A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles

In the current Empire, the ambitious usually brandish one of three pretexts to justify their military movements.

The first is to claim that the collateral prince they support is the true heir and, by doing so, aspire to the position of regent.

The second is to demand accountability from the Second Prince in order to uncover the true will of the previous emperor and bring the truth to light.

The third to proclaim loyalty, rescue the First Prince—the legitimate heir—and carry out the will of the late emperor.

‘Any of them sounds reasonable at first glance, but in practice, only the third can be called a genuine pretext.’

In the first case, the supposed collateral prince they present is far too removed from the line of succession.

Not even lords who had never heard of his existence would recognize him, and to anyone it is obvious that naked ambition lies behind that stance.

Naturally, forces may join them out of convenience, but no one feels any real empathy.

The second is the same.

It has even less persuasive power than the first, because it postpones any resolution without offering a concrete way out.

It is nothing more than a patched-together pretext, presented provisionally until a “proper” justification can be found to legitimize military action.

‘The only truly solid pretext is to support the First Prince, as I do—although, to be honest, even they do not truly wish to rescue the First Prince.’

The great houses, with power and real means to fulfill their ambitions, all adopted the first pretext.

Once the collar with which the imperial family had been suffocating them was broken, who in their right mind would put it back on?

That is why those who raised the banner of rescuing the First Prince were, for the most part, weak houses with no real strength to oppose imperial power.

In other words, it was not that they genuinely wished to save the First Prince, but that they sought an indisputable pretext to repel external invasions.

When one raises a cause that no one can deny, even invaders think twice.

Surprisingly, this strategy proved quite effective, and not a few houses managed to keep themselves safe from outside attacks.

But where there is benefit, there is also disadvantage. The third pretext does not grant only advantages.

“Once you decide to support the First Prince, if he gives an order in person, you cannot disobey it.”

“That is the price of feigned loyalty. If you change your tune later, you not only become a laughingstock—you lose all credibility in times of chaos. It’s backing yourself into a corner.”

Raymond spoke after Lucian. The cold sweat had already stopped, but his body still trembled slightly, as if the earlier shock had not fully faded.

“To be honest, even if it was a dead end, it also seemed to me like a rather decent method. Escaping the capital, controlled by the Second Prince, was practically impossible for the First Prince.”

“I think the same. If there were someone with the ability to get him out of there, they would pursue their own ambition first.”

Even if the Second Prince was competent, he was not an omniscient monster capable of manipulating the entire Empire from the palm of his hand.

It would have been enough for a few capable nobles to join forces to rescue the First Prince.

The problem was that, in such a chaotic era, no competent noble would rally behind such a despicable First Prince.

Those who clung to him were only those with ambiguous power and talent, desperate for a dramatic turnaround.

At that level, the Second Prince could stop them without much difficulty.

“…But who would have thought he would actually manage to escape. Did he use a magical artifact?”

“Most likely. If he had escaped by any other means, he would have been captured during the flight or collapsed from exhaustion.”

“True. Besides, there is no other way to reach this remote north alone.”

The First Prince was incapable of even preparing a decent meal by himself.

No matter how well he evaded pursuers, if he had traveled alone and without an escort, he would have starved to death along the way.

The very fact that he had reached the north in acceptable condition was proof that he had used a magical artifact.

At Lucian’s murmur, Raymond adopted an awkward expression.

“Uh… to be frank, the First Prince’s condition is not exactly good.”

“What? Was he attacked by some wild beast?”

“It’s not that serious. It would be better if you saw it yourself.”

Raymond’s ambiguous tone made Lucian frown. From the way he put it, it did not sound like a serious injury—so what had happened?

Shortly after, upon arriving at the underground prison, Lucian headed to the cell where the First Prince was being held. Inside, a figure in prisoner’s clothes stood with his back turned.

“First Prince?”

“…”

Lucian spoke cautiously, but the silhouette did not move. It was unclear whether he was deliberately ignoring him or simply sleeping like that.

“Your Highness? Are you asleep?”

“…Wha the hell ih gohing on rihght noh…?!”

“Huh?”

Upon hearing that slurred, hissing voice, almost as if his tongue were swollen, Lucian asked without thinking.

Beyond how difficult it was to understand, he could not comprehend why he was speaking that way.

When no response came, the figure suddenly turned around and shouted.

“Lohk at thih! Thoh guyh under yohh command did thih to me…!”

“Pfft!”

Upon seeing the face of the First Prince, Claude, Lucian had to suppress the laughter that nearly burst out.

His face, completely swollen, looked like bread baked with the wrong ingredients.

Seeing Lucian holding back his laughter, Claude tried to say something more in fury, but ended up closing his mouth.

In that state, anything he said would be nothing more than a strange, incomprehensible sound.

Lucian, struggling to hold in his laughter, spoke.

“To… to the First Prince… kuh! Bring him a potion immediately!”

***

The effect of the potion made by Ian surpassed any other Claude had ever used.

In an instant, the swelling on his face went down and the pain disappeared completely.

However, for Claude, consumed by overwhelming fury, the potion’s effect was the least of his concerns.

“Duke Lucian, thish… I… at the gate, the castleh gate…!”

His face still flushed, Claude spat out disjointed words without any order.

He was so furious he didn’t even seem to know where to start explaining what had happened.

Lucian waited in silence, and after several deep breaths, Claude opened his eyes wide.

“Duke! Order those mutts at the gate to be brought here—heads first!”

“Calm down. What crime did those men commit against Your Highness to warrant such a request?”

“Can’t you see?! A mere guard shouldn’t even dare to step on my shadow, and they had the audacity to…!”

Saying out loud that he had been beaten seemed deeply humiliating to him, because Claude couldn’t finish the sentence and began to stutter.

Lucian tried to calm him before he exploded.

“First explain how you ended up here. What exactly happened in the capital?”

“Now you’re interrogating me?!”

“That’s not—”

“Shut up and get me out of here immediately! And after that, bring me those two guards’ heads and lay them at my feet! I’ll talk then!”

Claude’s attitude made it clear he had no intention of having a dialogue.

Lucian clicked his tongue silently.

Before, at least, Claude seemed to have a minimum sense of self-restraint—but now, not even that.

With his father gone, the man he had feared, he no longer felt the need to hold back.

‘It’s impossible to talk to him like this.’

In Claude’s mind, Lucian was a subordinate who had to obey him without question.

As long as that idea didn’t change, any conversation was impossible.

There would be no dialogue, only orders and reprimands.

‘I wanted to treat him with respect because of the debt I owe the late emperor, but…’

Lucian sighed and rose from his seat. If there was no other option, there was only one thing to do.

Seeing him stand, Claude misunderstood the situation and spoke irritably.

“Open the door already, Duke. My patience is not infinite.”

“…I know. That’s why I think it would be good for you to exercise it a little.”

“What?”

“I have urgent matters to attend to, so I can’t carry out Your Highness’s orders at the moment. I’ll send servants. Ask them for what you need.”

“A-are you saying you’re leaving me locked in prison?!”

“Forgive me.”

Claude stared at Lucian in disbelief, but Lucian didn’t bother to explain himself further.

No matter what he said, he would only get insults in return.

As Lucian walked away from the cell with Raymond, Claude’s shouts echoed behind him.

“Traitor! Do you know what you’re doing?! After all the former emperor gave you, how dare you…!”

Lucian climbed the stairs, ignoring the insults.

Thanks to the soundproofing measures, the shouting faded as soon as he reached the top.

Outside, Lucian gave Raymond an order.

“Have Denis look after the First Prince.”

“Denis? Who’s that?”

“The Denis the late emperor planted among the servants. The one who recently revealed his identity.”

“Ah!”

Then Raymond remembered his face. The servant who, when the Second Prince posed as the First Prince and sent an invitation, revealed who he was and stood in Lucian’s way.

According to him, he even communicated with the First Prince using a magical artifact.

“He’s loyal to the imperial family, so he’ll take good care of His Highness.”

“Isn’t that precisely the problem? He’s loyal to the First Prince, not you. He could turn against us and act for him.”

“Turn against us? How?”

“Well…”

Raymond was about to list possible problems, but he stopped.

Thinking it through, even if the First Prince turned against Lucian, there was absolutely nothing he could do.

The houses claiming to support him were all weak, and even then they only did so to protect their own territories—not out of genuine loyalty.

Even if that loyalty existed, they lacked the power to ensure their own safety.

“If he really were a loyal servant of the First Prince, even if treated poorly, he’d advise him to stay here. Clinging to obedient but powerless subordinates can lead directly to ruin.”

“Even if he were advised, I doubt His Highness would listen.”

“It doesn’t matter. If it happens, Denis and the other loyalists will realize it too. They’ll understand that the First Prince lacks not only political sense, but even the basic instinct for survival.”

Serving the emperor and following his will was the duty of a subject, but everything had its limit.

A loyal servant could tolerate irrational orders or selfish behavior, but when the ruler’s foolishness turned self-destructive, the situation changed.

True loyalty wasn’t to the individual, but to the imperial bloodline.

In extreme cases, protecting the continuity of the lineage was considered a greater virtue than obeying the emperor’s personal will.

‘They might be disappointed in him, but out of debt to the late emperor, they won’t turn their backs on him completely.’

At most, they would ignore absurd orders and focus on staying safe.

For Lucian, that was more than enough.

After all, under the pretext he himself had established, he would never harm the First Prince.

‘If everything goes well, maybe I can preserve the pretext and reach a reasonable agreement with the loyalists…’

—Waaaaaaah!

A thunderous roar pulled Lucian out of his thoughts.

Returning to the battlefield, the cheers had already calmed.

There was no need to ask what had happened; one of the nearby family heads, his face lit with excitement, hurried to explain.

“O-one of the knights crossed swords with Felicia, my lord! He held out for five exchanges!”

“Oh? Really?”

“It was amazing! You should have seen it with your own eyes!”

Lucian gave a bitter smile at the man’s excitement.

Was he even aware that this tournament had begun as a challenge by those who refused to recognize Felicia as Swordmaster?

And now, they weren’t even speaking of equality—just surviving five exchanges was considered extraordinary.