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A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles Chapter 83

Chapter 83

Colin⁠‌‍ rested his chin‌⁠ on his hand‍‌ and began interpreting⁠ the prophecy.

By‌ nature, prophecies often​​ foretold the future​‍ in ambiguous ways.⁠​‌ Not even the‍ person receiving the​​ prediction knew its⁠​‌ exact meaning, so‌⁠ it was better‌ to interpret it⁠​‍ oneself rather than‌‌ leave it in⁠ someone else’s hands.⁠​

‘The‌ meaning doesn’t seem​ that complicated. Three⁠ encounters and three‌ opportunities, two failures‌‍‌ and one chance.​‍ If I seize‌​‍ it, he’ll be⁠‌ a benefactor; if‌‍ I let it‍‍‌ pass, he’ll become‍⁠ a reaper.’

If​​ interpreted literally, it​ meant Colin had​‌‍ had three opportunities,⁠⁠ of which he‌​ had wasted two.​⁠

If‌ he could take‌‍ advantage of the‍‌⁠ last one, he​‌ would receive great‍​‌ fortune; but if‍‍ he let that​‌ one slip too,‍‌​ he would die.‍‍

The⁠‍‌ real problem was‌‍ that he had​​ no idea what‍⁠ those “failures” referred‌‍‌ to.

‘It’s​‍‍ true I’ve failed‍⁠⁠ twice recently. In‍ Bornholm and in‍ Krephelt I had‍‍‍ to flee without​⁠ even receiving full‌ pay. But those​‌‍ were just jobs—not‌‌‌ aimed at any⁠​‍ specific person.’

Who‌⁠‌ the hell was‌​ this figure that‌‌ could become either⁠⁠ a benefactor or‌⁠ a reaper?

If‍‍ only a few‌​ people had been⁠⁠ involved, maybe he‍ could make some​‍‍ guesses. But both‌ Bornholm and Krephelt​‌ had been battlefields​⁠ where entire armies⁠‌‍ clashed.

It​⁠ was impossible to‍​ know who might⁠‌ have been mixed​‌​ in among that​​ crowd.

“Is‍ it hard to​‌ interpret?”

“No,‍‍ the interpretation itself​⁠ is simple. The⁠ problem is the​ word encounter. Is‌ it used metaphorically​‌​ too?”

Colin​​‌ handed the paper​ back to Helen‍​‌ while asking. After​⁠‍ thinking for a moment, she shook​‌​ her head.

“Normally‍ it isn’t used‌‌⁠ metaphorically. If a prophecy mentions an⁠​‌ encounter, it usually‌ doesn’t mean anything⁠‍ else.”

“Huh‍‍‌ I don’t recall‌‌ meeting anyone twice‌‍‌ recently.”

“Maybe⁠⁠‍ the failure wasn’t⁠⁠​ the meeting itself,​⁠ but the chance​​‌ to meet—and you‍‌ missed it.”

“Not⁠‌‌ meeting someone, even⁠ when I could‌⁠ have, counts as‍⁠ a failure?”

“Ah…‌⁠ I’ve said too‌⁠‍ much. A prophet‍ must not intervene​ after the prophecy⁠ has been revealed.”‍

With‌ an ambiguous smile,‌ Helen closed her​‌​ mouth and said‌ no more. Colin‌​ would’ve liked her​​ to help a bit more, but‌‍​ it seemed impossible‌‍ to get her⁠‍‍ to speak again.‍​

Sighing,⁠​ Colin stood up.‍​

“Well,​ if the prophet‌⁠ says so, I have no choice​ but to interpret⁠ it as best⁠​‌ I can.”

“That’s‌⁠​ the right attitude.​ I hope you⁠⁠ manage to seize​ your benefactor.”

Colin‍ left the cave,‍‍ leaving behind her⁠‌‌ brief words of​‌‌ farewell.

She⁠ hadn’t told him​‍​ to take care—but​‍‍ then again, despite​ appearances, she could​‌ protect herself very⁠‍‌ well, almost instinctively.‌⁠

Now,​‌​ his own safety‍‌ was what mattered,​⁠‍ especially since the⁠‍ prophecy explicitly mentioned‌​ a “reaper.”

‘Three​‍⁠ encounters, two failures…⁠⁠‍ damn it, who‌‍​ the hell is‍ this benefactor?’

As‍​​ he headed to‌‍‍ his hideout, Colin‌⁠‌ kept trying to‌‍​ figure out that⁠ person’s identity. But⁠⁠ no matter how​‌ much he turned‍‍⁠ it over in‍ his mind, no‌⁠ one came to‍‍ him.

That‌‍ was when he​⁠ had been thinking‌​ for so long⁠ that his head​ began to ache.​

“You’re​​ late, mage.”

“…Sir​ Palmir, if you‍​‍ were coming, you‍‍​ could’ve given me⁠‌​ a heads-up.”

At‍ the sudden insult‍​ from the side,​‌‌ Colin frowned. Turning,‌​ he saw the​ man who had‌⁠ been waiting.

“If‌ you use magic,‍⁠ you should be​‍ able to sense‍​‌ things like that.​ Not even noticing⁠ someone approaching, and⁠ you still call⁠‍‍ yourself a wielder​⁠‍ of miracles.”

“I’ve​⁠ told you many‌‌‍ times. Magic varies⁠​​ greatly by school.​‍ Just because someone​​⁠ rides a horse‌‍ well doesn’t mean‍ they know how​⁠ to tame wolves.”⁠​⁠

“You‌​ think so? Sounds⁠⁠⁠ like an excuse⁠ to me.”

“You​‌ didn’t come all‌⁠⁠ this way just‌⁠ to mock me.‍ What brings you‍‌⁠ here?”

Colin​ cut in calmly.​‌ Continuing that conversation‍‌​ wouldn’t lead to‍ anything good.

Clicking‍ his tongue, Palmir‍ got to the⁠‍ point.

“There’s​⁠​ someone I want‌ you to take​ care of. They‌‍ say you can‍ call down lightning.”‌⁠‌

“You​ want to make‍⁠​ it look like‍‌ a natural disaster?​⁠ That’s possible, but‍⁠‍ if dark clouds⁠⁠‌ suddenly form, people​⁠​ will get suspicious.”​⁠

“Doesn’t‍‍ matter. I’m not​ planning to do​‍ it in front‍​ of spectators. As‌‍ long as it​‌⁠ looks like a natural disaster.”

“In​ that case…”

Even​‍ though he accepted‌ the job, Colin​ couldn’t help feeling⁠ bitter.

As⁠‍​ a mage meant​​‌ for study, how‌‍​ many more assassinations​​ would he have‌ to take?

It⁠‍​ was a matter‍​​ of survival, but⁠ sometimes the self-loathing⁠ weighed on him​ like a stone.‌‌‍

“I’ll⁠⁠ give you the​‍ exact date later.‌ Until then, gather‌‍ power. And don’t⁠ waste it on‌‍ nonsense—if you start‍‌‍ making excuses on​‍⁠ the execution day…”​

“Don’t‍ worry. That won’t⁠‍ happen. Though, I would like to​‍⁠ know who the‌ target is.”

“Lucian⁠​​ Valdeck. The third​‍​ son of Grand‌​⁠ Duke Valdeck.”

“I⁠‍ see.”

The‌ House of Count‌ Calix was crossing⁠‌⁠ a dangerous line.⁠‍⁠ Colin thought so,‍​ but said nothing.‍

As‍‌‍ a mercenary, as‍ long as he​ was paid, the‍‍​ danger of the‍ target wasn’t his⁠‌⁠ concern.

“Then⁠ I’ll be ready.‍‌ Let me know‍ when the day⁠⁠‌ is set.”

“Hmph.”⁠

Palmir​‌​ snorted disdainfully and‍‍ disappeared down the‍⁠​ hill. Even at⁠⁠ the end, his‌‍ attitude overflowed with‌​‍ contempt.

“A​ guy who flushed‍⁠‌ his knighthood down‌ the drain but​ still clings to‍ his pride.”

Clicking‍ his tongue, Colin​ returned to his‌ hideout and calmly‍​​ began organizing his‌ potion bottles.

Just​‌ in case, he⁠ decided to prepare‍​‍ a few catalysts‍ to amplify his‍‌⁠ magic for the‌​ day of the‍⁠ assignment.

‘Valdeck,‌ huh? Strange—I keep‍‌ running into that⁠ name too often.‍​⁠ In Bornholm, in⁠ Krephelt, and this‌ would be the⁠ third time.’

Clack.‌⁠

Colin‍ froze completely as‌‌‌ he set down‍⁠ a bottle.

A chill ran through⁠ his body as⁠‍ he realized what⁠ he had just⁠ thought.

The⁠​‌ third time?

‘Three⁠​​ encounters, two failures.⁠‍ What if the‌⁠ failures were not​⁠ meeting him when‍​⁠ I had the⁠ chance?’

A wave of unease‌ swept over him.‌‌‌ He was certain⁠‌ that if he​ ignored that thought,‌ the real “reaper”‍​ would come for⁠‍​ him.

Without⁠‍⁠ hesitating any longer,​ Colin dropped the​‍⁠ bottles and rushed‍‌ outside.

He⁠‍‍ had to find⁠⁠​ out what kind‍‌‌ of person the‍​ third son of‌​⁠ the Grand Duke⁠ Valdeck really was.​‍

***‍⁠​

Lucian‌‍‍ decided to move​ immediately with his​​​ vassals as soon‍⁠ as he sent‌​ the response to‍‍⁠ the House of​ Count Calix.

Since⁠⁠ things had come‍‍ this far, there⁠​‍ was no reason⁠‌ to give the⁠⁠‍ enemy time to​ react.

The‍ best course was​‍ to strike like‌ lightning and end​‍‍ it all before⁠‍ they could act.​‍‍

“Is⁠​ the baron not⁠⁠ planning to come⁠‌ with me? You‌ might witness quite‌ a few interesting​ scenes.”

“I​ sincerely appreciate the‌‍⁠ invitation, Your Highness,‍‌​ but the territory‍ is still unstable.​‌ Until the second​ son returns, I must maintain control⁠‍ here.”

At⁠‌‍ Harald’s words, filled‍ with regret, Lucian‌ nodded.

The​‌ firstborn had sparked⁠‌ a rebellion, so‍ chaos still hadn’t‍‌ settled, and no⁠⁠⁠ one knew what​ other move Calix‌ might attempt. Until‌‍ the second son‍‍ returned and an‍​‍ heir was formally‍ designated, it would‌‍‍ be difficult for‌⁠ Harald to leave‍‌​ his domain.

With‍‌ no other option,‌‌ Lucian’s group left‍ Harald behind and‌​⁠ headed to their​⁠ next destination — Baile, the only‌‌​ territory that had​‌ once belonged to‍‍​ the ducal house‌ of Grimaldi.

“I’ve‌‍​ heard a lot‌ about this place,‌ but it’s really‌⁠​ just a forgotten⁠ backwater.”

After‍‍​ scanning the village,⁠‌⁠ Lucian let out​⁠‍ a dry laugh.​‍​

Despite‌‌ bearing the name‌ of a ducal‍‌‍ territory, the population‌‌ was no more‍‌ than that of‌ a rural area.⁠

“Believe‌‌ it or not,⁠‍⁠ eight hundred years​ ago there were‌‍ two veins of⁠‌​ rare metals here,​​‌ and it was‌‌ quite prosperous. When‍ they were exhausted,​‍ it began to​ decline.”

“How‍​ many centuries ago⁠‌‍ did you say?​‌⁠ In eight hundred‌⁠‌ years, a kingdom‍‌ can fall and⁠‌ rise twice.”

“Indeed.⁠⁠ Seen another way,‌‌ it’s almost a miracle that this‍​ place has survived⁠ until now solely‍‍ for its historical⁠ value.”

After‌ finishing the explanation,‌ Raymond’s gaze turned‌ to the lord’s⁠ mansion.

In‍⁠‌ contrast to the‍‍ village, the building⁠⁠ was surprisingly clean​⁠‌ and majestic — to the point‌⁠​ of seeming out​ of place.

‘Looks‌​ like a desperate‍⁠ attempt not to‍⁠⁠ disappear.’

Was⁠ it the last‌ pride of the‍⁠‌ north?

When⁠‍‌ Lucian’s maternal grandfather‌‍​ was still alive,‌ it was said⁠‍ that neighboring lords​‌ contributed collectively to‌ cover its maintenance‌ costs.

After⁠ his death, the⁠ House of Count⁠‍‌ Calix had continued‌ managing it in‌‌​ exchange for huge‍⁠⁠ sums, hoping to​‌‍ profit from it.​

Thanks⁠ to that, at⁠‍​ least externally, the‍‌‌ mansion still looked‍ perfectly habitable even⁠ now.

“Halt!‌ Identify yourselves!”

As‌‍‍ they approached the‌‍⁠ partially ruined inner‌​ fortress, some soldiers‌‌‍ blocked their way.‍⁠⁠

Seeing‌⁠ the crest of⁠ House Calix engraved‌​⁠ on their armor,⁠ Lucian clicked his‍‌ tongue.

“Who​⁠‌ are you?”

“We’re⁠‍‌ in charge of‌​ guarding this place.”‌⁠‌

“That’s​ not what I asked. I’m asking‌​ why you’re guarding‍⁠​ it. I never‍‌ hired you.”

“Huh?”⁠

“I’m⁠ the owner of‌ this house.”

“…!?”⁠​

At‌ those words, the​​ soldiers looked at‌​ each other, completely​‍‍ confused.

At‍⁠‌ that moment, a knight appeared from‍ inside, accompanied by‌‌​ the metallic clinking‌​​ of armor.

“I⁠​ don’t know what⁠‍ family you’re from,​‌ young man, but‍ you’re saying strange‌ things. This is‍‍‌ the private residence​​​ of the Duke⁠⁠​ of Grimaldi. Could‌ it be that​​​ you’re mistaken?”

The​ tone was polite,⁠‍⁠ but the voice‌‍⁠ was so sharp​ it felt like⁠ it could cut‌ if you got‍‌⁠ too close.

Even‌ so, Lucian stared⁠ at him without‌⁠⁠ flinching.

“No,‌⁠​ I’ve come to‌ the right place.⁠‌ I am his‍ maternal grandson.”

“…Are‍​ you Young Lord‌‌ Lucian? The third‍‌ son of House​ Valdeck?”

“I⁠ see you’re well​ informed. I appreciate⁠‍‌ that you’ve cared‍⁠‍ for the place⁠ without me asking.‍​‍ Now then, would​⁠⁠ you please step​ aside?”

“I’m‍‌⁠ sorry, but…”

The‌ knight was about‌ to refuse without‌⁠ hesitation when another‌⁠ figure stepped forward.‍ It was Glenn,‌⁠​ the inspector sent‍‍⁠ by the Empire.​​

“There’s‍ no ‘sorry’. We’ve​​⁠ come to carry​ out the succession‍ procedure for the‌ late duke’s estate.​⁠‌ Step aside. This‍​‍ is an imperial‌‍ order.”

“What…?”⁠

Upon‌‌‌ hearing the words​​‌ “imperial order,” the⁠‌ knight’s eyes widened.​⁠⁠

Recognizing​‍⁠ Glenn’s seal, his⁠‌ expression turned pale.​‌

Northern‍ parochialism only worked⁠ in closed environments;‌ once a “legitimate‍ procedure” entered the‌⁠ picture, there was‍ no room to​‌​ impose one’s will.⁠⁠​

“What‍ are you waiting⁠​​ for? Step back​‍‌ immediately. The grandson‍​ of the late‍‍⁠ duke has come‌ to inherit the‌⁠‌ title and estate.​ Do you need​​ a greater justification?”​

“But…​⁠ the one who‍ has maintained this‍​ mansion until now⁠ has been House​‍ Calix.”

“How‌ admirable. Taking such​⁠ good care of⁠‌‍ an inheritance that‌‍ doesn’t belong to⁠ you. Someday you’ll‍​ be repaid for⁠‍ it.”

“…”‌⁠

The‍⁠​ knight pressed his​ lips together but‌ couldn’t say anything‍ else and stepped⁠‍ back.

To⁠‍‌ confront an imperial‌⁠ inspector would only‌ earn a humiliating‌ reprimand.

Moreover,‍⁠ Lucian was not​‌ only coming to​⁠ receive the inheritance⁠‍‌ but also the⁠‌ title of House‌ Grimaldi. That meant‌‍ becoming fully part‌‍⁠ of the north.‌​

‘Even‍​⁠ if I call‍​‍ him an outsider,‌​‍ no one here‌‌‌ would support me.‍⁠​ Damn it, at⁠⁠ this point, I have no choice.’​‌

The‍ knight gave a subtle signal to‌​ one of the⁠‍ elite soldiers nearby,​‍​ and the soldier‌‌‍ slipped inside.

Just⁠ as Lucian’s group⁠ crossed the drawbridge​⁠ and was about‍‌ to pass through⁠​‌ the main gate—​‍

Boom!‍ Hiiihiii!

“…!”‍

The‌‌ door slammed shut​​⁠ with a deafening⁠⁠ clang. While calming​‌ the horses startled⁠⁠ by the noise,⁠‍⁠ Felicia shouted in⁠⁠ anger.

“What’s​ the meaning of⁠​‌ this? You act‍⁠ like you’re stepping‌ aside and then‍ shut the gate!”‍​‌

“It’s⁠ a misunderstanding. It⁠⁠​ seems the gate‌ mechanism has broken​‌‍ down. Could you​​ wait a moment​ while we repair‌​ it?”

It‍ was a ridiculous‌ excuse. A gate​​ that had worked​‌⁠ perfectly until then⁠⁠ — and had​‌‍ been maintained by​​ House Calix — couldn’t suddenly break.‍ Clearly, they were⁠ stalling for time.‍

‘With⁠​ such a flimsy‍​‌ excuse, they must⁠ be pretty desperate.​‍ Are they trying‌ to move something​ before I get​⁠‍ in?’

Calix​⁠⁠ had likely occupied‌⁠⁠ the mansion for⁠‌​ its symbolic value.‍​

With‍‍ no rivals, they⁠‍​ had left everything‌‌​ as it was⁠ until Lucian appeared​ to claim the​‍ castle.

‘Sorry,‌‍ but that’s not‌‍ happening.’

Even​⁠‍ if they were‌ just symbolic items,‌‍ all the Grimaldi‌​ inheritance belonged to‌‍⁠ Lucian.

He⁠⁠‍ wasn’t about to⁠ give Calix so​‍ much as a plate or a rag.

Lucian‌⁠​ dismounted, drew his⁠​ sword, and shouted‍‌ toward the other‍ side of the⁠​ gate.

“If‍ anyone’s behind there,⁠‍ move away now.‌‍ Don’t get involved⁠ where you might‌⁠‍ get hurt.”

“You’d‍⁠⁠ best give up.⁠​‍ That door is‍ made from adamantium⁠ alloy; you can’t​⁠‍ cut it. Resign​‍ yourself and wait.”​‌

The⁠‍‌ knight’s tone was‌‌ polite, but it‌ dripped with mockery.​ Lucian, on the‍ other hand, smiled⁠ and raised his‌ sword.

At⁠ the same time,​‌‌ he unleashed all​​ the energy he‌‌ could muster at⁠ that moment, fully‌ reinforcing his body.‍⁠‌

Uuuuuung—⁠⁠‌

“What‍‍‌ is that…!?”

The⁠ knight stepped back‌ in horror. Clearly,‍‌​ he had never⁠ seen a manifestation‍​ of energy; in​‌ his wide-open eyes​ there was only‍ shock.

Just​ as he was‌ about to shout⁠ something—

Boom!​‌

The‌‌ sword, wrapped in⁠⁠‍ explosive energy, slammed‍‌‌ into the gate.​‌

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