Chapter 20 – Your Daughter Dies Too #1
The first thing Lake saw upon opening his eyes was his sister's face, streaked with tears. There was his father, wrapped in relief, and a group of strangers exchanging words.
With the horrific pain finally over and his mind clearing, his immediate thought was curiosity.
"Ugh... who saved me?"
"This young man here. The youngest young master of the Montemer family."
"Thank you."
Lake somehow managed to express his gratitude despite his parched, withered throat.
Lawrence nodded with a smile.
"Hearing it straight from the man himself feels great. How's your body holding up?"
"Feels weak. All my muscle's gone—it's worrying."
"Lake, my son. Were you completely out of it?"
Even though his son's condition hadn't fully improved, the grand duke was already thinking about business. Leila stepped in to stop him.
"Father, how can you say that right now!? You should be asking if he's okay first!"
"Can't you see he's fine with your own eyes?"
"Ugh... Anyway, nothing hurts or anything, right? Wanna spar with your big sis? Huh?"
"...Um, there are guests here. Maybe tone it down a bit?"
Lake spoke with a weary expression, but it was hopeless. Leila's excitement probably wasn't just from boredom during this time.
Loria, struck by their unusual family dynamic, whispered to Lawrence.
"They get along without any walls here."
"What!? You call this without walls!?"
"Aaaah! That's not what I meant—!"
"Heh heh, she's right though. How old are you, little miss? I'm sixteen! Name's Leila! You listen to your big bro, right?"
Pfft—Lawrence and Grand Duke Lancel burst out laughing at the same time.
Loria's face turned beet red as she replied in a trembling voice.
"I-I'm the older sister... I'm the older one!"
"Oh? Ah, uh, really? Sorry..."
"Haha, the Montemer kids seem close too. Nice to see."
Lake smiled faintly, his face still pale. Lawrence and Loria glanced at each other and spoke in unison.
"We're not really close."
"Hmph! Not close to this guy!"
"R-Really?"
Theirs was just as peculiar... Lake scratched the back of his head with an awkward grin.
With the mood sufficiently lightened, Lawrence turned to Lake with serious questions.
"You were probably conscious at times. Did you hear anything?"
"Not really... They seemed to be careful with their words. I felt someone coming and going alone sometimes."
"Any sounds like breathing or footsteps you remember?"
"Oh, yeah—they always cleared their throat. Like 'ahem.'"
Everyone's eyes lit up. It was a small clue, but enough to pinpoint the culprit.
The grand duke spoke quietly yet firmly.
"The kids' time is over. Leave the rest to the adults. Be satisfied with the experience you'll gain in this subjugation battle."
"You okay with that?"
"I'm the king of the North. I don't know which rat snuck in... but they're prepared to freeze to death at least."
His presence dominated the entire space. He relaxed it soon after, mindful of Lake.
Then he offered Lawrence a formal noble's greeting with utmost respect.
"I owe the youngest young master of Montemer a great debt. I'll repay it with my life."
"I might end up owing you quite a bit here myself."
"Whatever it is, I'll cover it."
The grand duke had incurred an immeasurable debt and had no idea how to repay such grace. Lawrence nodded with a pleased smile.
But the problems weren't over yet.
"Whew... Feels stuffy after facing Father's aura."
"That's a heart condition."
"Huh!?"
"What...?"
Another shock hit them. The grand duke looked especially dumbfounded.
Even a golden monkey from some comic with universe-destroying power couldn't escape a heart condition. No matter how tough a person was, diseases that burrowed deep into the organs couldn't be blocked.
Holy power wasn't omnipotent. It excelled at treating external wounds—stitching and regenerating—but was weak against poison, curses, and illnesses.
What could counter it was Lawrence's modern knowledge.
"It's valvular disease. Simply put, your heart isn't functioning right, so blood can backflow."
"Then..."
"Occasional chest pain or shortness of breath, right?"
"Y-Yeah. I had a high fever once as a kid, and it's happened now and then since."
"It's not just the weather or Your Grace—it's an issue with Lady Leila's heart."
Everyone wore shocked expressions. The grand duke, who had nearly lost both children, was breaking out in cold sweat.
He asked calmly, struggling to maintain composure, his voice trembling softly and piercing everyone's hearts.
"Then... what must I do to save my daughter?"
"Help me make an artifact."
"Can that alone solve it?"
"It's not 'alone.' It involves wielding a divine authority."
Whew—The grand duke closed his eyes and nodded. He then removed his fur cloak and draped it over Lawrence.
His children stared in astonishment at the gesture.
"Father."
"From now on, Lawrence Montemer acts on equal footing with Lancel Gaudie. Use him freely, wield him as you will. And... save my daughter."
Lancel Gaudie bowed deeply. The hegemon, king of the North, scourge of barbarians—bowing to a mere child.
Lawrence returned the bow.
"Don't worry. I'll protect Your Grace's family."
"I entrust it to you."
Late into the night, Lawrence had gained a powerful ally. The moment the North's overlord extended his hand.
#2
The next day, the early morning meeting began. Montemer's reinforcements, led by Freya, had arrived, along with the grand duke's vassals.
There was no posturing or power plays. This was just the annual event.
"Lady Freya, it's been a while. You were here five years ago too, yes?"
"Indeed. I hope you've been well, Lord Oberon."
"Hoho, me? Doing fine!"
The atmosphere was warm and friendly. If anything, they seemed eager to wrap up quickly and enjoy the North's specialty honey mead.
"By the way, have you seen the young master and lady?"
"No, I haven't. Why?"
The issue was that Lawrence and Loria, who should have arrived early, were nowhere to be seen.
Freya asked, but no one knew. Where on earth had they gone? She'd told them this important meeting couldn't be late.
Then the door burst open, signaling the real start of the meeting.
A voice boomed through the hall, announcing the grand duke's entrance.
"His Grace the Grand Duke enters!"
With a resounding voice came the grand duke's heavy footsteps. And something in his hand.
Red droplets splattered onto the floor.
No one there was ignorant of what that meant.
"Th-That's—?"
"Lord Rutin!?"
"H-How could Lord Rutin—."
James Rutin appeared as a blood-soaked corpse. The people held their breath, staring at the grand duke.
His emotionless demeanor was the epitome of the North's hegemon, his bloodlust crushing the space like a wild beast's.
He wasn't merciless even to his vassals—what had happened...?
"The great wolf of the North! Young Master Lake and Lady Leila enter!"
"Huh!?"
"The young master's awake?"
Lake strode in confidently despite his pallor. Leila followed, fully armored with a cold expression.
All eyes turned to Lake, who had been bedridden just yesterday.
"How... how is this possible..."
"Even pouring in holy power couldn't achieve this..."
The shrine maidens waiting on the side whispered among themselves.
The two stood at the grand duke's left and right, like steadfast guardian lions, tightening the room's atmosphere.
Two more entrants followed.
"The great house of magic, the two scions of Montemer enter!"
After the shocking announcement, Lawrence appeared draped in a trailing fur cloak. Loria, entering under the Montemer name, tried her best to look dignified.
Everyone's eyes widened in shock. No one in the North was unaware of that fur cloak's meaning.
Silence fell. Even Freya gaped, watching Lawrence's steps.
What on earth had happened overnight?
'Young Master Lawrence with that cloak...?'
Draping the fur cloak was an ancient Northern custom signifying recognition as an equal. No one had ever worn the grand duke's cloak before, yet here Lawrence was, wearing it boldly.
No one could treat the young lord lightly now.
As the two took their seats, the grand duke tossed Lord Rutin to the floor.
James Rutin rolled across the ground, spraying blood.
"I was late because I stopped to slaughter his children on the way. This one's guilty of treason."
"..."
"Even if you covet the grand duke's seat, cursing my son and linking with black mages? Really?"
"I-Is that true?"
"Do I look like a liar to you?"
"N-No, sir."
Someone bravely spoke up, only making the mood more tense.
Collusion with undead and black mages happened often. Some places even used undead as pure labor.
But in the Empire's North, it was different. At least under Gaudie walls, undead and black mages were targets for extermination.
If Amon's influence spread, demons would follow. That's why the guardians were wiped out, leaving humanity, beastkin, and other races to defend the world alone.
"Tear his limbs apart and feed them to the wolves. And... I declare here."
The grand duke's eyes flicked briefly to Lawrence.
If he didn't crush their spirits now, rebels would emerge someday. A safe haven? He'd fulfill that role thoroughly.
"Lawrence Montemer, the youngest scion of the great magical house, saved my son. He even played a decisive role in finding the culprit. House Gaudie owes him immense grace."
"Ooh..."
"As expected of our young master."
"Heard he matched Lady Leila evenly in their duel?"
Murmurs rippled through. The reaction wasn't bad.
Lawrence stood subtly, bowing to everyone.
"From now on, any hostility toward Young Master Lawrence will be seen as a challenge to me. Try it if you're confident."
Crack—! The grand duke crushed Rutin's skull underfoot.
It was brutal, but this was the North, the Empire's frontier. Everyone bowed before the hegemon as if accustomed to it.
'Whoa, the grand duke's on fire.'
Lawrence inwardly admired it too.
"Then, let's begin the meeting."
Blood still uncleaned, the subjugation war council started.