Lucian showed the letter to the retainers.
Each reacted differently, but the one who responded most vehemently was Raymond.
"A rebellion? That's absurd! With nothing more than the Second Young Master's faction, how could there be any rebellion at all!?"
"Excluding Tristan, he has the most solid foundation. And right now, both Father and Tristan are absent. Given the impatience of having fallen out of the race to become the next Clan Lord, it wouldn't be strange for him to make a move."
"That's only if he could succeed in the rebellion and secure his position. No—more fundamentally, I doubt a rebellion could even be attempted. There's no way the Chief Steward wouldn't have detected it in advance, is there?"
That Edwin, the Chief Steward, oversaw the intelligence organization was a secret known to only a few, but Raymond—formerly of the Black Lion—had a rough idea of his capabilities.
If a rebellion were truly about to break out in Valdeck, it would surely reach his ears first.
"The mistake in Hugo's case was solely because the scale of the matter was far too small. If it were something as large as a rebellion, the Chief Steward would have noticed the signs long ago."
"Hard to say."
"…Pardon? Are you suggesting the Second Young Master could evade the Chief Steward's eyes?"
"If he'd moved troops and funds in an ordinary way, then you'd be right."
But Lucian had witnessed several decidedly unordinary sights not long ago.
Among them were even miracles he had thought could never occur in reality.
'Magic.'
A secret technique that twists the laws of the world, defies common sense, and reproduces miracles.
If, by some chance, Jordi had received help from a Mage—or someone connected to one—then avoiding Edwin's notice would not be difficult either.
After all, the Imperial Family had scoured and squeezed the Mages so thoroughly that even most nobles no longer properly understood what magic actually was.
"Of course, I'm not well-versed in magic myself, so this is nothing more than speculation."
Even so, since it wasn't outright impossible, there was no harm in remaining on guard.
Yet despite Lucian's explanation, Raymond remained skeptical.
"Granted, with such a method, he might be able to seize control of the clan temporarily. The problem is what comes afterward. The Grand Duke is still alive and well—what's the point of playing king for a short while?"
By nature, every rebellion is an act that shatters legitimacy.
Thus, suppressing the backlash afterward is more important than the rebellion's initial success.
If the cleanup is mishandled, endless internal strife and external pressure will soon topple the usurper.
And yet, to stage a rebellion when the current Clan Lord is alive and commands everyone's loyalty?
"At a single word from the returning Grand Duke, everyone would obviously turn their backs. The Second Young Master can't be so foolish as to overlook something that obvious."
"That's true."
If one were to judge the matter purely on its merits, Raymond was a hundred times more correct.
But the affairs of the world do not always move according to reason.
"Still, if there's even the slightest possibility, it's something we need to keep in mind. Above all, if Hans went so far as to use the extreme word 'rebellion,' then even if it's a misunderstanding, it means there's at least something suspicious going on."
For that reason, Lucian intended to focus more on establishing a foothold in the north rather than chasing two goals at once.
If nothing truly happened, he could simply rejoin the competition for the next Clan Lord later.
It was better to prepare for even a slim possibility than to be caught off guard, stabbed in the back, and forced to react in haste.
"If you insist, then…"
Raymond did not seem fully convinced, but he still bowed his head, as though willing to follow Lucian's will regardless.
After roughly organizing the retainers' opinions, Lucian sank into calm contemplation.
"With the choices narrowing, my mind actually feels lighter."
Fortunately, there was very little Lucian had left behind in the clan.
To put it bluntly, if he succeeded in extracting only Hans and Ian, the rest could be ignored.
Even that wasn't a concern—Hans was handling matters well on his own—so Lucian could focus entirely on affairs in the north without anxiety.
"The Hundred-Day Hunt proposed by Calyx, the return of Asagrim, and the title of Margrave along with my maternal grandfather's inheritance…"
As the scattered pieces came together into one, the corners of Lucian's lips lifted.
"Viscount Harald."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"The House of Calyx once proposed a Hundred-Day Hunt. How about we host that Hundred-Day Hunt ourselves this time?"
"…Pardon?"
"As a celebration for the return of Asagrim, the capital of the Northern Kingdom. I think it would make for quite a lively festival."
After blinking in surprise, Harald soon grasped Lucian's true intention.
Participate in the Hundred-Day Hunt, but change the host from Calyx?
And not as a mere test, but under the pretext of commemorating Asagrim's return?
"I'm starting to worry that Calyx might be so overjoyed they'll go mad."
Despite his words, a deep smile played across Harald's lips.
****
"So that whelp accepted the proposal? Well, I suppose he had no choice."
Norbek, the Clan Lord of House Calyx, stroked his beard with a smile.
Given his innate weakness, he would have had no option but to accept, even knowing it was a trap.
"What matters is what comes next. He'll know it's a trap, so he'll come thoroughly prepared. We mustn't let our guard down—we need to drive him into a corner for good."
"You're right."
Norbek nodded at the words of his eldest son, Godfrey.
They had succeeded in luring him to the place where the trap was set, but he had yet to step into it.
For a perfect hunt, they would need to coordinate with their allies and layer trap upon trap.
"Still, there's no need to worry excessively. As long as the venue is our own front yard, there's a limit to how much he can prepare."
"U-Your Excellency… that is…"
Marcel, who had been dispatched as an envoy and had just returned, was breaking out in a cold sweat.
Seeing that his usual composure was nowhere to be found, Norbek frowned.
"What is it? Did something go wrong?"
"Well… he did say he would participate in the Hundred-Day Hunt, but… he said that, if possible, he'd like to host it himself…"
Norbek and Godfrey stared at him, wondering if they'd just heard nonsense.
Host the Hundred-Day Hunt himself?
How could someone who didn't even have so much as a scrap of territory for a venue manage that?
"I'm hearing all sorts of strange things. I get that he's wary of the trap, but saying something like that is practically the same as refusing outright, isn't it? A proposal like that would only corner him further."
"Actually, not long after I arrived… the Emperor bestowed a title and territory upon him."
"What!? What are you talking about!? Why would the Emperor suddenly—!?"
"I don't know the reason either. What's certain is that he said he would grant him the title of Margrave, along with Asagrim—the former capital of the old Northern Kingdom."
"…What?"
The two of them froze on the spot.
He gave up Asagrim—the city the Emperor had kept as an imperial domain and never relinquished until now?
As they stood there, utterly dumbfounded, Marcel continued.
"A-and an Imperial Inspector has been dispatched and said he will head to the Grimaldi lands to oversee a lawful inheritance process. He said that the residence and estate left behind by the late Duke will be transferred to his grandson according to proper procedure…"
"That's madness!"
Norbek sprang to his feet, shouting in shock.
Inheriting the private assets left behind by House Grimaldi—that could happen.
Handing over Asagrim was absurd, but somehow still conceivable.
But granting both at the same time?
"Grimaldi carries the blood of the old royal family! And now, on top of Grimaldi's inheritance, he's giving him Asagrim as well!? That's practically a restoration of the royal house! There's no way the Emperor would do that unless he'd gone insane—!"
"I doubted it too. Dozens of times. Hundreds of times. But the inspector was real, and an autograph letter from the Emperor was enclosed."
"That can't be true. It can't be! This is ridiculous!"
"Please calm down, Father! Let's organize things for a moment!"
Godfrey grabbed Norbek—who was trembling as if rejecting reality—and forced him back into his seat.
But he himself found the situation just as unbelievable.
With Krepfeld's declaration of independence having surely put the Emperor on edge, he handed Asagrim to a Grimaldi descendant?
"…Doesn't this look like he's encouraging the unification of the north?"
No matter how he thought about it, he couldn't understand the reasoning.
If it were the Emperor, shouldn't he be working tirelessly to keep the lords divided?
And yet here he was, deliberately pushing them to unite under the banner of the Northern Kingdom.
"Then what on earth is the reason? Surely he doesn't expect that whelp to lead a unified north and side with the Empire?"
If that were the case, the Imperial Family would gain an enormous base of support.
In a situation like the present, when allies were desperately needed, it would indeed be a great help.
But even if loyalty were pledged in the current generation, there was no guarantee it would remain in the next.
To go so far out of one's way to create a support base like this simply didn't make sense.
"This… this is no time for that."
Norbek, having barely regained his composure, staggered and grabbed hold of his son as he spoke.
Godfrey snapped back to attention at the sound of his voice.
"Father."
"If he truly received the title of Margrave and Asagrim, then the Hundred-Day Hunt means nothing. The hunt will be nothing more than a festival, and we'll be reduced to mere extras, attending to celebrate the new ruler of the north."
"Is there another course of action?"
Norbek silently fixed his gaze on Marcel, who had finished delivering his report.
Recognizing the unspoken dismissal in that look, Marcel gave a slight bow and withdrew.
After the door closed and some time passed, Norbek spoke in a whisper.
"We'll have to summon that sorcerer. As long as the heavens are open, he should be able to exert his abilities in any territory."
"Father!? That's dangerous! Are you planning to make an enemy of Valdeck!?"
"This is no time to worry about that. Why do you think the Emperor bestowed such an excessive gift on him? It's to crush us and hand the north over to him!"
"He's someone who already sees us as a thorn in his side—and now he's acting with the Emperor's tacit approval. If we stay idle, our house will inevitably be brought low by his hand later on!"
So they had to strike first.
To ignore the aftermath entirely would be foolish—but to think only of the aftermath and die to the arrow before one's eyes would be even more foolish.
Norbek whispered once more to Godfrey, who had been left speechless.
"In any case, we have no other choice. We'll commission that sorcerer and pin everything on him."
Godfrey gave a heavy nod at his father's words.
Whether the other side would fall for it was uncertain, but when there was only one option to begin with, there was no reason to agonize over it.
"Ugh!"
"What's wrong?"
"No, it's just—my back suddenly felt chilly."
Colin, a mage of the Astronomy Department, shuddered.
It wasn't his first time in the north, and he was dressed quite warmly, yet an inexplicable chill crept over him.
Wondering if it might be the onset of a cold, he patted himself here and there, when he heard a soft giggle from ahead.
"So you're worrying about your health now, senior brother. You used to live like nothing mattered, saying you didn't care when you died."
"That was when I was young. Now that I'm older, my life feels precious."
"Oh my. I never thought I'd hear you say your life is precious, senior brother."
"Stop teasing me and tell me the fortune already. How long are you planning to keep me in suspense?"
At Colin's grumbling, Helen—the female mage who shared his sect—smiled gently.
"Just wait a little longer. The stars haven't gathered into their proper places yet. The changes of the heavens are boundless, and their depth has no end."
"So don't try to measure it—feel it with your body. If you try to fathom that depth with a human body, you'll only fall endlessly. I still remember those words from our master."
"That's a relief. You were always so quick to rebel against Master's words that I thought you'd forgotten… ah."
Helen broke off mid-sentence and swiftly began flipping over the cards.
Presumably, the "stars" she spoke of had finally aligned in their proper places.
To Colin—who, despite being from the same Astronomy Department, knew nothing about astrology—it was a bizarre sight.
The cards had already been laid out, yet even the act of turning them over required precise timing.
"Well, in the end she always delivers uncannily accurate readings, so I suppose it must mean something."
"Hm…"
As Colin watched, Helen finished turning over all the cards and narrowed her brow.
Since that was something she usually did when an ill omen appeared, Colin's heart sank.
"What is it? Don't tell me you've seen a death omen for me."
"It did appear."
"Really!?"
"But it's a strange reading. I'll interpret it for you, so take a look yourself."
Staring intently at the cards, Helen began writing a sentence with her quill.
A moment later, Colin accepted the completed line and tilted his head at the ambiguous phrasing.
"Three meetings and three chances. Two failures and one opportunity. If you seize it, he will become a benefactor; if you let it slip, he will become a reaper?"
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