"What should we do?"
As if speaking for everyone, Hugo stepped forward and asked Lucian.
When you interfere in other people's affairs, you naturally end up taking on headaches of your own.
Still, if they played their cards right, it could become an opportunity to make allies in the North.
"Let's go."
After a brief moment of thought, Lucian headed toward the direction where the clash of weapons could be heard.
They were coming this way anyway, so if they kept moving, they would run into them soon enough.
Rather than standing around blankly and getting dragged in, it was better to take the initiative and grasp the situation.
Clang, clang, crack—
"Over there."
Lucian's group climbed the slope and looked down below.
There, roughly thirty people were tangled together in a fight.
More precisely, all of them were rushing a single man.
"Such a disgrace to the North! Do you bastards not even know the honor of a warrior!?"
Crunch.
"Ghk—ugh…!"
The white-haired old man roared and brought his axe down, cutting down the charging soldier.
The sight of him grumbling nonstop while sweeping away enemies with his muscular body was downright absurd.
"Damn old bastard. Always yammering about warriors—turns out he really trained himself like a monster."
Unlike the brawny old man, the one commanding the mass of soldiers looked like a refined noble.
His elegant formal attire and white gloves—something you'd only see in the capital—momentarily brought a ballroom to mind.
"You rotten wretch! What do you think you're doing, hiding behind your soldiers!?"
"Are you still clinging to those outdated ideals? If this were a ruse to make me want your head, that'd be one thing—but if you're serious, it's even more pathetic."
"You little… ngh!"
Chwik.
Just as the enraged old man was about to shout again, a soldier's spear grazed his forearm.
Blood flowed from muscles that had seemed like steel, and the soldier cried out in excitement.
"I—I stabbed him! I…!"
"When an elder is speaking, what do you think you're doing!"
Fwoosh—thud.
The axe, swung like lightning, sent the cheering soldier's head flying in a single blow.
It was so fast the man never even realized he was dead—his face was still frozen in a smile.
Looking at the severed head on the ground, the noble clicked his tongue.
"Tsk, tsk. With that, I won't be getting my gold coins. He should've just stabbed once and pulled back."
"You dare say such—ngh!"
Trying to shout again, the old man staggered, as if dizziness had overtaken him.
Looking more closely, the old man's body was already covered in countless small wounds.
At the sight of him looking as though he might collapse at any moment, the middle-aged noble burst into laughter.
"No matter how much you prattle on about being a warrior, age still catches up with you, Father!
Still, for someone your age, you held out remarkably long."
"…Let me ask you just one thing. Do you truly believe that poisonous snake can restore the North's former glory?"
Thinking death was close at hand, the old man set aside his rage and asked with nothing but pure curiosity.
At his words, the noble laughed even louder and shook his head.
"What does that have to do with me? The North's glory or whatever—it's none of my concern."
"What did you say? Then what in the world—!"
"What matters is that House Count Calyx is trying to reorganize the North, and there are more people agreeing with them than you might think. If the North really is going to be reshaped, wouldn't it be wiser to take their side as early as possible and skim off the scraps?"
"You… even at the very end!"
A thin line of blood ran from between the old man's clenched teeth.
It seemed the denial of tradition hurt him even more than his own child's betrayal.
"I'm sick to death of your lectures. Stop your rambling and go quietly—like the warrior you so love to be."
With those mocking words, the noble gestured, and three knights who had been conserving their strength stepped forward.
Their horses pawed the ground, taking stances that looked ready to charge at any moment.
"No, that won't do."
"…!"
Lucian's voice rang out from the hillside where he had been holding his breath.
Startled by the sudden, unwelcome intruder, the noble frowned.
"And who are you, to meddle in another family's affairs?"
"And who are you, to meddle in another family's affairs?"
The noble looked as if he wondered whether he had misheard.
No—they were the ones who had barged in, so how was he the one being accused of meddling?
"What kind of bullshit is this!? Are you trying to play word games with me right now!?"
"Not at all. I'm asking in all seriousness. Why bring up House Count Calyx? Those bastards are using the name Grimaldi without even asking my permission."
"19"
At Lucian's words, the noble's face stiffened in confusion.
A man he had never seen before was casually bringing up Grimaldi?
"Who in the world are you, then?"
At the noble's bewildered question, Lucian gave a small, amused smile and replied.
"My name is Lucian Valdeck. I am the Third Young Master of Valdeck—and the maternal grandson of the last head of House Grimaldi."
—
As Lucian revealed his identity, silence fell not only over the noble but even the knights.
The knights, in particular, looked even more shaken than the noble, repeatedly glancing at one another.
"…Are you truly of Grimaldi blood?"
"You've heard my name—so it seems it's your turn to give yours."
"Ahem, pardon my rudeness. Torik Osgor. The current head of House Osgor."
"What nonsense. When did I ever pass the position of family head on to you?"
At the old man's retort, Torik frowned.
He shot a look that clearly told him to shut up, but the old man merely snorted and shouted toward Lucian.
"I am Harald Osgor, the true current head of House Osgor! Are you truly His Grace Duke Klaus's grandson!?"
Klaus Grimaldi.
When his maternal grandfather's name left the old man's lips, Lucian nodded.
"I swear by the Eight Gods of the Heavens—I am the grandson who inherited his blood."
"Then why have you come to the North now? I have never seen you here before!"
The battered Harald demanded, his eyes blazing as he stared at Lucian.
It sounded like a reproach—asking why someone who had never even set foot in the North had suddenly appeared now.
Lucian answered him proudly.
"I came to reclaim the name Grimaldi, which was originally mine—and to punish the thieves who dared use it as they pleased."
"As someone who isn't even a Northerner, do you have the right to meddle in the affairs of the North?"
"Where I come from doesn't matter. I am his grandson. What further qualification do I need to reclaim what is mine?"
"And if none of the people of the North acknowledge your right?"
Harald's muscles twitched as if he were about to hurl his axe at any moment.
Yet Lucian didn't even blink, smiling coldly.
"Then I suppose I'll have to ask every Northerner whether they have the right to meddle in another house's affairs."
"Pwahahaha!"
It was an answer so arrogant it bordered on insolence—yet instead of anger, Harald burst into roaring laughter.
Blood still gushed from the wound that hadn't even begun to clot, yet his laughter showed no sign of stopping.
"Heh—no doubt about it. You really are that man's grandson. This brings back memories."
"Are you finished with your questions?"
"Finished. Welcome to the North, descendant of Grimaldi. And…"
Harald swung his axe in a full arc, then glared at Torik as he spoke.
"Would you mind lending a hand? I'm ashamed to say I ended up like this after getting stabbed in the back by my own child."
At Harald's request for support, Torik shouted in a frantic voice.
"You have no reason to get involved in this! This is a matter of our house—pretend you never saw anything and leave!"
"And if I refuse?"
"What!?"
"I found your little conversation just now quite interesting. What was it you said? That you'd skim the scraps from the new order of the North being reorganized by House Count Calyx?"
Damn it!
Torik's face twisted violently as he quickly sized up Lucian's group.
Then, as if nothing had happened, the corners of his mouth lifted and his composure returned.
"You intend to challenge me with that pathetic force? How laughable."
"And just what is my force like?"
"One washed-up knight, one mercenary woman playing at being a knight, and about ten rabble. Ah—should I also count the naive young master?"
"Oh?"
Lucian's lips curved upward at Torik's sneer.
So that's how it looked to him?
"Raymond, Felicia—open a path. Hugo, take the ten-man squad and guard the rear so those two don't get surrounded."
"Yes, my lord."
The moment the order was given, Raymond and Felicia took the lead, while Hugo and the ten-man squad fanned out to the left and right behind them.
At the sight of what looked like mere soldiers moving in perfect unison, Torik flinched—yet forced a smile onto his face.
"Looks like you trained them quite diligently. But no matter how elite they are, with only ten men—"
"Charge."
Ignoring Torik completely, Lucian gave the command in a calm voice.
At the same time, the Black Lion and the next Sword Saint drew their blades and headed down the slope.
Torik blinked blankly.
He had no idea what had just happened.
The soldiers who had been blocking the charge fell like bundles of straw, and before he knew it, cold metal was pressed against his throat.
"Move, and you die."
At Felicia's voice, Torik swallowed hard.
As his Adam's apple bobbed, the blade pressing against his skin seemed to bite in even deeper.
"Tell your soldiers to drop their weapons."
"That's…"
"Do you want to die?"
"Drop your weapons! All of you—drop your weapons!"
As the blade bit into his neck, Torik shrieked in panic.
The surviving soldiers, obeying their commander's order, threw their weapons to the ground all at once.
When the disarmament was complete, Torik looked at Felicia with trembling eyes.
"W-what are you going to do with me?"
"That depends on my lord's wishes."
"R-ransom. I'll pay a ransom, so please—"
"Shut up."
At Felicia's murderous tone, Torik had no choice but to clamp his mouth shut.
His darting gaze eventually fell on the three knights who were now corpses.
When did that even happen…?
He had clearly seen how one of them went down.
The veteran who had looked like a washed-up knight cut his man down in just three exchanges.
The problem was the other two knights.
He hadn't even seen their blades swing.
The moment the swordswoman gave her blade a light shake, the two knights were already unhorsed.
Only after seeing blood soaking into the ground did Torik realize their throats had been cut.
Cold sweat poured down Torik's forehead as he finally understood who the real monster was.
W-what did I just say to them…?
"Tsk, tsk."
With the clicking of a tongue, two shadows fell over him.
Before he knew it, Lucian and Harald—who had been watching from behind—were standing right in front of him.
"So you went on and on about the 'winning side,' yet you can't even smell the blood right in front of you. Is this what you call politics?"
Torik, his face burning with shame, trembled—but in the end, he couldn't say a word and lowered his head.
Seeing that, Harald said nothing further and only let out a sigh.
"What would you have us do?"
Unlike before, Lucian asked Harald in a courteous tone.
It was consideration for an elder and respect for a titled noble.
During the previous suppression of a rebellion, he had at least held the position of acting head of a house, but now he was truly nothing more than a Third Young Master with no official standing.
Harald, too, noticed Lucian's courtesy and softened his own tone.
"I'm asking just in case—do you have rope?"
"Yes. In the North, people often fall into snowdrifts, so we brought plenty."
"Bind them all. I want to take them as prisoners."
"Are you certain?"
At Lucian's question, Harald gave a bitter smile.
"He's utterly pathetic and guilty of filial betrayal, but he's still my child. I don't want to take his head here."
"As you wish."
Lucian ordered the ten-man squad to bind the disarmed soldiers.
The sight of only ten men taking more than twice their number prisoner was truly bizarre.
Harald watched the bound soldiers in silence, then turned his head toward Lucian and spoke.
"You said you were Duke Klaus's grandson, didn't you? Let's have a talk."
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