Chapter 91

Chapter 91
## Chapter 91

Lucian found himself momentarily speechless, unable to provide a counterargument.

He was, after all, the one who had invited Harald to join his cause in the first place.

Back then, Harald had only declined because of the pressing chaos within his own lands, though he seemed prepared to pledge his sword the moment stability returned. Had his second son, Thorkel, stepped up as heir and displayed even a shred of reliability, Harald likely would have handed over the reins and sought out Lucian immediately.

*I would have much preferred the father over this stranger I’ve never laid eyes on until today.*

Thorkel had simply identified the most efficient route to claim what he wanted.

The fact that he had orchestrated the exact result he desired was proof of his tactical mind and his ability to act with clinical speed. However, Lucian noted that one vital component was missing from Thorkel’s calculations.

“The truth is, I have no desire to have you in my service.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why the shock? Did you honestly expect me to praise your achievements just because you share Viscount Harald’s blood?”

“It isn’t that… Are you perhaps looking to put my talents to the test?”

“No, I have seen plenty of what you can do. It is your fundamental nature that I find distasteful.”

Thorkel felt a sense of vertigo at the blunt assessment.

His nature? Had he committed some overt villainy in Lucian’s presence?

When the silence stretched on and Thorkel remained unable to find his voice, Lucian spoke once more.

“‘Take the throne.’ What an utterly preposterous thing to proclaim.”

“…!”

“You are a cunning fox. You are the polar opposite of your straightforward father. You actually had the audacity to shout those words in front of the knights of the Empire?”

“That was only—!”

“A passionate youth swept up in the bygone majesty of the North, unable to restrain his fervor. That is precisely how it appeared. Your timing was impeccable as well.”

It had occurred at the exact moment the White Palace, sealed for a millennium, finally unbarred its gates. It wouldn’t have seemed out of place for a hot-blooded young man to be moved to tears and cry out for the restoration of ancient power. Indeed, the other pilgrims, caught in the magnetism of the moment, had followed his lead without hesitation.

“Were you concerned that the rewards I received from the Imperial family were too generous? Did you fear I might remain a complacent servant instead of seizing the North’s destiny?”

“….”

“Your talent for probing for a reaction is exceptional. Or perhaps it’s a lack of composure. You seem unable to breathe until you force a definitive declaration.”

With every sentence Lucian uttered, the color drained from Thorkel’s face. Despite the biting chill of the air, the cold sweat soaking through his tunic was visible to everyone present.

“You likely hoped I would eagerly embrace your proclamation. Not only would that have poisoned my standing with the Imperial family, but it would have allowed you to confirm the extent of my greed firsthand.”

“Y-Your Highness.”

“And even if I had wavered or failed to provide a clear rebuttal, you would have still gained. If a satisfying answer didn’t pass my lips, the Imperial family would have viewed me with eternal distrust.”

“Your Highness!”

*Swoosh!*

As Thorkel jerked his head upward, a flash of azure light streaked before his eyes. He felt a blistering heat at the very tip of his nose, and he realized with a jolt that the energy was condensed, physical mana.

“Be quiet. Your Lord is speaking.”

The female knight’s voice arrived a second later, forcing him to swallow hard. The sheer coldness in her tone made it clear that his head would leave his shoulders the instant he spoke another word.

Lucian let out a sharp, mocking laugh as he looked down at Thorkel, who had pressed his forehead back into the dirt.

“You truly do possess a sharp mind. Quite the contrast to your honorable father.”

Lucian’s words were a biting cocktail of genuine observation and heavy irony.

Reflecting on it, Thorkel stood to benefit regardless of Lucian’s choice. If Lucian had confirmed his thirst for the throne, he would have broken ties with the Empire; if he had hesitated, the seeds of conflict would have been sown regardless.

Even if Lucian had loudly rejected the crown and pledged eternal fealty to the Emperor, Thorkel would have been disappointed, but he would have viewed it as the lesser of two evils.

At the very least, a mere puppet of the Imperial court would not be the one presiding over the North.

The smirk died on Lucian’s face.

“You arrogant brat.”

“….”

“Since you weren’t certain of your monarch’s character, you thought you would shape it to suit your whims? I have never encountered a man like you. Did you intend to play the puppet master from the shadows?”

“Never! That was never my intent!”

*Slash.*

Felicia’s blade hissed through the air toward Thorkel as he lunged upright. A thin line of blood began to drip where the edge clipped his ear, but Thorkel ignored the sting and shouted.

“How could I even conceive of such a thing! I would sooner be a broken soldier or a nameless fraud than ever dream of being a shadow manipulator!”

“You claim that after dreaming up such a transparent, pathetic ruse?”

“This is about more than just my life! The entire future of the North hangs upon Your Highness! How could I not burn with the need to see the true measure of the man leading us!”

“Well, you have your result. By measuring me, you have forfeited my confidence. I have no use for you in my inner circle, so leave.”

“Then I beg of you—use me and then discard me!”

“What?”

Lucian stared at Thorkel, his expression one of pure disbelief.

In his previous life, Lucian had witnessed every manner of strange behavior from knights who were denied a place in service. Some would kneel in the snow for days, some would perform desperate feats to prove their worth, and others would depart with promises to return when they were stronger.

But he had never met a man who requested to be treated as a disposable tool if he couldn’t be a trusted ally.

“Your Highness gave an answer I hadn’t even imagined. In that moment, I realized you are someone I cannot even begin to calculate. You are truly the leader I have been searching for.”

A genuine sovereign who could restore the North to its zenith.

Bloodline, talent, and providence—he possessed everything. If such a man was not destined for kingship, then who was?

“I hold no desire for personal wealth or status. I do not care if my name fades from history or if my family withers. My only obsession is seeing the North return to its former state.”

It didn’t matter if Lucian despised him. What mattered was his utility to Lucian’s Great Cause. Even if he was destined for the scrap heap, shouldn’t every drop of his value be wrung out first?

“So I ask again, use me and throw me away. Drain every bit of use from me until I am a hollow shell. Once I have served the Great Cause, I will offer you my life gladly if that is what Your Highness requires!”

“….”

Lucian looked deeply into Thorkel’s eyes, maintaining a heavy silence. Those eyes were burning with a frantic, localized sun.

He had seen that look a handful of times in his past life.

It was the gaze of a man who had tethered his entire soul’s purpose to another person.

It was the look of those who are haunted by a vision they know they lack the strength to achieve alone. They spend their lives scouring the world for a vessel—a savior who can carry that impossible dream across the finish line for them.

Most of those stories ended in blood and sorrow, however.

A dream that relies on the strength of another is fundamentally fragile. It doesn’t magically happen just because someone provides total devotion. Moreover, it was all too common for the chosen “savior” to be a fraud or to die long before the goal was reached.

Typically, they would perish in agony, having surrendered their lives for a lord who failed them.

Yet, without fail, every one of them shared a single, unshakable trait.

They were incapable of betrayal.

Lucian wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps they couldn’t endure the thought that their life’s choice was a mistake, or perhaps they found the idea of switching allegiances to be a form of spiritual suicide. Even while drowning in bitterness or regret, they would reject any chance to turn cloak and choose to die by their master’s side instead.

In this moment, Thorkel was looking at Lucian with those very eyes.

“Very well.”

Lucian spoke, tapping his chin as if weighing the options.

“It would indeed be wasteful to throw away a sponge that still has water left in it.”

“Your Highness!”

Lucian signaled for silence as Thorkel’s face lit up with a desperate hope.

“However, if I go to the effort of squeezing you and find that you produce nothing but filth, the disappointment would be quite severe. I find myself questioning if the effort is even worth it.”

“I maintain close ties with the second and third sons of the families currently pledged to the House of Calix. They are all deeply resentful of their heads’ decision to follow the Calix family.”

“…!”

Lucian was caught off guard by the revelation. If this was accurate, it meant he might not have to wage a direct, bloody war against every ally of the House of Calix. If they could destabilize those families from within, it would be a catastrophic blow to his enemies.

Seeing the flicker of interest in Lucian’s eyes, Thorkel reached into his clothing and pulled out a wrinkled sheet of parchment.

“I ask for no compensation. Only that you utilize me to my full extent.”

Scrawled across the paper was the list of the ‘associates’ Thorkel had described. It detailed their houses, their specific grievances, and even their personal philosophies. If the information held up, it was a goldmine of intelligence.

“This is only valuable if it is entirely accurate, of course.”

“I will stake my very existence on its truth.”

“Your existence is irrelevant to the success of the mission.”

“What can I do to earn back your trust?”

Thorkel looked frantic, as if he were trying to claw back a dropped treasure. Lucian snapped the paper between his fingers and asked:

“Is there a single person on this list capable of inciting an internal coup right now and succeeding? Without my intervention, using only what they have on hand?”

Thorkel’s posture stiffened. An insurrection, regardless of the size, was a gamble with death. Even with high odds, it wasn’t a matter to be discussed casually.

“…There is one individual who has been making thorough preparations for some time. Even so, the probability of success is only around fifty percent.”

“Which house?”

“The third son of the House of Beor.”

This wasn’t a minor, insignificant clan; it was the family that held the lowest tier among the major Calix supporters. Nevertheless, they carried significant weight among the lords of the North. If their leadership could be swapped, the path to dismantling Calix would be much smoother.

“I plan to host a grand banquet in the near future and invite the Northern nobility. By that time, I expect the head of the House of Beor to be someone who looks upon me with favor.”

He was commanding him to go immediately and ensure the coup succeeded. It was a demand that surged past “difficult” into the realm of “impossible,” yet Thorkel gave a resolute nod.

“I understand. I shall see you at the banquet. When that day comes, I will arrive to pay my respects alongside my friend.”

With those final words, Thorkel turned on his heel and departed. Blood was still leaking from his ear, but he didn’t stop to treat it; he merely cupped his hand to catch the droplets so he wouldn’t leave a crimson trail on the ground behind him.

Once Thorkel was out of sight, the retainers moved closer to Lucian.

“My Lord, is it wise to let him go? He is the heir to Viscount Harald; if he were to fall during a rebellion…”

“Even in the middle of a coup, as a third party, he’ll remain in the rear where he can flee if things turn sour. He won’t die.”

It would be a disgrace even for the victors of the rebellion if it were discovered that an outsider had done the heavy lifting. Unless they were an utter moron like Harald’s firstborn, they would keep Thorkel at arm’s length while they seized power.

Of course, that assumed he could convince them to pull the trigger immediately.

“He handed over that intelligence with absolute certainty and didn’t even flinch at the difficulty of the task. Let’s simply wait for the outcome.”

If he failed, he would be remembered as nothing more than a cocky child who tried to test his lord without the power to back it up. If he succeeded, it would be the proof Lucian demanded—that there was still utility to be wrung out of him. Lucian only had to sit back and watch.

“Regardless, I have something to show you all. Meet me inside the White Palace after the sun goes down. This is far more pressing than that boy.”

“Did you actually find it!?”

“Come inside later and find out for yourselves.”

Lucian left Hugo and Raymond with those cryptic instructions, their eyes wide with excitement, as he disappeared back into the depths of the palace.

That evening, the silence of the palace was shattered by the shouts of the two men as they laid eyes on the hidden chamber beneath the throne.