Chapter 145

“The Duke is on his way back to Asagrim.”

Hagen, the head of the Herta Guild, muttered in a pale-faced whisper.
It was something he had anticipated, yet the thought of facing the Duke in person made his knees go weak.
After all, the man was a powerbroker who could take Hagen’s head with nothing more than a flick of a finger.

“So… what should we do now?”

“…”

“….”

The other guildmasters gathered at the meeting kept their mouths tightly shut and turned their heads away.
They, too, had no idea how to break this deadlock.
Growing frustrated, Hagen slammed the table and shouted.

“Say something, will you! If a blade’s already at your throat, you ought to come up with something!”

He wasn’t wrong—but no amount of pressure was going to conjure a solution out of thin air.
As the silence dragged on, Hagen’s sharp gaze shifted to the man seated at the center.

“Hey, Guildmaster Dominic. What are you planning to do about this?”

“…Why are you asking me that?”

Dominic, the guildmaster of the Dominic Guild, flashed a cold glint in his eyes.
Under normal circumstances, that look alone would have made Hagen yelp and shrink back, but this time it didn’t work.
No matter how formidable Dominic was, he was no match for the Duke.
If anything, Hagen seemed to find Dominic’s composure irritating and snapped back harshly.

“You were the one who talked us into this! You’re the one who gathered everyone, saying we’d make a big score and then run! And now you’re trying to deny it!?”

“Deny it, you say. Sounds to me like you’re trying to dump the responsibility on me.”

“And why not? If we all keep our stories straight—!”

“Keep them straight? Do you really think you lot would come out of this alive?”

At the chilling tone, Hagen flinched.
Though bent with age, his back stooped and liver spots speckling his skin, Dominic’s presence was enough to overwhelm even a sturdy grown man.
As Hagen retreated a step, Dominic growled a warning at him like a beast.

“Watch your words, whelp. A wolf can’t defeat a dragon—but killing a single rabbit is nothing. If you forget your place and run wild, you’ll die by my hand before the Duke ever gets to you.”

Not all guildmasters were created equal.
Before a tycoon like Dominic, a small-to-medium guildmaster like Hagen was utterly insignificant—
so much so that Dominic could have him dealt with simply by hiring an assassin, if he wished.

Remembering that fact belatedly, Hagen nodded frantically, his face drained of color.
Having reasserted the pecking order, Dominic clicked his tongue and surveyed the room.

“Pathetic. All this commotion over something like this. If you’re that timid, how have you managed to stay in business until now? And you call yourselves the heads of guilds?”

“…This isn’t something you can dismiss as ‘something like this,’ you know.”

Hesitating, another guildmaster finally spoke up, his face dark with worry.
This matter was far too serious to be brushed off as mere gruff advice born of experience.

“Do you even know who the lord’s deputy we crossed is? He’s the Duke’s closest confidant, someone who has served him since the days when the Duke was the third son of the Valdeck family. To the Duke, he’s practically family.”

“So you’re saying he won’t let us off for laying a hand on his deputy? If you were that afraid of retaliation, why didn’t you run away earlier? Why stay here and even extend credit?”

“If we fled without thinking it through, the knights would be hot on our heels to take our heads immediately. By extending credit, at least we gain a flimsy excuse.”

For a mere merchant to pressure the Duke’s closest aide was already a crime deserving death.
And then, once things went south, to ignore even the proposal the Duke himself put forward and run away?
Before the Duke even acted, the surrounding knights would surely lose their minds and tear the merchants to pieces.

Dominic let out a deep sigh, as if disappointed by the guildmaster’s answer.

“So in the end, all you ever thought about was saving your own skin? How pathetic.”

“Instead of just berating us, if you have a plan, then say it. What exactly do you expect us to do?”

“You really can’t see even one step ahead. Why do you think the Duke left us alone after we meddled with his deputy? If he wanted to, he could’ve thrown every last one of us into the dungeons and tortured us.”

“Well, that’s because….”

The guildmasters fell silent and exchanged looks.
They had all wondered about that point themselves.
It was too roundabout to be simply about squeezing money out of them, yet calling it forgiveness didn’t quite fit either, given the matter of extending credit.

Seeing them deep in thought, Dominic explained in a calm, almost instructive tone, as though teaching children.

“The Duke has just led a massive number of migrants over the snowfields. In other words, he now needs enormous quantities of food, clothing, and daily necessities. In that situation, what happens if he kills off every merchant in the area?”

“More than anything, what the Duke needs most right now is a personal standing army—one that can replace the troops he borrowed from the imperial palace. After daily necessities, military supplies are his next priority.”

Military provisioning is not something just anyone can handle.
Given the sheer scale involved, only a tycoon on the level of Dominic’s guild could even attempt it.
The costs are so enormous that if a small or mid-sized guild got involved recklessly, it would be ruined outright.

“Of course, if the Duke truly wanted to, he could find another guild. But he’s already got a hold on our weakness. In a situation like this, would he really bother seeking out another guild that has no leverage over it?”

Just because someone was a noble didn’t mean money poured out endlessly.
If there was even the slightest chance to reduce expenses, they naturally would—and this wasn’t just any expense, but the enormous cost of military provisioning.
Any noble in his right mind would prioritize exploiting a captured weakness to minimize those costs, rather than indulging in personal vengeance.

At Dominic’s explanation, the gloomy guildmasters brightened all at once.
Since they had all committed the same offense, it wasn’t as though punishment could be selectively applied to some and forgiveness to others as convenience dictated.
If even one of them were pardoned, there was a strong chance the rest would be forgiven as well, in one sweep.

“Wait—but wouldn’t that mean you’re the one taking the loss, sir? If you don’t provide the military supplies at a price the Duke finds acceptable, he won’t let you off this time.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got my own methods.”

Dominic trailed off, brushing aside the rest of the concern.
In truth, not only was there a way to avoid losses—there was a way to squeeze out enormous profit instead.
But why should he share that method with these people?
For this deal, it was enough that Dominic alone reaped the benefits.

The Duke may think he has a hold on my weakness, but no matter how this transaction plays out, the winner will be me.

A cold smile curled at Dominic’s lips.

The Duke’s anger had long since been erased from his mind.
He had faced far too many things in his life to be frightened by a crisis of this magnitude.

“W–what on earth is that?”

“It’s… beautiful…!”

When Lucian arrived in Asagrim leading the tribespeople, gasps of astonishment erupted from all around.

Even the sight of a proper city wall was enough to leave the tribespeople unable to hide their amazement.
To them, the flawless white ramparts were so perfect they looked like the handiwork of a god.

“His Highness has arrived!”

“Open the gates!”

Upon confirming the return of Asagrim’s master, the soldiers atop the walls began to bustle about.
Moments later, the massive gates swung open, and the retainers who had come out to receive him appeared.
At the very front stood Hans, the man Lucian had appointed as acting lord.

“Your Highness, congratulations on your safe return.”

“…Hans? Are you all right?”

Lucian blinked blankly as he looked at Hans.
He had grown so thin from hardship that one might wonder if a light tap would send him collapsing to the ground.
At Lucian’s concern, Hans smiled weakly and nodded.

“I’m fine. A good rest should see me recovered. Now that Your Highness has returned, I can finally breathe easy.”
“…I’m sorry. I left things to you thinking nothing would happen—never imagining such underhanded schemes would unfold while I was gone.”
“Your Highness has nothing to apologize for. This all happened because of my own lack of ability. If anything, I should be the one apologizing.”

Hans gave a bitter smile, saying he had once again realized his own shortcomings.
Yet perhaps because of the trials he had endured, there was now a seasoned gravity to him that hadn’t been there before.
If the merchants were to press him with demands again, the present Hans didn’t seem like someone who would be easily pushed around.

“Now then, please come inside. The housing for the migrants has already been fully arranged, so you may leave the rest to the other administrators and get some proper rest.”
“It’s already all taken care of?”
“Yes. Would you like to take a look?”

Hans handed Lucian the documents he had compiled.
As Lucian quickly skimmed through them, a short note of admiration escaped his lips.
There were slight differences from his original plan, but for the most part they aligned closely.
Even those small differences filled in gaps Lucian himself hadn’t considered.

“This is solid. There’s really nothing to add or take away.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re satisfied.”
“Good. I’ll leave this matter to you. Before that, though, there’s something I need to take care of.”

When Lucian handed the papers back and turned around, the tense tribespeople fixed their eyes on him.
He spoke the words they had been desperately waiting to hear all this time.

“This is the land of salvation! The place where you will put down roots and live!”

“Never again will you shiver in the cold, waiting for death. Rejoice! You and your descendants will flourish on this land!”

—Woooooaaaahhh!

The moment his words ended, an explosive cheer shook the white walls.
Some leapt about in mad joy, while others clung to one another and wept.
It seemed they had only now truly realized that they would be living in Asagrim.

Lucian chose to leave the excited tribespeople to themselves and headed inside the city.
By the time the cheers died down, the administrators Hans had assigned would begin guiding them to their designated homes.
For now, it was best to let them fully savor the joy of having escaped a thousand years of cold.

“So much has changed.”

A quiet note of admiration escaped Lucian’s lips as he headed toward the White Castle.
Though not much time had passed, Asagrim had developed noticeably.
There was no need even to mention the sharp increase in population, and various public facilities had been expanded far beyond what they once were.
Even the shops opened in densely populated areas seemed to have been placed with deliberate planning and intervention.

“Did you design all of this yourself?”
“I merely carried things out according to the advice of the other administrators. I’ve also compiled the meeting minutes where those opinions were raised, so please look them over once you return to the castle. There were more capable people than I expected.”

At Hans’s matter-of-fact reply, Lucian’s eyes widened.
Taking advice was one thing, but knowing how to use it properly was a skill in itself.
A foolish person, eager to claim credit, would often mix their own ideas into others’ suggestions and end up ruining everything.

Yet Hans had not only accepted the advice—he had meticulously recorded the meeting minutes as well, documents that could even expose his own weaknesses.
That was something impossible without confidence in having handled the work fairly and soundly.

…With just one or two more trials, won’t this kid grow tremendously?

The sense of guilt Lucian had felt just moments ago vanished.
His eyes gleamed as he began searching for the next trial to assign to Hans.
Still in the middle of his explanation, Hans suddenly shivered, feeling an inexplicable chill run down his spine.