Chapter 140
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 140
“Anyone with even a shred of sense knows there is no future in these snowfields.”
A few days ago, Einar had explained why the tribal chiefs had no choice but to submit to Lucian.
“The population continues to dwindle as time passes. As leaders of their tribes, the chiefs cannot possibly be unaware of this.”
It was a truth so desperate that they rarely spoke it aloud, but every tribe was destined for extinction in this frozen wasteland. Even if they clung to life with everything they had, the general consensus among the warriors was that they wouldn't last another two hundred years.
But in such a situation, what if Lucian announced he could stop the blizzards and lead all the tribes to a land of salvation?
“They will all lose their minds and come racing to swear their loyalty. Their priority will be escaping the snowfields at any cost. The problem lies in how the chiefs are treated after the oath is taken.”
In all likelihood, the chiefs would want to offer only hollow loyalty while refusing to relinquish their dominion and autonomy over their respective tribes.
However, what Lucian wanted was to strip the chiefs of all authority and rule the five tribes directly as a single entity. Unless he killed them with his own hands, as he had with Ivar, a formidable backlash was inevitable.
“Fortunately, the situation is overwhelmingly in your favor, my Lord. They likely believe that once they cross the snowfields, they won't need to concern themselves with your whims, but…”
“It’s impossible for them to settle beyond the snowfields without my help. They don’t seem to realize that yet.”
The tribes of the snowfields were certainly powerful. Every ordinary inhabitant possessed the strength of a knight, and their warriors could overwhelm a knight through sheer physical prowess alone.
However, that strength was bound to pale in comparison to the massive civilization that was the Empire. If Lucian did not step forward to provide a foundation for them, they would be reduced to outlaws surviving on pillage until they were eventually hunted down.
“Yes. Everyone in these snowfields, myself included, has no idea what kind of land lies beyond. I suspect the wisdom of the snowfields will not hold sway over there.”
“To put it bluntly, it’ll be almost useless. The environment, resources, and even the laws are entirely different.”
“And the one who reigns over that land is Your Highness,” Hugo interjected, joining the conversation.
Hugo let out a deep sigh and grumbled, “To be honest, Your Highness is in a position where you could simply tell those five chiefs to kneel and be done with it. Dealing with these frogs in a well is quite tiresome.”
The other retainers nodded in unison, agreeing with Hugo’s sentiment.
Lucian was the Duke Grimaldi, the Margrave of Asagrim, and the master of the White Palace who held a Mage's Immunity. If Lucian did not vouch for them, the five tribes could be branded as public enemies of the North the moment they stepped out of the snowfields.
To think they had to appease such foolish people who interpreted the situation only to their own advantage, ignorant of the reality.
“Wouldn't it be better to just let them out, let them run wild as they please, and then give them a taste of reality? Once they come to their senses, they’ll crawl back on their knees, begging for forgiveness. Then we can…”
“Enough. Do you intend to let blood be shed between the sons of the snowfields and the inhabitants beyond?”
Einar frowned at Hugo’s words. Though he had chosen to serve Lucian, he was still a man who had lived his entire life in the snowfields. He could not be pleased to hear a strategy that didn't just insult his people but openly forced their sacrifice.
“The sons of the snowfields seek to serve our Lord as faithful subjects, not as slaves. Do not speak so carelessly just because our origins differ.”
“I only said it because I’m frustrated, truly.”
At Einar’s warning, Hugo played it off with a smirk and took a step back. Even he realized his joke had been a bit too aggressive.
As the air grew awkward, Lucian tapped the floor to clear the atmosphere.
“In any case, it’s impossible for the chiefs to defy me, whether inside or outside the snowfields. Even if they haven't realized that fact themselves.”
“Precisely. Therefore, my Lord, you simply need to make them realize it on their own.”
Time was on Lucian’s side anyway, so there was no need to worry about the aftermath. It was more important to use whatever means necessary—even radical ones—to ensure firm control. Once time passed and they grasped the reality of their situation, they would bow down of their own accord.
Conveniently, Lucian possessed a means to firmly suppress the chiefs, even if only for a short time.
“Crush them with overwhelming force. Everyone cowers in the face of the fear of death.”
*
Lucian recalled Einar’s words and let the corners of his mouth curl upward. For Lucian, who hated things becoming unnecessarily tedious, it was the perfect advice.
And it’s effective, too.
As Lucian’s gaze swept over the chiefs, they all flinched simultaneously. Their earlier rage was nowhere to be found; they looked like frogs exposed to the gaze of a serpent.
Lucian spoke briefly to the chiefs, who didn't even dare to open their mouths.
“Sit.”
“…”
Despite the commanding tone, the chiefs grimaced even as they hurriedly lowered themselves into their seats. They had realized that if Lucian so desired, everyone here could be slaughtered in an instant.
Once the chiefs were all seated, Lucian looked at Broindolf, who had been the first to step forward earlier.
“You, speak first.”
“Wh-what should I say?”
“I told you all to come out one by one and introduce yourselves. Tell me who the hell you are.”
“…I am Broindolf, Chief of the Red Wolf Tribe.”
“Is that all?”
“What else is there to say?”
Broindolf spoke through gritted teeth, his face pale. It was a pathetic display of resistance, as if he refused to let his final shred of pride be broken even if he were to die here.
Lucian gave a short, mocking laugh at the sight, as if finding his courage admirable.
“I suppose that’s true. What about the rest of you?”
“I-I am Otar, Chief of the Black Hawk Tribe.”
“I am Keyal, Chief of the White Bear Tribe.”
Every time Lucian’s gaze shifted to a new person, the chiefs scrambled to introduce themselves. Once all five chiefs had identified themselves, Lucian nodded.
“Good. Now that the introductions are over, let’s get to the point. Either swear loyalty to me and come with me beyond the snowfields, or stay here and rot. Choose one.”
“Wait…!”
“There are no negotiations. Do you think you’re in any position to propose conditions?”
The chiefs’ faces darkened in unison at the undeniable truth. He possessed the authority to escape these deadly snowfields and held martial power beyond measure. He lacked nothing and feared nothing, so why would he negotiate?
Otar, realizing the initiative was entirely in the other's hands, spoke with a heavy voice.
“Fine. We shall swear our loyalty to you. We came here with that intention from the start. However, there is one thing I wish to ask.”
“Speak.”
“Where do you intend to lead us? What will become of the tribes once we leave the snowfields?”
“What do you mean, ‘what will become of them’? I’m going to relocate everyone to my territory. You will live alongside my original subjects.”
“Territory? Subjects?”
“It means…”
Lucian calmly explained the concepts to Otar, who looked bewildered by the unfamiliar terms. As the explanation continued, the curiosity that had sparkled in Otar’s eyes gradually died into a dark void.
When the explanation was finished, Otar asked Lucian back in a trembling voice.
“W-wait a moment. If what you say is true, does that mean you already possess land and people beyond the snowfields?”
“Yes.”
“And you intend to have our tribespeople live together with them?”
“That’s what I said.”
“…Then what becomes of us, the chiefs?”
The title of 'Chief' was a position that only mattered as long as the boundaries of the five tribes existed. If all the tribes were disbanded and merged into one as Lucian described, the position of chief would become obsolete. Lucian would simply rule everyone directly, without the need for intermediaries.
“I trust you aren't planning to strip us of our status and demote us to mere warriors.”
“Why would you think that? That’s exactly what I’m planning.”
“You’re insane…!”
Otar barely managed to swallow the curse that almost escaped his lips. The martial power Lucian had displayed earlier was too vivid for him to give in to his rage. However, the matter was too grave to simply let go out of fear.
“Are you in your right mind? Who would swear loyalty to you under such conditions?”
“Is holding onto the title of ‘Chief’ in these hopeless snowfields more important than going to the land of salvation?”
“It may be a trivial status to you, but to us, it is a position passed down through generations from our great ancestors.”
Though they couldn't say it openly, the interests of the ruler and the ruled often clashed. From the perspective of the tribespeople, it wouldn't matter who the chief was as long as they reached the land of salvation.
However, some of the chiefs would rather stay in the snowfields as long as they could keep their power. Especially since the tribes could likely endure until the chiefs themselves reached the end of their natural lifespans.
“Even when hunting a beast, one must leave an escape route. If you block all sides, even a beast has no choice but to fight to the death.”
“Then I’ll just have to block the retreat and bring in reinforcements.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Did you not hear what I just said? I have a territory and subjects. In other words, I also have an army.”
“...!”
The chiefs froze at the mention of an army. Why hadn't they thought of that? The disappearance of the blizzards meant an opportunity to cross into the land of salvation, but it also meant the people from beyond the snowfields could invade this side.
“If you truly do not wish to swear loyalty to me, then leave. I won't touch you right now. But do not expect that precarious peace to last forever.”
He had no intention of leaving those who refused loyalty and remained hostile alone indefinitely.
The chiefs realized they were in checkmate and squeezed their eyes shut.
*
“To hand over the positions our ancestors passed down for hundreds of years to an outsider.”
“Damn it, with what face are we supposed to be buried in the same tombs as our forefathers?”
The five chiefs emerged from Lucian’s room with grim expressions after completing their oaths of loyalty. Though it was unavoidable, they had lost their positions and their people in a single day. Even though they knew many ears were listening, they couldn't find peace without venting their frustrations.
“Everyone, calm down. It’s not as if there’s no chance at all to reclaim our status.”
“What do you mean by that?”
The grumbling chiefs perked up their ears at the words of Skal, Chief of the Grey Marten Tribe. Skal looked around at the chiefs with eyes that hadn't yet lost their spark.
“Even if the tribes as a whole pass into his hands, he doesn't know what talents each individual possesses. As you all know, these snowfields aren't run by warriors alone, are they?”
“That’s true. Houses must be built, and jewelry must be crafted.”
“In the end, to put the right people in the right places, he will have to call upon us, who know them best. Though we may lose the title of chief, couldn't we gain new positions in that process?”
Life returned to the eyes of the chiefs as they understood Skal’s point. Power was determined more by practical influence than by the title itself. If they ended up managing the tribes they once ruled, their power wouldn't be much different from when they were chiefs.
“So let us wait patiently. The world does not run on strength alone; there will surely come a time when he must seek our help.”
“Oho.”
It was just as the chiefs were marveling at the hopeful future Skal painted.
Otar, who had been listening quietly until now, let out a hollow laugh and muttered in a cold voice.
“You’re dreaming.”