"I apologize for troubling you."
"Not at all. It happened to be Felicia's etiquette lesson time anyway, so I had nothing else pressing to do."
The Sword Saint may have taken on a disciple not long ago, but that didn't mean he was unable to teach others.
No matter how outstanding a disciple might be, they were still human—one could hardly conduct lessons twenty-four hours a day.
On top of that, Felicia also had to learn noble etiquette, making it even more so.
"I had spare time to begin with, and being able to help the third young master is hardly something I'd refuse. If you truly needed me, I'd squeeze out time to come even if I had none."
His tone wasn't sarcastic in the slightest; it was filled with pure sincerity.
Ever since Lucian had introduced Felicia to him, Eisen felt a deep sense of gratitude toward Lucian—
at times, it even seemed to surpass the gratitude one would feel toward a literal savior.
"Thank you for saying that. By the way, how has Felicia been lately?"
"Her passion when learning etiquette rivals her passion for swordsmanship. It's a bit regrettable, though, since the motivation seems different."
When asked about Felicia's recent condition, Eisen replied with a bitter smile.
Unlike swordsmanship, which she practiced for sheer enjoyment, her fervor for etiquette was closer to the pent-up resentment born from the years she had lived as a bastard.
"It can't be helped. Just looking at how she used to attend to my brother makes it obvious what kind of treatment she received at home. The unseen wounds must run quite deep."
"On that front, you needn't worry. I intend to make those who ignored the value of a gem shed tears of blood themselves. Seeing that with her own eyes should ease Felicia's bitterness, if only a little."
"Heh heh, that's something I very much look forward to."
At Lucian's words, Eisen stroked his beard and let out a cold smile.
The marquis had tried not to nurture, but to bury in the shadows of history a talent with the sword worthy of being recorded in it.
Setting aside his position as a master and a father, as a swordsman, if there was a chance to land a decisive blow against such a man, Eisen wanted to take it.
"It seems I've let myself ramble on. Now then, let's take a look at your sword. Show me the Lion Heart Sword I taught you before."
"Yes."
Lucian unfolded every form of the Lion Heart Sword he had learned recently.
In truth, it was still a stage where he should have been focusing on fundamentals, but Eisen chose to pass over that.
Lucian's basics were already exceedingly solid, and even without criticism, he would refine them on his own.
Considering that half of a technique's power comes from fundamentals, one could say half of the training was already complete.
The problem lay in the other half.
"I'm finished."
"Hm."
As the demonstration of the Lion Heart Sword concluded before his eyes, a low hum escaped Eisen's lips.
After pondering for some time, Eisen looked at Lucian with a serious expression and spoke.
"In my view, Third Young Master, your body has been blessed by the heavens. Your mana is pure, and the destructive power it brings forth is extraordinary. Your fundamentals are flawless, and your eye for observing an opponent is outstanding."
"Uh… thank you?"
"And the Lion Heart Sword suits your disposition as well. It's a sword style that emphasizes destructive power. Its techniques are no less refined than other styles, but at times, it's best to focus on what you do best."
Taken aback by the sudden praise, Lucian tilted his head.
What on earth was he building up to with such a lengthy preface?
After continuing his analysis and explanation for a while longer, Eisen finally smiled faintly and showed Lucian the path he should take next.
"Therefore, in my view, it would be best for you, Third Young Master, to focus not on finesse but on instantaneous destructive power, so as to fully exploit the exceptional strengths of your body. That alone would sweep away most knights like fallen leaves in the autumn wind."
"Sir Eisen. Unless I'm mistaken, it sounds very much like you're saying that my finesse is utterly lacking compared to my raw power, so I should just go all-in on smashing everything with brute force."
"Heh heh heh."
"No, don't just laugh."
"Heh heh heh."
Eisen merely laughed and deftly changed the subject, never outright denying it.
Soon, however, he spoke again with a smile that carried genuine sincerity rather than evasion.
"Even so, what I said just now was the truth. Most knights wouldn't be your match to begin with. More importantly, there isn't only one fixed path to reaching a higher realm. There may well be a road to becoming a Sword Saint through destructive power instead of finesse."
"A Sword Saint with no technique, only overwhelming might… That doesn't exactly sound impressive."
"You needn't view it so negatively. If the Third Young Master were to reach the pinnacle of the sword with that body of yours…"
"If I were to?"
"You might even be able to cut down a dragon of legend in a single strike."
At such an excessive appraisal, Lucian flinched and looked at Eisen.
He had expected him to laugh it off again, but Eisen's expression was utterly calm.
As if, whether Lucian believed him or not, he was simply stating the truth.
***
Lucian decided to follow the Sword Saint's advice.
Setting aside the mention of dragons, there was no denying that this direction suited him best.
If you don't have innate talent for finesse, mastering it takes a lifetime. Putting the emphasis on power is far more efficient.
And in practice as well, an increase in a sword style's destructive power was nothing to scoff at.
Greater strength also meant greater speed, and made it far harder for an enemy to properly withstand the blow.
If they couldn't block it even when the sword was swung along an obvious, predictable path, couldn't that still be called a one-strike kill?
I nearly died that way several times in my previous life.
Because the attack had been so utterly simple, Lucian at the time hadn't even had a way to respond.
At the very least, one needed a certain level of strength and speed just to react.
This time around, Lucian thought it might not be so bad to make his opponents feel that same helplessness.
With this blessed body of his, it wouldn't be difficult at all.
And so, two months passed.
"Hooo…"
After finishing his circulation, Lucian let out a deep breath and looked around.
Empty medicine bottles lay scattered about, along with the leftover ingredients from making inferior Nektar.
Everything else was still plentiful, but the most crucial ingredient—Wilgwang Grass—had completely run out.
"Tch. If they say they can't get any more, I can't exactly force them to stock it."
No matter how many times he pressed the herbalists, all they could do was complain that it was impossible to procure more.
It wasn't that rare for its difficulty of acquisition—rather, it was expensive and had few buyers, so once stocked it tended to last a long time.
But now that the reserves stored in the surrounding territories were exhausted, obtaining more wouldn't be easy.
If I had the complete Nektar formula, I wouldn't have to brute-force it with quantity like this.
Lucian felt a renewed sense of regret.
The elixirs he was taking now were certainly effective, but compared to the original, they were heavily diluted.
Once he used all of them solely to strengthen himself, there would be nothing left over.
What a waste. If possible, I'd like to give what remains after I'm done to the others as well… but there just isn't enough quantity for that…
"Young master."
Hans's voice pulled Lucian out of his reverie.
Lucian hastily straightened his clothes, shoved the medicine bottles and ingredients into a corner, and stepped outside.
"What is it?"
"T-the Grand Duke is summoning you, young master. He says it's an important matter and that he's convening a family council."
"A family council? Don't tell me the other wives will all be attending too?"
"That's likely the case."
Lucian's expression hardened.
Unlike before, when it had been dressed up as a breakfast gathering, this time it was openly called a family council.
That meant it was a matter of great importance to Grand Duke Sigmund and the Valdeck family—
important enough that it could entangle not just the duke, but the entire family.
Don't tell me…
One possibility surfaced in Lucian's mind.
The nearest historical branching point from the present, and the very event he had been preparing to take part in.
There was still time before it was supposed to occur, but if high-ranking nobles began moving in preparation, the timing fit perfectly.
"Get ready at once. We're going."
Lucian prepared immediately and headed for the lord's hall.
For the first time since learning the Lion Heart Sword, his heart began to pound.
If his guess was correct, whether he became involved in this matter or not would be a decisive turning point that would shape the future.
***
Lucian wasn't the only one who reacted to the words family council.
The others arrived at the lord's hall almost at the same time as well.
The three brothers and their three mothers—the three wives—
and Lucian alone, whose birth mother had already passed away.
Seven gazes met in midair all at once, and a strange tension settled over the room.
"If everyone is here, then sit. You as well, my ladies."
Fortunately, the tension was eased by the grand duke's arrival before it could swell any further.
At the heavy sound of Grand Duke Sigmund's voice, the gathered family quietly took their seats.
Perhaps thinking there was nothing to gain from dragging things out, the grand duke went straight to the point.
"A rebellion has broken out in Krepfeld."
"What!? Surely you don't mean…!"
"Yes, that Krepfeld—the greatest power in the eastern regions. Its military strength is the mightiest among the vassal states as well."
As his expectations were confirmed, Lucian unconsciously clenched his fist.
The rebellion of Krepfeld.
Even if it wasn't yet the beginning of the age of chaos, it was the signal flare that heralded it.
The very event that would contribute most significantly to the downfall of the imperial family had finally occurred.
"Strictly speaking, war hasn't begun yet. But it soon will. They've refused to pay imperial taxes and have even issued a conscription order."
"That's practically a declaration of war. If it's Krepfeld, it would be difficult for the imperial family to suppress it on their own. Are you going to step in, Father?"
As he asked, Jordi seemed to assume that this was a given.
When a rebellion reached the scale of a national crisis, an alliance of lords naturally formed.
At such times, the supreme commander of the allied forces needed authority befitting the emperor or his representative.
If not the emperor himself, there was no one more suitable than Grand Duke Sigmund.
He alone possessed the emperor's trust, extensive experience in war, and unquestionable authority.
"No. Not me."
However, the grand duke shook his head and named an entirely unexpected figure.
"The one who will command the suppression of this rebellion is His Highness the First Prince."
"What!?"
The brothers—and even the wives—widened their eyes at the grand duke's words.
While the first prince certainly lacked no authority, he had virtually no experience on the battlefield.
And yet he was being placed in command of a rebellion on this scale.
"Th-then… don't tell me you'll be assisting His Highness directly, Father…?"
"Not that either. His Majesty wishes for one among you to go."
A heavy silence fell.
In place of the emperor, the first prince—and in place of Grand Duke Sigmund, one of his sons.
No matter how one looked at it, this was an all-too-blatant political arrangement.
They want to bolster the first prince's authority and, at the same time, force us to show our support for him.
Damn it, isn't this going too far? Why drag us in instead of Father?
The emperor's intent was painfully clear.
The loyal grand duke might be dependable, but his sons were a different matter—no one could be sure where they would stand.
So this was a move to forcibly bind one of them to the first prince.
Regardless of that son's own wishes, once tied together, others would naturally view him as part of the prince's support base.
The problem was that none of the grand duke's sons wanted that.
The first prince's lack of aptitude is common knowledge even in high society. If I get tied to him now, it'll haunt me for years.
Sure, it would earn the emperor's favor—but what matters to me right now isn't the emperor's trust, it's the position of next family head.
If I become the next head of the family in the first place, they'll be the ones begging me to support them—so why should I jump into the boiling pot now?
As the three brothers reacted, the grand duke let out a sigh, as though he had expected this.
"Just in case, I'll ask. Is there anyone among you who would volunteer?"
"Is there really any need to look for a volunteer? It seems there's already a suitable candidate."
The moment the grand duke finished speaking, one of the wives who had been silent until now interjected.
She was a beautiful woman with striking red hair characteristic of the southern regions—Veronica, Tristan's mother.
At the grand duke's questioning gaze, she looked straight at Lucian and spoke.
"Send the third."
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