Chapter 52
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Dividing Lucas
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A month had passed.
And finally, on the morning that the Proxy Blood Fate between Lucas, the Argent Family, and Elcia was set to begin.
The Argent territory had been holding its breath since dawn.
The soldiers guarding the ramparts were already soaked with sweat inside their armor, and even the servants who would normally bustle about had lightened their footsteps and curbed their chatter.
Not even when the three high elf princesses from the Elf Kingdom had arrived just a month ago had it been like this.
Back then, it had been vigilance. Today, it was awe.
Rumble rumble rumble.
In front of the territory's main gate, at the end of a crimson red carpet.
There stood the four heirs poised to lead the next generation of Argent.
And behind them was the current head of the Argent Family, Agram himself.
A man who would never have any reason to step outside the castle gates under normal circumstances.
His personal presence alone made it abundantly clear just how exalted today's visitors were.
The youngest, Syl, was doing her best to square her shoulders and lift her chin, but her hand unconsciously gnawed at her nails.
The third, Walter, was pale-faced, forcing himself to steady his nerves as if he'd never endured such formality before.
The second, Seratina, drew in a short breath to compose herself. She knew better than anyone what this occasion signified.
And the first, Wolfram.
He gazed silently beyond the gate, then slowly raised his hand.
It was the very moment a carriage's silhouette emerged through the dust beyond the gates.
At once, the waiting soldiers sprang into action.
Cannon fire streaked across the sky with a boom, the clamor of metal and gunpowder echoing throughout the territory.
This was no mere ceremonial welcome.
Nor was it a show of submission.
It was the courtesy the Argent Family had chosen to affirm their own stature.
Not to exalt the guests, but to demonstrate that the Argent Family was anything but trivial.
The Argent Family was receiving guests today.
But no one bowed their head.
It was simply a stage for mutual testing.
"Belcia, Celcia... and Elcia. I trust you've been well."
The voice drifting from within the carriage was low and slow.
Yet strangely clear.
"Yes, Father..."
"Daddy!"
"Did your back hurt on the journey?"
Voices of varying warmth poured out all at once.
The eldest daughter's cautious tone, the youngest's unreserved joy, and the third's concern slipping out first in between.
"I'm fine today."
The king chuckled briefly in reply.
"So don't worry."
With those words, the carriage door swung open.
Once again, what entered the Argent territory was no human-style carriage carved from wood and adorned with frippery.
Its wood grain flowed unmarred, its structure free of needless ornamentation.
It seemed less crafted by hand than transplanted straight from nature's own form.
The horses pulling it were the same.
Only the barest reins to guide their direction—no restraints symbolizing subjugation in sight.
"His Majesty the King arrives. Clear the path!"
Trumpets blared.
With the sound, the Elf Kingdom's royal archers encircling the carriage withdrew in unison.
Movements as disciplined as those of the Argent soldiers.
And through that gap, one figure emerged.
A middle-aged elf descending slowly, leaning on his staff.
Though wrinkles of age creased the corners of his eyes and mouth, his gaze was unnervingly firm.
The dignity of a long-lived race lingered, its weight unmistakable at a glance.
The being who had sat upon the Elf Kingdom's throne for over five hundred years.
The current king of the Elf Kingdom, Erdas Silvarion.
"Ahem."
A light cough.
An action that might seem frail at first glance, yet it held no disarray.
And in the next moment.
As his daughters already in the Argent territory rushed forward, Erdas's face melted into the gentlest father's smile imaginable.
Even the hand gripping his staff relaxed for a moment as he embraced them.
Watching the scene, Family Head Agram let out a short snort.
Such blatant theatrics.
And not even bothering to hide it.
'As expected.'
Agram's eyes narrowed.
He was no longer naive enough to miss how much of the old elf's frailty was calculated.
"Welcome, Your Majesty King Erdas. It's been far too long."
"Oh ho, who might this be."
Erdas chuckled languidly.
"Agram Argent. I hear you're the family head now... is that right? How fares your father?"
"My father passed five years ago from diabetes."
Agram replied without letting his smile falter.
"And it's been twenty years now since I took over as head."
A brief silence.
"I see."
Erdas nodded.
"As an elf, I'm still not used to the short-lived races' sense of time. Though... I first met you nearly fifty years ago, so it figures."
The two approached and shook hands.
On the surface, a courteous greeting.
But in that short moment their hands clasped without releasing, their eyes probed each other like swords.
Smiles on their faces, yet the exchange held more than mere amusement.
Gauging where sincerity ended and calculation began.
Testing the line where courtesy soured into displeasure—a familiar war of nerves.
The children standing nearby exchanged silent glances of their own.
They could sense this was no simple small talk.
But for now, this level of probing sufficed.
"Thank you for inviting us to this Proxy Blood Fate, Family Head Agram."
"It's our honor."
Agram nodded.
"Since we'll soon be family, we're grateful you wished to witness the Argent traditions firsthand."
"However."
"...?"
Erdas paused, glancing briefly at his eldest daughter standing demurely at his side.
When his gaze returned forward, a faint smile played on his lips.
"This Proxy Blood Fate."
He spoke slowly.
"I hear it's a ritual where two equal houses stake proxies in combat."
"That's correct."
"But this time..."
Erdas's eyes narrowed.
"I can't help feeling that pitting our Elcia against your... 'bastard' isn't exactly equal footing."
The moment he heard it, Agram understood.
What the old elf was after.
The cunning of one who had reigned over the impregnable Elf Kingdom—never once invaded in thousands of years—for over five centuries.
Aged, but never one to strike a bad bargain.
Pretending to question the Proxy Blood Fate's terms while subtly undermining the matchup itself.
Tilting the scales to frame the bout as an insult to a high elf from the start.
"If it were one of your formal heirs facing Elcia, I'd accept it."
Erdas continued.
"But a bastard? Win and cancel the betrothal; lose and forfeit everything already promised...?"
He tilted his head.
"Frankly, this goes beyond unfair—it's downright dismissive of us, wouldn't you say?"
"What is it you want to say."
Agram's voice remained steady.
"Simple."
Erdas smiled.
"The Spring of Immortality we planned to offer as a betrothal gift? We won't be taking it back to the Elf Kingdom."
After a pause, he added,
"Instead, since we've come all this way, won't you allow me to use it right here?"
A sly old fox.
That had been the goal all along.
The reason the Elf Kingdom, willing to go to war for Aira, had suddenly halted and opted for diplomacy on the surface.
The Spring of Immortality, which washed away all wounds, diseases, and even the chronic ailments inevitable for the long-lived.
"Understood."
Agram nodded.
"That's no issue."
As long as it wasn't being carted out of the territory, it was within acceptable bounds.
He could play along this far.
True beasts kept their claws hidden until the end.
However.
"And one more thing."
The languid voice rang out again.
"If we win."
"...?"
"That bastard challenging Elcia this time."
A feigned moment of thought.
"Lucas Argent, was it? I'd like to take him back to the Elf Kingdom as well."
That was it.
No need to tolerate further.
It was a demand that clearly crossed the line.
"...That's impossible."
A voice sliced cold and clean.
"Lucas may be called half-breed, but he bears the Argent blood."
This refusal wasn't paternal emotion.
Pure calculation as family head.
Even if half, handing over family blood to the insular Elf Kingdom was problematic in every way.
"Besides, sending a child not yet of age to the Elf Kingdom would tarnish the family's honor."
"Haha."
A light laugh.
"Don't you already have Aira?"
"That's different."
Immediate rebuttal.
"Picking up something abandoned by chance is worlds apart from giving it away from the start."
"So you won't hand him over? If it's tricky, we could always trade."
"I'll pass."
Short and firm.
He wasn't naive enough to miss the implications of "trade."
To high elves with their abysmal birth rates, a human boy of valuable lineage was treasure in itself.
They wanted little.
But once they fixated, they were more tenacious than Argent.
Even a child—if deemed useful—they'd be wring dry to the last drop.
They had no intention whatsoever of handing Lucas to such folk.
Selling Lucas would only ever be to someone under their own command.
The verbal sparring over Lucas was reigniting just as—
Neigh!
A horse's cry cut through the air.
"Hm?"
"What's that...?"
All eyes turned naturally backward.
The honored guests entering the territory today should have been only the Elf Kingdom's royals.
Yet at the rear of the procession that should have ended, another carriage appeared.
More striking than the carriage was the single pure white horse standing tall before it.
Not just the soldiers, but heirs from both Argent and the elves tilted their heads.
Even the family head and king narrowed their eyes, as Agram recognized the crest emblazoned on the carriage's side and furrowed his brow.
And at that moment.
A voice far clearer and more resonant than the one announcing Erdas rang out.
"Her Highness Second Princess Evelyn of the Abellan Empire has arrived!"