Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Proof (2)
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Currently, Francia needed a new king.
But I had no intention of becoming one.
I lacked the qualifications as well.
The reason was simple.
I no longer loved the people of Francia. Nor did I wish for the kingdom's prosperity and strength.
My dreams were no longer directed toward them.
The only force driving me was the stale obsession from my past life.
I simply wanted to fulfill my moral duty by restoring Francia to the state I remembered.
I had the power to do that.
And that was where it ended for me.
Afterward, I wanted to live the free and peaceful life I desired.
That was the conclusion I reached after much deliberation.
So, I needed someone qualified.
Someone to inherit the throne I would have held in my past life and lead Francia.
Someone who loved the people and truly dreamed of Francia's prosperity.
Such a person was very likely to be found among the independence fighters.
"Interesting."
Lucian merely lifted the corner of his mouth lightly, showing no particular reaction.
The man standing beside him, Lake, was just as expressionless.
Boring guys.
At least they could react a little.
Unlike them, Maxwell stood frozen like a statue, his eyes and mouth wide open.
Lake, who had been silent until then, finally spoke.
"You're saying you have the power to appoint someone as king?"
"Yes. I have that power."
"Then, with such power, why don't you make yourself king?"
A question that pierced to the heart of the matter.
At least, I needed to state my purpose clearly.
"I plan to reclaim Francia from the Empire. But I'm not interested in the politics after independence. So I need someone who can clean up the mess I've made. Someone to run the country in my place."
Even to my own ears, it sounded utterly arrogant.
It was only natural for complex emotions to flicker across Lucian's face.
Yet Lake remained utterly expressionless.
"Then, before we prove our own qualifications, you'll have to prove yours first. We can't be sure you actually have that power."
"And if I fail to prove it?"
It would never happen, but I was curious about his response.
"You'll have to surrender the national seal. It's not something an individual should possess."
If I couldn't prove it, he'd take it from me.
Infuriating, but understandable from their perspective.
The national seal carried that much symbolic weight.
He continued.
"Would you allow us to test your qualifications?"
"Of course."
I agreed readily.
Talking alone would just tire my mouth.
A single demonstration of skill would be easier for everyone.
And it would let me gauge their abilities too.
* * *
"So, the national seal is still in that guy's hands?"
Hwarenca's booming voice echoed through the conference room as he heard the report.
"That's about the size of it."
Lucian nodded.
At the center of the hall stood a round table.
Seated around it were five men, including Lucian and Lake—the executives of the "Northern White Lions."
"No way! What kind of guts does that bastard have to say something like that!"
Hwarenca slammed the table hard.
His face was flushed red, matching his fiery red hair.
It was typical of him.
He was known for his hot temper, the epitome of a fiery personality.
"Exactly. No ordinary guts could pull that off."
Lucian replied with a relaxed smile.
While Hwarenca was the one who usually raged, Lucian was the one who usually smiled. He substituted smiles for most emotions.
Sometimes to the point of seeming frivolous.
But no one dared underestimate him for it.
Lucian tapped the table with his index finger.
"Plus, his identity is unclear. His origins are unclear. His past actions are unclear. Nothing is certain."
"That's true, but does what he said even make sense? Taking out Palcherato and his knights single-handedly, and wiping out an entire platoon of the Raven Knights? Come on!"
Hwarenca vented, his face beet red.
Hartwen, seated across from him, chimed in agreement.
Short in stature with a round, ball-like build, he nodded vigorously.
"I agree with Hwarenca on that point. It's suspicious. He might be a spy."
"There are way too many red flags."
Urno, with a physique as massive as a black ox, backed Hwarenca's view. He rested his thick forearms on the table and turned toward Lucian.
"You said our own operatives didn't eyewitness the Raven Knights or Palcherato's deaths, right?"
As the atmosphere heated up, Lucian glanced at Lake to his right.
"What's your take?"
All eyes turned to Lake.
They expected him to provide a clear answer.
Lake spoke slowly.
"Nothing's certain yet, so we should hold off on any conclusions for now."
"I agree."
Echoing Lake, Lucian addressed the other executives.
"We'll have a chance to verify his skills tomorrow, so let's wait until then."
Urno spoke gravely.
"But is what he claims even true? You're a swordmaster yourself, Leader—you know better than anyone how absurd it sounds."
The Lightning Spear, Urno, was one of the top powerhouses in the Northern White Lions.
Even he couldn't handle a full platoon of Raven Knights alone.
Yet a young man who looked barely mid-twenties had supposedly swept them aside single-handedly.
Urno pressed on with his doubts.
"If it's true, that means he's at least an Expert of the highest level. Does that even make sense?"
Hwarenca jumped in, bristling.
"That's why it's such nonsense! Thirty knights at the Expert beginner level, taken out like wiping his nose? And then he talks about royal qualifications, saying he'll make the holder of the national seal king? What arrogant bullshit! As if he's a Sword Master or something..."
Mid-sentence, Hwarenca startled himself and glanced at Lucian.
"No way, right?"
"Is there any reason he couldn't be?"
Lucian wore an expression that suggested he'd already considered it.
"No, a Sword Master doesn't just drop out of the sky one day."
Hwarenca's anger cooled instantly, leaving him with a dazed look like he'd been punched.
A Sword Master was the pinnacle of swordsmanship.
No greenhorn unknown on the battlefield could reach that realm.
It was logically impossible for him to be one.
Lucian said,
"We can't classify him as a Sword Master yet. Honestly, I think it's impossible too. Circumstantially, he's probably just a madman with exceptional skill. I don't know how much the stories are exaggerated, but if there's any truth to them, he's likely at the highest Expert level."
Lucian continued.
"It's still hard to believe, but let's watch and see. Tomorrow will reveal if it's bluff or real."
In place of the stunned Hwarenca, Hartwen spoke cautiously.
"But what if—just what if—he really is a Sword Master?"
Sword Master.
A swordsman comparable to an entire legion alone.
That was the title reserved for such colossal existences.
There were only four Sword Masters on the continent currently.
One could only wonder at the impact on the war.
Lucian gazed at Hartwen steadily before speaking.
"If he is a Sword Master, then we..."
A faint smile played on his lips.
"We'll achieve independence within a year."
* * *
I tossed back the whiskey and set down the empty glass.
The heavy, burning foreign sensation slid down my throat, warming my stomach.
It was strong stuff.
Lately, I'd been hooked on whiskey's unique aroma and taste.
"Still, being at headquarters puts my mind at ease."
Allen leaned back in his chair, swirling his glass.
We were enjoying a drink at the tavern inside the merchant guild, reserved for independence fighters.
"By the way, Sir Genesis, what's your plan?"
Freddy asked.
"Plan for what?"
"The national seal."
He glanced around warily, then whispered while covering his mouth. Even inside independence territory, the fact that we'd found it was still classified. We had to be careful.
"I told you. If that guy qualifies, I'll hand it over. If not, I'll find someone else."
Freddy looked at me with complicated emotions.
He'd probably assumed I'd give it to Lucian.
I said it casually, but truthfully, my own feelings were a tangled mess.
Who would've thought I'd run into Lucian here...
The brief silence was broken by the server's voice.
"Welcome!"
He'd been clearing the next table over but scurried toward a man who had just entered the tavern.
A man with wild red hair sprouting like weeds and a fierce scowl.
He looked like a real hothead.
The noisy tavern quieted somewhat at his entrance, and a few who recognized him stood to greet him.
He was led to the table next to ours, freshly cleared.
He plopped down in the chair like it was his own home and ordered casually.
"The usual."
Once fruit snacks and a bottle of strong whiskey were set on his table, his companions entered and sat across from him.
Spotting them, Chess pressed close to me and whispered.
"That's probably one of the independence executives."
"Know him?"
Ignoring him, I spoke normally, startling Chess. He frantically gestured for me to lower my voice before continuing.
"Flame Hwarenca. They say his swordplay is as fiery as his temper. Seeing him in person is intimidating."
Chess shuddered at the man's rugged face.
Allen and Freddy sipped their drinks, stealing glances at him.
I turned my gaze to Hwarenca too, and naturally, their conversation drifted over.
"Some crazy bastard's got me all worked up."
"Why? Something happen at the meeting earlier?"
"Details are classified for now. Roughly, some guys from the Ias family showed up this time."
It was about us.
The three perked up their ears, eavesdropping.
"One of them took out Palcherato and his knights solo, and even wrecked a whole platoon of Raven Knights by himself."
"What? The Raven Knights?"
"Yeah, man."
"Who is this guy? Some dragon hunter from the west?"
"Why would he come here? But get this—the guy's only mid-twenties."
"No way?!"
The guy in front yelped in shock.
Hmm, this one's a bit unfair.
I'd never said I was mid-twenties.
Not that I planned to reveal my age.
Age is just a number, as they say.
No point in announcing it.
They wouldn't believe me anyway.
"Mid-twenties? That possible?"
"Right? Totally absurd. Oh, and they say he has black hair."
"Huh? So?"
"And he's got three guys with him: one bear-sized brute, one with a pointed chin, and one with a fist-sized nose."
He ticked off features that pinpointed us.
Each time, the three tried to hide their tells.
Allen hunched his shoulders like a turtle, Freddy covered his chin with his hand, and Chess turned his head to conceal his nose.
But despite their efforts, Hwarenca seemed to already know.
"And turns out, those exact guys are at the next table."
His blazing gaze fixed squarely on us.