Lucian's words made Marius blink blankly.
It was the expression of someone who had never imagined he'd hear something like that.
"Mastermind theatrics? Theatrics?"
"Then if it's not theatrics, what exactly do you think you were doing?"
Lucian spoke while looking at Marius with a gaze full of exasperation.
"If you search the world, you'll find people who truly deserve to be called masterminds. But at the very least, you aren't one of them."
From Lucian's perspective—having weathered all manner of turmoil—everything about Marius was sloppy.
Why had that chieftain, Ivar, rejected Marius's proposal in the first place?
Because from the very beginning, Marius had laid all his cards on the table and presented only the scenario he thought was ideal.
He hadn't given a moment's thought to what the other party actually wanted, or how to prod at those desires.
"Even the plan that brought me here is nothing but improvised patchwork. You didn't bother to figure out what kind of person I am at all—you just relied on astrology. What exactly is that supposed to accomplish?"
"That's because, unlike you, I—"
"Even if you believe in astrology, any plan still requires at least a minimum level of information gathering. But you went in assuming from the start that circumstances would conveniently turn in your favor."
A proper scheme is built by creating a situation the other party cannot refuse, and only then setting the next step in motion.
By contrast, Marius had left all of his opponent's options wide open, simply assuming they would move exactly as he wished.
At this point, it wasn't even a matter of being a mastermind—he lacked competence even as a mere bureaucrat.
"Things going exactly according to your plan was pure coincidence. Don't get carried away and mistake a favorable outcome for your own ability."
"I've never been carried away. I only laid everything bare because I was worried I'd be blamed for it all once the truth came out."
Marius cut Lucian off, his expression slightly stiff.
"I spoke only because you wanted to hear it. So don't read strange intentions into it."
"Well, thanks to that story, I think I more or less understand your obsession. And I understand why you called me here."
"Then I'll make the offer once more. Rebuild the Magic Tower. In return, I'll give you an army, the Dragon's Heart, and the power to rule the continent."
The power to rule the continent.
It sounded grandiose, but it wasn't entirely wrong.
The unnatural cold of the north was likely the artifact's doing.
An artifact capable of freely manipulating the climate of an entire region—
If precise control were possible, then excuses and justifications would be unnecessary.
Even so, Lucian felt no temptation at all in that proposal.
From the moment he arrived here, there was no longer any need to accept Marius's offer.
The fact that Marius failed to realize this only proved how inept he truly was at politics.
"First of all—"
"First of all?"
Lucian finished his thoughts and spoke to Marius, who was watching him with expectant eyes.
"Let's rest and talk again later. It's been a long journey, and I'm tired."
"…"
***
"Nice house."
After postponing the decision, Lucian's group headed to Gunstein's home.
Perhaps because he was the chieftain's son, it wasn't as large as the Pathfinder Marius's place, but it was still noticeably bigger than the others.
"It's a bit cramped for all of us to stay, but it'll do just fine. Thanks to you, we'll be comfortable."
"…Thank you."
Gunstein bowed his head, his expression slightly gloomy.
Watching him, Lucian let out a small chuckle.
"You still taking the Pathfinder's words to heart?"
"That is…"
"Gunstein."
Lucian looked straight at him with an uncharacteristically serious expression.
Seeing eyes he had never seen before, Gunstein flinched and dropped to one knee.
"Yes, my lord."
"Was the strength with which I defeated you a lie? Did I win because someone arranged things in my favor?"
"No."
"Then did you attack me because of someone else's scheme? Did you have no ambition of your own?"
"N-no, that's not it either."
"And what about saying it was more worthwhile to serve me than your brothers? Was that all made up?"
"Absolutely not!"
"Then what's the problem?"
"…."
Gunstein paused to think, then tilted his head slightly.
Come to think of it, there wasn't really a problem at all.
If Lucian hadn't come here, he would have ended up serving one of his unremarkable brothers as chieftain.
If he was destined not to become chieftain himself and to serve someone anyway, then this was the best possible outcome.
"Don't let yourself be toyed with by wordplay about prophecies. Saying everything went according to my will after things have already happened is something even a child can do. And if the result turned out in your favor, there's even less reason to worry about it."
"I—I'm sorry."
At Lucian's words, Gunstein bowed his head.
It was just a simple remark, yet it felt as though the knot in his chest had completely unraveled.
Turning his gaze away from Gunstein, Lucian looked at Colin and Helen.
"Colin didn't know anything, so that's understandable… but Helen."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"How much did you know about your master's plans?"
"As I said before—only up to the army and the Dragon's Heart. I'd never even heard of the Magic Tower, let alone an artifact."
Helen explained with a pale face.
She looked torn between fearing she might lose Lucian's trust and being overwhelmed by how far her master had taken things.
By contrast, now that he understood the full situation, Colin appeared relatively calm.
"Colin. What do you think? Now that you know the whole story, you must have your own thoughts."
"There's no need for deep deliberation. Master is taking things too far."
"If it all works out, I'll gain absolute power, and mages will reclaim their former glory overnight."
"There was no need for such a gamble. We could have steadily proven the usefulness of magic instead. But Master…"
Unable to bring himself to curse his own master, Colin bit his lip.
Lucian supplied the words Colin couldn't say.
"He rushed things because he wanted to see something before he died—without any consideration for the generation that comes after."
Marius was the complete opposite of Aizen.
If Aizen, having already achieved everything, sought a successor to carry on his legacy, then Marius wanted to accomplish something with his own hands, even if it meant harming the disciples he had raised.
It was likely the result of years of bitterness accumulated from the Imperial witch hunts.
When Lucian didn't add anything further, Raymond—who had remained silent until now—finally spoke.
"What do you plan to do, Your Highness?"
"Plan to do?"
"About that mage's proposal. Will you accept it?"
"Oh, that?"
Lucian smiled faintly, as if he'd only just remembered.
"Just leave it be."
"Pardon?"
"Proposal or not, everything was already decided the moment I arrived here. That old man just doesn't realize it yet."
"Rather than that, let's think about how we're going to secure an army here. The board's been set—so the other side is bound to react…"
It was at that moment.
"Brother! Brotheeer!"
A voice filled with panic rang out as one of Gunstein's subordinates burst in from outside.
Gunstein frowned sharply at the man's behavior.
"You fool—do you still think this is a place where I live alone? Our lord is here!"
"I-I'm sorry! I was in a hurry…!"
"What is it that's got you so worked up? Speak."
"The chieftain says he'll be holding a banquet this evening. All warriors with rights of succession are to attend without exception!"
Everyone present turned their gaze to Lucian.
The right of succession to the chieftain's seat had originally belonged to Gunstein, but it had now passed to Lucian.
Under the weight of those tense looks, Lucian replied with a relaxed smile.
"Perfect timing. Let's go see the chieftain's face for ourselves."
***
When one thinks of a banquet in the Empire, it usually conjures images of lavish feasts held in castles or lords' manors.
But here, banquets were typically held inside thick tents set up outdoors.
It seemed they lacked the leeway to erect massive structures, so temporary banquet halls like this were the norm.
"I thought it'd be held completely outdoors," Lucian remarked.
"Even for us, who are used to the cold, eating and drinking outside for hours is a bit much. And there are other people's eyes to consider as well…"
"I suppose that's true."
At Gunstein's explanation, Lucian nodded in understanding.
In a land where resources were already scarce, openly flaunting food and drink wouldn't be a good idea.
"Still, is this really a banquet?"
As their conversation ended, Hugo cut in from the side with a hollow laugh.
No matter how scarce resources were in the snowfields, it was far too meager to be called a banquet.
"Meat, meat, meat… It's nothing but meat."
At that, everyone nodded.
The wide tables were covered with nothing but meat.
If there had at least been some variety in preparation it would be one thing, but most of it was simply roasted whole or cut up and grilled.
Even a village feast in some remote corner of the Empire would probably have offered a greater variety of dishes.
Annoyed by the others' reactions, Gunstein glared at Hugo.
"There's alcohol too, isn't there? What more do you need at a banquet besides meat and drink?"
"Well, sure, but what kind of alcohol is that?"
"What do you mean, what kind? Alcohol is alcohol."
At Gunstein's answer, Hugo shook his head in disbelief.
If he didn't even understand the question of what kind of liquor it was, that meant there was only one kind to begin with.
From the lowest-ranking warrior to the chieftain who ruled the tribe, everyone drank the same thing—so naturally, it didn't even have a name.
"Damn it. Do we have to eat like this the whole time we're here? Aren't there any vegetables?"
"Your body's fine—why are you looking for vegetables? If you get sick, go get medicine from the healer."
"This is driving me crazy. I was already getting sick of meat after eating nothing but it on the way here."
"That's enough. Sit down. Looks like others are starting to arrive."
Flap.
No sooner had he finished speaking than a group of people entered the tent.
Judging by the scent of blood and the many scars crisscrossing their bodies, they looked like seasoned warriors.
Among them, Lucian's gaze fixed on the warrior at the front.
—
—
Brothers, huh.
From their facial features to their brown beards, the resemblance made their relationship obvious at a glance.
The differences were a scar that ran across the right eye—and a physique a full head taller than the other warriors.
The warrior swept his gaze over the banquet hall as he entered the tent, then soon locked eyes with Lucian.
"Oh ho."
He deliberately murmured an exclamation loud enough for everyone to hear.
"I heard my little brother was defeated by a great warrior, and it seems the rumors were true. Just looking at your face, I can feel a warrior's valor. No wonder my brother lost."
"Brunda…!"
At the words of his elder brother Brunda, Gunstein clenched his teeth.
Lucian's appearance was, by any standard, ill-suited to a snowfield warrior.
He was small-framed, beardless, and not particularly muscular.
And yet Brunda went out of his way to say he looked like a warrior?
It was closer to mockery than praise.
But Lucian didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow as he replied, looking straight at Brunda.
"Compared to that, you look rather flimsy. Your muscles seem hollow—you should work on your fundamentals. If I tapped you lightly, you look like you'd snap."
The grin on Brunda's face froze solid.
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