Chapter 86

Unless one is an eternal and immortal transcendent, any legacy inevitably requires a place to be stored.

And the greater the legacy, the larger that storage place must also be.

If, on top of that, the place is built in secret so no one can find it, the possible locations become even more limited.

‘In practice, outside of the royal palace, there aren’t many suitable places to hide something like this. The Empire surely suspected that—hence, they never handed over Asagrim.’

They couldn’t massacre a royal family that surrendered peacefully, so they most likely took Asagrim from them, granted them honor, and then drove them out.

Grimaldi must have accepted that fate, dreaming of a distant future in which they would one day rise again.

But, as written in his maternal grandfather’s journal, the Empire managed to endure for a thousand years—and Grimaldi lost.

The first to go extinct was the Grimaldi house itself.

‘No wonder they were so docile with me.’

Lucian had never once visited the north in his entire life, nor had he ever met his maternal grandfather in person.

And, according to the emperor’s letter, imperial legacies could only be used by the direct bloodline.

They must have believed that, being a collateral branch, Lucian would be unable to access any legacy even if it existed.

However, the legacy of the former royal family of the north seemed to be usable even by the third generation of collateral lines.

‘This is a monumental stroke of luck.’

Lucian murmured to himself while pretending to stroke his chin, suppressing the grin threatening to burst into laughter.

If he relaxed now, he’d probably break into uncontrollable laughter.

It had all begun as a simple treasure hunt—and ended in a real clue to an actual legacy, and not just any legacy, but one from an ancient royal family.

“My lord, I know you’re pleased, but now isn’t the time for this.”

Raymond urgently grabbed Lucian’s shoulder, who had been silently laughing.

“We have to burn all these records right now. The soldiers not knowing is one thing, but if Sir Glenn sees this…”

At that moment, Lucian snapped back to reality.

Asagrim was something the Empire had held on to for a thousand years—just in case.

What would happen if it were discovered that Lucian had rightful claim to a legacy?

‘Having only Asagrim taken away would be the best-case scenario. At worst, they might use me as a living key and strip me of the entire legacy.’

Even if the legacies were designed to respond only to the correct bloodline, that didn’t mean they couldn’t be lent or exploited by others.

After all, the Emperor’s Red Wing Knights all used magical tools without exception.

Lucian might end up little more than a scarecrow with nominal rights, forced to “lend” the legacy indefinitely.

“You’re right. Burn it all.”

“But these records belonged to the lord…”

“It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing truly useful here. As long as I have the key, the ancestors won’t complain even if I burn everything.”

To be honest, Lucian had no attachment to the diaries of his forebears.

Most of them simply recounted the downfall of a declining house. Except for his grandfather, they all clung to a glory that would never return, repeating laments and despair.

‘If even one of them had written what’s under the throne or how to use it, I might’ve saved a book or two—but that’s not the case.’

Fwoosh.

Lucian gathered all the journals and set them ablaze with a torch. The dry, fragile paper caught fire instantly and was soon reduced to ashes.

As he watched over the disappearance of more than a thousand years of familial decay, Lucian’s eyes gleamed.

With his grandfather’s inheritance now resolved, only one task remained.

***

“Invite the northern lords to Asagrim?”

“Yes.”

Glenn, who had just returned from inspecting the towns to gauge public sentiment, blinked at Lucian’s proposal.

They hadn’t even arrived at Asagrim yet, and he was already talking about invitations.

“Your Highness, pardon the question, but where do you intend to get the funds for something like that?”

“I’d like to request support from the Emperor.”

“…”

Glenn looked at Lucian, incredulous.

Invite others and ask the Emperor—who isn’t even the host—to pay?

But Lucian continued, unfazed.

“If possible, I would also like elite troops and knights to be lent. I’m not asking for them to be given to me, just loaned for a few months. As a border marquis, I need at least an army to enforce authority. After the investiture ceremony, I’ll also need time to consolidate my position.”

“Your Highness, that’s asking too much. His Majesty has already provided considerable support…”

“At that event, I’ll officially announce my support for the First Prince.”

“…!”

At Lucian’s bold declaration, Glenn froze completely.

It was true that all the imperial support had been aimed at securing backing for the First Prince.

But Lucian still had to face the Calix family, and taking on such a major political burden right now was dangerous.

The idea had been to wait until he was firmly established in the north—yet here he was, announcing public support from the start.

“Are you aware of what you’re saying?”

“Of course.”

Lucian smiled broadly at Glenn’s confusion.

“This will be the first time I openly speak on the matter of the throne, which until now has been nearly taboo. All the Empire’s attention will fall on me. In the worst case, it could even affect the competition for the next head of House Valdeck. I may earn enemies within the palace without even realizing it.”

“And even knowing that, you insist?”

“Isn’t that exactly what the imperial family wants? That the heir of Grimaldi and lord of Asagrim declares his support for the First Prince. The north, which has always been indifferent to the succession, will naturally lean in my direction.”

“Well…”

Glenn couldn’t argue. Even though they had said Lucian could give his support later, this kind of early declaration was far more valuable.

A public endorsement was not easily undone, and it showed there was already a power base.

Especially when the most influential figure in the north clearly expressed support.

‘…It’s a compelling proposal. I should accept it and report it immediately. But… why do I feel so uneasy?’

Lucian was someone who had risked his life for the Emperor and to protect the First Prince. Glenn respected him both personally and for his talent.

But he also had ambition, and he wasn’t a blind loyalist willing to die without gaining something in return.

‘The problem is I can’t see what he gains from this. For Lucian, it seems like all loss—and the Empire is the only one benefiting.’

Seeing Glenn hesitate, Lucian smiled calmly.

“Sir Glenn, you seem to have a lot on your mind. For now, just report to His Majesty. In the end, it’s his decision. If he doesn’t approve, I won’t insist.”

“…Understood.”

Glenn nodded gravely. As a knight at heart, he wasn’t skilled at reading hidden intentions.

Rather than draw the wrong conclusion, it was best to report to the Emperor and let him decide.

“Wait a day. I’ll go report to His Majesty right away.”

***

Glenn returned to his room, placed the red stone at the center, and arranged several soundproofing magic artifacts around it.

When all the preparations were complete and he began to operate the red stone, it began to glow with a faint tremor.

After several minutes, a figure appeared from the stone, floating in the air along with a beam of light.

— Sir Glenn? What is it?

Upon hearing the voice from the red stone, Glenn immediately dropped to one knee and adopted the posture of a knight.

“Your Imperial Majesty…”

— Enough. I’m in the middle of urgent affairs, so skip the formalities and get to the point. Has something strange happened in the north?

“No, sire. Count Lucian has made a proposal. To be precise, it’s a proposal directed to Your Majesty.”

— A proposal? After giving him the Grimaldi duchy, the border marquisate, and Asagrim, that still isn’t enough?

The once calm voice now carried a trace of anger. He may not have expected sincere gratitude for something given unilaterally, but at least some moral debt.

Before the misunderstanding could deepen, Glenn quickly added.

“It’s not like that. Duke Lucian merely wishes for Your Majesty to provide a little support in unifying the north.”

— What do you mean?

“He told me the following…”

Glenn conveyed Lucian’s proposal his intent to invite the northern lords to a banquet, request troops to display authority, and publicly declare his support for the First Prince at that very event.

“…So, unable to decide on my own, I dared to contact you to seek your judgment. I humbly ask for your wisdom.”

— Hahahahaha!

At the burst of laughter from the red stone, Glenn flinched.

The previous anger vanished without a trace, replaced by obvious amusement.

— Excellent! Tell him I accept. Ask how many troops he needs. If he wishes, I can even send part of the imperial knight order.

“Y-Your Majesty? Is that really all right?”

— And why wouldn’t it be? He’s proposed something I myself once considered—and then discarded.

“Huh?”

Seeing Glenn’s confusion, the emperor continued, his voice laced with laughter.

— Even though I personally granted Asagrim to him, the unstable elements, including Count Calix, won’t submit so easily now. He needs an army to crush those who oppose him. But armies don’t grow from the ground or fall from the sky. Building one from scratch takes too long, so borrowing is the only option.

— The Valdeck duchy is out of the question. Since it’s an issue involving the maternal family of their third son, they’ll treat it like someone else’s problem. Who would easily hand over valuable troops for something like that?

“Then the remaining options are…”

— Either rely on me or on the lords who support him. He could rely on both, but then the debt would become massive. And the problem is, he already owes me plenty.

As emperor, he’d assumed Lucian would never ask for troops. After receiving a duchy, a marquis title, and Asagrim, requesting an army would only add to his ever-growing debt.

However, not only did Lucian ask directly for troops, he also declared he’d publicly support the First Prince immediately.

— To be honest, I was a little worried. I thought perhaps he’d see the land I gave him as an unwanted burden. But if he’s asking for troops to protect it, then he won’t be able to go back on his word.

“I-I see…”

— Thanks to that, one of my concerns has vanished. Though we’re currently suppressing the Krephelt rebellion, imperial power remains strong. We still have room to support him, so there’s nothing to worry about. Discuss the details with him and contact me again.

The Emperor’s reassuring voice reached Glenn, who still looked dazed.

Soon after, the red stone dimmed, and the figure disappeared. Glenn stood up, but despite having heard everything, his expression remained tense.

The words of a wise emperor couldn’t be wrong. Still, Glenn held onto an unease he couldn’t express aloud.

‘Your Majesty Duke Lucian probably already understands all of that. And even so, he asked for your support. Could it be that, rather than worrying about the size of the debt, he’s planning to quickly eliminate his enemies and gain time to grow?’

The emperor might have replied that even a land with great potential needs vast amounts of time to develop, and that before his power could threaten the Empire, they would collect their debt.

‘But if Duke Lucian has the confidence to grow fast enough to borrow troops now… If, when the Empire comes to collect, they must ask as a favor rather than demand as a right…’

There, Glenn stopped his thoughts and shook his head to clear them. If he kept imagining worst-case scenarios one after another, he’d never stop.

And raising a warning to the Emperor based solely on vague feelings had no grounds.

‘Yes, surely these are just pointless thoughts. Unless he had an ancestral inheritance as grand as the Empire’s… how could he grow his territory so quickly?’

After putting away the red stone and collecting the soundproofing artifacts, Glenn headed toward Lucian.

Now that the Emperor had accepted the proposal, the rest of the arrangements were in his hands.