Chapter 158

The legacy of the northern royal house is different from the magical artifacts of the imperial family.

Although it includes some armor and weapons, most of it requires processing and research.

Ingots created with extraordinary herbs and plants, and with ancient techniques; countless grimoires and methods for manufacturing magical artifacts.

Aside from a minimal fraction of armaments, there is nothing that can be turned into immediate power.

However, unlike magical artifacts whose functioning is not even understood, this legacy allows, with proper research, the reproduction of ancient inheritances believed to have been lost.

If the necessary time were invested, it could become a perfect foundation, capable of rebuilding foundations comparable to those of the empire at its peak.

“Until now I had kept it hidden out of fear of the imperial family, but now, even if I reveal it openly, they won’t be able to do anything. We will begin the research officially.”

“Won’t this awaken the greed of other lords? The silence of the imperial family means there is no longer any way to prevent territorial wars.”

Raymon expressed with concern.

Lucian let out a brief laugh.

“If they want it, let them come and try to take it from us. Though I doubt they can do so in a situation where they don’t even know who is an ally and who is an enemy.”

Chaos had already begun.

In a world where even yesterday’s allies could betray you, who would dare launch an expedition to the north solely out of greed?

To exploit a supposed weakness would mean leaving oneself exposed to attacks from all sides.

“Rather, when time passes and allies and enemies become clear, then they’ll have room to look north. Precisely because right now no one knows whom to trust, this is the best time to reveal the legacy.”

“I understand. Then, whom will you put in charge of each area of research?”

“The medicinal herbs will, of course, be handled by Ian. As for forging, there’s still no suitable candidate, so we’ll have to search calmly. And everything related to magic…”

Lucian’s gaze settled on Marius.

He lowered his head, trying to feign indifference, but the trembling of his arms betrayed him.

Lucian observed him in silence and spoke in a low voice.

“Marius.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“I’ve heard that the handling of this matter was quite good.”

“It was thanks to the help of my two disciples. I couldn’t have done it alone.”

“Enough modesty. I sent them with you precisely to help you. If you had tried to do everything alone, they would have reproached you instead for why you brought them.”

“My apologies.”

“For that reason, as a reward, I’m going to entrust you with the position of chief mage.”

Marius’s eyes opened wide and he raised his head without realizing it.

It was true that he desired the post of chief mage in the north; with his ability, it was a position he could aspire to.

However, because of the faults he had committed, he had resigned himself to working at a rank even lower than that of his disciple.

“I-I, Your Highness…”

“There’s no need to say it, but this is your last chance. If you do something foolish again, then you really will end up relegated to a corner, devoted only to deciphering grimoires.”

“Thank you! Thank you very much!”

Tears welled up in Marius’s eyes.

For how long had he feared becoming a master who lived in the shadow of his disciple’s name, having achieved nothing himself.

He didn’t know how much longer his body would allow him to live, but at least he would leave behind the name of “chief mage of Asagrim.” It was as if a rope had been lowered to pull him out of hell.

“Colin, I’m sorry for putting you in this situation. In a way, I’ve taken away the position of chief mage that was yours.”

“That’s not the case. I can only thank Your Highness’s mercy for caring about my master.”

Colin sincerely thanked Lucian.

It pained him to think that his master might die without having achieved anything, sunk in despair.

Now, by yielding the position to him, he would at least leave behind a name, and that gave him peace of mind.

Lucian understood what Colin felt, but even so, he intended to compensate him as a sovereign.

Even if Colin was satisfied, the fact that he had taken away a position remained the same.

“When Marius leaves the position of chief mage, I will return it to you immediately. And whatever post you hold in the future, you will receive treatment equivalent to that of a chief mage. I hope that will satisfy you.”

“Satisfied isn’t the word. For me, it’s more than generous treatment.”

Lucian nodded as he saw Colin trying to hide his surprised smile.

His considerate attitude dispelled any slight unease that might have remained.

After putting the appointments in order, at least in broad terms, Lucian took the key of the royal house from his clothes.

The time had come to show the world proof that the legacy of the northern royal house was real.

***

“What? Duke Lucian has made public the legacy of the northern royal house?”

“No one knew that something like that had been hidden beneath the White Castle for a thousand years?”

“Before that, how in the world did the duke find it? He supposedly didn’t even have contact with his maternal family!”

With the revelation of the legacy of the northern royal house, the empire was shaken once again.

A legacy left behind by a dynasty from a thousand years ago, and not merely magical artifacts used without understanding how they functioned, but the fundamental technology that supported them.

That meant that, with proper research, magical artifacts could be produced again in the present era.

“Damn it, isn’t there some way to do something? If we keep giving him time, this will become dangerous.”

“Do what? Send an expedition to the north?”

“Hiding the royal legacy from the imperial family is already a crime. If we form a coalition—”

“That imperial family is keeping absolute silence! Without a center to unite them, what coalition are you talking about!”

“And where do you get the confidence that we’d win? Have you forgotten that the opponent is the king of the north?”

The lords briefly debated the possibility of an expedition to the north, but the idea died out almost immediately.

The imperial family no longer fulfilled the role of a central axis at all, making it difficult even to form an allied force, and above all, the opponent’s power was not something that could be taken lightly.

Lucian possessed the White Castle, as impregnable as an iron citadel, along with elite troops that had once belonged entirely to the imperial family, and even the Order of the Blue Rose.

On top of that, he had recently filled almost the entire population of Asagrim with the outsiders from beyond the snow-covered steppes.

A hasty attack would not only fail to guarantee victory, but could lead to a disastrous defeat that would mark the beginning of ruin.

When the lords accepted reality and abandoned the idea of war, those who stepped forward were the scholars and the blacksmiths.

“Dozens of medicinal herbs we believed extinct are in Asagrim? And not just one or two, but even seedlings suitable for cultivation? I’m going immediately!”

“At my age, I don’t dream of forging legendary weapons. But at least, if I could refine with these hands the metals that only appeared in old tales…”

“Let’s go to Asagrim. To revive a fallen school, there’s nothing left now but to rely on magical grimoires. With some luck, we might catch the duke’s attention.”

Independent researchers weary of the corrupt alchemists’ guild.

Blacksmiths who wished to leave behind an immortal name before dying. Even unauthorized mages from vanished schools.

All those who wanted to see the relics of antiquity with their own eyes began gathering in Asagrim.

Among them were many charlatans who overestimated their abilities, but true talents were mixed in as well. The blacksmith Malcolm was one of them.

“Ha… hahaha.”

Sitting in his ramshackle smithy, Malcolm chewed over the stories that had circulated through the market today.

They said that in the north the scarlet stone, the people’s iron, and even faerie ore—whose refining techniques had long been lost—had reappeared.

“How can this be… how can this be?”

Legendary metals that, though they did not reach the hardness of adamantium, had been used in all kinds of magical artifacts.

Murmuring those names over and over, Malcolm staggered to a corner of the smithy and took up a bundle of books piled beside some branches.

They were volumes handed down from generation to generation, recording the refining methods of ancient metals that had disappeared long ago.

“If it had happened a little earlier… if it had come to light when I was a little younger…”

Burning tears rolled down Malcolm’s cheeks.

How many times had he been mocked for treasuring, like relics, refining techniques that were already useless?

Even as an adult, he had promised himself several times to use them as firewood, yet he was never able to throw them into the flames.

And to think that those books—useless and burdened only with attachment—would one day finally have real use.

With his eyes closed, lost in memories, Malcolm suddenly heard the hurried footsteps of his son.

“F-father! In Asagrim, the relics of the northern kingdom…!”

“I know.”

At his son’s agitated voice, Malcolm replied briefly and stood up.

When one’s duty was clear, no more words were needed.

“Let’s go.”

“Where to?”

“To Asagrim.”

“……!”

“Prepare the hammer and pack your things.”

“Yes!”

The sound of his son’s hurried footsteps leaving echoed in Malcolm’s ears. At his age, he did not intend to boast about the greatness of his ancestors.

He only wanted, with these hands, to reproduce the refining techniques they had left behind.

That way, he could prove that his forebears had not wasted their lives clinging to a vain hope.

Soon after, fully prepared, Malcolm set out for Asagrim with his son, carrying with him refining techniques that had not been used even once in many long years.

***

“Excellent.”

Baron Harald could not hide his smile whenever news of Lucian reached him.

Not only had he completely crushed and absorbed Calix, but he had also subdued the outsiders from beyond the snow-covered steppes and filled Asagrim.

Moreover, he had gained the strength to intervene in the succession using the first prince as a pretext, and had even made public the relics of the northern kingdom.

‘I knew he was someone extraordinary from the first time I met him, but now I can no longer imagine how far he’ll go.’

All Harald had wanted was for Lucian to restore the old kingdom and bring order to the north.

That alone would have been enough to call it a heroic feat; asking for more would have been excessive.

Yet Lucian’s achievements far surpassed what Harald had imagined.

Where would that hero finally stop? If possible, Harald wanted to live to see Lucian’s final destiny with his own eyes.

‘And when he does stop, at his side will be the Osgor family and my son, that boy Torkel.’

Smiling, Harald tilted his cup once more. It was then that a servant, with an urgent expression, approached and whispered in his ear.

“My lord, Baron Lesta has come to visit you.”

“What?”

At the unexpected visitor, Harald blinked. Wasn’t Baron Lesta his son Torkel’s friend?

A young lord who had expelled his father, aligned with Calix, to take his place, and who since then had shown absolute support for Lucian.

Lately, he had even escorted Lucian’s relatives at his request, earning considerable trust.

“Didn’t he even send a messenger and came in person?”

“Yes. He came secretly and requests to meet with the utmost discretion.”

“Well now…”

If it were a lord who had once allied with Calix, even a minor meeting would require caution.

But both Harald and Lesta had fervently supported Lucian from the beginning.

Now that Lucian dominated the north, they could meet openly without owing anything to anyone, and yet Lesta had come covertly.

It was suspicious, but in the end he was on the same side and a friend of his son, so Harald could not simply refuse him.

“Guide the guest to the salon and dismiss the servants and attendants. A distinguished guest has arrived, so I will personally see to him.”