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A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles Chapter 115

Chapter 115

“Are⁠‍ you talking about‍⁠ the marriage that‌‌​ once took place‌ between Calix and​‌ Grimaldi?”

As‌ far as Lucian‍​ knew, that had⁠ been the only‍‍⁠ time royal blood⁠‍ had mixed with​‌ the Calix family.​‌ However, Norvek snorted‍‌⁠ mockingly at his⁠⁠ words.

“With⁠​ something like that,‍ I wouldn’t claim‍ legitimacy. What I’m‌ talking about is​⁠ a much more‍ fundamental right.”

“What​‍ are you talking​‌ about?”

Norvek‍‌ lifted his chin⁠‌ and looked down‌‌‍ at Lucian as​‌ if he were‍ beneath him, clearly‍ intent on dragging‌ the moment out⁠ just to provoke⁠​⁠ him.

Faced‍​‍ with such a cheap provocation, Lucian‌ let out a brief laugh.

“I’ll​ give you ten‌‌​ seconds.”

“What?”‌​​

“If​⁠​ you have something‍‌‍ to say, say​​​ it now. If⁠⁠‌ not, I’m leaving.”‌​‌

Norvek‍ stared at him⁠ in disbelief. They⁠⁠ were talking about​‍‌ nothing less than​ the origins of‌​‍ a noble house.​

Any⁠ normal aristocrat would‌ have demanded an‍‌ immediate explanation—if only⁠ to dispel any⁠‌ doubts about their‍​ legitimacy.

“Are​‌‍ you really a noble? You don’t‌‍ even know where⁠‌​ your own family⁠⁠ comes from, and​ you haven’t bothered‌​‍ to find out?”⁠

“If⁠⁠‍ you’ve got nothing‍ to say, forget‌‍​ it. Your execution’s​‌ coming up soon​ anyway—better make sure⁠ your neck is​⁠ clean.”

Lucian⁠​​ finished speaking and‍ turned to leave.‍ Seeing this, Norvek‍​‍ lunged desperately against‌​⁠ the bars.

From‌⁠​ the firmness of‌ his steps, it‍‍ was clear Lucian‌ would really walk‍‌​ away without asking​​ anything else.

“I’m‍‌‌ talking about what‌ happened before the‌ Grimaldis became the‌ royal family!”

“Hm.”‌

As⁠​‍ if his curiosity‌​ had been piqued,‌⁠‌ Lucian stopped. He​ returned to the‍​ cell and tilted‍⁠‌ his chin, signaling⁠‍ him to continue.​

Trembling​‍ with humiliation, Norvek‌ slowly began to⁠ recount a secret⁠⁠‍ from the past.‍

“Before⁠​ our ancestors settled​‍‌ in Asagrim—when they​​ still lived as​‌ barbarians—there were thirty-five‍ tribes living in‌‌ a snowy wasteland⁠‍‌ far to the‍ north of these‍⁠​ lands. Grimaldi and‍ Calix were just‌ two of them.”‌‌‍

According‍⁠​ to Norvek, life‍⁠‍ in that tundra‍ had been hellish.‌​

Food​‍ was always scarce,‌​​ stealing from others​⁠ was routine, and⁠​ still, some died​⁠ of hunger. The​ cold grew harsher‌‌ each year; the​‍ furs that worked‌⁠​ as coats one‌‌ winter became useless​‍ the next.

“All‌‍‌ the tribes knew⁠ it. If they‌‍‌ stayed, they’d die‌ of cold and​​ hunger. But even‍ knowing that, no​ one dared migrate.”‌⁠⁠

“Was​ there some powerful‌ enemy stopping them?”​

“No.‍ The problem was​‌​ that the cold​​‌ had become so‍ extreme that traveling​ long distances was‌‌ impossible.”

The​⁠ worsening climate was‌‌‌ unnatural. Regions that⁠​‌ had once been⁠ easily passable had​⁠ become certain death‍‍ by freezing.

If‍ even strong adult​⁠ men couldn’t survive,‍⁠​ then certainly neither‌​‍ could women or‍‌‍ children.

While⁠‍ everyone hesitated, the​‌ chief of one​ tribe gathered the‍ other thirty-four and​ said.

— If we stay‌‌ here, we’ll all​ die. I’ll lead⁠ my tribe and‍‌⁠ clear the path.‍‌ Anyone who wants‍⁠‌ to migrate with‌‌‍ us, bring your‌ food and follow​‌ me.

It​ wasn’t pure goodwill—it‍​‍ was a deal.​‍​ Take on the​⁠⁠ risk in exchange‍ for shared provisions.‍‍​

Most‍‌​ tribes scoffed at‍ the offer, but‍​‍ eight decided to​‍​ follow him.

Thus​‍​ began the great⁠⁠ migration of nine‍⁠‌ tribes who bet‌‍ their lives.

“As⁠‍⁠ feared, the cold⁠⁠ was brutal. In‍​‍ the first month,​‍ half the people​ from the nine‌ tribes died. In​‌ the second, half​‍​ of the remaining‍​⁠ died. Among the​ dead was the‌ chief who had​ proposed the migration.”⁠​‍

Before‌⁠ dying, that chief‍​ entrusted leadership of⁠‍‌ the nine tribes⁠⁠‍ to a friend.​‌ Grieving, the new‍⁠ leader took his‌ place and continued⁠‌‍ to guide them.‌​

When‌​ their food ran⁠​ out and the⁠ survivors began collapsing⁠‍ from exhaustion, they​ noticed something—the cold‌​ was no longer‍‌ so extreme.

“The‌‍​ nine tribes had‌ successfully migrated. They⁠‌ settled in a land where plants‌‍ grew and food​ could be gathered.⁠ But that land​⁠​ was already inhabited,‍‍ and the local‍ people saw those⁠ from the north⁠⁠‍ as outsiders.”

Though​‍‍ more habitable than​‌‍ the tundra, it​ was still a poor region. With​‌‍ few resources, the​‌‍ newcomers were quickly‌‌⁠ rejected.

The⁠‌‌ nine tribes realized‌‌ they needed to​​ unite and decided⁠​ to choose a king to rule‌​ them all.

“There⁠​​ were two candidates‍​ the son of​​⁠ the chief who⁠ had started the‍‍‌ migration, and the​⁠ friend who had⁠⁠​ inherited leadership. Fortunately,​⁠​ the friend gave​​ up the throne⁠ to the son,‌‍​ and there was‍ no major conflict.”⁠

The‍​‌ problem started after⁠​‍ that.

The⁠‌ tribes didn’t obey⁠ the new king.​ They followed orders‌‍‌ half-heartedly or ignored‍‌‍ them entirely.

However,​ when the friend‌ who had given‌‍‌ up the throne⁠​ appeared, everyone moved⁠ diligently as if​‍⁠ nothing were wrong.⁠‌

“That’s​‌ when the king‍​ understood. The throne‍⁠‍ had not been‌ given in goodwill,‍‍​ but out of‍ formality. The real⁠‍ power had already‌‍‍ been decided, and⁠ they had forced‌​​ him to accept‍ the crown just‍‌⁠ to humiliate him.”⁠‍​

Trapped‍‍‌ in that reality,‍‌ the king had‌ no way out.‌‍ To continue like⁠‍ that would mean‌​⁠ becoming a puppet‍⁠‍ king—or worse, risk‍‌‍ assassination.

In‌‍ the end, the‍‍‍ first king of‌‌‍ the nine tribes‍⁠ handed the crown‍ over with his⁠⁠‌ own hands to‌⁠‌ his father’s friend.​‌‌

“Then⁠ comes the typical⁠‌‌ founding story. The‌‍ leader of the‌​‍ nine tribes conquered⁠‍ and unified the‍ native peoples, founded​⁠ a kingdom, and​ became its king.⁠‍ Thus began the⁠‌‌ bloodline of the‌‍‍ old northern royalty.”​

“An‌⁠⁠ interesting story.”

Lucian‍‌ murmured.

If​ Norvek’s tale was⁠ true, then the‍ Grimaldi royal family​ wasn’t, as history‍​ claimed, native to‍​ the north.

They⁠ were outsiders—and descendants‌‌‌ of barbarian tribes⁠​⁠ that had lived​‌ beyond the snowfields.‍ The history had​⁠ simply been polished‌‍ to sound better.‍⁠‍

For‍ some, that might​‌‍ sound like an‍‍‍ insult to the‌​ royal family, but‌​⁠ to Lucian, it​‍‍ was just the‌‍ tale of an‌​ old man.

“Well,​‌ I’ve heard your‍‍ story. But I still don’t see⁠‍‌ how any of‍ that proves your⁠‍ claim of having‍ royal blood.”

“Because​ I descend from​ that first king.”​‍

“What?”​

“The⁠ one who led‍​⁠ the nine tribes‌‍⁠ and began the‌‌‌ great migration across⁠‌​ the snows is⁠ the ancestor of⁠ Calix.”

“…Ha.”‍⁠

A disbelieving laugh escaped⁠⁠‌ Lucian’s lips.

So,‌​‌ if you traced⁠‍ things back to⁠‌ the tribal era,‍ the cowardly friend​​ of the tribal‍⁠‌ chief—the one who‌ ended up with⁠‌‍ the throne—was the‍‍​ ancestor of the‍ Grimaldis. In other‍‍ words, Lucian’s.

And⁠ Norvek descended from‍ the man who⁠​​ had been chosen‍‌‍ as the first‌ king but lost‌ the throne through​ schemes.

Lucian​ stood silently for‍‍ a moment, trying⁠ to find something‍ to say, and​​ in the end,​‍‌ he spoke with⁠​ complete bluntness.

“Are‌⁠ you out of‌​ your mind? Are‍ you seriously trying​ to claim legitimacy⁠⁠⁠ to the throne‍​‍ based on something​‍⁠ that happened before‍ the Northern Kingdom⁠ even existed, when‌ you were all‌‍‌ still barbarian tribes?‌‌ Has your brain​ really rotted with‌‌⁠ age?”

It⁠‍⁠ was a crude,‍‍ almost vulgar insult,⁠ but nothing else⁠​‌ came to mind.‍‌⁠

Lucian‌‍ had never imagined⁠‍ Norvek’s ambition went‍​ so far as‍⁠‌ to aspire to‌ the throne.

He⁠‌ had thought Norvek’s⁠⁠ goal was to​ become the most​ powerful family in‍‍​ the north—the representative‌⁠⁠ of the feudal‍ lords. But king?‌⁠‍

As⁠ Lucian stared at​‌ him in disbelief,‌‌ Norvek’s voice ground​ out through clenched‌​ teeth.

“And‌⁠ what about you?​ The Northern Kingdom​ fell a thousand​‍⁠ years ago. And‍ yet you still⁠‍ stir people’s minds‍ talking about the‌ glory of the‌‍‍ north and who‌‍‍ knows what other‌‍‍ nonsense. If a specter from a thousand years ago​‍​ still causes such⁠‍ a stir, why‍‌‌ can’t I make‌⁠ a claim like‍ this?”

“…”⁠‌​

Lucian⁠​ was at a loss for words.‌​

Not‌‍ because the argument‌ was valid, but‌ because he finally‍‍ understood Norvek’s mindset.‌‍

An​ old man who‌ had always harbored,‌⁠⁠ somewhere deep in‍ his heart, the⁠ fantasy that maybe‍ he was the⁠⁠⁠ one who should’ve​‌⁠ been king.

If​​​ the world had‌⁠ been either fully​​⁠ at peace or‍ completely in chaos,‌​ that fantasy would’ve‍ died with him.‍⁠

In‍⁠​ peaceful times, causing​​ conflict is a crime; in times⁠​ of war, surviving‌‌‍ is hard enough.‌‌

But,‍‍ as if by‌​ some cruel twist​ of fate, Lucian​‌ had appeared and⁠‌ ushered in an‍​‌ ambiguous era.

Peaceful⁠⁠‌ enough that survival‌⁠⁠ wasn’t the only⁠ concern, yet chaotic​ enough that no​ one could demand​‍ accountability.

To‍⁠ the old man‍⁠​ standing before him,‌ that ambiguity must’ve⁠⁠‌ felt like his​‍ final chance.

“…”​

Lucian​‍⁠ stared silently at‌​ Norvek.

Had⁠ the world fallen​ into true chaos,⁠⁠⁠ perhaps Norvek would’ve‌ accepted his failure⁠⁠‍ and simply protected​ his family until‍‍‌ the end.

But​⁠​ now, there was⁠ nothing left but‍‌ a pathetic old⁠ man still clinging‍‌​ to the belief​ that his delusion‍ could become reality.‌​

Lucian‍ let out a deep sigh and⁠⁠ turned away.

“What​ a miserable man.”‌

“…!”‌‍

At​⁠⁠ those sincere words‍ of pity, Norvek’s⁠ eyes trembled violently.⁠

Moments‌⁠ later, the sound‌‌ of rattling bars‍​‌ and a desperate‌ scream echoed through‍‌ the prison.

“You‍‌ bastard! You—someone like​​ you—how dare you…?!”​‍‌

Lucian​ ignored the shouting​⁠ and left the⁠‍‌ prison.

Telling⁠ an old man​‌ who had lost⁠ everything that his‍ dream was just⁠‌⁠ a fantasy was,‌ in its own⁠​‌ way, a form‍​⁠ of cruelty.

***‌‍

Days​⁠⁠ later, just as‌ scheduled, Norvek’s public‌⁠ execution took place.‌‍​

Norvek‌⁠‌ faced death without‌⁠‍ a trace of⁠‌‍ fear. Everything was‌​​ over—what point was‍‍ there in clinging⁠⁠‌ to life now?⁠⁠

And⁠ yet, even in‌⁠‍ that moment, one‌‌ thing still haunted​‍ him.

‘How​​ will the others‍ react to my‌ death?’

Would​⁠ they cheer and​​‌ celebrate? Or mourn‍ and regret his‌‌‌ end?

He‍‌ was especially curious⁠⁠ about the genuine‍⁠‍ reaction of the⁠​​ common people, free​‍‍ from political interests.⁠ After all, the⁠‌​ opinion of the⁠​ people was the‍​ true measure of⁠‌ a ruler.

‘Whatever​⁠‌ happens, I won’t⁠ show a pathetic‌‍ image at the⁠‍ end.’

With​‍‍ that resolve, Norvek‌‍‌ stepped proudly toward​ the scaffold when⁠‍ the time came.‍ But no one‍‌ was impressed by‌ his composure.

The⁠ crowd simply watched‌‍‍ with indifference, waiting⁠​ for it all‍‌‍ to be over.‍

“After⁠​ squeezing us dry‍​⁠ down to the‌⁠ last copper, this​‌‍ is how it⁠‍ ends.”

“Better​‍​ for us. I heard taxes are​‍ going down. Maybe‍‌‍ now we can​ actually live.”

“I⁠​‌ always said he‍‍ got too ambitious⁠‍ in his old⁠‍‍ age.”

“Don’t‍‍ know if I should pity him​‍‍ or just see​ it as the‌‍ inevitable result.”

Most​⁠‍ of those murmuring‍⁠ had lived in‍‍ Calix territory.

To‍‍⁠ them, Norvek hadn’t​‍ been a particularly‌​⁠ cruel lord—but he⁠ hadn’t been a good one either.‌⁠

He​⁠ did his duty,‌ yes, but at​‌‍ the cost of⁠ heavy taxes and⁠ constant conscription.

They‌ weren’t celebrating his‌‍ death, but they​⁠ didn’t mourn it⁠⁠ either.

“Ha…”‍​

A hollow sigh escaped​ Norvek’s lips. His​⁠⁠ back, which had​​ remained straight until‌‌‌ now, slumped, and​ the light faded⁠⁠ from his eyes.​

He⁠‌ looked like a man who had‍ lost his final⁠‌‌ hope—or someone who​⁠ had finally woken​‌ up from a long dream.

“What​⁠ a miserable man…”‌

He‌ muttered the words‌⁠ Lucian had said⁠⁠‍ the day before.‌‌‌

A soldier gave him⁠ a light push⁠ on the back.​

“What⁠ are you doing?⁠‌‌ Don’t stop—keep walking.”‌

As‍‌ if under a spell, Norvek looked‍ around one more‌ time as he⁠ climbed the scaffold.⁠

There⁠ was no joy​​‌ or sympathy in‌ the eyes watching‌​ him. Only people‌⁠⁠ calmly accepting that‌ their lord had‌‌ changed.

‘Hah…⁠⁠‌ I wish I had stayed in‌‍‌ my dream until‌ the end.’

Norvek‍⁠ knelt before the‍ executioner and exposed​ his neck. The⁠‌‍ raised axe caught​ the light in‌​⁠ a chaotic glint.⁠ As he saw​ that gleam descend,⁠⁠ Norvek muttered softly.‌‌‍

“Reality…‌‌ is cruel…”

Slash.‍

With⁠ a single clean‌‌ stroke, Norvek’s head‌‍⁠ fell to the‍‍ ground.

And⁠ still, there were⁠⁠‌ no dramatic reactions.‍‍⁠

Receiving⁠ neither cheers nor​⁠ mourning, the old‍⁠ dreamer left the‌‌‌ world.

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