Chapter 88
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 88
Lucian wasn’t the only one surprised.
The rest of the party was also dazed, their eyes frantically scanning the battlements.
Among them, Glen was the most visibly shaken.
“This… how can this be…!”
Glen trembled, unable to finish his sentence.
One of the reasons Tivron was hailed as the Jewel of the Empire was its White Walls. They possessed an absolute defensive power that seemed capable of repelling every army in the world, coupled with an enchanting beauty and artistry that left onlookers spellbound. Anyone who laid eyes upon the White Walls would offer nothing but the highest praise, calling them the one and only supreme fortification.
‘So why is there a wall exactly like the White Walls here?!’
While everyone else remained frozen, Lucian was the first to regain his composure.
“Raymond.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I’m asking just in case, but was this specific style common for the White Walls during ancient times?”
“Most likely not. If it were, we would have seen plenty of structures similar to the White Walls in other ruins.”
Until now, the only places known to have built fortifications in such a style were Tivron and Asagrim. To put it another way, constructing a wall of that caliber was no easy feat, even in ancient times.
This led naturally to one conclusion: one had been built first, and the other was a later imitation.
“When were the walls of Tivron built?”
“They were constructed immediately after the unification of the continent was completed.”
“And Asagrim?”
“That would have been after the founding of the Northern Dynasty, so chronologically speaking…”
“Ahem! Hrr-hem!”
Glen cut Raymond off with a loud, deliberate cough.
The party fell silent at the blatant warning, but by now, there wasn't a soul present who couldn't guess the rest.
‘The Grimaldis built the White Walls first. The Imperial family’s White Walls were an imitation of the North.’
“Now, let us move quickly! The end of our long journey is finally in sight!” Glen shouted, as if trying to prevent their thoughts from wandering any further.
His voice was so loud it was hard to believe he had been so quiet until now.
The party nodded silently and headed toward the gates of Asagrim. It was then that they heard the commotion.
“What is the meaning of this?! The sun is still high in the sky, yet you refuse to accept more pilgrims?!”
“Only ten people were allowed in earlier! This is tyranny!”
A massive crowd of Northerners gathered near the gate shouted in fury. As the clamor grew loud enough to make one’s ears ring, a roar erupted from inside the gate.
“Silence! Tyranny, you say?! Asagrim is a direct territory of His Imperial Majesty! You should be grateful that His Majesty even allows pilgrimages to Asagrim, yet you dare speak of tyranny?! Where do you get the nerve to utter such nonsense?!”
“Ugh!”
The shout, loud enough to deafen, was laced with a subtle trace of mana. Ordinary people, unable to reinforce their bodies, staggered and fell to their knees under the weight of that voice. Only a few practitioners of swordsmanship, capable of reinforcing themselves with mana, remained standing.
Lucian and his party watched with sparkling eyes, fascinated by a technique they had never seen before.
“Can anyone here do that?”
“I cannot. It seems he didn't just reinforce his vocal cords; he scattered the sound like a wave in all directions…”
“That’s not a skill one masters in a year or two. Seeing how naturally he uses it, he must have polished it desperately.”
“I think I can do it. Is it something like this?”
Felicia cleared her throat slightly and gave a soft whistle. As she did, mana was faintly carried by the whistle, causing the surrounding air to vibrate. Though she kept the scale small, it was clear that if she turned it into a shout, she could replicate the same feat.
“Good heavens, you copied it just by seeing it once?”
“My father taught me a similar technique. It used the sound of a blade scraping the floor rather than the voice, but with a little application, it wasn't difficult.”
“Vocal cords and a blade are completely different things. This is why geniuses are…!”
While Lucian’s group bickered, Glen stared at Felicia, lost for words. He had known she was the Sword Saint’s adopted daughter and disciple, so he had expected her talent to be considerable. But to think she could replicate a secret technique that only a handful of the Nightjar Knights could perform, just by seeing it once!
‘Even if she is older than Lord Lucian, she is still just a girl in her teens. How on earth…?’
He had thought of her as a mere cub, even if she was a beast, but now he realized she was at a level where she could devour most full-grown predators. Since she was still young, she had plenty of room to grow; in time, she would become a terrifying apex predator.
As Glen shuddered at the thought of the future, another shout erupted.
“Begone! From this moment on, anyone who continues to protest will be considered a rebel attempting to trespass upon the direct territory of His Imperial Majesty!”
This time, it was a pure shout without mana, but the crowd flinched, remembering the previous shock. The knight scanned the crowd with a cold, warning gaze. Just as he turned his back—
“…No, I won’t do that!”
A young man stood up abruptly from among the crowd and shouted. He wore tattered clothes, but his movements suggested he was the son of a noble family who had properly studied the sword. Seeing the youth openly ignore his warning, the knight’s face contorted in rage.
“Do you intend to commit treason right now?”
“Treason, my foot! I’ve never trespassed in the Imperial Palace, nor have I ever tried to assassinate the Emperor! I’ve never even set foot in the capital, Tivron, so how is this treason?!”
“Will you not shut your mouth?! How dare you speak of His Imperial Majesty with such an insolent tongue…!”
“Asagrim is the holy land of the North! A Northerner does not need permission to enter Northern land! Isn't that right?!”
When the young man looked at the crowd for support, the cowering people began to look at one another. Soon, one by one, they stood up and began to shout like the young man.
“He’s right! Asagrim is undeniably land that belongs to the North!”
“What qualifications do we need for a Northerner to visit a Northern holy land?!”
“I’m sick of them calling everything treason!”
The atmosphere, which had briefly subsided, exploded with even greater intensity than before. As Lucian’s party and Glen grew uneasy at the volatile momentum, the knight took a step forward.
“Archers, prepare for battle! The moment these rebels get any closer, fire!”
Creeeeeak.
“...!”
The pilgrims gasped as bows were aimed at them simultaneously from atop the walls. The soldiers looked down at them with eyes brimming with bloodlust, ready to fire at any moment. The knight commanding the soldiers at the front gate drew his sword without hesitation.
“I swear by the name of His Imperial Majesty, I will kill anyone who insults the Imperial family further.”
“....”
“Begone. This is your final warning.”
The clamor that had been pouring out from all sides died down, but the pilgrims did not budge. If anything, a heat even more intense than before was quietly simmering. It wasn't a silence born of fear, but a silence brooding over the injustice. It was a touch-and-go situation where a single wrong step could trigger a massacre.
“That’s enough.”
It was Lucian who stepped forward, breaking the silence. The knight guarding the gate frowned at the appearance of an outsider.
“Who are you?”
Lucian smirked at the knight’s words. Even if he looked young, his attire clearly indicated he wasn't from an ordinary family, yet the man spoke to him so dismissively.
“Open the gate.”
“What?”
“Open the gate and let these people in. I give my permission.”
“You madman… Do you think His Imperial Majesty’s direct territory is your own land?!”
“Whether it’s my land or not… well, it is starting today.”
“You bastard!”
“Sir Lucian! Please, stop!”
As the knight leveled his sword as if having a fit, Glen rushed out from behind. He had wanted to intervene from the start, but he had held back because Lucian told him to. Now, however, the situation was only getting worse.
But Lucian laughed even louder at Glen’s appearance and bowed his head.
“Sir Glen, you’ve come at the perfect time. Let us receive the official appointment here.”
“Pardon? We are in front of the gate!”
“Once we arrive at the destination, it doesn't matter where it is, does it? I like it here, so please do it here.”
“Sigh, if you insist….”
“What are you babbling about? And who are you?”
The knight pointed his sword at them with an angry face. Glen’s eyes flared with rage when he saw the blade pointed at him.
“How dare you point a sword at me! I am Glen Rehinahr, an Imperial Inspector and a member of the Black Scale Knights!”
“What…?!”
“State your name, you who barks at the Emperor’s proxy! Are you Sir Rotier, the Captain of the Guard of Asagrim?! Or some other knight under his command?!”
The knight, Rotier, turned pale and lowered his sword. Looking closely, he saw the dragon-head seal symbolizing an Imperial Inspector on the man’s left chest. Furthermore, since the man knew his name and rank, he was undoubtedly a real Imperial Inspector.
“My apologies, Sir Glen! Please forgive my rudeness!”
“I will deal with your reprimand later, so move aside! And get those archers down! Or do you intend to silence me right here?”
“H-How could I possibly do that?! Archers, all of you, stand down!”
At Rotier’s command, the archers on the wall hurriedly lowered their bows and disappeared inside. Glen glared at Rotier, clicked his tongue, and dismounted his horse.
“My lord.”
“I am ready.”
“Then let us begin.”
As everyone watched, Glen cleared his throat and pulled the Emperor’s personal letter from his breast pocket.
“By the authority of the Emperor, I, Glen Rehinahr, Imperial Inspector, hereby deliver his command! Lucian Grimaldi Valdek shall be appointed Margrave, and Asagrim shall be granted to him as his fief!”
“...?!”
“This has been proclaimed in the name of Karl von Bay Astria, Master of the Empire! Anyone who attempts to overturn this or refuses to acknowledge it shall be deemed a rebel! Furthermore, he is permitted to hold this title concurrently while maintaining his rank as Duke…!”
Glen continued to read the letter, but the people were half-dazed and couldn't hear the words that followed. A Grimaldi being named a Margrave was strange enough, but what was this about granting him Asagrim?
While everyone was struggling to process the news, Glen’s recitation drew to a close.
“…Therefore, let the White Palace be his residence! That is all!”
Lucian carefully accepted the folded letter from Glen and stood up. Turning his head, his eyes fell upon the young man who had been the first to stand up earlier.
“You there.”
“Y-Yes?”
“Do you want to enter Asagrim?”
“Uh… yes.”
The young man nodded hesitantly. He wasn't sure what was happening, but it felt ridiculous to deny it now. Hearing the young man’s answer, Lucian looked back at Rotier and spoke.
“Open the gate.”
“T-That is… this place is….”
“My land.”
“....”
“His Imperial Majesty gave it to me, so it is my land now. Am I wrong?”
“You are… not wrong, but….”
“Right?”
With a smirk, Lucian walked toward Rotier. Leaning in until their noses almost touched, Lucian spoke curtly.
“Then open it.”
“....”
Rotier squeezed his eyes shut. It was humiliating, but he had no way to refuse. In fact, refusing was an act no different from treason.
“Open… the gate!”
Rotier spat out the words, his face flushed red. A few seconds later, the massive gate swung open with a thunderous rumble.
Rumble!
“....”
The pilgrims stared blankly at the gate that had opened at a single word from Lucian. It was so simple that it made the earlier chaos seem meaningless.
“What are you doing? Aren't you coming in?”
Lucian’s voice pierced their ears. He gave a wide grin to the pilgrims, who had suddenly snapped back to their senses.
“As the owner of this land, I give you my permission. Everyone, come in and have a look.”