Chapter 71

Chapter 71
## Chapter 71

“What is our move?”

Hugo moved to the front, acting as the spokesperson for the companions as he sought direction from Lucian.

Getting involved in the disputes of others usually resulted in inheriting their problems. However, if handled with care, this moment could serve as a chance to secure supporters in the Northern territories.

“We move out.”

After a brief pause for reflection, Lucian began walking toward the echoes of clashing blades. Their path was taking them in that direction regardless, making an encounter unavoidable. It was far wiser to seize the upper hand and gauge the conflict than to be blindsided by it.

Clang! Screech! Thud!

“Down there.”

Upon reaching the ridge of the hill, Lucian’s group looked into the valley. Below them, roughly thirty combatants were locked in a messy brawl. More accurately, the entire pack was swarming a solitary target.

“You stains on the North! Have you completely abandoned the principles of a warrior’s pride?!”

Crunch!

“Gah…!”

A silver-haired patriarch bellowed, his heavy axe carving into a soldier who had lunged at him. Despite his vocal complaints, the manner in which his powerful physique shredded the opposition was nothing short of terrifying.

“Stubborn old fool. For all his preaching about the way of the warrior, he truly has transformed himself into a freak of nature.”

In stark contrast to the burly elder, the individual commanding the troops appeared to be a polished aristocrat. His expensive attire and pristine white gloves, better suited for a palace in the capital, made one think of a formal dance rather than a muddy slaughter.

“You coward! Skulking behind common infantry—is this the legacy I passed to you?! If you desire your father’s life, step forward and claim it with your own hands!”

“Are you still obsessed with those dead traditions? If this were a clever trap to lure me in, I might feel a shred of respect, but the fact that you genuinely believe this nonsense is just pitiful.”

“You… Urgh!”

Slash!

While the fuming elder barked his defiance, a soldier’s spear caught him along the forearm. Seeing red spray from those iron-like limbs, the infantryman let out a jubilant shout.

“I—I drew blood! I actually…!”

“A senior is addressing you! Where is your respect?!”

Splat!

An axe whipped through the air like a bolt of lightning, severing the celebrating soldier’s head in a single motion. The strike was so rapid that the man expired with a grin still on his face, never realizing his life had ended.

The aristocrat made a clicking sound with his tongue as he observed the head tumbling across the dirt.

“Tsk, tsk. No bounty for that one. He should have delivered the strike and pulled back.”

“How dare you… Gah!”

The patriarch attempted another roar, but he faltered, gripped by a wave of lightheadedness. A closer look revealed that his frame was already riddled with countless minor lacerations. Witnessing the old man stumbling toward collapse, the middle-aged noble erupted in mocking laughter.

“Warrior or not, it appears you are no match for the passage of time, Father! Although, I must admit you’ve survived far longer than expected for someone of your years.”

“…Answer me one thing. Do you truly trust that snake to bring back the North’s ancient prestige?”

Perhaps realizing his end was imminent, the patriarch set aside his fury and inquired with sincere wonder. The noble’s laughter grew even more boisterous as he shook his head.

“Why should that matter? Northern prestige or whatever—I couldn’t care less about any of it.”

“What? Then why go through with this?!”

“What matters is that the House of Calix is reorganizing the North, and more people are aligning with them than you realize. If the North is being transformed, isn’t it smarter to join them early and gather the leftovers?”

“You… to the bitter end!”

Blood seeped from the patriarch’s gnashed teeth. He seemed more shattered by his son’s abandonment of their heritage than by the betrayal of their blood bond.

“I’ve had my fill of your sermons. Be quiet and pass away peacefully. Just like the warrior you claim to be.”

With a look of contempt, the aristocrat gave a signal, and three knights who had been holding back their strength trotted forward. Their mounts snorted, coiled like springs and prepared to strike at any second.

“No, I don’t believe that will happen.”

“…!”

Lucian’s words cut through the air from the hilltop where he had been observing. The noble scowled, looking up at the unexpected meddler.

“Who are you to stick your nose into the business of a different family?”

“And who are you to stick your nose into the business of a different family?”

“…?”

The aristocrat looked as though he had misheard the remark. They were the ones who had just broken in, yet he was the one being accused of meddling?

“What idiocy is this! Are you trying to mock me with wordplay?!”

“Not at all. I am asking quite seriously. Why do you keep mentioning the House of Calix? Those individuals are employing the Grimaldi title without my consent.”

“…!?”

The noble’s expression contorted in total shock. An absolute stranger was suddenly laying claim to the Grimaldi legacy?

“Who exactly are you supposed to be?”

Lucian allowed a faint, mocking smile to pull at his lips at the bewildered inquiry.

“My name is Lucian Valdek. I am the third-born son of House Valdek, and the grandson through my mother’s side of the final patriarch of House Grimaldi.”

“….”

“….”

As Lucian announced his lineage, a heavy shroud of silence fell over the aristocrat and his mounted retainers. The knights, in particular, appeared even more rattled than their master, swapping confused glances.

“…Are you truly a descendant of the Grimaldi line?”

“You have been given my name; it seems only fair that you provide yours now.”

“Ahem, my apologies. I am Torik Osgor, the reigning patriarch of the House of Osgor.”

“Don’t make me laugh. When did I ever relinquish the leadership to you?”

Torik grimaced at the patriarch’s interruption. He glared at his father, silently telling him to hold his tongue, but the old man disregarded him and yelled up toward Lucian.

“I am Harald Osgor, the rightful patriarch of the House of Osgor! Are you truly the grandson of His Grace, Duke Klaus?!”

Klaus Grimaldi.

At the mention of his grandfather, Lucian gave a firm nod.

“I swear by the Eight Gods of Heaven, I am his direct descendant.”

“Then why have you appeared in the North only now? I have never laid eyes on you before!”

The injured Harald fixed Lucian with an intense stare. His voice carried a sharp edge, as if demanding to know why someone who had never visited the North was suddenly showing up.

Lucian replied with clarity and conviction to Harald.

“I have come to take back the Grimaldi name, which is rightfully mine, and to hold accountable the thief who presumed to use it without my leave.”

“Do you, someone from outside the North, believe you have the standing to meddle in Northern politics?”

“Regardless of my birthplace, I am his grandson. What further proof of standing do I need to reclaim my inheritance?”

“And if the people of the North refuse to accept your claim?”

Harald’s muscles tensed as though he might launch his axe at a moment’s notice. Yet Lucian didn’t flinch; he merely offered a frigid smile.

“Then I suppose I will have to ask every Northerner what standing they have to meddle in my family’s affairs.”

“Bwahahaha!”

It was a reply that teetered on the edge of pure hubris, yet Harald exploded into a fit of raucous laughter. Blood welled from his open gashes, but he couldn’t stop the outburst.

“Ha… you are undeniably his grandson. This takes me back.”

“Are we done with the interrogation?”

“We are. Welcome to the North, scion of Grimaldi. And…”

Harald gave his axe a practiced spin and glared at Torik.

“I loathe to request this, but could you provide some assistance? It’s humiliating, but I’ve been betrayed by my own son, and I’m in a bit of a state.”

At Harald’s plea for help, Torik cried out with desperation.

“You have no reason to get tangled in this! This is a private family matter, so act as if you saw nothing and go away!”

“And if I choose not to?”

“What!?”

“That discussion from earlier was rather fascinating. What was it? You’re hoping to scavenge leftovers from the new system the House of Calix is establishing?”

Curse it!

Torik’s face twisted in fury as he quickly evaluated Lucian’s group. Soon, his confidence returned, and a sneer formed on his mouth.

“You plan to oppose me with that miserable little squad? How laughable.”

“Is there something wrong with my squad?”

“I see one broken-down knight, one mercenary girl playing at being a soldier, and ten pieces of trash. Oh, and I suppose I should include one sheltered little noble?”

“Ho.”

Lucian’s mouth quirked upward at Torik’s insults. So, that was the impression they gave?

“Raymond, Felicia. Open the path. Hugo, guide the Ten-Man Squad and protect their flanks so they aren’t surrounded.”

“As you command, my Lord.”

The instant the order was issued, Raymond and Felicia moved to the vanguard, while Hugo and the Ten-Man Squad fanned out behind them. Observing the common troops move with such flawless coordination, Torik felt a pang of unease, but he maintained his smirk.

“You’ve drilled them well, it seems. But no matter how skilled they are, with only ten men—”

“Attack.”

Disregarding Torik, Lucian whispered the command. At the same moment, the Black Lion and the future Sword Saint unsheathed their steel and charged down the slope.

“….”

Torik blinked in stunned silence. He was unable to process the events that had just unfolded.

The soldiers standing in the way of the charge had been cut down like wheat in a field, and before he could react, cold steel was pressed against his windpipe.

“Twitch and you’re a corpse.”

At Felicia’s warning, Torik swallowed hard. As his throat moved, the edge seemed to sink deeper into his flesh.

“Order your men to surrender their weapons.”

“That’s…”

“Do you wish for your life to end here?”

“Drop your weapons! Everyone, disarm yourselves this instant!”

Paralyzed by fear as the blade drew a thin line of blood, Torik screamed the command. The remaining soldiers promptly cast aside their gear. Once they were defenseless, Torik looked at Felicia with shaking eyes.

“W-what is your plan for me?”

“That is for my Lord to decide.”

“Payment! I will provide a ransom! So please…”

“Be silent.”

Muted by Felicia’s chilling presence, Torik was forced to comply. His gaze wandered until it settled on his three knights, now nothing more than bodies on the ground.

When did they even…

He had clearly witnessed one fall. The man who looked like a spent knight had dispatched his retainer in a mere three moves. The issue was the other two.

I didn’t even catch the movement.

The moment the female warrior flicked her sword, the two knights were already sliding from their saddles. It was only after seeing the dark stains on the snow that Torik understood their throats had been opened.

Icy sweat rolled down Torik’s brow as he realized the true nature of the killers before him.

W-what did I just say to them?

“Tsk, tsk.”

Two shadows stretched over him accompanied by the sound of mocking tongues. Lucian and Harald, who had been observing from the rear, were now standing in front of him.

“You speak so much about the ‘direction of the wind,’ yet you cannot even smell the blood right under your nose. Is this the ‘strategy’ you mentioned?”

“….”

Torik turned a deep shade of crimson from embarrassment, his frame shivering, but he could only lower his head in quiet shame. Harald offered no further words, merely letting out a weary groan.

“What are your instructions?”

Lucian asked Harald, his manner significantly more respectful than before. It was a sign of deference for an elder and acknowledgment of a noble rank. During the previous uprising, Lucian had served as the Acting Family Head, but currently, he was just the third son of a Duke without an official title.

Harald sensed Lucian’s politeness and moderated his own voice.

“Just to be certain, do you happen to have any cord?”

“We do. We packed a great deal, as we were told people often become trapped in the Northern drifts.”

“Tie them all up. I intend to keep them as captives.”

“Are you certain of that choice?”

Harald gave a pained smile at Lucian’s inquiry.

“He is a failure and a betrayer of his kin, but he is still my offspring. I have no desire to execute him here.”

“If that is what you wish.”

Lucian signaled the Ten-Man Squad to secure the disarmed infantry. It was a bizarre sight—ten men taking more than double their number into custody.

Harald watched the troops being bound before shifting his focus back to Lucian.

“You claimed to be the grandson of Duke Klaus? Let us have a conversation.”