Lucian hurriedly grabbed the knight who was about to cut off his own arm with a sword.
It wasn't just an empty gesture—the blade had already bitten into the skin, drawing blood.
If he had been even a moment later, the knight's enhanced strength would have carried the cut all the way to the bone.
This is insane… just how much does he hate Calyx?
The sword is a knight's symbol.
The moment one's body is ruined to the point of being unable to wield a blade, it is effectively the end of one's life as a knight.
And yet he was willing to throw away an arm just to crush Calyx.
"Calm down first and explain yourself. What did Calyx do to you to drive you this far?"
"Their crimes aren't even worth listing one by one! They brazenly usurped the name of Grimaldi and divided the lords of the North—those sins alone are—!"
"Let's not dress this up as talk of the greater good. I may be young, but I'm not so naïve as to fall for that."
At Lucian's cold voice, the knight—who had been delivering a fervent tirade—flinched.
It was painfully obvious that he was using lofty ideals as an excuse to avoid revealing the real reason.
After hesitating for a long moment, the knight let out a deep sigh.
"There is a grudge."
"And I don't yet know what that grudge is. Is it a personal one? Or the grudge of the lord you serve?"
"Both. Those Calyx bastards did something to my lord's… um."
The knight kept hesitating, clearly struggling to speak, all the while watching Lucian's expression.
But if he closed his mouth here, it would only deepen suspicion rather than build trust.
At last, with a sense of resigned desperation, the knight spoke.
"They incited a rebellion within our territory. We managed to suppress it somehow, but many were killed and wounded because of it."
"A rebellion? Surely you don't mean someone without a right of succession raised it? That would be tantamount to treason against the Empire."
"No. My lord's second son… no, the man who was his second son, led the rebellion."
"I see."
At the knight's barely audible voice, Lucian nodded.
Even if it had been stirred up from the outside, the one who led the rebellion was ultimately a member of the lord's own family.
It was closer to a disgrace that had unfolded within the domain—something too shameful to speak of openly.
After all, suffering such damage from a relative's rebellion meant a failure both as a patriarch and as a lord.
So it wasn't only Baron Harald they went after. It seems they poked at every vehemently opposing lord who showed even the slightest potential for rebellion.
This was a grave crime—one that went far beyond merely being branded a public enemy of the North.
With imperial sanction, it could even warrant a formal campaign of suppression.
At Lucian's reaction, the knight—who had been hanging his head—flared up again and shouted.
"Their sins already reach the heavens! Even the Eight Gods will show them no more mercy—only punishment remains! We will support everything you desire, so please, in the name of justice, condemn Calyx!"
"Ah."
At the knight's fervent, almost frayed cry, Lucian smiled inwardly.
He was beginning to understand why they were clinging to him so desperately.
They want to use me as their banner for revenge, do they?
No matter how much Calyx might have instigated the rebellion, without concrete evidence it was impossible to openly mobilize an army.
A mere domain war might pass with nothing more than the imperial court's displeasure, but if the scale were too large to ignore, it wouldn't be let slide so easily.
And if they fought Calyx in a straightforward one-on-one domain war, they would simply be crushed by Calyx's military might.
They're planning to raise a coalition army and use me as the justification to wipe Calyx out. Well, it's true—there's no better focal point than me.
No matter how powerful Calyx might be, the third prince of the Grand Duke Valdeck was an exceedingly awkward target to kill outright.
Moreover, he was a legitimate rival whose claim to the name of Grimaldi far surpassed Calyx's.
And he even had connections that could convey the underlying circumstances to an imperial court wary of open rebellion.
For them, clinging to Lucian was inevitable if they wished to see their revenge through.
"I understand how you feel. Calyx has committed far too many unforgivable acts. The time to pay the price is drawing near."
"Then that means…!"
"But not yet. I have not yet reclaimed the name of Grimaldi. Only when I punish them as the rightful heir of Grimaldi can justice truly be said to have been served, don't you agree?"
"Of course! If you ever need support, please say the word!"
Fearing that Lucian might change his mind, the knight hastily pledged his support.
It wasn't just a verbal promise—he even presented a personal letter from his lord.
It stated that, with only the Empire's permission, they would march their troops at any time to provide aid.
As Lucian tucked the letter away, he swallowed a smile.
With this, military strength is secured.
That said, he had no intention of waging a head-on war against the House of Count Calyx.
Though he now had dependable allies, the enemy's forces were hardly negligible.
Even with imperial sanction, charging in on half-baked strength alone could end in disaster.
What matters is that there are now people who desperately need my existence—people who would willingly raise their armies if the moment comes.
Lucian, at the very least, had the power to protect his own life.
Lucian trusted Felicia's, Raymond's, and Hugo's abilities as well.
But no matter how strong one might be, it was difficult to fend off ten enemies with a single hand.
Just when he needed other hands—strong or weak—they had come running, offering to be those hands themselves.
Given their circumstances, they'd be determined to protect me at least as much as they wished to avenge themselves.
For the House of Count Calyx, which might otherwise have considered options like kidnapping or forced repatriation in the worst case, this was an extremely burdensome situation.
With things having come to this, the enemy's only remaining option was a straightforward, head-on confrontation with Lucian.
And when it came to a contest of that sort, Lucian was confident he would not lose to anyone.
***
A few days later, Calyx dispatched an envoy once again.
"Greetings, Prince Lucian. I am Marcel Herscher, a knight in service to the House of Count Calyx."
The knight, with his lean muscles and gloomy eyes, gave an impression completely opposite to that of the once-overconfident Palmyr.
No sooner had he finished introducing himself than Marcel went straight to the point.
"I'll be blunt. His Excellency the Count wishes to engage Your Highness in a legitimate contest over the name of Grimaldi."
"A legitimate contest."
Lucian tilted his head with a faint chuckle.
"How absurd. A contest is something required between those with equal rights. Is it not nonsense for you to propose a contest with me—the maternal grandson of the previous Grand Duke?"
"And yet, Prince Lucian, you are not a Northerner. No matter how many times it must be said, we will continue to repeat this. Surely you yourself are aware of that fact."
At the audacious remark, Lucian's retainers—including Harald—simultaneously frowned.
Since they themselves couldn't afford to give up the name of Grimaldi, wasn't this simply them clinging to it by any pretext, legitimate rights or otherwise?
Contemptuous gazes poured in from all sides, but Marcel didn't flinch in the slightest, as if his skin were made of iron.
"As Your Highness knows, many things have already happened across the North. Some have profited, others have suffered losses. If you were to render all of that meaningless now, then no matter what justification you bring forth, no one would accept it quietly and step aside."
"And yet you'd accept it quietly if I were to win this contest? A contest with no legitimacy whatsoever, no public authority—just a simple bout? That doesn't quite add up."
"It will be a contest held before the eyes of all the North. If Calyx were to propose it first and then backtrack afterward, who would follow Calyx ever again?"
In other words, with everyone watching, once a result was decided, they would have no choice but to accept it, whether they liked it or not.
Since it wasn't an entirely unfounded argument, Lucian tilted his chin, urging him to continue.
"More importantly, this contest will follow the traditions of the old North. If Your Highness truly carries Northern blood, you wouldn't refuse, would you?"
"The traditions of the old North?"
"The Hundred-Day Hunt."
Bang!
"You insane bastard!"
Harald, his eyes flipping with rage, slammed his fist into the table.
Wooden fragments flew in all directions, but Marcel calmly bowed his head.
"Please calm yourself. I am merely conveying the terms of the contest."
"Shut up! You snake-like bastards are openly scheming now! If you're so eager to die, I'll take your head right here—!"
"Your Grace."
Just as Harald was about to grab his axe, he froze at Lucian's voice.
His hand trembling violently, Harald eventually pulled it back, spitting his words out as if grinding them between his teeth.
"If you weren't a guest of Prince Lucian, your head would already be rolling on the floor."
"I shall carve Your Grace's consideration into my heart."
Harald flared up again at the utterly ungrateful tone, but mindful of Lucian's gaze, he sat back down.
Once the hair-trigger tension had settled, Lucian looked at Marcel and asked,
"What exactly is this Hundred-Day Hunt?"
At Lucian's question, Marcel let out a cold smile.
"As I said earlier, it is an ancient tradition of the North."
***
"Survive in the northern snow mountains for fifteen days, then return with the most valuable trophy—the one who does so is declared the victor. You may bring no more than five companions, and bringing provisions of any kind is strictly forbidden."
After sending Marcel outside for a discussion, Lucian mulled over what he had just heard.
It seemed that, true to its name, the Hundred-Day Hunt had originally lasted a full hundred days, but because it took so long and was excessively dangerous, it had been reduced to fifteen.
"An interesting tradition. Casting aside all background and testing nothing but an individual's pure ability… I find myself liking the North more and more."
"This is no time for such leisure! Do you really think they'll conduct a fair and honorable contest!?"
"Of course not."
Lucian shrugged and looked down at the map.
On it, the snow mountains Marcel had designated as the site of the contest were marked in red.
"The snow mountains they've proposed are close to the House of Count Calyx and surrounded by allied lords. Even if those who support me keep watch, since it's essentially their front yard, there's every chance they'll secretly set traps."
"Then you must refuse."
"That won't do."
"Why not!"
"They invoked tradition. If I back out now, the illusion I've carefully planted in people's minds will shatter."
Harald fell silent, struck squarely by the point.
As Lucian had said, if he refused this proposal now, it would make him seem averse to the North's ancient traditions.
Even those who had cheered him as a hero carrying the blood of the Northern royal line would feel disappointment, great or small.
"In the worst case, everything I've worked to be acknowledged for so far could come to nothing. They'd also eagerly spread the notion that, in the end, a Southerner is still just a Southerner."
"Then you mean to accept the proposal, even knowing full well it's a trap?"
"Yes. That is my intention."
"What the—!"
At the declaration, so brimming with confidence it bordered on arrogance, Harald let out a hollow laugh.
Lucian added a few words, calming the agitated Harald.
"I'm not accepting it thoughtlessly. They won't want to incur Valdeck's wrath by causing me direct harm. At most, they'll be limited to indirect harassment."
"Just because your life is safe doesn't mean victory is guaranteed. If you lose the contest, you'll only be doing them a favor."
"No. As long as I accept the contest, the outcome itself doesn't matter. What's important to me is the North's recognition—not theirs."
Lucian grinned at Harald, who tilted his head in confusion.
"Why should I care whether they acknowledge me or not? Under imperial law, the right to Grimaldi's legacy already belongs to me. Unless the entire North refuses to acknowledge that fact—which isn't the case—this is simply them being the only ones throwing a tantrum about it."
At the unexpected answer, Harald blinked in a daze.
So it can be interpreted that way too…?
On second thought, it wasn't entirely wrong.
The North might be distant from the imperial court, but it was undeniably part of the Empire.
Setting aside how individuals wielded pretexts, under imperial law the rights to the previous duke's lands and property belonged solely to Lucian.
With the majority already recognizing him, if Calyx were to seize the late duke's legacy, the House of Count Calyx invoking the name of Grimaldi would only become a laughingstock.
"…No, but they won't simply acknowledge your rights and hand them over, will they? Even if they do acknowledge them, it's obvious they'll make every excuse under the sun to avoid actually giving them up."
"Then we simply make use of public authority."
"Public authority?"
"My lord."
Just as Lucian was about to elaborate, Felicia's voice came from outside.
"The inspector has arrived with an imperial edict from His Majesty the Emperor."
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