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A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles Chapter 137

Chapter 137

From​‍⁠ the beginning, the‍​‍ option of sparing​​ Ivar’s life didn’t‍ exist.

A former ruler would⁠ never acknowledge a new one, so⁠‍ there was no​ choice but to‌‍ eliminate him.

However,⁠⁠⁠ Ivar held a certain prestige among⁠ the members of⁠ the tribe. Even‍⁠​ for Lucian, killing​ him immediately could​‌ provoke visible or⁠‍⁠ silent resistance.

‘That’s​ why I tried‍​​ to make the​⁠‌ outcome as overwhelming​ as possible—something everyone​‌ would be forced⁠⁠‌ to accept…’

He​ never imagined that,​ beyond reverential respect,‌‍‍ he would end​‍‍ up provoking fear.​

The​​ effect had been⁠‌ so strong that‌‍​ it became excessive.​

‘In‌⁠‌ the short term,‌ it’s not bad‍​ for suppressing any⁠ rebellion, but if⁠⁠⁠ this atmosphere drags⁠‌⁠ on, it won’t‌‍ bring anything good.‍ I’ll have to⁠ ease up when‍​‍ the time is‍‌ right.’

Those​⁠ who live oppressed​⁠ by fear cannot⁠⁠⁠ voice even the‌‍‌ slightest complaint.

In‍‍⁠ the short term,​ it allows for‌ quick progress, but⁠‌ if that resentment​‌‌ quietly builds up,​‌ it eventually rots‌‌​ from within.

To‍⁠ solve the people’s‌​⁠ problems, you have⁠‌ to know what‍ they are first.⁠

‘Well,⁠⁠⁠ for now it’ll​‌ be convenient. Since⁠‍ we’re already here,‍​ might as well‍​ finish everything at‌‌​ once.’

Even‍ though the atmosphere​ wasn’t what he​ had planned, once‍‍⁠ it had formed,‍ the most sensible​ thing was to​‌⁠ make use of‍‌ it.

Lucian‌ spoke calmly, in⁠‌⁠ a loud voice‌ so that everyone⁠ could hear.

“I‌ gave Ivar several⁠⁠ chances. I offered‌ him the chance‍ to step down⁠‌ and serve me,‌⁠‌ following the dragon’s⁠ will. But even⁠​ after losing his‍‌ blessing, the chief‌⁠ couldn’t let go​​⁠ of his obsession‌‍⁠ and kept trying​​ to cut my‌ throat.”

“…”​

“There‌​⁠ is nothing more‌‍⁠ vile than clinging​‌‍ to a right‍‌ that has already​⁠ been lost. That’s‍ why I’ll use‌‌⁠ their necks as⁠⁠⁠ a lesson. Pass‍⁠ this truth down⁠‍‍ to future generations.”⁠‌⁠

“…”‍‌‍

What​ happens to those​ who cling to​ a throne that‍​ no longer belongs‌​ to them, even​‍‌ when the true‌ king has arrived?​⁠

What⁠⁠ fate awaits those‌⁠‍ who confuse someone‌ else’s right as‍​ their own?

At⁠‌ Lucian’s words, the⁠ members of the​⁠ tribe lowered their​ heads even further.‌

To‍ them, Ivar had‍​ been a great‌ warrior—but the one‍‍ speaking now was‌‍‌ a king comparable‍ to the rebirth​ of a dragon.‌

If‍​ he claimed to⁠‍​ have seen truths‍​ they could never⁠​‍ understand, who would‍⁠ dare argue?

However,‍⁠ a brave man⁠‌‌ from the tribe​⁠ dared to raise‌ a doubt.

“T-then…​‌ why did you‍‌‌ spare Ainar’s life…?”​‌

“Ugh!”​⁠‍

The⁠​ man suddenly collapsed,⁠⁠‍ slamming his forehead⁠‌ against the ground‍ with a dull‍ thud.

His‍ pale wife had⁠‍ struck the back‍ of his neck​ with all her‍‌‌ strength.

“Dear!‌ Are you insane?‍‍ How dare you​‍‍ question the king’s⁠‍‍ words…?”

“It’s‍‌ fine. Let him‌ be. I was‌‍‌ just about to‍‌ explain it.”

Lucian⁠​⁠ smiled faintly, as‍​ if it were​​‌ nothing.

“Because‍‌‍ only Ainar felt​⁠​ shame for Ivar’s⁠​ greed. He never‍‍⁠ intended to win.‌‌‍ He only wanted‌‍ to atone for‍‌ his guilt by‍ dying alongside his‍⁠ family.”

“S-so‌ that’s what it‌‍ was…?”

“Do⁠ you doubt it?”​​‍

“No,‌‍‌ no! Not at​‍ all!”

Terrified‍‍​ by Lucian’s sharp‍ gaze, the man‌ once again pressed‍ his forehead to​‍ the ground.

He‌⁠​ had already committed⁠​ the blasphemy of‍ questioning the king;​​⁠ doubting even that‍⁠ explanation was practically⁠​ asking to die.‍​

Once‍ the man finally‍ went quiet, Lucian‍‌⁠ looked around again‌‍ and continued.

“Only⁠‍​ Ainar knew shame⁠⁠‌ and humiliation and​‌ chose to die​⁠ by his own‌⁠ will. That is​‍ why, as king,‌​‌ I have decided‌⁠ to give him​ one last chance.”‌‌‌

The​ same opportunity that​‍‍ had also been​‌ given to his⁠‌ father—and that the‌‌‍ father ultimately rejected.‌‌⁠

Perhaps‌​​ it was excessive‍‌ mercy, but in​ Lucian’s eyes, Ainar‍‌‌ had earned it.​⁠‍

“Take‌​‍ Ainar inside. When‍ he wakes up,‌ I’ll ask him⁠‌ a question.”

Whether‌ he would choose‌ to serve the‍​ new king named​ Lucian of his‍ own free will—or​⁠ decide to follow⁠‍ his family to⁠‍ death.

Faced⁠⁠​ with the king’s⁠‍‍ firm declaration, the​‌ members of the‍ tribe could only‍ bow their heads‌​‍ deeply.

***​

‘…Am‍‌ I still alive?’​

Ainar‍ blinked within a hazy, whitish vision.‍‌

There‌ was no need‌ to pinch his⁠‌⁠ cheek to check‍⁠‌ if he was⁠​ alive or dead.​⁠

His‍​​ whole body throbbed⁠⁠ as if he‍‌‌ had rolled down⁠ from the top​‌⁠ of a snowy‍ mountain.

‘If​‌ everything hurts, I guess I’m still‌⁠‌ alive.’

“You’re⁠‍⁠ awake?”

The⁠⁠‌ voice that sounded​‌ beside him made⁠ Ainar flinch. Forcing​ his aching body,‍‍​ he turned his​⁠‍ head to see​‌ who it was‌‌⁠ and muttered with‍ a groan.

“The‌ foreign king…”

“Is​‌⁠ that how you’ve⁠‌‌ always seen me?‌‍ What a generous​‌ evaluation.”

At⁠‌ that title coming‍ from a still-dazed‌ Ainar, Lucian let​‍ out a faint⁠ laugh.

For​​‍ him to call⁠ him king in‌​ that state meant​⁠ he already acknowledged‍​ him as such.⁠‍‌ Barely regaining his⁠​‍ senses amid the‍‌​ pain, Ainar spoke‌ with difficulty.

“What⁠‌‌ happened to my⁠ father and Brunda?”‍‌​

“They⁠⁠ died. I beheaded‍ both of them.”‍‍​

“You⁠‍‌ were the one‍ who executed them?”‌⁠

“Who​‍⁠ else would it‌ have been?”

“I‍⁠ see.”

Ainar​​​ exhaled deeply and‌​​ lay back on⁠‍ the ground.

It‍​ wasn’t an unexpected​‌ outcome, but it‌‍‍ still left a bitter taste in‍ his mouth.

If‍ he had accepted‌ reality earlier and‌ acknowledged Lucian as⁠‌ king… if he‍ had forced the‌‌‍ other two to​⁠ kneel before him—even⁠ if by force—could​​ he at least⁠ have saved their​ lives?

“Don’t‌⁠ think such nonsense.”‍‍‌

Lucian’s‍ voice pulled him‌ out of his​ thoughts.

“You⁠‌ think things would‍‌‌ have changed if‍⁠⁠ you’d acted differently?‌ If they couldn’t⁠ accept the outcome‌‍‌ of their own⁠​ free will, they‍‍​ would’ve eventually bared‌ their fangs again.​⁠​ Even if things‌​⁠ had gone well‌⁠‌ by some miracle,​​ I still would’ve⁠‌⁠ dealt with them‌ myself.”

“…Then⁠ why did you‍⁠ spare me? If​⁠ you didn’t want‌‍ future trouble, shouldn’t‌‍ you have eliminated⁠⁠ me too?”

“Why?‍ Are you thinking​ of avenging your​‍ father and brother?”‌⁠

Ainar‌‌‌ couldn’t respond. As‌‌ a son, he‍​ should seek vengeance—but‍​ he didn’t feel‌​​ the impulse.

Their‌⁠ deaths had essentially‌ been the consequence‌ of their own⁠ actions. After a brief silence, he⁠‌‍ let out a sigh.

“It’s⁠‍⁠ not something I desire.”

“Then‌‍ the answer is‍⁠ clear. Serve me,‌​‌ as Gunstein does.”‌‍‍

Ainar’s⁠​‍ eyes widened. Ever​‌ since he had‍​ been spared, he‍‍‍ had vaguely imagined​‌⁠ it—but was Lucian‍⁠ really planning to‍‍⁠ take him under‌⁠​ his command?

“Are‌ you out of⁠ your mind? You​ killed my father​​ and my brother.”⁠

“And​‌ you said you‍‍ have no intention‌​ of avenging them.”​

“No,​⁠​ that’s true, but…‌​ what if I change my mind⁠ later?”

“Would⁠⁠‍ you?”

“No,​⁠ that’s not it.⁠‌​ That’s not what⁠‌ I meant!”

Frustrated,⁠‌⁠ Ainar unknowingly beat​‍ his chest.

He‌‌⁠ didn’t know if‌ Lucian was a fool—or simply had‍ too big a heart.

“That’s⁠‍⁠ why I don’t‍‍ like you. Fortune​​​ lands at your⁠ feet, and you‍​‌ still hesitate, unsure‌​ of what to‌‌ do.”

Hearing⁠‌‍ that familiar voice,‍‍‍ Ainar flinched. He‌ didn’t know when​⁠ he’d gotten there,​ but Gunstein was‌ sitting in a corner in a crooked posture, glaring⁠‍‍ at him with⁠ disdain.

Before​ Ainar could say​‍ anything, Gunstein sneered‌ with scorn.

“This​‍​ is why I couldn’t give up​‍‌ the right of‌⁠⁠ succession. I figured⁠ it’d be better‍‍ to become chief‍​⁠ myself than serve‍‌ under you all.”⁠‍

“What‍‍⁠ are you suddenly​ talking about? From‍​‌ the beginning—”

“Do‍​​ you really like‍ staying so clean?‌⁠ Are you that⁠‍ afraid of staining⁠⁠ your name?”

Ainar​⁠‍ didn’t understand. Wasn’t‌​⁠ it natural for​‍ a warrior to‍ value honor?

But‌ Gunstein, as if⁠​‍ he didn’t want⁠⁠‌ to hear any⁠‍​ objections, continued attacking.​​

“What‍‍ is it that‌ you actually want?‌ No—do you even‍‍ want anything? Are‌ you content to⁠⁠​ die leaving behind⁠ a clean name⁠ after living without⁠ purpose?”

“And‌⁠‌ what’s wrong with⁠ that? Is it‍​ so bad to​ want to live‍ with honor as⁠⁠ a warrior?”

“Of‍ course it is!”​

“What?”​​

The‍ response, so blunt‌⁠ and baffling, left​⁠‌ Ainar speechless. But​⁠ Gunstein continued, more‍ resolute than ever.‍⁠​

“Who⁠​​ decided what’s right⁠⁠‌ or wrong? Our⁠‍⁠ ancestors! Not us,‌ living in this‍‌‍ era!”

“Are‍ you saying our‍⁠ ancestors were wrong?”​

“No!‌‍‌ I’m saying that‌‌ what they never​‌ experienced can’t be​ judged as right​ or wrong. You‍⁠ only know once​⁠​ you live through‍‍​ it.”

“What​ are you even‍‍​ saying…?”

“Are‌ you that afraid‍​ of following a lord and facing⁠ an order you’ve​‍‌ never known?”

‘…!’⁠‌

Ainar⁠ felt as if​‍⁠ he’d been struck‌ in the head​‍ with a hammer.‌ Gunstein had pinpointed‌⁠ a fear he‌⁠ himself hadn’t even⁠​ recognized. Seeing that,‌ Gunstein clicked his‌ tongue.

“Of​‍ course you’re worried.​‍ You’ve lived your​‍‌ whole life as⁠ a great warrior.⁠ Under the tundra’s⁠ law, with more‍​ honor than anyone…​‌ isn’t it natural‍​⁠ to be afraid​‌ of stepping into‍ a new world?”‍

“…”‍⁠

“That’s‌ why you keep‍​ rejecting this opportunity.‍ You’d rather die⁠ as a glorious‍ warrior of the‍‌ snows than risk⁠ the honor you’ve​⁠‍ built in an​ unknown world.”

No.​⁠⁠ That single denial⁠‍‍ got caught in⁠⁠ his throat.

As‌ time passed, Gunstein’s⁠⁠⁠ words pierced him​ like thorns.

‘Is‌​ that really it?’‌

Unable⁠‌ to stop his‌​ family, he wanted‍ to shoulder the⁠ guilt and die​ with them.

Even‍ after surviving, he⁠⁠ thought he had‍ no right to‌‌ serve the king.‌

But‍‌⁠ was that truly‍ how he felt?⁠⁠‍ Or, as Gunstein⁠⁠⁠ said, was it​⁠⁠ just a noble​‍⁠ excuse masking a desire to die⁠ an honorable warrior?​

“I‍​ can’t live like⁠‍⁠ that. Warrior’s honor‌‍‍ or whatever—I’ll make⁠ sure the name​‌ Gunstein is carved⁠‌‌ into people’s minds.‌⁠‌ If I serve​​‌ my lord, opportunities​ won’t be lacking.”‌

With‌⁠ that, Gunstein leapt‌⁠ to his feet​⁠‍ and left the‌ room—as if to⁠​ say that while​​‍ Ainar was left​‍​ to rot there,⁠ he would keep⁠ moving forward.

Even‍‌ after he was‌ gone, Ainar remained⁠⁠‌ still for a long time. Lucian‌‌ waited silently until​ he spoke.

After‍ more than ten⁠​⁠ minutes, Ainar’s deep​ voice finally broke⁠⁠ the silence.

“I‍‌⁠ just want to‍​ ask one thing.”⁠

“Go​⁠⁠ ahead.”

“If‌‌⁠ I refuse your‌​ offer and die‌⁠ buried in this‍‍ land… will my‌‌ name remain in​ your history?”

“Do‍‌‍ you think it‍​ would?”

Lucian‍ replied without hesitation.⁠

“What​⁠‍ do you think​ this place is?​ A sacred land‌‌ of those chosen‍‍​ by the dragon?⁠ A great territory‌‍ I must claim‌ at all costs?⁠‌ It’s neither. This‌ is just a stepping stone on‍ my path.”

“…”‍⁠

“As⁠⁠ long as my⁠ name remains in​‍ history, what I did here will​ be recorded too.⁠⁠ But yours won’t.⁠ At most, a single line mentioning​⁠⁠ your actions—and nothing‍ more.”

As‌ the chief’s son‌‍⁠ who died alongside‍ his father resisting​‍ Lucian.

Ainar⁠‌‌ closed his eyes.⁠‌​

He⁠⁠ had wanted to​ live with honor⁠⁠⁠ all his life,‍ to be an‌‍‍ example for others.‌⁠ But now the​​⁠ tribe would follow⁠‌ a new king‍​⁠ and abandon the⁠​ tundra.

Ainar,​​⁠ bound to the​ laws of the​​ snow, would be​⁠‌ forgotten along with‌​ that land. What⁠⁠‍ point was there⁠⁠ in keeping a clean name?

“The​​ decision is yours.”‍​

Lucian’s‍⁠​ voice echoed once‍​ more in his‍‌⁠ ears.

“If⁠⁠​ you despise the​ dishonor of serving⁠​​ the man who​‍‌ killed your father​‍ and brother, die⁠ here. But if‌‌ you still want​⁠‌ to live and‍ leave your own‌‌‍ legacy—follow me.”

“…If‌‍‍ I follow you,⁠ can I leave​ behind a legacy‌​ even beyond the‍‌‍ tundra?”

At‌​ Ainar’s trembling voice,​‍ Lucian smiled broadly.​​

“I’ll‍ make you an​ immortal legend—one that​‌ will never be‌‌​ forgotten.”

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