Chapter 212
Chapter: 212
-----------------------------------------------------------------
>Translator: penny
>Chapter: 212
>Chapter Title: Lycanslope Lord (6)
>-----------------------------------------------------------------
“…You gave away that sword!?”
Vincent the old man’s face turned deathly pale.
He had snuck back in late at night, too ashamed to face his son, only to find that the treasured sword he had cherished and never let out of his sight was gone.
“You… You…!”
The prince’s demeanor had suggested he wouldn’t let it slide easily, but who would have thought he’d go so far as to steal his beloved sword!
Stunned by the unexpected turn of events, Vincent stared blankly—while the very man who had handed over the sword, Hendrick Sigismund, remained utterly calm.
“You weren’t even using it anyway, Father—just staring at it every day. That blade doesn’t suit the imperial swordsmanship or the Banahas cultivation method.”
“That’s because you don’t understand its true value!”
What was that sword?
It was the finest masterpiece forged by the legendary hidden master artisan known for crafting General Gael’s Arjuna—the very last sword he made before his death!
“Why do you think I went to such lengths and spent a fortune to acquire it? If Ortona hadn’t fallen, we never could have touched such a treasure for that price!”
“It’s a sword from a fallen kingdom, suited only to an outdated cultivation method. Why cling to a mere decorative piece that only idle collectors would want? It’s not like you, Father.”
“That doesn’t mean you should just hand over such a precious darksteel blade so easily…!”
“Darksteel swords can be acquired again if we try.”
No, that’s not the point!
Vincent stomped his feet in frustration.
“It’s not ordinary darksteel! They say it’s a material whose forging method has been lost, impossible to replicate with the continent’s current swordsmithing techniques!”
But Margrave Hendrick’s gaze remained cold and unyielding.
“So you couldn’t even forge a new blade with it anyway? What were you supposed to do with it? No matter its rarity, weren’t you planning to take it to your grave without ever selling it?”
His son, who placed no value in swords, saw no worth at all in that ferocious blade that offered no benefit to the family.
In the end, Vincent could only swallow his rage and shout at his son.
“But it was *my* sword! You should have at least asked your father’s intentions!”
“My intentions?”
For the first time, a flicker of anger crossed the margrave’s otherwise impassive eyes.
“Did you ask *my* intentions before committing such folly, Father? ‘Treason’? Were you planning to drag the entire house down with you?”
“That was nothing but that brat’s coercion! Treason, of all things!”
“You drew your sword, didn’t you? You nearly pointed it at the prince, didn’t you? Do you think I have no eyes or ears?!”
Vincent had committed his act of blasphemy in front of far too many witnesses from the start.
He had tried desperately to downplay it as a minor mistake, but Prince Mores proved far more formidable than expected.
“Do you have any idea how meticulously he prepared to bind our house hand and foot? Why provoke someone like that, of all people?!”
He had anticipated the boy’s cunning from reports of his activities at the count’s estate—impressive for one so young.
But meeting Prince Mores face-to-face revealed those to be mere tips of the iceberg.
The prince’s offhand remarks about halting spirit tea distribution had chilled the margrave to the bone at times.
—Milo Trading Company head Giacomo Milo will be arrested on suspicion of being a Demon Contractor. The evidence is already overwhelming, and the Inquisition has been notified.
It seemed aimed solely at the Milo Company on the surface, but the margrave knew one wrong step could link House Sigismund directly to the Shadow Church.
Worse, the old man’s reckless blasphemy could paint them as devil-worshipping heretics who dared defy the Holy Imperial Family under demonic influence.
If the prince had truly wished it, he could have made it so—the hints were plentiful in their conversation.
“Of course, with the demon realm border offering no respite, you couldn’t monitor every corner of your territory. I’m sure the margrave would never have tolerated it if he’d known.”
But the prince’s sly smirk made his real meaning clear.
*You knew and let it happen, didn’t you? I know everything. I have proof. One misstep, and you’re done—got it?*
The only reason he hadn’t was simple: burying House Sigismund now offered the imperial family no gain.
What was House Sigismund? A reliable guard dog that faithfully defended the demon realm border with just an annual stipend.
“You and I get along splendidly. I see us as fine partners going forward, Margrave.”
Regardless of their utility, the prince had been utterly ruthless, using their vulnerabilities to demand concessions— even eyeing cuts to the annual imperial subsidy.
A moment’s lapse in vigilance, and they would have been stripped bare, roots and all.
At least the prince’s fixation on that useless decorative sword at the end had been a stroke of fortune.
“Falling for such a flashy ornament. No matter how shrewd he pretends to be, he’s still just a boy.”
“Flashy?! Hendrick, that’s truly one of a kind in the world…!”
Ignoring the old man’s indignant protests, the margrave quietly sighed in relief.
* * *
That night.
After completing his pre-sleep meditation without fail, Seongjin drifted off comfortably inside the ice tent, despite the biting cold.
The unexpected prize had lifted his spirits immensely, and the small magical stone from Sisle had performed admirably.
Thanks to it, his bedding stayed pleasantly warm without any need for aura circulation.
*I’ll have to thank the kid later…*
Murmuring to himself, Seongjin fell into a satisfied slumber.
Even former Decaron Knight Bruno the captain, as well as the aura-proficient Marquis Masain and Maria, quickly adapted to the cold and slept deeply.
But for Lady Claudia, Sir Karmen, and the two holy knights, it was different.
Their aura control was proficient, but not at the level of unconsciously circulating it in sleep.
The soldiers had provided small braziers for the newcomers.
Yet in the cramped ice tent, optimized for insulation with no proper ventilation, the entrance had to be cracked open to avoid suffocation from the smoke.
In the end, after tossing and turning, they couldn’t bear the cold and stumbled out en masse.
Fortunately, a couple of campfires burned outside the tents. Sentries and night-shift workers huddled around them, sipping hot stew and tea.
“Don’t shiver out there—come warm up. Have some tea at least.”
To the base folk, these green imperial knights struggling with the cold and insomnia were amusing.
But they had no desire to haze them further. The stable front against the monster hordes, bolstered by the reassuring ice walls, had eased tensions.
The Wolf Knight Order, who had traveled with them from the capital, also treated them warmly.
“What kind of tea is this?”
“Oat tea. Probably not common in the capital, but around here, it’s just oats and a bit of barley.”
Tensing at the thought of spirit tea, the group sighed in relief and accepted the warm brew.
Sir Oscar, vice-captain of the Wolf Knight Order, was standing in for Sir Ilma on night watch. Though unaware of details, he had picked up on their odd aversion to [spirit tea].
“No need to worry. Spirit tea is banned on the front lines. It loosens you up—makes you doze off on watch or babble nonsense in your sleep. That’s why the margrave recently banned it from the base personally.”
Lady Valerie and Lady Sharon exchanged subtle glances. As expected, Margrave Sigismund knew something about the spirit tea’s effects.
As the group warmed themselves with the hot grain tea—
Awooooo—
A Lycanslope howl echoed nearby once more.
“Those bastards are probing again! What are they scheming?”
Grumbling, Sir Oscar rose, and the group followed him up the ice walls to peer toward the snowy plains.
As he said, a few Lycanslopes had approached the ice walls, circling warily—only to flee into the conifer woods upon detection.
They gathered on the plains but stayed just beyond bow range.
“Their eyes have multiplied.”
As Lady Valerie noted, the number prowling near the walls had swelled to dozens.
“There are far more in those woods. Over a thousand already assembled, with equal numbers marching south. Quite the eerie sight, eh?”
Looking where Sir Oscar pointed, countless gleaming eyes—dozens, hundreds—flashed amid the dense conifers.
With their superior vision, the Lycanslopes were no doubt scrutinizing every move from afar.
“Corrupted by the demon realm’s miasma into beasts, they still possess basic cunning. They followed their lord south reluctantly but lack the nerve to scale the walls.”
Sir Oscar scoffed.
But to the group, unfamiliar with Lycanslopes, the silent eyes fixed upon them felt ominously portentous.
Like predators before a final breath, poised before the pounce.
“…Am I imagining it? They seem to be waiting for something.”
With Lady Claudia’s trembling words—
The group stood silently atop the walls, unable to tear their gaze from the forest’s glowing eyes.
* * *
Slurp. Something wet licked his cheek.
Jolted half-awake, Seongjin snapped fully alert at the low voice calling him.
[Your Highness.]
Well before dawn.
A wolf larger than a calf loomed beside his bed, staring down intently.
Its massive frame filled the tent, yet it felt nonthreatening—thanks to its calm black eyes.
“…Max.”
[Shh.]
As Seongjin stirred and opened his mouth, the wolf hushed him softly.
[Your knights might wake. Just nod.]
Only then did Seongjin realize it was speaking via telepathy.
What’s going on?
[If you’re willing, come with me briefly? I have something to show you.]
Now?
Stunned by the sudden invitation, an inexplicable unease prompted Seongjin to don his winter gear and buckle on his walnut-crusher sword belt.
The wolf flicked its tail once, then turned its back.
[Time is short—we must hurry back. Ride me.]
…Ride?
It was pony-sized, sure.
As Seongjin hesitated, the tail swished leisurely, distracting him. Awkwardly mounting, he heard the wolf’s low request.
[Please suppress your presence as before.]
Aura concealment?
Guessing as much, Seongjin complied. The wolf instantly burst from the tent, launching into a gale-like sprint.
The wind blasted so fiercely he could barely open his eyes.
In a flash, it vaulted the ice walls and scaled a sheer cliff, racing north.
[Yi Seongjin.]
The Demon King whispered then.
[I’ve detected faint miasma from this wolf since earlier.]
Really?
Seongjin borrowed the Demon King’s mystic eyes to scan around.
Sure enough, purple aura flickered beneath the wolf’s paws with each step on the ice.
‘Is that coming from its paws?’
[Yeah, now that you mention it…]
Still charging north like the wind, the wolf soon traversed a sheer ice gorge.
It halted atop a high hill overlooking a small Lycanslope pack.
“That’s…”
[The Lycanslope Lord.]
Even without explanation, Seongjin instinctively knew it was the alpha.
Its bulk was 1.5 times that of the others.
‘It’s wearing clothes…’
Indeed.
Unlike the naked wild beasts, it donned a short skirt-like garment and a gleaming gold necklace.
It evoked the Lycanslope Lord from the labyrinth—albeit smaller and less ornate.
‘But if the lord is here…’
Does that mean the third ice wall isn’t their main target?
What are they plotting?
[Scouts can’t venture this far due to outpost isolation and lack of transport. The Wolf Knights can’t patrol so deeply.]
Max continued softly, gazing down.
[Sigismund territory has never faced a major gorge assault. Even with the Lycanslope Lord scheming here, they’ll send third-line troops to the plains as usual. The gorge and Lake Salzho forces remain un-reinforced.]
Got it. He fears for them and wants me to relay this to the Wolf Knights and margrave.
But.
“Why show *me* this?”
Anyone in the Wolf Knights would do.
[Because…]
Max hesitated.
[Only Your Highness can ride me. Without my paws, reaching the gorge so swiftly is impossible.]
“Hmm.”
Seongjin eyed the wolf’s excitedly wagging tail, belying its composed face.
“You can transform and control it at will like a limb, but fully suppressing a familiar’s emotions is impossible, it seems.”
Staring straight into the massive wolf’s eyes, Seongjin smiled.
Eyes he had grown familiar with lately—dry yet composed black orbs.
“Right, Louise?”