Chapter 45: The Boy with Hurion’s Sword, to the Northern Lands

“Record… Object?”

Lucillan stared at the faint, hazy image of Emilia with trembling violet eyes. \The string of unbelievable stories had left her mind in turmoil.

“Yes. As you can see, Emilia always longed to travel. Treason doesn’t suit someone like her.”

“Wait, then how did you know what would happen and record it beforehand?”

“Let’s say I saw it in Brikal’s eyes—the collapse of the hero and the decline of the kingdom.”

Lucillan stroked her chin and nodded.

“I’ve heard of your extraordinary insight and foresight, but this is no matter for hasty judgment.”

To her, it was a sweet proposal.

If the revolution succeeded, she could not only clear the kingdom’s deep resentment but also bring warmth to her fief’s people, who had been exiled to the frigid northern lands.

For the sake of those struggling in the barren north, she had to take Rosel’s hand.

Moreover, if the current king was exploiting the Saintess, a revolution was inevitable.

Defying the Empire’s Holy Church would invite invasion, so it was crucial to resolve the matter before the atrocity became public.

Securing a confession about the false prophecy and taking responsibility before the Holy Church would be the ideal solution.

“Hah… Brikal, you fool, you’ve finally caused a disaster…”

Yet, it wasn’t an easy decision.

A revolution wasn’t something achieved through the empty words of a few nobles.

And while Rosel was a man who had risen from commoner to duke in mere years, he lacked the deep roots of noble lineage that could inspire trust.

His lack of a prestigious background left her with no solid grounds to fully trust him.

Moreover—

On the first day, she had seen Rosel break a servant’s head. He bore an unsettling resemblance to Brikal.

If the instigator of a revolution resembled its target, how could it truly be a revolution? It would merely be a despicable power struggle.

“Do I have any reason to trust you? On the first day, you reminded me so much of Brikal.”

“Haha, is that so?”

Rosel chuckled lowly at her words.

Then he called out to Gellion, who stood outside the door.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Bring Roden here.”

With Brikal gone, there was no longer any need to hide Roden.

Besides, the boy might unintentionally serve as a persuasive tool for Lucillan.

Thus, Rosel called for Roden, hoping his unique power could strengthen the revolutionary alliance.

“You called for me, my lord?”

Moments later, Roden entered the office, and Lucillan’s eyes widened in astonishment.

She had seen it clearly.

Sitting in the front row at the banquet on the first day, she had witnessed him collapse, bleeding.

It had been dark, yes, and her eyes were aged, but she had seen it vividly.

“Wh-why is that boy…?”

“Come here, Roden.”

At Rosel’s call, Roden bowed his head and walked to the sofa, standing beside him.

Rosel patted Roden’s back affectionately.

“He’s a remarkable child. Who would have imagined he deliberately made a mistake for me and my daughter?”

Knowing the full story, Rosel’s gaze softened as if looking at his daughter, Silia.

Where in the world could you find a 13-year-old child willing to risk their life for someone’s ideals?

Not even for their own life, but for their ideals.

Even Lucillan, seemingly impressed, struck the armrest of the sofa and exclaimed.

“Hah… I did think it strange that the situation flipped so suddenly. Deliberately making a mistake? For you and the young lady?”

Roden scratched the back of his head awkwardly, rubbing his nose in embarrassment.

Lucillan stared at the boy.

For a mere child servant, not even her blood, to voluntarily risk his life for his lord was beyond belief, even for someone of her long years.

While Brikal might not have taken his life, a drunkard’s rage was bound to spill blood, and it was shocking.

“No, I clearly saw the wine bottle break…?”

Roden glanced at Rosel, admiration shining in his eyes.

“My lord sacrificed his hand.”

“What…? Rosel, you sacrificed your hand? You shattered the bottle with your grip?”

Shattering a bottle with raw strength would drive shards deep into the palm, causing severe wounds.

Rosel, looking slightly embarrassed, opened his right hand. Despite receiving treatment, scars from the unhealed injuries still covered his palm.

“Hmm…”

It was difficult enough to understand why a mere commoner servant would risk his life for his lord, but for a noble to sacrifice his own body for an insignificant servant—practically a disposable tool in the eyes of the aristocracy—was beyond comprehension.

Though one might dismiss it as a mere hand injury, Lucillan was struck by Rosel’s sacrifice in that tense situation.

In moments of crisis, humans typically lose their composure, focusing solely on immediate escape.

Without considering the consequences, they act impulsively to survive.

Once reason returns, they often regret their decisions.

This is an inevitable and natural aspect of human psychology.

But Rosel defied such tendencies.

In a chaotic moment, he managed to achieve both survival and protection.

Lucillan couldn’t help but reassess him after witnessing such a decision.

It felt like a fresh revelation, as if her perspective had been broadened by an unexpected shock.

A man fit for troubled times—someone who knew how to forge his path amid chaos.

She began to think that perhaps Rosel might be such a person.

Of course, it could have been an overreach.

Saving a single servant wasn’t enough to mark someone as a hero destined to save the kingdom in troubled times.

Still, the way the servant and his lord exchanged heartfelt glances was strangely evocative of a transformed future.

Lucillan herself had always been kind to her commoner servants.

But if faced with the same situation, she would likely have struck the servant down.

And what would have happened then?

Upon learning later that the servant had made a mistake for her sake, she would have regretted it deeply.

Humans are creatures of regret, and they repeatedly fall into its trap.

She would have bitterly regretted betraying someone who had acted for her benefit.

While ordinary people live trapped in the cycle of regret, extraordinary individuals rise above it.

Now, with a look of renewed interest, Lucillan straightened her posture on the sofa.

If the revolution was inevitable, it would be wiser to join Rosel’s side.

For the sake of her fief’s people shivering in the snowy wastelands, she had plenty of reason to align with something intriguing.

Of course, she wasn’t yet fully convinced.

She merely felt the urge to delve deeper into the conversation.

“…So, what’s the plan?”

For the first time in a while, Lucillan’s eyes shone with vigor.

“The Ghost Blade Count, Nebron… Do you think you can persuade him?”

After hearing the full plan, Lucillan leaned back on the sofa with a worried expression, crossing her legs.

Count Nebron.

After losing his youngest daughter, he had withdrawn from all public activities and secluded himself in his southern estate.

Convincing him to join the revolution would not be easy.

Yet Rosel’s smile never wavered.

“That’s a task I’ll have to handle. Grand Duke Lucillan, all I ask is that you trust me and wait.”

“Trust you and wait? On what basis should I trust you? We’ve never even fought back-to-back.”

“I understand. It must sound like empty words.”

“Precisely.”

“If you look out the window, you’ll see ten carriages. Each one is filled with weapons. These carriages will be led by Siege Commander Duraton to accompany you to the northern lands.”

“…What?”

Lucillan rose from her seat and approached the window. Outside, she saw Duraton bowing respectfully.

As Rosel said, ten carriages were ready to depart.

Though it felt presumptuous, as if he’d already assumed her alliance with the revolutionaries, Rosel’s decisiveness and action were undeniable.

“There are plenty of weapons in the northern lands.”

“These aren’t just ordinary weapons. Duraton will demonstrate them upon arrival in the north.”

“Not… ordinary weapons?”

The carriages were loaded with advanced weaponry, including high-explosive shells developed earlier, technologies rare in this era.

They had all been crafted in preparation for this very day.

Lucillan needed to understand that this revolution wasn’t a careless endeavor or a mere childish game.

Returning to her seat, Lucillan settled on the sofa.

“…When did you begin preparing for this?”

“It’s been quite some time. I wanted to be ready for any eventuality.”

“But how can you guarantee these weapons won’t target the northern lands?”

“I can’t guarantee it. All I ask is for you to trust me.”

“Hmm…”

Lucillan narrowed her eyes slightly, nodding repeatedly.

A significant turning point had arrived in the otherwise uneventful latter years of her life.

Whether that turning point would lead upward or downward, she couldn’t be certain.

Still, she had no doubts that the kingdom would decline if the current king’s long reign continued.

And if the Saintess’s false prophecy were true, deposing both her and the king would be the right path for the kingdom.

For a kingdom’s existence was essential to its people’s survival.

Thus, Lucillan’s deliberation didn’t last long.