In the end, the lords had no choice but to grit their teeth and provide food and lodging.
If they could have gotten by with a thin, pale porridge and a few straw mats, that would have been ideal—but their guest was none other than the overlord of the North. If they treated him carelessly, there was no telling what kind of fate might befall them, so they had no choice but to pay a tremendous cost and attend to every detail.
"How much food and spices are left in the stores?"
"We have enough to last about ten days without any trouble. The problem is that we're terribly short on hands for cooking…"
"Even if it takes time, make sure it's prepared properly. If we serve nothing but dried rations, His Grace the Duke will not let it pass."
"What about lodging? No matter what, we can't house all those people inside the walls."
"We'll have to pitch tents outside the castle and give them blankets. If we provide wool ones, they'll be warmer than in most inns."
"Wool blankets? Those high-grade goods!? We don't have that many!"
"Gather every last one we have! If it's not enough, buy more from merchants—and if that still isn't sufficient, ask other territories for help!"
The lords rushed about in a frenzy to entertain their sudden guests.
At the same time, they shed tears of blood as they watched gold coins pour out in streams.
All that money—how long had it taken to scrape it together?
Yet the tribespeople being entertained had no idea how the lords felt, and instead busied themselves with constant admiration.
"My goodness. Look at this—there are chunks in it I've never seen in my life. There's so much to eat!"
"Were vegetables always this easy to come by? And what's this sharp, tingling taste lingering on my tongue?"
"This is insane. Feeding this many people in a single day… just how rich in resources are they?"
No matter how much care the lords put into the food, it was nothing more than a stew you might find in an ordinary household.
Yet even that single bowl of stew was enough to deliver a tremendous shock to the tribespeople.
This wasn't even the food of the powerful—how could it be so rich and plentiful?
"And that's not all. Look at those massive stone walls. Close the gates, and it feels like they could hold back every army in the world."
"And the metallurgy, too. The spearhead the gate guard is carrying is sharper than the weapon of a warrior like me."
"To think such a land exists less than half a month's journey away. If the king hadn't guided us, by now we would've…"
As one warrior trailed off, the entire tribe shuddered.
They were struck by the image of themselves—starving and freezing to death—while here they were, bellies full, right beside it all.
A heavy silence settled over them. Then someone suddenly lifted a bowl of still-steaming stew high into the air and shouted,
"Glory to the king who led us to the land of salvation!"
"—Long live the King of Prophecy!"
"May the blessing of the great ancestors be upon him!"
Once begun, the praise spread like waves through the entire tribe.
The thunderous cries echoed even within the castle walls, enough to frighten the townsfolk.
The lords, who had been bustling about serving the tribespeople, grimaced as they heard the praise directed at Lucian.
"Damn it—we're the ones feeding you right now!"
"We're the ones spending the money, but some other bastard gets all the praise."
"Endure it. If we show it on our faces here, the duke will remember us for it."
It was filthy and unfair, but what choice did they have, burdened as they were by the original sin of once consorting with Calyx?
Swallowing their bitterness, the lords continued to pour out their money to entertain the tribespeople—
watching as all of their efforts were transformed, wholesale, into loyalty toward Lucian.
Lucian continued leading the tribespeople onward toward Asagrim.
Naturally, all the expenses incurred along the way were borne by the lords who had ties to Calyx.
The tribespeople, astonished by the unceasing supply of food and lodging, showered them with praise.
Before long, Lucian was able to arrive at his own territory, which lay closer than Asagrim.
"Welcome, Your Highness. We have been awaiting you."
"Fritz?"
Lucian's eyes widened at the appearance of an entirely unexpected person.
Fritz, whom he had appointed as a Harald officer in Asagrim, had come out to greet him.
"Shouldn't you be in Asagrim? Why are you here?"
"The acting lord sent me. He said that since the number of people Your Highness is bringing is far from small, and since they are unfamiliar with the Empire's circumstances, my assistance would be necessary."
A Harald officer was a post responsible for diplomacy.
In other words, it was a job that required entering unfamiliar cultures alone and successfully concluding negotiations.
As a result, their ability to quickly analyze alien cultures was inevitably superior to that of ordinary officials.
"Managing migrants isn't technically my duty, but he said that I'd handle it far better than other administrators, so I should come ahead and assist Your Highness."
"He really does worry too much."
Though he said that, Lucian couldn't suppress a smile.
Making use of existing talent when no perfectly suitable personnel are available is also one of an administrator's strengths.
In that regard, Hans's judgment was spot-on.
He had sent a Harald officer—someone accustomed to dealing with people from different cultures—rather than a mere migration official.
If he'd grown just a little more, he wouldn't have been caught up in Dominic's scheme… The timing was unfortunate.
It was unfortunate, but people grow through hardship.
Even if it had been an unpleasant experience, Hans would grow all the more from this one.
Having finished that thought, Lucian looked at Fritz and asked,
"How is the current situation in Asagrim? Has anything happened?"
"Just as Your Highness instructed, we granted the Dominic Trading Company exclusive trading rights and are conducting all transactions on credit."
"And neither the Dominic Company nor the other merchants have raised any complaints about that?"
"They seemed to argue a bit over the issue of exclusive trading rights, but they were strangely quiet about the matter of credit. To be honest, it's suspicious."
Fritz frowned, clearly unable to understand.
No matter how much profit there might be to squeeze out, merchants are normally extremely sensitive about credit.
There are plenty of people who take goods on credit and then wash their hands of the matter, pretending ignorance.
Yet despite already having accumulated an enormous amount in unpaid credit, the Dominic Trading Company remained eerily calm.
"This is just my personal opinion, but it seems those bastards are hiding some kind of scheme. Please be careful."
"There's no need to worry. I already know what they're plotting."
"Pardon? What on earth is that…?"
"It wouldn't be any fun if I told you in advance. You can see it with your own eyes later. By the way, is there still space left in Asagrim? If possible, I'd like to relocate all of them."
Wiping the playful smile from his face, Lucian asked with a serious gaze.
"Hmm, relocating everyone would be impossible. Quite a few new settlers arrived while Your Highness was away."
"Then what about distributing them appropriately among the surrounding territories?"
"That should be possible. The vacancies left by the capable people taken from the Calyx territory haven't all been filled yet."
"Good. Then let's proceed that way."
Lucian summoned Ainar and tasked him with selecting which tribespeople would be dispersed to the other territories.
If they were going to be split up anyway, it was best to keep familiar faces together.
If people were mixed together at random and families or close companions ended up separated, wasn't it obvious that troublesome problems would arise later?
"I'm entrusting you with full authority over matters concerning the five tribes. Select the population to be dispersed and assign them appropriately. If you need the former chieftains, call them in and make use of them."
"Yes, my lord."
"Helen and Marius will remain here and explain the situation so that the tribes being separated don't grow anxious. It would be troublesome if they misunderstood and thought I was abandoning them."
"We'll make sure to calm them and prevent any confusion."
"Fritz, advise Ainar on the tribes' culture, but be sure to have either Helen or Marius present. If only the two of you talk, there's a risk of words being misconstrued for no good reason."
"I will keep that in mind."
At Lucian's decisive commands, his close aides all bowed their heads in unison.
After laying out the detailed policy, Lucian selected those who would be taken to Asagrim and then departed his territory once more.
With all the minor matters settled, only one task remained.
"The rest will return to Asagrim with me. Make your preparations."
"Yes!"
Hearing the resounding reply of his aides, Lucian gazed in the direction of Asagrim.
It was time for the master of the White Castle to return home.
***
Ainar selected those to be dispersed from among the five tribes, excluding the Blue Dragon tribe.
More precisely, he chose the majority from the Red Wolf tribe.
The tribespeople who were suddenly separated from the group were bewildered.
"Why are we the ones staying behind?"
"There's no room in the capital where the king resides, so it can't be helped."
"Then why does it have to be us? We want to serve the king up close too!"
"Your feelings are all the same, I'm sure. The problem was the attitude of the one who represented you."
"What are you talking about?"
"The chieftain who once ruled over you behaved extremely rudely toward the king. At the slightest provocation, he looked ready to gather his supporters and go after the king's head."
"…!"
"As far as I'm concerned, since I can't tell who among you are his supporters and who are truly loyal to the king, I have no choice but to draw the line all at once."
That was how he put it, but in truth it was half a lie.
What did the chieftain's crime really have to do with the tribespeople?
Still, unless he gave them a reason why they alone had to suffer greater losses than others, resentment would inevitably build up.
What mattered was where that resentment would be directed.
"I didn't want things to turn out this way either. If you're going to resent anyone, resent the chieftain you once served."
"…Damn it all!"
The tribespeople who could no longer accompany the king stomped the ground in anger.
No matter how tribal their society was, they weren't ignorant of how human society worked.
The closer one stood to those in power, the more benefits one could reap.
Now that they had been pushed farther away from Lucian, it was obvious those benefits would be reduced accordingly.
"Chieftain, you worthless excuse for a man!"
"Was it a lie when you swore loyalty the moment you saw the king!?"
"What on earth did you say to His Majesty!?"
"No, I wasn't the only one who was rude!"
Naturally, all the resentment that arose was poured onto the former chieftain who had been rude to the king.
Broindolf, the former chieftain of the Red Wolf tribe, was beside himself with injustice.
It wasn't just him—every other chieftain had resisted as well—so why was he the only one being singled out like this?
"The others did it too! Every last one of them was the same!"
"So you're saying that, in the end, you did commit an act of rudeness toward the king?"
"No, that's not—"
"See!? I knew it sounded suspicious!"
"It's all your fault!"
But Broindolf's excuses didn't work in the slightest.
This talk of "everyone being the same" was meaningless—if he had done his job properly in the first place, this situation would never have happened.
From the tribespeople's perspective, regardless of the details, Broindolf was the one who had provided the excuse, making him impossible not to resent.
The former chieftains of the other tribes swallowed dryly as they watched Broindolf become the designated scapegoat.
If this goes even a little wrong, won't we end up like that too?
Of course. If it's the king, he wouldn't hesitate to offer us up as sacrifices when the time comes.
…Power or no power, it's best to live quietly for the rest of our lives.
The former chieftains decided to completely let go of the lingering attachments they still harbored.
If they kicked up a fuss trying to reclaim the paltry remnants of their former authority, they would lose even the small amount of respect they had left.
Without even realizing it, Lucian had finished cleaning up internal dissent as well.
He headed toward the White Castle of Asagrim—to deal with the uninvited guests who had thoroughly trashed his home while its master was away.
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