Otar, chieftain of the Black Hawk Tribe, began preparing to head out the moment the messenger left.
If there truly was a way to escape these snowfields, he had to confirm it with his own eyes.
Because there had been occasional exchanges with the Blue Dragon Tribe, finding the way there was not difficult.
However, Otar was forced to stop at the entrance due to a reception unlike anything he was used to.
"Please wait a moment. His Majesty has not yet finished preparing to receive guests."
At the one-sided notice, Otar and his warriors frowned.
This wasn't an ordinary messenger—this was the chieftain of another tribe visiting in person.
And yet, instead of being welcomed, they were being told to simply wait until preparations were complete.
"The Blue Dragon Tribe's prestige is greater than I'd heard. If preparations are going to take long, I'd rather return to my tribe and rest—would that be acceptable?"
Otar threw a barbed remark at the warrior who had come out to meet them.
It was a warning: no matter how much this person claimed to be a king, if he made a chieftain wait, then negotiations and everything else would be off.
But the warrior merely nodded without batting an eye.
"If that is what you wish, then do so."
"What?"
"If you choose to leave now, we will not stop you. However, the consequences will be borne entirely by the chieftain of the Black Hawk Tribe."
"You bastard…!"
At the tone, which felt arrogant beyond mere rudeness, one of the warriors reached for his weapon.
Even in such a hair-trigger situation, the opposing side remained utterly relaxed.
Sensing something strange in that composure, Otar stopped his fellow tribesman and spoke.
"My apologies. I spoke out of turn because my nerves were on edge. We will wait—please guide us to our lodgings."
"…Very well."
Taken slightly aback by the sudden change in attitude, the Blue Dragon Tribe's warrior nonetheless obediently led Otar to the lodgings.
It was a carefully built place, lacking nothing even when compared to a chieftain's residence.
Once Otar had settled in, the warrior left after saying they would be summoned when the time came.
As the door to the lodging closed with a thud, the warriors who had been holding back their anger all sprang up at once.
"Chieftain, why did you let such an insolent bastard get away with that?"
"No matter how powerful the Blue Dragon Tribe is, this goes too far!"
"Leave it to me! I'll take full responsibility and split him with my axe!"
This wasn't just an insult to a single warrior—it was a slight against the chieftain himself.
It was tantamount to belittling the entire tribe, so their anger was only natural.
Yet Otar's expression grew calmer and calmer in the face of their fury.
"No, let's watch a little longer. Something's off."
"Off? Is there something more than just him swaggering around because he trusts in the power of that so-called king?"
"Of course that's part of it. But as you all know, the power to stop the blizzards is a weapon that can only be wielded once. After we leave the snowfields, authority or not, it won't mean a thing."
To someone who has fallen into a pit and cannot climb out, a rope to pull them up is more precious than anything.
But the moment they escape the pit and set foot on level ground, the rope has fulfilled its purpose.
The king's authority that the Blue Dragon Tribe boasts of is the same.
No matter how great his power to control the blizzards may be, once they leave the snowfields, there will be no reason to cling to it as before.
"I thought their demand for an oath of loyalty was meant to secure a definite commitment before leaving the snowfields. Once the oath was taken, even if the authority lost its usefulness, the entire tribe would remain bound by that vow."
"Then you're saying that might not be the case after all?"
"…Hard to say."
Even Otar found it difficult to answer.
There was still the possibility that all of this was merely the Blue Dragon Tribe putting on airs.
They would know better than anyone that intimidation through authority was a one-time threat.
Yet it was hard to dismiss it as bluff when the warriors' expressions were so utterly calm.
'Without an absolute belief that everything—authority or not—will go according to the king's will, they couldn't possibly look like that.'
Could there be something else besides authority?
After pondering for a long while, Otar finally sighed and spoke.
"For now, let's just watch. Whatever they're relying on will reveal itself in time."
If the foundation of that confidence turned out to be nothing special, then the Black Hawk Tribe would simply be fools who had been toyed with by bluster.
But if, by some chance, the Blue Dragon Tribe was hiding power more than sufficient to justify that confidence,
then the tribe that did not resist and instead submitted to the king would be the true victor—favored above all others in the new land.
***
"The king has finished his preparations."
It was already evening when the Blue Dragon Tribe summoned Otar again.
Exhausted from waiting, Otar let out a sigh and rose from his seat.
"So now I finally get to see the king's face."
"Please refrain from being rude. He is a king. He is not someone a mere chieftain like you can be compared to."
"… "
At the warrior's words, Otar clicked his tongue.
This warrior, too, must have lived in the snowfields for over a decade and would therefore know full well the relationships between the tribes.
And yet he so naturally placed the one he served as king above the chieftains, showing not the slightest concern for the repercussions of what he was saying.
"Just to be sure—did you speak to the other chieftains like this as well?"
"Yes."
"And they let it slide?"
"So far, yes."
"So far? Are there other chieftains besides me waiting to meet the king?"
"To be precise, all of them are on their way here. The king wished to see everyone together."
"…!"
For a moment, Otar had to suppress the urge to cut down the warrior before him.
They claimed the preparations weren't finished—was it because they were making him wait until all the other chieftains gathered?
Not for an equal meeting between leaders, but to line up those he intended to rule and compare them?
'You arrogant bastard…!'
Even if he claimed the title of king, Otar had assumed he at least possessed some sense of reality after taking a chieftain's seat.
But now it seemed he truly believed himself to be a king—a madman through and through.
Rage boiled up in his chest, but having come this far, he couldn't simply flip the table and walk away.
Barely steadying his breathing, Otar shot the warrior a sharp glare.
"Your king had better pray for his safety. I can swallow this insult, but the other chieftains won't have that much patience."
"A mere creature can rage all it wants—it is still just a creature. Before a dragon, it isn't even worth a single meal."
"Hah, seriously. At this point I'm dying of curiosity—just what kind of person is he? What on earth did you see in that king?"
"You'll understand naturally once you have an audience with him. Ah—perfect timing. Everyone has arrived."
At the warrior's words, Otar lifted his head and saw the chieftains of each tribe approaching from all directions.
The other chieftains, too, seemed to grasp the situation only after arriving here; all of them were holding back their anger, faces flushed red.
Having finished guiding them, the warriors of the Blue Dragon Tribe bowed their heads toward the chieftains on the verge of explosion.
"Now then, please go inside. Not one by one—together."
"Damn it! Fine, let's see the face of this so-called king!"
The first to hurl a curse was Broindolf, chieftain of the Red Wolf Tribe.
Having reached the limit of his patience, Broindolf cast aside all decorum and strode forward.
The Blue Dragon Tribe's warriors flinched slightly, but they didn't bother stopping him.
Bang!
"Come out! You damn usurper! Who the hell are you to pull this kind of—!"
Broindolf flung the door open roughly, as if ready to start a fight on the spot—only to freeze solid at the sight of the person inside.
"…A kid?"
Strictly speaking, he was a man closer to a young adult than a boy.
In the Empire, he would already be considered a full-fledged adult, but this was the snowfields.
With a body two heads shorter than most and a face without even a hint of a beard, he looked every bit like a child to the tribes of the snowfields.
Yet the young man paid no heed to being called a child, instead giving a faint smirk as he looked at Broindolf.
"What are you standing there for? If you're here, don't just gape—come in and sit down."
The five chieftains who entered the residence all stared speechlessly at Lucian, seated in the place of honor.
They had imagined a battle-hardened warrior or a cunning schemer—but instead found a youth whose peach fuzz had only just begun to grow.
What was even more absurd was his attitude.
"Thanks for coming all this way. You're all fairly quick on your feet. Thanks to that, I'm glad this should be over quickly."
"First, come forward one by one and introduce yourselves. I should at least know the ones I'll be keeping under me and putting to work."
Otar barely managed to suppress a hollow laugh at the sheer audacity of it.
They hadn't even sworn loyalty yet, and here he was speaking as if they were already his subordinates.
"What kind of farce is this? A brat who hasn't even lost his baby fat calling himself king? Are you mocking us?"
Unable to hold back any longer, Broindolf—the one who had stepped forward first earlier—jumped to his feet and shouted.
Lucian looked at Broindolf as if he genuinely found him strange.
"How odd. I'm pretty sure all five of you said you'd swear loyalty to me if I simply dispelled the blizzards. And now you're changing your tune?"
"I thought you were a warrior if you dared to claim the title of king! To overthrow the former chieftain Ivar, you'd have to be stronger than him! But you're this weak-looking—!"
"Weak-looking?"
Lucian bared his teeth and grinned like a wild beast.
At the same time, structured mana surged through his body in branching streams.
A wave of scorching heat swept through the entire room, and Broindolf flinched, stepping back involuntarily.
"The blessing of a dragon?"
"It's too early to be surprised."
As Lucian's smile deepened, the density of the mana flowing out of his body rose in turn.
The mana, once like a mirage, gradually became a waterfall, until the entire room was so heavy it was hard even to breathe.
The chieftains all drew upon their strength at once to resist Lucian, but even so, merely maintaining their breathing was all they could manage.
"What the—!"
The five chieftains had to clamp their mouths shut, unable even to curse properly.
If their breathing slipped even a little, it felt as though they would be crushed by the pressure and suffocate.
Yet the density of the mana continued to climb without end, and soon even opening their eyes—let alone breathing—became difficult.
Crack… snap!
The sound of wood breaking rang clearly in the ears of the five chieftains.
Unable to withstand the pressure, some of the surrounding furniture had crumpled.
When even the floor began to groan and creak, cold sweat formed on Otar's brow.
'Damn it. If we make one wrong move here, we all die!'
The blessing of the dragon was a power that, depending on how it was wielded, could become a sharp storm or a crushing boulder.
As long as the king was merely increasing its density like a boulder, it was barely possible to endure.
But what if, at some point, he changed his mind and turned this boulder into a storm?
Not only would this entire room explode and be blown apart, but everyone gathered here would be reduced to chunks of meat.
Crunch—crack!
As the floor began to cave in piece by piece, the five chieftains staggered.
Even though they might collapse disgracefully at any moment, none of them could move.
Their breathing had become impossible long ago, and all they could do was struggle to keep their bodies from being crushed flat.
Just as Otar, no longer able to endure, was about to roll his eyes back and collapse, the mana in the room vanished as if it had been washed away.
"Hah—huff!"
"Ghh—haah!"
Freed from the crushing pressure of mana, the five chieftains gasped desperately for air.
When had an ordinary handful of air ever felt so precious?
It was just as the chieftains finally managed to steady their breathing and regain their senses—
"Say that again. Who did you call weak?"
At the king's razor-edged voice, the five chieftains froze where they stood.