Chapter 189
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 189
“The House of Lerum sent an envoy of surrender?”
“Yes. They have sent Sir Folkar as their representative.”
“Good grief.”
Lucian let out a hollow laugh, dumbfounded.
Barely a day had passed, and they were already surrendering? If they were going to fold this easily, why on earth had they acted so high and mighty in front of him?
To make matters worse, the man appointed as the envoy was Folkar—the very person responsible for this entire mess.
At first glance, it might seem like an appropriate choice, but in reality, the lord was sending his retainer as a sacrificial lamb. It was a blatant abandonment of mutual trust, the most crucial element in a lord-vassal relationship.
“Has the Viscount gone mad? To think he’d drag the dignity he held so dear through the mud himself.”
“He likely faced reality far too late. The realization that his house might actually be annihilated must have finally snapped him to his senses.”
“He certainly took his sweet time waking up.”
Lucian grumbled as he stepped out of his tent.
In full view of the soldiers, Folkar remained motionless, kneeling with his forehead pressed against the dirt. Even for an envoy of surrender, it was a posture far too groveling for a knight to assume.
“The foolish Folkar greets His Majesty the King!”
“The King, is it?”
Lucian smirked at Folkar’s shout.
Until now, these men had only referred to him as ‘His Highness,’ pointedly omitting the title of King. Yet, with war looming right before their eyes, they had tacked on the word ‘King’ without anyone even prompting them.
The sudden shift in attitude drew a sarcastic remark from Lucian’s lips.
“That certainly has a nice ring to it. I’ll have to tell Marquis Bernhardt. I’ll tell him the House of Lerum called me their King. I’m sure he’ll be delighted and consider the Viscounty the pride of the West.”
“Of course! We failed to show His Majesty proper respect until now, so is it not a joyous occasion that we have finally come to our senses? The Marquis will surely be proud as well!”
Lucian expected him to flinch, but Folkar immediately agreed with the sarcasm and rubbed his head against the ground. Lucian clicked his tongue at the flattery, which would have been unimaginable from the old Folkar.
“Impressive. To think a man could change this much in a single day. It’s almost admirable.”
“I am gratef—!”
“That’s enough, shut your mouth. Your words are starting to sound less like flattery and more like mockery.”
Folkar flinched as Lucian’s voice turned cold.
As expected, it wasn't pure flattery; he had been trying to show a bit of defiance in his own way. It was a pathetic and feeble resistance that ultimately meant nothing, though.
“Hand over the surrender document the Viscount gave you. I’m curious to see what nonsense he’s written this time.”
Folkar bit his lip at the blatant insult to his lord but pulled the document from his breast pocket. Lucian took the paper from a soldier, scanned the contents, and laughed coldly.
“He’ll throw the gates wide open to welcome me, so I should leave his territory alone?”
“That is correct. His Excellency the Viscount…”
“It’s an obvious trap. He plans to assassinate me the moment I step inside the gates.”
“Pardon? What?”
“Any group collapses the moment they lose their leader. The Viscount used his head. To think he’d be so skilled in strategy and tactics when the chaotic era has only just begun.”
Folkar turned pale at the unexpected accusation.
He had come personally to deliver the surrender document, acting as a potential scapegoat for Lucian’s wrath. He had even displayed a level of subservience that would remain a stain on his family for generations, yet he was being accused of an assassination plot.
“It is a misunderstanding! This is strictly…!”
“I don’t need your pathetic excuses. If you want to prove it’s a misunderstanding, tell the Viscount to come here and kneel himself.”
“Y-Your Majesty!”
“Why? Is it not reasonable? If the head of the house, the very pillar of the family, comes in person, no one will doubt your sincerity.”
Folkar tried to protest urgently but froze when he met Lucian’s eyes. He could tell instantly that no matter what he said, Lucian had no intention of changing his conditions.
“Go and tell the Viscount. Tell him not to send a scapegoat, but to come himself. Tell him that if he insists on keeping his dignity until the very end, I will take everything else but his dignity.”
“…Yes, sire.”
Despite the insulting terms, Folkar could only nod powerlessly. As a man who couldn't even manage to become a proper sacrifice, that was all he could do.
Viscount Oleg Lerum lamented Lucian’s proposal, but he had no choice but to step out of the castle gates himself.
Arriving at the camp with only a minimal escort, the Viscount spoke in a dry, hollow voice.
“Your Majesty, I have come in person as you requested.”
“So you have. The head of a house has come to kneel and beg for forgiveness.”
“…”
“Do you have no spirit? No, I phrased that wrong. Why did a man with no spirit act so high and mighty in front of me?”
Viscount Oleg trembled with shame at Lucian’s insults. He knew he had been summoned specifically to be humiliated, but experiencing it in person was more agonizing than he had braced for.
He had never imagined he would be treated this way as the head of a house.
For a moment, he considered whether it would be better to die fighting than to endure such insults, but he couldn't bring himself to act on it. As the man responsible for his family, he couldn't allow his house to be destroyed just because he couldn't stomach a moment of humiliation.
“…I have no excuses. I only ask for Your Majesty’s forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness. I suppose I could grant it. Provided you pay the price for your sins.”
“If you tell me the appropriate price for my transgressions, I will prepare it with all my heart.”
“Treat my soldiers generously until the bridge is fully repaired, and provide compensation befitting the injuries sustained by my knight, Sir Hugo. And… give me one arm from each of the knights who insulted me.”
The Viscount’s eyes shook violently.
He could accept the first and second conditions, even if they were painful. Though Lucian had kept the terms vague to inflate the cost, it was a level he could somehow manage if he bled his family's resources dry.
But the third condition was absolutely unacceptable.
“I will fulfill all other conditions, so please, I beg of you, do not touch my knights.”
“They insulted me. Did they not call me an incompetent king and a parasite? For such a crime, it wouldn't be strange if I took their heads.”
“Your Majesty…!”
Viscount Oleg slammed his head against the dirt, pleading with Lucian.
Sending Folkar as a scapegoat had been within the barely acceptable margins. Even if it was a trap, half the cause of this war lay with Folkar, and more importantly, Folkar himself had strongly desired to play the role of the sacrifice.
He likely believed that volunteering as a scapegoat was the only way to restore his honor from the gutter. Since his original guilt was compounded by his own wish, the lord abandoning his vassal could have been forgiven.
But cutting off the arms of the knights was a different matter entirely.
Unlike Folkar, who had launched an overt ambush, these knights had merely uttered a few insults where they thought no one was listening. To demand their arms for that?
‘No matter the lord’s command, what knight would give up the arm that is as precious as his life!’
For a knight to lose an arm meant more than just becoming a cripple. It meant their entire swordsmanship style—their very reason for existing—would be stolen, and they would never be able to step onto a battlefield again.
And yet, he was using his position as their lord to force them to surrender their arms just because they had mouthed off?
Setting aside the loss of the knights' loyalty, it was an act that would be condemned by every citizen of the Empire for ages to come. It was an act so egregious that his other retainers might lose all faith in Viscount Oleg and turn their backs on him.
“Your Majesty, please, change only the third condition. I will do anything else…!”
“Anything? Truly?”
“Yes.”
Viscount Oleg answered immediately without a shred of hesitation. He couldn't imagine any condition being worse than the one just proposed.
At the Viscount’s answer, Lucian spoke with a satisfied expression.
“I have one question. Is it possible to cross the river?”
“Pardon? The bridge is still broken…”
“I’m not talking about moving a whole army. I’m asking if it’s possible to send one or two people across.”
“That much is possible.”
It wasn't easy. Even a skilled swimmer could be swept away and drown in an instant if the current grew too strong. However, if they tied a safety rope around their waist and had people pulling from behind in an emergency, they could manage to get a couple of people across.
“Good. Then send a messenger.”
“A messenger? To whom?”
Lucian gave a deep, dark smile at Viscount Oleg’s question.
“To the other lords who, like you, decided to trip me up on my way.”
“…!”
“Is the bridge still broken?”
“Yes. It seems it was broken once more just as repairs were nearly finished.”
“Puhaha! Viscount Oleg is doing a fine job!”
Viscount Karayan Valz, the head of the House of Valz, burst into laughter.
He had been incredibly tense when he first heard that a grand force of five thousand was coming from the North. If five thousand soldiers were to run rampant in the West, the House of Valz had no way to stop them.
But look at them now.
They were struggling to even get past the House of Lerum on the very edge of the West. At this rate, they shouldn't be called an army of five thousand, but five thousand idiots.
“I wonder if they’ll get exhausted and head back to the North before they even reach our lands. I prepared so thoroughly at the Marquis’s request, but it looks like Viscount Oleg is going to hog all the credit.”
Even as he said this, there was no regret on Karayan’s face. Having someone else’s army of five thousand enter his territory was never a pleasant prospect.
‘I hope they realize their place soon and crawl back to the North.’
“Your Excellency! A letter has arrived from the House of Lerum!”
Viscount Karayan, who had been leisurely sipping his tea, blinked at the voice from outside. He had just received a report that the bridge was still broken, so how could a letter have arrived?
“How on earth did the Viscounty send a letter?”
“It seems a messenger swam across personally!”
“No, why would they go that far?”
Viscount Karayan asked, looking bewildered.
It wasn't unheard of for a messenger from the House of Lerum to swim across when the bridge was out due to natural disasters. A skilled swimmer would cross first, and then the letter would be tied to an arrow and shot across to keep it dry.
Something like this had happened once during his predecessor’s time to deliver urgent news. However, this method was rarely used unless it was an extreme emergency, as it carried a high risk of drowning.
‘What could be so urgent for the House of Lerum that they’d push a messenger to such extremes?’
Feeling a sense of foreboding, Viscount Karayan accepted the letter. The seal was intact, and despite being carried by a soaking-wet messenger, the ink hadn't smudged at all.
Settling back into his chair, Viscount Karayan unfurled the letter, only to freeze the moment he read the first sentence.
— My castle has been occupied by the Duke.