Chapter 165
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 165
After notifying Lucian of his visit, Tristan immediately headed north, leading a force of five hundred soldiers.
The lords whose territories he bypassed were displeased to see an army marching near their lands and lodged formal protests. However, Tristan didn't bat an eye at their complaints.
"I am merely passing through. I haven't even set foot in the villages you rule, so why such an overreaction? If you are subjects of the Empire, show some magnanimity befitting your station."
The lords were infuriated by this brazen response, yet none dared to actually attack him. They lacked a sufficient justification to mobilize their own armies for what amounted to little more than a feeling of unease, especially since they hadn't suffered any actual damage.
Furthermore, it was common knowledge among the nobility that Tristan, having been ousted from his house by Jordi, was currently driven by spite. They had no way of knowing what kind of desperate retaliation they might face if they provoked a man who had already been pushed to the edge of a cliff.
Thanks to these concerns, Tristan was able to lead his troops northward without any physical interference.
"How ridiculous. In a time of peace, these people would have attacked me instantly. But now that the world is in chaos and enemies are everywhere, they can't even lift a finger against me. Is this what they call the irony of the age?"
"Regardless, it is fortunate for us... but is it truly alright to be this reckless, my lord?"
Someone spoke up with a worried expression toward the smirking Tristan. It was Diego, a knight who had served as his adjutant for many years and had been Tristan’s childhood friend.
"We may be safe for now, but this will surely cause the neighboring lords to harbor a grudge against you. This behavior might lead to significant trouble later on."
"I am well aware. But we have no other choice."
"I know we have no place to station the troops, so we must keep them with us. However, if you could show just a bit of consideration..."
"That’s not what I meant. I’m saying that even if it’s rude and shameless, we have no choice but to be brazen."
"Pardon?"
"Tell me honestly. How do I look to others right now?"
Diego fell silent at Tristan’s question. To speak the truth would be an insult. However, that silence was the clearest answer possible regarding Tristan’s current situation.
"I am ruined. All I have left is a microscopic chance of a comeback. I am a sewer rat, scurrying about and thrusting that single possibility in people's faces to beg for patronage."
"My—My Lord!"
"I’m not lamenting my fate, nor have I lost my confidence. I am simply describing how others see me. Looking at me now, who would consider me the true heir of Valdek?"
He had no territory to call his own, and his entire military force consisted of five hundred elites provided by his mother's family. Even then, he had no income and was barely maintaining them by selling off his possessions. His situation was so unstable that a single nudge from someone could send it all crashing down.
"That is why I must be brazen. To remain bold even in the midst of despair is a sign of dignity and confidence—it shows that there is still potential in that man."
"…!"
"Tell me, Diego. Does a man who grovels with a pathetic attitude look extraordinary? Or does a man who is impossibly brazen look extraordinary?"
Diego’s face flushed red with shame. He had assumed Tristan’s brazenness was merely a remnant of the pride he held as the first young master of Valdek. But it turned out he was doing it to flaunt to the world that he hadn't despaired and that he still possessed sufficient potential.
"Please forgive this foolish one for failing to grasp your deep intentions, my lord!"
"It’s fine. In reality, most will simply view me as a rude thug. Only a tiny minority will be able to see anything extraordinary in me."
But if he was lucky, a patron might emerge from that tiny minority. That "someday" patron was exactly what Tristan was aiming for. No matter how much he won the favor of the rabble, it wouldn't equal the support of one proper benefactor.
The third son might have already seen through all of this, though… hmmm.
Tristan felt a sudden surge of defeatism and bit his lip hard. He hadn't even faced him yet; he couldn't afford to lose the battle of momentum before it even began. Now was the time to bluff, even if he had to squeeze out confidence he didn't feel.
There’s no need to cling solely to the third son. There must be ambitious men in the North as well. If things go well, there’s a good chance I can find another patron.
Either way, this was the opportunity of a lifetime for Tristan. If he missed this chance, he likely wouldn't have a reason to visit the North again for decades. Tristan’s eyes gleamed with the determination to find a supporter at any cost—to reclaim his rightful place and drive out the traitor defiling his family.
*
"I was a bit worried because I heard Northerners were rough, but they seem surprisingly easygoing. To think not a single lord would protest an army passing near their territory."
It was the fifteenth day since Tristan had entered the North. Diego spoke to Tristan with a relaxed face for the first time in a long while. The journey had been so peaceful that his tension had finally dissipated.
"Furthermore, the weather is warmer than expected. At this rate, we won't even need to spend a fortune on cold-weather gear."
"…This isn't good."
Contrary to Diego, Tristan muttered with a grim face, seemingly feeling a sense of unease from the peaceful journey. Diego, failing to understand his lord's anxiety, tilted his head.
"Not good? It seems much better than other regions that were always thick with tension."
"Unless they are fools, no lord would fail to feel threatened by an army passing through. The fact that there has been no reaction means someone has suppressed the lords."
"By someone, you mean…"
"There is only one person with the power to exert such pressure on every lord in the North."
Lucian Grimaldi Valdek.
It was impossible for anyone else but the man called the Conqueror of the North. Tristan felt a sense of hopelessness as he realized the sheer scale of the gap between them.
I don't know if they follow him out of fear or if they are truly moved by him… but this is the worst-case scenario for me.
He had thought that even if Lucian rejected him, he would have the chance to take another ambitious lord as a patron. But the entire North was trembling at a single word from Lucian. At this rate, even if someone saw potential in Tristan, they would surely abandon the idea of supporting him out of fear of Lucian.
Fine, so be it. It’s better to receive support directly from Lucian anyway.
If there was no other path, he would simply have to break through the one before him with all his might. Tristan steeled his wavering heart and continued forward.
However, a few days later, the moment he arrived at Asagrim, his hard-won resolve crumbled instantly.
"The—The White Walls?"
An exclamation of shock escaped Tristan’s lips at the sight of the fortifications, which were identical to those of Tivron. He had thought such perfect walls existed only in the Imperial Capital; how could they be here, in this corner of the North?
As Tristan stood frozen, his mind blank with shock, a voice suddenly spoke from beside him.
"It has been a long time, First Young Master."
"…!"
Startled by the sudden voice, Tristan and his men whipped their heads around. Identifying the familiar face standing on a snow-covered hill, Tristan asked reflexively, "Sir Felicia, when did you arrive?"
"I was watching from the walls, and as soon as I spotted you, I ran over."
"Ran over? The distance from the walls to here is…"
"I suppose you never saw my father running during his lifetime, First Young Master."
Tristan’s eyes wavered at the implication. She was saying that such a feat was trivial for a Sword Saint, while simultaneously suggesting that she had reached that same level. Even Eisen had only received the title of Sword Saint in his middle age, yet she was discussing a realm equal to a Sword Saint at such a young age.
The people stared at Felicia blankly, unsure if her statement was born of arrogance or justified pride. Regardless of their reaction, Felicia spoke without batting an eye.
"His Grace is waiting. Please, follow me."
*
From the moment he arrived at Asagrim, everything was a continuous series of shocks for Tristan.
The crowds were so dense it was hard to find an empty house. The commoners possessed physiques far larger than those of average adult men. Even the commercial districts and the artisans' street were as vibrant as those in any major city. Compared to Kelheim, the heart of the Valdek family, nothing here seemed lacking.
Is this truly the city that was abandoned for nearly a thousand years? It’s only been a few years since His Majesty the Emperor granted this city to Lucian, so how…!
Tristan gulped at the irrational speed of Asagrim’s development. He knew Lucian was capable, but this was beyond excessive. Even with massive support from the Imperial Family, the development of a territory was supposed to take time.
"We have arrived at the audience chamber. Please enter."
Lost in thought, Tristan snapped back to reality at Felicia’s voice. He looked up to see the massive doors opening silently. Lucian, who appeared through the opening, smiled and spoke.
"It has been a long time, Brother. Have you been well?"
Tristan took a deep breath before responding. "Yes, I have been well. You have become much more imposing than before, Lucian. Our father would be proud if he could see you now."
"…!"
The retainers' eyes sharpened at Tristan’s natural use of informal speech. Unlike Tristan, who held no title, Lucian was a proper Duke and a Margrave. Unless they were full-blooded brothers, such casual speech from a half-brother was a grave discourtesy.
However, Lucian didn't seem offended in the slightest. He laughed heartily and stepped down from the Jade Throne.
"You haven't changed at all, Brother. Come, let us embrace as brothers should after so long."
After so long? When have Lucian and I ever embraced?
Tristan smiled bitterly to himself but stepped forward quietly. Since Lucian was playing along, Tristan had to do the same.
However, Tristan had to stop after only a few steps.
…What is this?
Tristan blinked at a bizarre sensation. Suddenly, he felt a pressure as if something were weighing down his entire body. Even when he tried to lift his feet from the floor, it was difficult, as if heavy stones had been placed upon them.
"Hmph!"
Thud.
Tristan exerted all his strength to lift his foot and shake off the mysterious pressure. However, his foot, which he barely managed to lift, crashed back down to the floor before he could even take a proper step.
"What in the… Urgh!"
Before he could even process his surprise, the pressure intensified, causing Tristan to stagger. At first, it was merely difficult to lift his feet, but now his very bones felt like they were creaking just from standing still.
Realizing the danger of the situation, Tristan belatedly enhanced his body with mana, but it was futile as the pressure increased proportionally.
Damn it, if the pressure keeps rising like this, my internal organs will burst…!
Tristan, who no longer had the luxury to speak, was barely enduring the pressure while standing still. It was then that a voice tinged with amusement reached his ears.
"Brother, why have you stopped so suddenly? Come quickly and embrace your younger brother."
The voice spoke to Tristan, who was now drenched in a cold sweat.