security should be deactivated by now, there is no reason for—”

“I will lead the way.”

Felicia’s tone was absolute, leaving no room for debate. Lucian found himself nodding, yielding to her fierce resolve.

Protective to a fault.

A faint, wry smile touched his lips, though he didn’t truly mind. It was merely a testament to the intense devotion his vassal felt for him.

Felicia moved down the steps first, retrieving tinder and flint from her gear.

“The darkness is thick, we need to light a—!?”

*Flash!*

Before she could strike a spark, a vivid light filled the space from every corner.

Both reached for their sidearms out of habit, but they quickly realized the glare was non-threatening illumination.

Gazing at the origins of the light, Lucian whispered in awe.

“Luminous orbs?”

Spherical devices were set into the walls, bathing the room in a gentle, constant radiance.

Studying the design of the lamps, Lucian’s eyes turned cold.

“So this is what the House of Calix was scavenging. They weren’t just clearing out the lights; they were looting these because the orbs themselves are priceless relics.”

“What? You mean Calix had the audacity to pillage the Grimaldi inheritance…!”

“They likely convinced themselves it wasn’t a crime since these weren’t state assets, but treasures tucked away in a dark basement.”

They hadn’t just used the Grimaldi reputation as a shield; they had been quietly draining the family’s physical wealth.

They truly left no stone unturned.

He had considered being lenient if they surrendered without a fight, but seeing the depth of their greed, he realized he had to break them completely, regardless of their cooperation.

As Lucian and Felicia’s vision acclimated to the sudden brightness…

“M-My Lord. Look over there…!”

Felicia gestured toward the far side of the room, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Lucian’s mouth hung open as he witnessed the impossible sight.

“Medicinal plants?”

This was a subterranean vault illuminated only by artifacts—no sun, no soil, no water source.

And yet, the floor was covered in a lush garden of various herbs.

He saw leaves of impossible hues, flowers shimmering with multiple colors, and young trees growing strong.

“How can life flourish here without any natural sustenance…?”

*Whirr.*

As they moved closer to the greenery, the overhead lights intensified. The environment seemed programmed to respond to the presence of guests.

As the shadows retreated, more than just plants came into view.

Piles of refined metal, various smithing apparatuses, chests overflowing with jewels and currency, and stacks of perfectly maintained manuscripts.

Every corner held a treasure, but the most overwhelming sight was the armory.

“By the heavens…”

While Lucian stood stunned into silence, Felicia let out a muffled gasp.

Arrayed in the cellar were 1,000 complete sets of battle gear—enough to equip a massive battalion of elite warriors.

Lucian approached one suit of armor and ran his hand along the metal.

The equipment, which bore not a single grain of dust, gave off a soft shimmer under his palm.

Upon closer inspection, he noticed intricate symbols etched into the interior surfaces of the plating.

This is undoubtedly the same craftsmanship used for the Red Wing Knights. I can’t yet determine the specific enchantments woven into them.

However, if they had mass-produced standardized gear like this, it was clearly intended for large-scale warfare.

The magic in the equipment was likely designed to synchronize, amplifying its effectiveness when used by a coordinated unit.

This is a monumental find.

He would have been satisfied with 200 sets of such high quality.

But to find a thousand.

What would be the result if a thousand-man legion wore this and triggered the internal magic simultaneously?

If he could replicate the legendary power of the Red Wing Knights—even for a moment—with several times their original strength…

If Lucian charged a battlefield with a thousand such men…

The mere thought sent a pulse of excitement through his veins.

Just then, Felicia walked back to him, carrying several volumes.

“My Lord, I have skimmed through some of these texts, but…”

“Did you discover anything useful?”

“Forgive me. They are composed entirely in the tongue of the ancients, and I cannot read the script.”

“Is that so? Let me see them.”

“You are fluent in the ancient script as well!?”

Felicia blurted out the question, stunned by his nonchalance.

While the ancient language was technically part of a high-born education, it was notoriously complex, and very few actually attained literacy in it.

Yet, at only sixteen, he spoke of it as if it were common knowledge.

“I simply had a very thorough education in the subject.”

“Your talents truly know no bounds!”

Lucian looked away, slightly embarrassed by her wide-eyed admiration.

He was presenting himself as a prodigy, but the reality was that he had mastered the language through agonizing, bloody persistence in his previous life.

During his time as a soldier of fortune, when negotiations turned sour, the employers would often switch to the ancient tongue to plot against him.

He vividly recalled the shock of being ambushed after they had discussed their plans right in front of him.

Because that happened so often, he had been forced to learn it for survival, even though he was just a common mercenary.

He had been lucky enough to find a capable mentor who taught him properly.

He never expected that knowledge to be relevant again in this life.

Fate truly moves in strange ways.

With a slight grin, Lucian opened a volume written in the old script.

The moment he parsed the first page, he went rigid.

“The blueprints for creating magical relics…!”

The book contained the lost methods for forging enchanted items in the current age—technology that had been forgotten by the world.

The records weren’t just about artifacts, either.

They covered everything from the synthesis of magical catalysts to the refinement of alloys that no longer existed.

Each page held secrets that could disrupt the global balance of power, but there was a significant obstacle.

Magic is the foundation for all of this. Furthermore, it will be nearly impossible to fully translate these texts without the help of a professional mage.

Even with his literacy, he lacked the deep technical vocabulary of a sorcerer.

The books were dense with jargon that required a high level of magical theory to grasp.

It will be hard to implement this knowledge until I have mages in my service.

Lucian sighed with a hint of longing and shut the book.

Regardless, he was currently in a position where he had to avoid a blatant show of power while the Emperor was watching him so closely.

Once the predicted era of instability arrived, the throne’s oversight would slip and mages would start to appear, so the issue would likely fix itself in time.

Until then, the 1,000 sets of armor would be more than enough of an advantage.

Having completed a preliminary survey, Lucian and Felicia made their way out of the vault.

As they stepped back into the throne room, the passage vanished as quietly as it had arrived.

Having secured his prize, Lucian was heading toward the main exit with Felicia to assess the situation outside when he was met by Raymon.

“My Lord, we have a bit of a situation.”

“A situation?”

Lucian tilted his head, confused by Raymon’s worried look.

The primary mission was over; what could possibly be going wrong now?

“Did a fight break out between the pilgrims and the guards?”

“No, nothing like that. There is a young man who is being quite persistent about seeing you, and he’s difficult to dismiss…”

“Who is he?”

“The second-born son of Viscount Harald.”

“…”

Lucian was momentarily stunned by the mention of that specific name.

Wait, shouldn’t he be under his father’s tutelage for the succession right now? Why would he be here?

“…If he belongs to the Harald family, we can’t simply turn him away. I’ll see what he wants.”

“You told the crowds you intended to visit the White Palace in solitude. Is it wise to admit him now?”

“We don’t need to bring him to the throne room. We can speak right here at the entrance. I am also aware of Sir Glen’s presence.”

Glen was well aware that Harald and Lucian were close allies in the Northern territories.

Given their history, it wouldn’t look suspicious for him to grant an audience to the Viscount’s son.

On the contrary, trying to hide the meeting would be more likely to trigger unnecessary alarms.

“Bring him in. I want to know why he isn’t by his father’s side.”

“As you wish.”

Following the command, Raymon went to the gate and returned shortly with a visitor.

Lucian’s brow furrowed when he recognized the face.

“So the second son of Viscount Harald was you all along?”

“We meet once more, Your Highness. I am Thorkel Osgor.”

The man wearing a wide, familiar grin was the same youth who had been leading the cheers for Lucian’s coronation earlier.

Giving a short, dry chuckle, Lucian sat on the palace steps and addressed Thorkel.

“I have plenty of questions, but let’s start with the most obvious one. Why are you here instead of being with the Viscount?”

“I did go back once. I just decided to leave again.”

“What?”

“Initially, I heard my brother had messed things up, so I went home because I felt I had to. But then, my father told me all about you, Your Highness.”

The true scion of Grimaldi and the ruler of Asagrim.

A man who possessed the Emperor’s confidence but harbored the willpower to seize the crown.

A prodigy who, at sixteen, had bested even Harald in a duel while the Viscount was using a family treasure.

“I found it hard to believe. So I set out to witness it for myself. I assumed Your Highness would eventually visit the old Ducal lands, so I figured I could just travel toward Asagrim.”

Thorkel shrugged, noting that his gut feeling had proven correct.

Hearing the explanation, Lucian stared at Thorkel with a look of pure confusion.

“So you deserted your post just to see me a few days earlier?”

“Precisely.”

“Even though you would have met me eventually if you had stayed with your father?”

At that, Thorkel shook his head, as if that would have been a completely different experience.

“Then it’s certain my father would have tied me down as the acting administrator so he could serve you personally. I had to get away first so I could be the one to serve at your side directly.”

“…”