Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Audience with the Patriarch
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Thud, thud!
The warrior from the Crimson Dragon Squad leading Ian's group toward the Patriarch's Hall, Alsar, kept secretly observing Ian and the Latent Dragon Squad members.
Every member of the Latent Dragon Squad was a strong personality.
They were all rejects who hadn't been accepted in their original groups, wandering aimlessly like stray dogs.
There were plenty of strike teams eager for these rough, protruding stones, but no one had succeeded in smoothing them down.
Yet these troublemakers and misfits had come back with news of successfully subjugating the Red Fang Orcs of Mount Flame.
And in a ridiculously short time—at most a week.
'Ralph, Ryu An, Sylvia, Dane, Helena... Their skills aren't bad for their age, from what I heard.'
Even so, they weren't skilled enough to annihilate a well-organized orc tribe.
In the end, there was only one variable in this mission.
'The Second Young Lord...'
Second Young Lord, Ian Lichtenauer.
The half-wit of the family who had inherited the Patriarch's blood—the clan's ruler—most purely, yet hadn't learned a single martial technique.
That was how everyone had evaluated him until just recently.
He had started showing a changed demeanor right from the Gate Opening Ceremony in the Patriarch's audience chamber.
Word was, he'd chosen the Black-White Sword Pair from the Weapon Orb.
Ian didn't know it, but the Black-White Sword Pair was a fairly famous weapon within the clan.
After drawing attention by selecting such a weapon, he'd produced this unexpected result.
'I'm curious what the Patriarch will say.'
Of course, Alsar himself wouldn't be privy to it. As a member of the Black Wind Squad, he was only permitted up to the outskirts of the Patriarch's Hall.
"Come to think of it."
As Alsar walked ahead, sorting through his thoughts alone, the Second Young Lord's low voice reached his ears.
"Things were so hectic I couldn't even greet you properly. Weren't you the one who welcomed me at the entrance to the Patriarch's Hall during the last Gate Opening Ceremony?"
'...What?'
Alsar's shoulders twitched ever so slightly at Ian's unexpected words, but it was so subtle no one present noticed.
Regaining his composure, Alsar replied nonchalantly.
"...Beats me. No idea what you're talking about."
"Is that so? My mistake then. Haha."
Ian lightly apologized to Alsar, claiming it was his error.
But Alsar, uncharacteristically startled, couldn't laugh it off as casually as Ian.
'...Well, well. He remembers my aura out of all those energies from back then?'
The entrance to the Patriarch's Hall was guarded by nearly the entire Crimson Dragon Squad.
Enduring the auras from that many Crimson Dragon Squad members would have been overwhelming enough, yet he'd clearly remembered Alsar's own amid the mix.
'Impressive. Didn't expect the Second Young Lord to have such keen aura perception.'
Of course, Alsar assumed it was just basic aura sensing.
The Crimson Dragon Squad's pressure was immense enough to overwhelm even the Eldest Young Lord, Alex, during the ceremony.
No matter how surprisingly capable the Second Young Lord had seemed lately, the clan's walls weren't that easy to scale.
As their brief exchange and thoughts flowed, the group had arrived at the Patriarch's Hall entrance.
"From here, go in on your own. The Patriarch is waiting, so don't dawdle."
Perhaps due to prior arrangements.
Even without Alsar saying much, someone emerged from the Patriarch's Hall to verify Ian's group's identities.
Whoosh!
The entrance to the Patriarch's Hall slid open smoothly.
Watching Ian and the Latent Dragon Squad members gradually disappear through the massive doors, Alsar suddenly had a thought.
'...Things in the clan might change a lot from now on.'
A strange sense of anticipation flickered in Alsar's eyes.
Perhaps because he'd spent long years guarding the Patriarch's Hall as a Crimson Dragon Squad member, witnessing the clan's shifts.
The current clan was overly stagnant.
Under Paon’s rule, it was a peaceful era with no major threats even across Bestrika, let alone within the clan.
But stability, twisted slightly, meant stagnation—a dead calm without change.
...Grip!
Alsar's fist clenched.
Perhaps like the past, when Paon Lichtenauer had led the Crimson Dragon Squad to seize this vast clan and ascend to Patriarch.
With that premonition that the clan's subdued atmosphere might blaze hot once more.
...Gulp!
As Ian stepped into the audience chamber, the sound of swallowing tickled his ears repeatedly.
Glancing back at the source, he saw beads of sweat on every squad member's forehead.
Anyone could see they were brimming with tension.
In truth, the Latent Dragon Squad's reaction was perfectly normal.
Sure, they were all stubborn hotheads, but even hotheads knew when to pick their spots.
Paon Lichtenauer stood at the pinnacle of the clan's entire might, including the vassal families.
In this southern continent's Aslan Kingdom of Bestrika, Paon bowed to only one man.
The king who ruled Aslan, King Demur Aslan.
No—even King Demur treated the clan's master, Paon, with utmost courtesy.
This was essentially a meeting with one of the continent's highest powers.
To the squad members, Ian's extreme nonchalance probably looked even stranger.
Thud, thud!
As Ian slowly approached Paon—who sat with a bored expression, chin resting on one hand—the squad members, frozen stiff as ice, hurriedly followed behind.
Reaching the center of the audience chamber, Ian slowly dropped to one knee and greeted Paon.
"Greetings, Patriarch. I've come at your summons."
Paon, who had been ignoring him, slowly turned his head at Ian's plain report.
"Rise, all of you. I called you here to commend those who achieved great feats. No need to stay frozen."
Swish!
With a casual wave of Paon's hand, Ian and the kneeling squad members' bodies straightened involuntarily.
"……!!"
To defy another's will and manipulate their body to his own—that was the effortless might of one who had reached supreme heights.
"Well then, Ian Lichtenauer. As Latent Dragon Squad's leader, you've excellently completed your first mission. Tell me in detail what happened there."
Paon's question covered what Ian had already reported in writing upon return, but he couldn't very well say, 'That's not my problem—check the documents you received.'
"...Understood, as you command. So, when we first arrived at the orc village..."
Ian's low voice filled the silent audience chamber.
Paon kept his chin on his arm, but his bored expression had shifted to one of keen interest and curiosity as he listened intently.
Ian recounted everything without omission—except for the White Ghost Group item found in the orc village.
It was deemed a demonic artifact; mentioning it would surely lead to confiscation.
'Can't have that.'
To others, it might be a demonic thing, but to Ian, it was treasure.
"...And so, I have one request to make."
"Oh? A request?"
Having finished his tale, Ian added a final remark.
Curiosity flickered across Paon's face, who had been listening with interest.
"The spoils from the Red Fang Tribe's village—I'd like most of them distributed to rebuild the villages around Mount Flame and help the affected merchant groups recover."
"Hmm, you sure? Spoils from a mission traditionally go to the successful strike team. No one's ever waived their claim before. From their perspective, they're grateful just for our aid in reclaiming their homes—it's only natural. However."
Paon paused, staring straight into Ian's eyes.
"Your action now might make it no longer 'natural' in the future. Continuous favors breed entitlement. It could embolden many to demand it as a right."
Paon added slyly.
"Humans are creatures who want to walk if they run, stand if they walk, sit if they stand, and lie down if they sit. If they grow accustomed to your favors and their demands escalate, what then? Is this truly the path for the clan?"
Ian replied with firm conviction to Paon's question.
"Absolutely. The clan exists because of them."
"Ho?"
"As you say, Patriarch, some might claim rights—naturally so. But far more will hold goodwill toward the clan, and that goodwill becomes our strength. Their goods, their food... Such unseen support lets our warriors focus solely on martial arts. A flow disrupted in one place shakes the whole. If those at the bottom can't fulfill their roles in the clan's cycle, won't the head eventually shake too?"
"Overly concerned and worried."
In the clan's long history, it had never faltered.
If Ian were right, it couldn't have endured so stably.
Yet Ian didn't yield before Paon.
"Cracks seem solid until they form, then spread uncontrollably in an instant. Making the clan's prestige unassailable—ensuring no cracks ever form—isn't that the surest way to set it on solid ground?"
Paon stroked his chin, amused by Ian's boldness.
"Intriguing. Well... if you put it that way. Fine. Spoils belong to the team that claimed them. I'll have the steward deduct the clan's share and prepare the rest for reconstruction. The remainder is yours. Plenty of time before your next mission—rest up."
With business concluded, Paon dismissed Ian's group.
After Ian and the squad left.
"Quite the bold one, isn't he?"
Paon chuckled at Nedyr, who had stood silently listening from the side.
"Hahaha! Things are getting fun, aren't they?"
"Hehehe! Indeed. This mission will shift views on the Latent Dragon Squad. Nothing breaks prejudices like results. Looks like the Eldest Young Lord's scheme backfired on himself."
Building the big picture, stacking justifications to bind opponents immobile.
Ultimately steering everything to his design—that was Alex's way.
His innate political sense and scheming heart were flawless for leading a clan.
Yes.
If Alex were 'Steward.'
There are such people.
Those who overturn even the most meticulously laid plans relying solely on their own power, no matter the plots or strategies.
Rare, but once they appear, to grand schemers like Alex, they were akin to disasters.
Impossible to counter with strategy from the start.
Such people fall into two types.
Those who rampage like thunderbolts until they die unnoticed and fade quietly.
Or those who overcome all adversity to become era-shaking 'Hegemons.'
"Exciting, very exciting. Alex must have heard about Ian by now. Wonder how he'll move?"
The Latent Dragon Squad, shattering their old reputation and proving their worth.
If this wasn't the end—and their skill no fluke—their rise was inevitable.
Then not just Alex, but the vassal heirs would eye Ian and his squad.
And choose.
To pull Ian to their side.
Or crush him with all their might.
Blood kin or not, Paon had no intention of shielding Ian from crises.
Crushing rivals and ascending proudly to the peak.
That was the unavoidable mountain any clan heir must climb.
'Keep proving it. Whether you're a star to light the night sky, or a meteor that flickers and fades.'
When the end result emerged, the clan's next master would be decided.