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A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles Chapter 173

Chapter 173

In⁠‌ the current Empire,‌​‍ the ambitious usually‍‍⁠ brandish one of⁠‌ three pretexts to​⁠‍ justify their military‍⁠ movements.

The‌‌ first is to⁠ claim that the‍‍ collateral prince they​​ support is the‌​ true heir and,‌ by doing so,‌‍‌ aspire to the⁠⁠‍ position of regent.‌‍

The⁠ second is to‍‍ demand accountability from​‌ the Second Prince‌ in order to​‌ uncover the true​ will of the‌‌ previous emperor and⁠⁠‌ bring the truth‍‍ to light.

The​‍‌ third to proclaim​​⁠ loyalty, rescue the⁠⁠⁠ First Prince—the legitimate⁠ heir—and carry out​‌ the will of‍ the late emperor.‌

‘Any⁠ of them sounds‍ reasonable at first‌⁠​ glance, but in​​ practice, only the‌‍ third can be⁠⁠ called a genuine‍⁠ pretext.’

In​ the first case,‌‍ the supposed collateral​​‍ prince they present⁠ is far too‍ removed from the‍‍‍ line of succession.​​‌

Not​‍ even lords who​‌⁠ had never heard‍ of his existence‌ would recognize him,‌​ and to anyone⁠​‍ it is obvious‌‍​ that naked ambition⁠ lies behind that‍ stance.

Naturally,​‍⁠ forces may join⁠​⁠ them out of‌ convenience, but no⁠⁠ one feels any‌ real empathy.

The​⁠‍ second is the⁠‍ same.

It‌ has even less‌⁠‍ persuasive power than​ the first, because‍⁠ it postpones any⁠‍ resolution without offering⁠ a concrete way‌⁠​ out.

It‌​​ is nothing more⁠‍‌ than a patched-together⁠‌‍ pretext, presented provisionally‌‌‌ until a “proper”‌‌ justification can be​ found to legitimize​⁠ military action.

‘The‌⁠‍ only truly solid​‍ pretext is to⁠‍‍ support the First​ Prince, as I do—although, to be‌​‍ honest, even they‌‌ do not truly‌⁠‌ wish to rescue​‍‌ the First Prince.’‌‍‍

The​​‍ great houses, with​‌ power and real‍‍ means to fulfill‍ their ambitions, all⁠⁠ adopted the first‌ pretext.

Once‌⁠​ the collar with‌‍​ which the imperial‍ family had been​ suffocating them was‌ broken, who in​ their right mind⁠ would put it‍​​ back on?

That‌ is why those⁠⁠‌ who raised the‍‍ banner of rescuing‌​ the First Prince‌ were, for the‍ most part, weak‍‌​ houses with no‌ real strength to⁠‌‍ oppose imperial power.⁠‌⁠

In​ other words, it​ was not that⁠‌‌ they genuinely wished‍ to save the​ First Prince, but‌⁠‌ that they sought‌⁠‍ an indisputable pretext⁠‌‌ to repel external‍‌‍ invasions.

When‌​‌ one raises a cause that no‍ one can deny,‍⁠ even invaders think⁠‌ twice.

Surprisingly,​​‌ this strategy proved‍‌‌ quite effective, and‌‌ not a few‍⁠ houses managed to‍ keep themselves safe‌⁠ from outside attacks.‌

But⁠​‍ where there is‌ benefit, there is⁠‌ also disadvantage. The​‍ third pretext does⁠ not grant only‍​ advantages.

“Once‌‍ you decide to‍⁠ support the First‍ Prince, if he‍‌ gives an order​⁠ in person, you‌ cannot disobey it.”​

“That⁠‌ is the price⁠ of feigned loyalty.‍​‍ If you change​​ your tune later,​‍ you not only​‌‍ become a laughingstock—you‌ lose all credibility⁠⁠ in times of​ chaos. It’s backing‌⁠ yourself into a corner.”

Raymond‍‌ spoke after Lucian.‍⁠‍ The cold sweat⁠‍‌ had already stopped,‍ but his body⁠ still trembled slightly,⁠⁠ as if the​ earlier shock had​​ not fully faded.‍

“To⁠‌‌ be honest, even‌ if it was​​ a dead end,​‌‍ it also seemed‌‍ to me like‌‍‌ a rather decent‌⁠⁠ method. Escaping the‍⁠ capital, controlled by‍​​ the Second Prince,⁠ was practically impossible‌‍​ for the First​‍⁠ Prince.”

“I‍ think the same.‌‌‌ If there were‍ someone with the‍ ability to get​ him out of‌ there, they would‍‌‍ pursue their own‍‌‌ ambition first.”

Even⁠‌ if the Second⁠ Prince was competent,‍‌ he was not‌ an omniscient monster⁠ capable of manipulating‍‌ the entire Empire⁠ from the palm‌‍⁠ of his hand.‌

It‌ would have been⁠ enough for a few capable nobles​ to join forces‍⁠ to rescue the⁠ First Prince.

The⁠⁠⁠ problem was that,⁠​ in such a chaotic era, no⁠‌⁠ competent noble would‌‍ rally behind such‍‌⁠ a despicable First⁠‌‍ Prince.

Those‌ who clung to‍ him were only⁠‌ those with ambiguous‍ power and talent,​ desperate for a dramatic turnaround.

At​⁠⁠ that level, the‍ Second Prince could⁠⁠ stop them without‌‍‍ much difficulty.

“…But⁠‌ who would have‌ thought he would⁠‌⁠ actually manage to​‌‌ escape. Did he‌‍‌ use a magical​⁠⁠ artifact?”

“Most⁠‌ likely. If he​ had escaped by​ any other means,‍ he would have‌‍ been captured during‍ the flight or​‍ collapsed from exhaustion.”​

“True.‍ Besides, there is⁠​ no other way‍​ to reach this​ remote north alone.”‌

The​⁠‍ First Prince was‌‌‌ incapable of even⁠‌ preparing a decent‌​‌ meal by himself.​‍

No‌​‍ matter how well‌‍⁠ he evaded pursuers,‌ if he had​‌‍ traveled alone and​‍​ without an escort,⁠​ he would have‍‌ starved to death‍⁠‍ along the way.‌‌‌

The⁠⁠⁠ very fact that​⁠ he had reached‍​‍ the north in‌⁠ acceptable condition was⁠ proof that he‍⁠⁠ had used a magical artifact.

At‌​ Lucian’s murmur, Raymond⁠ adopted an awkward⁠ expression.

“Uh…‌‍ to be frank,⁠‍ the First Prince’s‌ condition is not⁠ exactly good.”

“What?‌ Was he attacked‌‍ by some wild⁠​‍ beast?”

“It’s​​‌ not that serious.‍⁠⁠ It would be‍ better if you‍‌‌ saw it yourself.”⁠​‍

Raymond’s⁠‌⁠ ambiguous tone made​ Lucian frown. From​‍ the way he‌​⁠ put it, it‌‌​ did not sound‌ like a serious​⁠​ injury—so what had⁠‍ happened?

Shortly​​⁠ after, upon arriving​ at the underground‍⁠⁠ prison, Lucian headed⁠⁠ to the cell⁠‌ where the First​‌ Prince was being⁠⁠‍ held. Inside, a figure in prisoner’s‌​‌ clothes stood with​‍ his back turned.‍‍

“First‍‍‌ Prince?”

“…”‍

Lucian⁠‍⁠ spoke cautiously, but‍‌⁠ the silhouette did​ not move. It‍​ was unclear whether​‌​ he was deliberately​ ignoring him or‌ simply sleeping like‌ that.

“Your‌‍ Highness? Are you‌‍‌ asleep?”

“…Wha‍⁠​ the hell ih⁠‌ gohing on rihght‍​​ noh…?!”

“Huh?”​⁠‌

Upon‍⁠ hearing that slurred,​​ hissing voice, almost‍ as if his​ tongue were swollen,​ Lucian asked without⁠​‍ thinking.

Beyond‍⁠‍ how difficult it‍ was to understand,​⁠‌ he could not⁠⁠ comprehend why he⁠‌ was speaking that‍​ way.

When​‌ no response came,‌ the figure suddenly​⁠ turned around and‍‌ shouted.

“Lohk‍⁠ at thih! Thoh‌ guyh under yohh‌‌ command did thih​​​ to me…!”

“Pfft!”‍‌

Upon‍⁠ seeing the face‍​ of the First‍ Prince, Claude, Lucian‌⁠‍ had to suppress​‍ the laughter that‌‍⁠ nearly burst out.​‍⁠

His‍ face, completely swollen,‍​ looked like bread​ baked with the​‍​ wrong ingredients.

Seeing​‍​ Lucian holding back‌⁠ his laughter, Claude‍‍ tried to say​​ something more in⁠​ fury, but ended⁠ up closing his⁠ mouth.

In​⁠ that state, anything‌ he said would‌‍ be nothing more‌ than a strange,​​ incomprehensible sound.

Lucian,⁠ struggling to hold‌ in his laughter,​‍​ spoke.

“To…​‌‍ to the First​ Prince… kuh! Bring‍ him a potion⁠⁠ immediately!”

***‌‌

The​‌ effect of the⁠​​ potion made by​‍ Ian surpassed any‌ other Claude had‍ ever used.

In⁠​​ an instant, the​​​ swelling on his‍‍ face went down‌‌‌ and the pain‍⁠‌ disappeared completely.

However,‍‍ for Claude, consumed‍‍⁠ by overwhelming fury,⁠ the potion’s effect⁠‌‌ was the least⁠ of his concerns.‌‌

“Duke​​⁠ Lucian, thish… I…⁠ at the gate,‍‌‌ the castleh gate…!”‌⁠

His⁠ face still flushed,⁠ Claude spat out‌‌ disjointed words without⁠⁠‍ any order.

He⁠ was so furious⁠​‌ he didn’t even‍ seem to know⁠⁠ where to start​‌ explaining what had‌‍ happened.

Lucian⁠​ waited in silence,‍‌‌ and after several‍‍​ deep breaths, Claude‌⁠‍ opened his eyes⁠ wide.

“Duke!​​‍ Order those mutts⁠ at the gate‍ to be brought‌ here—heads first!”

“Calm⁠⁠⁠ down. What crime‌ did those men‍ commit against Your​‍ Highness to warrant‌‍ such a request?”⁠⁠

“Can’t‌​ you see?! A mere guard shouldn’t‌‌​ even dare to⁠⁠​ step on my‌ shadow, and they⁠​​ had the audacity‍ to…!”

Saying‍⁠​ out loud that⁠​​ he had been​⁠‍ beaten seemed deeply‌​‌ humiliating to him,‌ because Claude couldn’t‌‌ finish the sentence‍ and began to⁠ stutter.

Lucian‍⁠ tried to calm​ him before he​​ exploded.

“First‌‌‍ explain how you⁠⁠ ended up here.⁠​ What exactly happened‍‌​ in the capital?”‌

“Now‌​ you’re interrogating me?!”⁠

“That’s‌⁠‍ not—”

“Shut‌​ up and get‌ me out of​ here immediately! And‍​‍ after that, bring⁠ me those two⁠ guards’ heads and‌ lay them at⁠ my feet! I’ll⁠ talk then!”

Claude’s‌ attitude made it‌‍​ clear he had‌ no intention of‍⁠‍ having a dialogue.‌‍

Lucian‍ clicked his tongue‍‍⁠ silently.

Before,‌‌ at least, Claude​‌‍ seemed to have‌ a minimum sense⁠⁠ of self-restraint—but now,​​ not even that.‌⁠

With‍ his father gone,‍⁠ the man he​ had feared, he‍​ no longer felt‍ the need to​ hold back.

‘It’s‌⁠ impossible to talk‌⁠ to him like‍ this.’

In‍‌‍ Claude’s mind, Lucian​⁠ was a subordinate‍⁠⁠ who had to‌​‌ obey him without⁠‍​ question.

As‍‌ long as that‌​ idea didn’t change,‍‍⁠ any conversation was‌‍ impossible.

There​‍‌ would be no⁠ dialogue, only orders⁠ and reprimands.

‘I⁠ wanted to treat​‍ him with respect‍ because of the​‌‍ debt I owe⁠ the late emperor,⁠‌‍ but…’

Lucian​‍ sighed and rose⁠ from his seat.​‍‍ If there was‍⁠⁠ no other option,‌‍ there was only‌⁠ one thing to​‍​ do.

Seeing‍ him stand, Claude⁠ misunderstood the situation​‌ and spoke irritably.‌​‌

“Open⁠‍‌ the door already,‌⁠ Duke. My patience‌ is not infinite.”‌‌

“…I⁠​‌ know. That’s why‍​⁠ I think it‌‌ would be good‌‌ for you to⁠‍ exercise it a little.”

“What?”‍‍

“I‌ have urgent matters​‍‌ to attend to,‌‍ so I can’t⁠ carry out Your‍‍‌ Highness’s orders at‌⁠​ the moment. I’ll‌ send servants. Ask‌ them for what‍ you need.”

“A-are‌‍⁠ you saying you’re‍‍ leaving me locked‍ in prison?!”

“Forgive⁠ me.”

Claude‌‍ stared at Lucian‍⁠ in disbelief, but⁠ Lucian didn’t bother⁠ to explain himself⁠ further.

No​ matter what he⁠ said, he would‌⁠‌ only get insults‌ in return.

As‌​ Lucian walked away‌​⁠ from the cell‍ with Raymond, Claude’s⁠‍‌ shouts echoed behind​ him.

“Traitor!‌⁠‍ Do you know‍​ what you’re doing?!‌‍ After all the‍ former emperor gave⁠ you, how dare⁠ you…!”

Lucian⁠‌‌ climbed the stairs,‍‌ ignoring the insults.⁠​

Thanks‍ to the soundproofing⁠ measures, the shouting‍‌ faded as soon‍​‍ as he reached‍​ the top.

Outside,⁠ Lucian gave Raymond​ an order.

“Have‌ Denis look after‍‍‍ the First Prince.”​‌

“Denis?‍ Who’s that?”

“The‍‍ Denis the late​‍‍ emperor planted among‍​ the servants. The‌‌ one who recently​⁠ revealed his identity.”⁠‍

“Ah!”‌​

Then‌​​ Raymond remembered his‌ face. The servant⁠​​ who, when the‌‍‍ Second Prince posed⁠ as the First​‍‌ Prince and sent‍‍ an invitation, revealed⁠​⁠ who he was​‍‌ and stood in​ Lucian’s way.

According‌ to him, he‍⁠‌ even communicated with‌⁠​ the First Prince​‍ using a magical‍ artifact.

“He’s‌ loyal to the​⁠​ imperial family, so‍​​ he’ll take good⁠‌ care of His​ Highness.”

“Isn’t‌‌ that precisely the‌‍‌ problem? He’s loyal​‌​ to the First‌ Prince, not you.​‌‍ He could turn​‍ against us and‍​​ act for him.”​

“Turn‍​​ against us? How?”‍‍

“Well…”⁠​

Raymond‍​‌ was about to‍ list possible problems,​ but he stopped.‍

Thinking‌​ it through, even⁠​‍ if the First​‌ Prince turned against​ Lucian, there was‍​​ absolutely nothing he‌ could do.

The​​ houses claiming to‌ support him were‍​ all weak, and‌‌ even then they​⁠ only did so‌‌ to protect their⁠​ own territories—not out⁠​‌ of genuine loyalty.⁠

Even⁠ if that loyalty‍ existed, they lacked​ the power to⁠​ ensure their own‌ safety.

“If‌‌‌ he really were‍‍‍ a loyal servant⁠ of the First​⁠‍ Prince, even if​ treated poorly, he’d​ advise him to⁠ stay here. Clinging​​ to obedient but‍ powerless subordinates can​‍ lead directly to​​‌ ruin.”

“Even‍⁠ if he were​ advised, I doubt​‍ His Highness would‍‍‍ listen.”

“It⁠ doesn’t matter. If‌‍​ it happens, Denis⁠ and the other‍ loyalists will realize‍‍​ it too. They’ll​ understand that the‍ First Prince lacks⁠⁠​ not only political‌​‍ sense, but even​‌‌ the basic instinct‌ for survival.”

Serving‍‌ the emperor and‌​ following his will⁠ was the duty​⁠‍ of a subject,​⁠​ but everything had‌ its limit.

A loyal servant could​⁠ tolerate irrational orders⁠⁠ or selfish behavior,‌ but when the⁠ ruler’s foolishness turned‌ self-destructive, the situation⁠​⁠ changed.

True‌‌​ loyalty wasn’t to​‍‌ the individual, but⁠‍⁠ to the imperial​⁠ bloodline.

In‌​⁠ extreme cases, protecting​​ the continuity of⁠​‍ the lineage was‌‍ considered a greater‌​ virtue than obeying​‍​ the emperor’s personal‍​⁠ will.

‘They⁠‌⁠ might be disappointed‌ in him, but‍​ out of debt⁠ to the late‍ emperor, they won’t⁠⁠‌ turn their backs‌ on him completely.’‌

At‍​ most, they would‍​‍ ignore absurd orders‌ and focus on⁠ staying safe.

For‍​ Lucian, that was⁠ more than enough.⁠‍

After​‍⁠ all, under the‍ pretext he himself​ had established, he‍ would never harm​ the First Prince.​​​

‘If‌ everything goes well,‌‍⁠ maybe I can⁠ preserve the pretext⁠‍⁠ and reach a reasonable agreement with‍‍‌ the loyalists…’

—Waaaaaaah!⁠‌

A thunderous roar pulled‌⁠ Lucian out of⁠​ his thoughts.

Returning‍​​ to the battlefield,‍​​ the cheers had‍⁠​ already calmed.

There‍​⁠ was no need‍ to ask what‍​‌ had happened; one‌⁠⁠ of the nearby​‍‍ family heads, his​‌ face lit with⁠ excitement, hurried to⁠ explain.

“O-one⁠‍⁠ of the knights⁠​ crossed swords with⁠‍‌ Felicia, my lord!‍⁠⁠ He held out‌ for five exchanges!”⁠​

“Oh?‍​​ Really?”

“It‍⁠ was amazing! You⁠⁠​ should have seen⁠ it with your​​⁠ own eyes!”

Lucian‍‍ gave a bitter‍ smile at the​ man’s excitement.

Was​⁠‍ he even aware‍ that this tournament⁠ had begun as​⁠‍ a challenge by‍ those who refused‌‌ to recognize Felicia​⁠ as Swordmaster?

And‍ now, they weren’t​‍⁠ even speaking of‍⁠ equality—just surviving five‌ exchanges was considered‌‍ extraordinary.

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