"Damn it, I must have been out of my mind. I should've just let it slide—there was no need to go poking a hornet's nest."
The urge to punch his self from thirty seconds ago made Colin squeeze his eyes shut.
But there was no turning back the past, so at the very least he had to salvage the words he'd just blurted out.
"Your Majesty, as you know, magic—"
"That's enough excuses. It's not your fault, and it's probably the work of a mage you don't even know."
"That may be so, but—"
"It would be ridiculous to curse every knight in the world just because a knight murdered someone's family."
At Lucian's words, Colin nodded with an awkward expression.
They were absolutely right, but most people in this world weren't rational creatures.
After being victimized by a deranged dark mage, it was common to look at even court mages as if they were mortal enemies.
"The reason I can't bring myself to be pleased yet is that I haven't shaken off my grief—not because I don't want to see you. So don't get worked up for nothing."
"Th-thank you, Your Majesty."
"There's nothing to thank me for—it has nothing to do with you. In any case, I'll have you released soon, so wait quietly."
"When do you think I'll be able to leave?"
"I don't know the exact timing myself, but it should be resolved within a week."
As they spoke, the image of the Emperor coughing up blood resurfaced in his mind.
With his health worsening by the day, the Emperor had no time to indulge in leisure.
The moment he regained his senses, he would resolve Lucian's problem—even if it meant shaving years off what little life he had left.
If he failed to provide proper compensation, Lucian would have had no reason to relinquish the position of head of House Valdeck in the first place.
"I'll come back later. By then, I suppose I should have some suitable clothes prepared as well—you'll be appointed and working by my side."
"Yes, sir."
Colin still wore an awkward expression.
Whether Lucian's words were true or not, the whole thing simply didn't feel real to him yet.
After all, a witch hunt that had persisted for centuries had been settled through a single negotiation.
Until he stepped outside the prison and actually exercised the rights he had gained, he would probably remain half in disbelief.
Well, once he experiences it firsthand, he'll probably go mad with joy.
Lucian let out a small chuckle and left the underground prison.
His heart still felt unsettled, so he decided to take a morning walk.
With Father gone, Valdeck must be in quite a state of turmoil by now. Even if the Emperor sides with Tristan, there will surely be brothers who refuse to accept it…
Lucian came to a halt.
As his thoughts reached that point, a piece of recent news surfaced in his mind—Hans's letter warning of signs of rebellion from Jordi.
After reading it, Raymond had dismissed the claim as nonsense.
How could there be talk of rebellion when the head of the house was still alive?
Once Duke Sigmund returned and said a single word, the whole thing would collapse on its own, he'd said.
But not anymore. Things have changed.
Duke Sigmund had died without ever naming a successor.
Even if the Emperor were to announce the duke's last will, hardly anyone would take it seriously.
If he truly intended to reveal the real successor, why would he tell the Emperor instead of his own close aides?
Given who the other party was, no one could openly object—but inwardly, everyone would know it was a lie.
The sudden death of the head of the house, a successor's seat left hanging in midair, and testimony from an outside source that could only be doubted.
Things like this had happened often in his previous life as well.
In times of chaos, it wasn't rare for a clan lord to die suddenly.
And in such cases, what followed was usually the same.
Whoever struck first claimed the prize—by force.
"Dammit."
Lucian's face twisted sharply.
In truth, if Jordi seized the position of head of the house through sheer strength, it wouldn't be bad for Lucian.
With Tristan pushed aside, it would give him a clear pretext to openly devour Valdeck.
But if this wasn't a coincidence—if it was deliberate—
If Jordi truly coveted the position of clan lord so badly that he committed an unforgivable act.
Then Lucian would never let him die easily.
After briefly staring south, where Valdeck lay, Lucian turned his back.
There was far too much to do to keep mourning his father.
***
When Lucian returned to his office, the first thing he did was summon Thorkel.
Perhaps the side effects of the potion hadn't been as severe as expected—he looked perfectly fine.
"I heard you summoned me."
"There's something you need to do. No—more precisely, something you and your friend need to do."
"My friend, you say…?"
"The third son of House Beor. From the look of it, I may have to assign him work the moment we meet. Do you think he'll accept it?"
Nobles were creatures of pride and appearances.
No matter how important the task, if it was thrust upon them without proper courtesy or treatment, resentment could easily take root.
For Lucian, who needed to entrust work where trust mattered above all else, the other party's character was an element of uncertainty.
At Lucian's words, Thorkel broke into a grin as if to say there was nothing to worry about.
"If it's him, he'll probably welcome it. He'll see it as a chance to grow even closer to Your Grace."
"Good. Then let's meet him first. Can he come right away?"
"Of course."
Saying that his friend had long since finished preparing and was merely waiting for Lucian's call, Thorkel headed outside.
Not long after, he returned—with a young head of house at his side, visibly tense.
"Lesta Beor greets Your Grace, the Duke. It is truly an honor to meet you."
"So you're Count Lesta. I've heard quite a bit about you. From what I hear, you're a promising talent."
"I'm flattered, but that does seem to be the reputation others give me."
Lucian blinked as he looked at Lesta, who made no attempt to deny the polite flattery.
Rather than self-admiration, it seemed he was deliberately projecting confidence to earn Lucian's trust.
Amused by the unconventional approach, Lucian smiled with satisfaction.
Not bad.
Ambition and a desire to prove one's ability meant the same thing—an eagerness to throw oneself wholeheartedly into any mission.
It was far better than dealing with people who tested the waters with half-baked political maneuvering or tried to pull their feet back whenever something dangerous loomed.
"There's a task I'd like to entrust to you. It's something that will require mobilizing troops. Can you handle it?"
Lesta's expression stiffened.
Anything that involved moving troops usually carried significant repercussions.
But the stiffness lasted only a moment—soon he bowed his head, resolve clear on his face.
"Whatever it is, just give the order!"
At the swift reply, Lucian's smile deepened.
With this level of nerve, he seemed more than trustworthy.
"The task itself is simple. My retainers from the family will be arriving in the northern region soon. Wait in the surrounding area, and the moment you find them, escort them safely here."
"…That's all?"
"That's all."
Hearing the details, Lesta unconsciously let a look of disappointment slip across his face.
He had expected something momentous, only to be given an escort mission—one that sounded expendable at best.
But Lucian added a few more words, as if he weren't finished yet.
"No matter what happens, you must bring them here safely. Even if it means fighting pursuers."
"Pursuers? You mean… someone is chasing them?"
"They might be—or they might not. But if someone is after them, it won't be an easy opponent."
Lesta's drooping demeanor vanished as his eyes snapped wide open.
If truly dangerous pursuers were involved, this was no mere token escort mission.
It was a top-priority assignment—one that entrusted him with the lives of vital members of the household.
If he pulled it off properly, he would surely earn Lucian's trust.
"No matter who comes, I won't let a single hair on their heads be harmed!"
"Good. I'm counting on you. If possible, we should hurry—can you start preparing right away?"
"Yes, Your Grace!"
Lesta sprang to his feet and left the office at once.
Watching him head out to prepare for his departure to his territory, Thorkel smiled.
"Remarkable personnel management. You gauged his character by adding an element of danger to an otherwise trivial mission—and even built a relationship of trust in the process."
"It's not a lie, you know."
"…Pardon?"
"I didn't dress it up to seem dangerous. There really might be danger. I just didn't make any promises because I'm not certain."
"Then…"
"If things truly turn dangerous, he may have to risk his life. Though if we're lucky, it'll all end inconclusively."
At the time, Lucian had heard nothing at all about Jordi.
Jordi had come with nothing but his own body to reclaim the Grimaldi name, so there'd been no reason for him to pay Lucian any heed.
Once he seized the family, Lucian would be little more than an exile—why bother caring about those under his command?
But things are different now.
Lucian was no longer a mere fledgling third son with nothing but his body.
He was now the Duke of Grimaldi and the Marchlord of Asagrim.
Once that news spread, Jordi would surely change his stance and try by any means to detain Lucian's retainers.
If he could take hostages from the northern hegemon, there would be nothing but upside for Jordi.
If possible, I would've liked to send Hugo, Raymond, and Felicia—but then even the North's attention would be drawn there.
If those hostile to Lucian were to realize the value of Hans and Ian, chaos would inevitably follow.
Unavoidably, he had asked Lesta—someone who drew less attention from others yet still commanded a respectable force.
If Lesta took action, whether escorting or otherwise, it would be difficult to link it directly back to Lucian.
"And Thorkel—you'll need to get involved as well. Among the lords near the northern border, your father is the one I trust most."
"…You're not saying I should go see my father again, are you?"
"Why not? On the way, meet Count Harald and borrow some troops. That way, if pursuers show up, it'll be easier to drive them off."
Though his face went pale, Thorkel slowly nodded.
Given the gravity of the matter, it seemed he couldn't bring himself to refuse, no matter how much he disliked the idea.
Just as Lucian was about to signal the end of the meeting, he remembered something he had nearly forgotten.
"Oh, right. Before you go, take this with you."
When Lucian pulled out a vial of Nektar from his robes, Thorkel's eyes widened.
"Good heavens—what is that? I've lived a long life, but I've never seen a liquid that shines on its own."
"Nektar."
"Nektar? You don't mean the legendary drink of the gods, do you?"
"It's just a potion that borrowed the name."
"Whoever made it must be terribly arrogant, then—to name a potion after a divine beverage."
Lucian let out a wry smile at Thorkel's remark.
It was exactly what others had said in his previous life as well.
Of course, once they experienced its effects firsthand, such mockery vanished without a trace.
"Then why are you giving this to me?"
"If the people you're escorting question your identity, show them that potion. They'll drop their suspicions and follow you."
"It must be something quite important."
Yes—immeasurably important.
Lucian swallowed the rest of his words and dismissed Thorkel.
If he carried out the task properly, he would soon experience the effects of the Nektar for himself.
***
After entrusting the escort to Thorkel and Lesta, Lucian decided to wait for the Emperor's edict.
Since the day Lucian had spoken with the Emperor, Glen had gone outside Asagrim again and again.
Since a dimensional gate couldn't be opened within Asagrim itself, it seemed he was trying to open one from outside.
Unlike before, however, the gate refused to open easily.
After watching Glen spend entire days outside only to return empty-handed, Lucian finally lost patience and asked,
"Sir Glen, is there some kind of problem?"
"No. It's simply not time yet. I'll be meeting His Majesty soon, so there's no need for needless worry."
There was a calmness to his expression, as if he had some idea of what was going on.
Because Glen was not someone who hid his emotions well, Lucian chose to trust his words and wait.
Then, on the seventh day, a dimensional gate finally opened outside Asagrim.
Glen received something from beyond the briefly opened gate and soon came to Lucian, his face drained of color.
"Y-Your Grace…"
"Sir Glen? What is it?"
Half out of his senses, Glen held something out to Lucian.
Lucian accepted the Emperor's edict—its bloodstains vivid—and felt a slight shiver run through his body.
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