Chapter 150
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 150
After much deliberation, the artisans decided to teach their crafts to the immigrants.
However, just because they agreed to teach didn't mean the process had to be pleasant. After all, hadn't they endured all sorts of abuse from their own masters to learn these skills? Now that they were the masters, they intended to pay back the same absurdities they had once suffered.
"That’s just how you learn."
"Exactly. If they’ve come to the Empire, they should follow the Empire’s ways."
"If they don't like it, tell them to get lost. We don't need disciples like that anyway."
It wasn't just territoriality; this was simply how an artisan’s apprenticeship worked. One learned by watching over the shoulder of a master who sat as high as the heavens, while being treated as little more than a servant. Naturally, if the outsiders wanted to learn the trade, they had to follow the same rules.
However, the artisans' resolve wavered violently the moment they came face-to-face with the immigrants.
"Greetings, Master! It is an honor to meet you!"
"We heard you would be teaching us your skills. Thank you so much!"
"If there is anything we can do to help, just say the word! We will do our absolute best to learn!"
The immigrants bowed repeatedly, expressing their sincere gratitude. Far from being unruly, their attitude was the very model of a perfect disciple.
The problem wasn't the disciples' attitude; it was their appearance.
'They’re even bigger up close. If he slapped me with that palm, wouldn't my head spin right off my shoulders?'
'Those calluses aren't from farm tools. That’s the mark of someone who swings a weapon.'
'How is it that every single one of them is covered in scars? What on earth were they fighting out there in the snowfields?'
No matter how harsh the world of an artisan might be, it couldn't compare to that of a soldier on a real battlefield. Yet, every single one of these immigrants carried the thick scent of blood that one would usually only smell on a veteran soldier. The artisans, who had been inwardly expecting dim-witted hunters, couldn't help but break into a cold sweat.
"Is this really okay? No matter how I look at them, they look like they’ve buried a lot of people."
"I'm sure that's not it. I heard that in the snowfields, people are so scarce that they rarely fight each other."
"Really? Then where did those scars come from?"
"Apparently, there are so many predators that even the children tear leopards apart for breakfast."
"Dammit, you should have told me that first!"
People who have frequently stained their hands with blood have a different way of handling conflict. If their eyes flip with rage, they are always ready to see blood again. And they were supposed to abuse and scold such people in the name of tradition?
"Ahem! Welcome, everyone. We’re all family now, so let’s get along."
"The bond between master and disciple is like that of parent and child. I shall teach you as if you were my own."
"Indeed. We’re going to be living together, so why act so stiff?"
The artisans quickly shifted their stance, welcoming the disciples with beaming smiles. They made excuses to themselves, claiming that the old ways weren't always right and that it was time for a change.
"They’re doing well on their own without me even having to push them. I don't think I need to worry about them failing to adapt to this land."
Lucian smiled with satisfaction as he received reports on the immigrants' progress from within the White Castle. They were taking it upon themselves to build their capabilities to repay the kindness they had been shown—how could he not find them admirable? The harder they worked, the sooner he would see a return on his investment.
"What about those sent to the other territories? Are they adjusting well?"
"Yes. There seemed to be some slight dissatisfaction at first, but now they are extremely satisfied."
"It’s likely because their overall standard of living, including food, clothing, and shelter, has improved drastically. Life is too abundant for them to harbor resentment."
"However, in the other territories, they prefer to live as hunters as they did before, rather than learning new trades."
"That can't be helped. They are people who, from the start, knew no other way to make a living besides hunting."
In fact, the people of Asagrim were the outliers for trying to learn new skills. People generally tend to stick to what they know. If Asagrim hadn't been so overcrowded, they likely would have tried to remain hunters like the others.
"Since the number of immigrants sent to other territories isn't large, we can organize the majority into the standing army and grant hunting permits to the remaining few."
"Will that be alright? If you do that, Your Grace, you will be opening up almost all of the hunting grounds you own."
"It doesn't matter. There’s no point in keeping them if I’m not going to use them. I might as well provide a livelihood for the commoners."
The hunting grounds he currently owned were merely those he had seized from the House of Calix. He had ended up with them by chance, but since he had no interest in hunting, he had no intention of using them. It was better to open them up so the commoners who turned to hunting could pay their taxes.
"By the way, is there still no change in Sir Eisen’s condition?"
"They say there is nothing to be done, as it is a natural phenomenon of aging rather than a disease."
"Felicia must be heartbroken. For now, send some medicine to boost his vitality..."
"Your Grace."
Lucian turned his head at the sudden voice from his side. The official who had called him spoke with a pale face and a stutter.
"Just now... a man claiming to be an Imperial Inspector has arrived."
"...!"
Lucian had expected chaos in the Imperial Family following the Emperor's collapse. Between the foolish First Prince, the brilliant Second Prince, the secret known only to a few, and the Second Prince's ambitions—it was a situation where no one could dream of a smooth transition of power.
However, no matter how great the chaos, it was bound to be settled eventually. The Imperial Inspector who had come to see Lucian was now explaining the resolution of that power struggle.
"Casval of the White Flame Knights and Imperial Inspector, greets the Master of Asagrim and the heir of Grimaldi, Your Grace."
Lucian’s gaze swept over Casval, who offered a polite greeting. Despite his young age, he lacked the typical boisterous energy of a young knight. Instead, his stoic expression held a cold rationality more common among seasoned nobles.
'He looks more skilled in politics than swordsmanship. I suppose they handpicked a talent to send here.'
Having assessed his opponent, Lucian nodded in response.
"Welcome, Sir Casval. And please forgive my rudeness for failing to provide proper hospitality for an Imperial Inspector. Had I received word, I would have made the appropriate preparations."
"It is quite alright. I have only come on official business; there is no need for hospitality. Your sentiment alone is enough for me."
"Hah, I appreciate you saying so."
Lucian marveled inwardly at Casval's audacity. It was common courtesy to announce a visit beforehand; Lucian’s comment had been a subtle rebuke for barging in, yet the man brushed it off as if he didn't understand. It seemed he intended to gloss over the reason for his sudden arrival as well.
'He’s playing hardball from the start. Does he have something to back it up?'
Men who acted this boldly were usually those certain they had caught their opponent's weakness. Since Lucian didn't know what that 'weakness' could be, he decided to test the waters.
"So, what brings you here? I can't think of anything I've done that would warrant a visit from an Inspector."
"His Majesty the Emperor has returned to the embrace of the Eight Gods."
"...That is truly tragic news. I was deeply indebted to His Majesty. May the Eight Gods grant him eternal rest."
Since he had long expected this, Lucian bowed his head calmly. After a brief moment of silence to mourn the Emperor, Casval got straight to the point.
"Soon, His Highness the First Prince will be coronated as the new master of the Empire. However, we have recently received reports of unsettling movements within Your Grace’s territory."
"Unsettling movements?"
"You have brought in outsiders who do not belong to the Empire. Barbarians who do not know what the Empire is and who owe no loyalty to His Majesty."
Lucian narrowed his eyes at Casval’s point. In truth, bringing in the tribespeople from beyond the snowfields was a politically ambiguous issue. Depending on one's perspective, the threat could be blown out of proportion or dismissed as nothing. It seemed the one who sent Casval had chosen the former.
"What are you trying to say?"
"I am saying that what Your Grace has done could be viewed as treason."
"How dare you...!"
At Casval’s words, Felicia’s hand moved toward her waist. But Lucian stopped her with a glance before the sword could be drawn. Then, he looked at Casval with a smirk.
"Tell me, Sir Casval. I shall give you one piece of advice."
"I am listening."
"One should not throw around accusations of treason so lightly. Do you know why?"
"I'm not sure. Please, enlighten me."
"Because even if they had no intention of doing so, it might make them actually rebel, you arrogant fool."
"...!"
The composed Casval flinched for the first time at Lucian’s words and stepped back. There was a world of difference between being threatened with treason and the person in question mentioning rebellion themselves. Yet, despite the look of shock, Lucian continued without batting an eye.
"Do you know the price of treason? It is the destruction of the house. Total extermination. It means every member of the family—be they elderly, infants, or pregnant women—has their head cut off and displayed, and even their corpses are burned to nothing. That is the end of a traitor."
"T-That is true. But that is...!"
"Shut up and listen. If you interrupt me again, I’ll cut your tongue out first."
Vroooooom!
"Gah!"
Casval was blown backward as he took the full force of the mana erupting from Lucian’s body. It was merely a release of mana, yet he felt an impact as if he had been struck in the gut by an iron mace. He belatedly reinforced his body, but the pressure continued to crush his entire frame.
'Is... is this truly the amount of mana a single individual can possess?!'
Casval was horrified by the mana capacity that far exceeded common sense. He began to wonder if he was facing a dragon in human form. Even as Casval struggled to maintain consciousness, Lucian’s words continued.
"Fools abuse such charges of treason. They think people will obey out of fear of their house's destruction. They don't realize how many loyal subjects their stupidity has turned into actual rebels."
"Urgh...!"
"Remember this. When you threaten someone, you must leave them a way to retreat. A man who pushes another to the edge of a cliff and mistakes that for superiority is the perfect candidate to be dragged down to the underworld as a traveling companion."
Whoosh.
"Haa... haa...!"
As Lucian finished speaking, the mana vanished from his body like a snuffed candle. Finally freed from the pressure, Casval collapsed to the floor, breathing raggedly. It was only after he had broken into a cold sweat and managed to catch his breath that Lucian spoke again.
"Welcome, Sir Casval. And please forgive my rudeness for failing to provide proper hospitality for an Imperial Inspector."
"...?"
"Had I received word, I would have made the appropriate preparations."
Lucian repeated the exact words he had said earlier, wearing a pleasant expression as if he were meeting Casval for the first time. Casval was bewildered by Lucian’s sudden eccentricity, but he soon realized the other man's intention.
'He’s telling me to start over from the beginning now that I know my place.'
It was a threat that if he acted arrogantly again, Lucian wouldn't let it slide this time. A sense of humiliation washed over him at the unprecedented insult, but there was nothing he could do. If Lucian decided to act like a madman and flip the table now, Casval would be the first to die. And his master would quickly cut him loose, claiming everything had been Casval’s own unauthorized doing.
Ultimately, Casval had no choice but to give Lucian the answer he wanted.
"How could that be Your Grace’s fault? It is entirely my fault for failing to announce my visit as I should have. I beg you to forgive my rude behavior with your vast generosity."
"Haha, I appreciate you saying so."
Having finished establishing the hierarchy, Lucian wore a satisfied smile.
"So, what brings the Inspector here?"
Now, it seemed they could finally have a proper conversation.