When the Emperor's explanation came to an end, Lucian quietly closed his eyes.
Emotions too complex to name churned within his chest.
If his father had died after being swept up in the chaos of battle, or struck down by a blind arrow, he would not have felt this unsettled.
At the very least, it could have been called the death of a knight who went to the battlefield.
'But to die not even on the battlefield, but to the scheming of some unheard-of mage?'
Death was always sudden, but this was different.
Grand Duke Sigmund, at the very least, had the right to die as a general, as a knight.
He should not have been expended as just another piece on someone else's game board.
"What is my brother… doing now?"
As if turning his eyes away from the death of Grand Duke Sigmund, Lucian shifted the subject.
Having lost the father he revered, Tristan must have been deeply shaken as well.
The Emperor hesitated briefly at Lucian's question, then answered.
—He is still swinging his sword.
"Does that mean the war is still ongoing?"
—No. The war is over. There are no soldiers left now.
"…Don't tell me…"
—He has gone mad with rage. I couldn't stop him—and I didn't want to stop him. Does that answer your question?
As if he did not wish to speak of it any further, the Emperor shook his head.
An answer without beginning or end, frustratingly vague.
And yet, even that ambiguity was enough for Lucian to understand what state Tristan was in now.
'A massacre in the city.'
If the rebellion had been suppressed, all that remained were defenseless civilians and imperial soldiers brimming with fury.
The troops were already on the verge of exploding after enduring Krepfeld's countless dirty schemes.
On top of that, Grand Duke Sigmund—respected by so many—had been assassinated.
The moment Tristan designated an outlet for that rage, what followed was obvious without needing to be said.
"Haa…"
Lucian let out a long sigh, forcing his churning thoughts into order.
The end of the war. The Grand Duke's death. Tristan. A massacre. Valdeck. And the Emperor.
Each of them was a major incident capable of causing enormous repercussions.
So much so that there was not even time to sink into grief over Sigmund's death.
"Your Majesty, may I ask you one thing?"
—Go ahead.
"What exactly were those black tentacles that bound my father? Was it truly a trap laid by Krepfeld?"
—…Most likely. What other explanation could there be?
The Emperor nodded a beat late.
But to Lucian's eyes, it was a lie—one that the Emperor himself did not believe.
To think that, when they had already been defeated and should have been worrying about how to surrender, they would take not the Emperor but a Grand Duke with them into death?
That was something no sane human being—let alone a king who ruled a nation—would ever do.
'Someone definitely intervened. Someone other than Krepfeld… and other than the Emperor.'
The problem was that Lucian could not even begin to guess who that someone might be.
When Lucian fell silent in thought, the Emperor misunderstood the reaction and spoke in a sorrowful tone.
—I never imagined they possessed magic capable of bypassing rune protection. Just in case, I even gave him the most powerful armor among the imperial relics…
At the Emperor's words, Lucian let out a bitter smile inwardly.
Was that supposed to mean, I did my best, so don't resent me?
'How laughable. At least half of the cause of my father's death lies with you.'
More precisely, the imperial family itself was practically the root cause of this incident.
As a result of the Empire's indiscriminate witch hunts, it had become difficult to find anyone who truly understood magic.
Even though the imperial family possessed more knowledge of magic than most, that knowledge was still only a tiny fragment.
What kinds of magic those they cast out three hundred years ago had wielded—the imperial family had surely forgotten long ago.
"When you know nothing, you can neither respond to the attack nor identify the culprit."
In a sense, Valdeck had been caught up in the Empire's karma.
But Lucian was not a hot-blooded youth foolish enough to lay bare such thoughts.
"There was nothing that could be done. Even if one does everything within human capacity, it is the gods who decide fate."
—I appreciate you saying that. It feels as though my heart has grown lighter. However…
The Emperor hesitated for a long while, licking his lips.
Seeing this uncharacteristic display of nervousness, Lucian tilted his head in puzzlement.
What on earth is he about to say?
—…I believe I must convey some unwelcome news to you.
"Unwelcome news?"
—Sigmund came to me not long ago and told me this. He said he had decided that Tristan would be the next Grand Duke.
Lucian froze on the spot, his expression blank.
At the Emperor's bombshell declaration, a heavy silence descended.
Lucian remained rigid, unable to say a word, while the Emperor nervously darted his eyes about.
Caught between them, Glen could only wait for what would come next, cold sweat pouring down his face.
"Your Majesty."
It was Lucian who broke the oppressive silence.
His voice was far colder than it had been just moments before.
"Did my father truly say such a thing?"
—Damn it…
"Your Majesty."
—Please, can't you just let this pass? You already know everything, don't you?
"Your Majesty."
—I've given you everything I possibly could up to now. The ducal title, the position of March Count, Asagrim, the finest troops, the imperial knight order, and all manner of supplies!
"Yes. I will never forget that grace, not even in death. But Your Majesty knows this as well."
—What are you trying to say?
"Bestowing and taking away are separate matters. They do not cancel each other out."
"What nonsense—!"
Glen cried out at Lucian in shock.
But Lucian did not so much as blink, keeping his gaze fixed on the Emperor.
After wetting his lips with his tongue for a long moment, the Emperor spoke as if resigned.
—Then what would you have me do? Summon you back from Asagrim and hand over Valdeck as well? When I haven't even stabilized the north yet?
—I need allies. I don't want to shatter a solid ally like Valdeck through a power struggle. And Tristan isn't a bad choice for you either, is he?
Lucian still said nothing.
As the suffocating silence threatened to stretch on again, the Emperor let out a deep sigh.
—That mage… do with him as you please.
—And I don't mean using him in secret without being discovered. I'll make it official. I'll grant you the authority itself—the authority to recognize an unlicensed mage.
At an offer that went beyond radical, Lucian stared at the Emperor in a daze.
The Emperor's eyes burned as if flames might spill out at any moment.
One could feel his obsession with putting everything in order before he died.
—You've seen the true strength of the imperial family for yourself. And Sigmund's death must weigh on you as well. Weren't you just thinking that magic was necessary?
—You needn't fear becoming a traitor. I will permit it. I'm telling you to conduct your research openly.
In exchange… give up Valdeck.
Abandon any thought of threatening the imperial family with excessive territory.
Faced with the unspoken pressure accompanying that near-radical proposal, Lucian closed his eyes.
'It must be an offer made after calculating everything. Once an age of chaos begins, mages will spring up everywhere—and by then, even if the imperial family tries to stop them, it won't be able to.'
It was nothing more than securing an advantage by giving up something that would have to be relinquished eventually, ahead of time.
Even so, taking everything into account, the Emperor's proposal was tempting.
If it was a right personally sanctioned by the Emperor, it meant Lucian alone could act openly while others skulked in the shadows.
Naturally, mages would choose to come to Lucian rather than to other lords.
"…I will not renounce my right of succession. However, I also will not raise any objection to my brother's inheritance."
—Good! That alone is more than enough! At last—khk!
"Y-Your Majesty!"
As a mass of blood poured from the Emperor's mouth, Glen let out a scream.
The Emperor, coughing violently again and again, bent over, his condition clearly failing to improve.
"The documents… I'll send them… soon… Sir Glen… return as well…"
Paat.
The moment the Emperor finished speaking, the magic tool ceased functioning.
It seemed to have been forcibly shut off from the other side.
Glen hesitated, then looked at Lucian, who stood lost in thought.
Under normal circumstances, he would have spoken of loyalty and the Emperor's illness—but Lucian himself had suffered no small tragedy.
"Your Highness, the Grand Duke was an outstanding man. Truly, he was a pillar of the Empire itself."
"Thank you."
…
"…Th—"
"I would like to be alone."
"Ah… yes."
At Lucian's clear dismissal, Glen flushed and left the office.
Left alone, Lucian leaned back in his chair and thought of Sigmund.
'Father.'
He was neither the father who had given him life, nor the father who had raised him.
He had merely slipped into the place where that man's son should have been.
And yet, in less than a year, the Grand Duke had become a more dependable father to Lucian than anyone else.
"Father."
Saying it aloud made his voice tremble slightly.
Lucian tried to say a few more words, but soon fell silent and quietly closed his eyes.
The liquid running down his cheeks felt strangely hot.
***
At dawn the next day, after spending the night wide awake, Lucian headed for the underground prison.
It was a different dungeon from the one where Norbek had been confined.
A guard who had been dozing off jolted awake at the sound of Lucian's footsteps, then cried out in shock.
"Y-Your Highness!"
"I've come to see a prisoner. Step aside."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
The guard, his face turning deathly pale, quickly stepped back.
With Norbek's escape still fresh, he likely feared being harshly reprimanded for having been caught dozing.
Lucian, however, paid him no attention and headed inside.
"Colin."
"Your Highness!"
Colin, who had been half-lying down, shot to his feet like lightning and grabbed the bars.
At that quick reaction, Lucian's eyebrow twitched.
"I thought you were asleep. You're already up?"
"I was sleeping. I'm just sensitive to sounds, so I woke up immediately."
Ah, I see. Because of the witch hunts, even getting a proper night's sleep must be impossible.
There must always be the anxiety that one could be seized and killed at any moment if one let their guard down.
"Judging by you coming here, it seems a decision has been made."
"Yes. I received a definite answer last night."
"What did the Emperor—what did the Emperor say?"
Colin asked, clenching his sweat-soaked hands tightly.
Lucian nodded lightly and replied.
"It went well. Not only will he spare your life, he's willing to treat it as though you committed no crime at all."
"…What?"
"In short, he won't say a word even if I openly take you under my command."
"…."
Colin wondered if he had misheard.
The plan Lucian had proposed at the outset had been recklessly audacious, riddled with holes.
The idea was to somehow emphasize Colin's usefulness and necessity to the Emperor, then buy time and look for an opportunity to sever ties with the capital.
Conversely, the moment the Emperor dismissed Lucian's demands, Colin would be forced to bear everything and be executed—a gamble overwhelmingly unfavorable to him.
However, from the moment he had been captured by Lucian's group, it was as good as having no choice at all, so he had accepted it.
"…Not just giving me time, but outright legitimizing my existence?"
"More precisely, he granted me the authority to do so."
"Why on earth?"
"A lot of things happened."
Lucian ran a hand through his hair as if exhausted and offered no further explanation.
Seeing that he didn't look happy at all, Colin narrowed his eyes.
He was saying something utterly unbelievable, yet showed not the slightest sign of joy—it was deeply suspicious.
"For things to have gone so well, you don't seem in good spirits at all."
"Well… that's true."
"Why? Everything turned out exactly as you wanted, didn't it?"
"I also heard that my father passed away."
"…A mage was the cause. I was told he cowardly interfered in a duel and carried out an ambush."
Colin felt his back grow slick with cold sweat.
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