Dain stared at Lucian with an expression that said he wasn't sure whether he had misheard.
Once he realized that Lucian was far younger than he had expected, Dain's face twisted sharply into a scowl.
"What kind of nonsense is this supposed to be?"
"You think it's nonsense?"
"Your Excellency, this is not something to brush off as a joke. You know how much weight the name Grimaldi carries in the North. If you put forward some rootless proxy, you'll have to bear the backlash that comes with it."
"Backlash, you say."
Instead of answering, Harald let out a soft chuckle and gestured toward Lucian with his eyes.
It was a signal telling him to reveal his identity himself.
Thankful for the opportunity Harald had given him, Lucian spoke proudly.
"I am the maternal grandson of His Grace Duke Klaus, and the rightful heir of Grimaldi—Lucian Valdeck."
"W-What?"
Dain recoiled in shock, staring at Lucian with trembling eyes.
A moment later, after barely regaining his composure, a roar burst from Dain's mouth.
"Preposterous! The young lady of House Grimaldi left the North more than a decade ago! And now you claim to be her grandson!"
Lucian snorted at the intense reaction.
He looked so flustered that he didn't even know where to begin picking things apart.
"What exactly is so unbelievable? That I'm a fake and not truly the grandson? Or that even if I am the real grandson, I lack the qualifications?"
"Well…!"
Dain, who had been about to say all of it, fumbled with his lips.
Even if he could argue the former, it was difficult to point out the latter here.
The House of Count Calyx that he served was itself descended from Grimaldi through the maternal line.
With sloppy reasoning, he risked undermining his own lord's legitimacy.
"…The former. Where is the proof that you are truly His Grace Duke Klaus's grandson?"
"Do you know where his lady daughter was married off to?"
"Who wouldn't know? To the Grand Duchy of Valdeck, one of the pillars of the Empire—"
Once again, Dain cut himself off mid-sentence.
That the symbol of the Grand Duchy of Valdeck was a lion was common knowledge to any imperial citizen.
Yet Lucian standing before him was openly wearing a lion emblem engraved on his collar.
On top of that, he had publicly declared the name Valdeck himself.
'Damn it… Don't tell me he really is a Valdeck!?'
Considering how grave a dishonor it would be to falsely claim another house's name—and how great an insult it would be to the other party—there was no chance this was a lie.
As Dain fell silent, his thoughts in turmoil, Lucian spoke with a cold smile.
"What's wrong? If you've got more to say, go on. Don't you want to be absolutely certain that I'm a Valdeck?"
"…Then why have you come to the North now? You've never once set foot in the North since the day you were born."
Unable to find anything else to say, Dain lashed out at Lucian in a roundabout way.
It was a pointed jab—mocking him for daring to invoke the name Grimaldi now, when he had never shown any affection for the North.
But Lucian didn't even blink as he declared,
"Of course. I came to reclaim the name of Grimaldi, which is rightfully mine."
"You are a Valdeck! Not a Grimaldi!"
"Then by what right does Calyx claim the name Grimaldi? Don't bother with some paltry tale about a marriage from centuries ago. By that logic, my claim should take precedence over anyone else's."
"No! Even if that were so, you still have no right to bear the name Grimaldi. The affairs of the North must be decided by Northerners. You are not a Northerner."
The logic was flimsy, but Dain was desperate.
The moment he acknowledged Lucian's claim here, it was obvious his lord would cast him aside.
He needed to retreat while leaving even the smallest opening to exploit.
"If it's material things—property, land, estates—you may claim them as yours all you like. But you have no right to claim the legitimacy of the old royal house. You are an outsider who doesn't even know the ways of the North!"
"That is correct."
Harald, who had remained silent until now, nodded and joined the conversation.
"No matter how much of the former duke's blood he carries, he is still an outsider. Not a Northerner. The affairs of the North must be decided by Northerners."
"T-That's… right?"
Dain stared at Harald in bewilderment.
Why was this old man suddenly taking his side?
After constantly interfering with the grand designs of House Calyx, no less.
'Now that I think about it, his identity as a Northerner is ironclad. Maybe he thinks Calyx is preferable to some outsider invoking Grimaldi…'
"In other words."
As Dain indulged in that vain hope, Harald continued with a cold smile,
"If he proves himself a warrior by the ways of the North, there will be no problem at all."
"What…!?"
"A week from now, Lucian and I will fight in a duel. Whether he is truly a son of the North or not will be decided then."
"That's absurd! What does a man's personal strength have to do with his birthplace!? Calyx cannot accept this!"
"And what will you do if you don't?"
"Pardon?"
"At the very least, I will acknowledge it. Whether others do or not is a matter of individual choice. It is not something the House of Count Calyx gets to dictate."
At Harald's unilateral declaration, Dain clenched his teeth.
Just as he said, this was not a matter for the House of Count Calyx to accept or reject.
It was a question of whether the people of the North would see Lucian as a warrior—or as an outsider.
If Lucian proved himself according to Northern tradition, then regardless of what House Calyx said, many would acknowledge him in their hearts: a blood relative who, though not raised in the North, followed its ways.
'A dead end.'
There was nothing Dain could do now.
No matter what he tried, the duel between Lucian and Harald would take place, and factions would naturally form around its outcome.
"If you have nothing more to say, then get lost. Looking at your faces any longer makes my stomach churn."
"…Very well. But before that, at least return the knights who were taken prisoner. Though they took part in a rebellion, they are men who swore loyalty to the House of Count Calyx. We will punish them ourselves."
"I hung their heads on the castle wall. Go and retrieve them. They're on the far right end—you'll spot them easily."
Dain's eyes went wide in shock.
They were enemies, so killing them in battle would have been one thing—but to behead knights and hang their heads on the wall?
A curse nearly escaped him in a surge of rage, but realizing that Harald's fury was no small thing, Dain barely managed to spit out a single line.
"The House of Count Calyx will not forget this."
With those words, Dain turned his back and left the lord's manor.
Just before Dain disappeared beyond the doorway, Harald muttered quietly.
"Of course you won't. Neither will I."
Lucian, who had been listening to their exchange from the side, smiled faintly.
It felt as though he was beginning to see exactly how to bring down the House of Count Calyx.
*** 米
After Dain left the territory, Harald spread rumors in all directions.
They said that the rightful heir of Grimaldi would prove himself through a duel with Harald.
The sudden rumor stirred unrest among the lords of neighboring territories.
"The rightful heir? Was there ever anyone besides the House of Count Calyx who could claim the name Grimaldi?"
"Have you already forgotten that His Grace Duke Klaus's daughter married into the House of Valdeck?"
"Valdeck? No—what business would Valdeck have coming all the way to this barren North? They could live in luxury in the Empire."
"I don't know about that. But whatever the reason, isn't it true that he has a legitimate claim?"
"Well… that's true. If it's real, there isn't any closer blood relative."
"Honestly, isn't it ridiculous that the House of Count Calyx uses the name Grimaldi at all? It's been how many years since the last marriage?"
If the rumor were true, the very justification the House of Count Calyx used to unite the North would collapse.
Whether a house had aligned itself with Calyx or opposed them, all were forced to remain on high alert.
However, a few of the old lords merely snorted when they heard the news.
"What a load of nonsense. Ignore it and leave it be."
"My lord, at the very least, shouldn't we send someone to witness the outcome of the duel—"
"There's no need. Grandson of the former duke or not, isn't he just a sixteen-year-old brat? If he can even endure a single exchange against that 'Wolf-Slayer' Harald, it'll be a miracle."
"He doesn't need to win, does he? He only has to prove his martial strength. Perhaps His Lordship the Count will go easy on him."
"Idiot talk. Harald is the real deal—a true warrior. He's the kind of man who considers holding back an insult in itself. There's no way that hardheaded bastard would go easy on anyone."
Regardless of whether the rumor was true, if a duel with Harald really took place, there was no chance a sixteen-year-old brat would win.
Thinking so, the old lords lost interest and didn't even send a single messenger to watch.
Ironically, the people under Harald's rule reacted much the same way.
"My lord, are you really going to fight our lord?"
"And why do you ask?"
"Please drink this. It's fresh deer blood."
"…Why deer blood?"
"There's nothing better for giving a man strength. You might be seriously injured if you're not careful, so you should prepare thoroughly."
Lucian was left speechless.
Despite the fact that he was going to fight their own lord, not a single one of them was worried about Harald.
Instead, they were concerned only with how Lucian would lose, and whether he might be badly hurt in the process.
Some of them even openly admired Lucian's courage.
"Incredible. To challenge our lord just to prove yourself a warrior!"
"If I may offer advice, don't meet him head-on with strength. If possible, aim for the gaps between his big swings."
At their kindness, Lucian and his companions could only let out dry laughs.
It was far too sincere—too genuine in its concern and encouragement—to be dismissed as mere condescension.
"This kind of treatment is new to me. I've fought on the front lines twice already, yet here I'm being treated like a raw recruit."
"The North tends to bury a lot of outside information. Big news gets through, but the suppression of the last rebellion was deliberately covered up by the Imperial Court."
"Well, even so, there's no denying that Count Harald is a formidable opponent."
Lucian recalled the axe Harald had swung earlier.
It was an honest swing with no particular finesse, yet its sheer power made one hesitate to even think about deflecting the axe.
Any ordinary knight would be crushed by the overwhelming presence alone, their strength spent blocking that heavy blow—only to be split in two.
'But I'm not an ordinary knight.'
Lucian closed his eyes and contemplated his inner self.
The path that had already been smoothly honed had expanded even further when his "eyes" opened before.
His reinforced muscles were also in an improved state, now able to handle far more magic power than before.
'It's been a while since I've faced someone who won't go down in a single blow.'
As that thought crossed his mind, Lucian suddenly realized his own competitive urge and let out a wry smile.
It was an emotion he could never have imagined back when he had been weak.
***
On the day of the duel, Lucian stood in the plaza with his hand resting on his sword, waiting for Harald.
Ordinarily, a noble's duel would be held in a training ground, but this time was an exception.
Considering the purpose of the duel, it was better to have as many spectators as possible.
'Looks like quite a few lords are interested in this duel.'
Lucian's gaze drifted from the gathered townsfolk to the knights scattered among them.
They were not knights under Harald's command, but representatives sent from other territories to witness the outcome firsthand.
Barely a week had passed, so time must have been tight in many ways for sending observers—yet the number who had arrived was considerable.
'That means they're intrigued by my existence. Not a bad start.'
Simply drawing this much attention had already fulfilled about half the purpose of the duel.
All that remained was to defeat Harald and prove his martial strength before the people of the North.
Lucian waited, idly running his fingers along the hilt of his sword, until he began to feel a twinge of boredom.
Kurrrrum.
With the sound of the inner gate opening, Harald appeared, an axe slung over his shoulder.
Lucian looked at him with welcome anticipation—then blinked when he noticed Torik bound at Harald's side.
Wait. Why is that guy coming along when he should be in a cell?
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