Chapter 150

After much deliberation, the artisans decided to teach their skills to the immigrants.
However, agreeing to teach them did not mean the process itself had to be smooth.
Hadn’t they themselves learned their crafts while enduring endless scolding and abuse from their own masters?
Now that they were masters in turn, they intended to return the very injustices they had once suffered.

“That’s how everyone learns in the first place.”
“Exactly. If you’ve come to the Empire, you follow the Empire’s ways.”
“If you don’t like it, tell them to leave. We don’t need disciples like that anyway.”

This wasn’t mere territorial bullying—this was simply how an artisan’s training worked.
You learned by watching over your shoulder, treated as little more than a servant beneath a master as lofty as the heavens.
Naturally, once they chose to learn the craft, the outsiders were expected to follow the same method.
Yet the artisans’ resolve wavered violently the moment they actually faced the immigrants.

“Greetings, Master! It’s an honor to meet you for the first time!”
“You’re really going to teach us your craft? Thank you so much!”

“If there’s anything we can help with, just say the word! We’ll do our utmost to learn!”

The immigrants bowed repeatedly, expressing their gratitude with complete sincerity.
Far from being rough or unruly, their attitude could only be described as exemplary for apprentices.
The problem was not the disciples’ attitude—but their appearance.

Up close, they’re even bigger. If one of them slapped you with that palm, wouldn’t your head spin clean off?
 Those calluses aren’t from farm tools. That’s the kind you only see on someone who’s wielded weapons.
 How is it that not a single one of them is without scars? Just what on earth were they fighting in the snowfields?

No matter how harsh the world of artisans might be, it was nothing compared to that of soldiers who went to real war.
Yet every single immigrant gave off the heavy scent of blood one would expect only from seasoned veterans.
The artisans, who had secretly been expecting nothing more than dull-witted hunters, could only break out in cold sweat.

“Is this really all right? No matter how I look at them, they seem like the sort who’ve put more than a few people in the ground.”
“That’s probably not it. I hear people don’t fight much among themselves in the snowfields, since the population is so sparse.”
“Really? Then how did they get those scars?”
“Apparently there are so many ferocious beasts that even children tear apart leopards like it’s their breakfast.”
“Damn it all—couldn’t you have said that first?!”

People accustomed to having blood on their hands handled conflict differently from the rest.
If their rage boiled over, they were always ready to spill blood again.
And yet the artisans had been planning to teach them by scolding and abusing them in the old way?

“Ahem—ah, hem! Welcome, everyone. We’re all family now, so let’s work well together.”
“The bond between master and disciple is no different from that of parent and child. I’ll teach you as if you were my own.”
“Exactly. We’ll be living together anyway—no need to be so stiff about it.”

The artisans swiftly shifted their stance, greeting their new disciples with smiling faces.
They hastily excused the change by telling themselves that the old ways were not always right, and that it was time for a little reform.

“I never even had to press them, yet they’re doing so well on their own. I don’t think I need to worry about them failing to adapt to this land.”

Lucian smiled with satisfaction as he received reports on the immigrants’ movements from the White Castle.
How could he not find them admirable, when they were honing their abilities of their own accord in order to repay what had been given to them?
The more they exerted themselves, the sooner the day would come to recoup his investment.

“What about those sent to the other territories? Are they adapting well?”
“Yes. There seemed to be some dissatisfaction at first, but now they’re very satisfied.”
“That’s thanks to the overall standard of living improving across the board, including food, clothing, and shelter. It’s far too abundant to harbor complaints.”
“However, in the other territories, rather than learning new skills, they wish to continue living as hunters as before.”
“That can’t be helped. They were people who never knew any way to make a living other than hunting in the first place.”

In truth, Asagrim—where people were trying to learn new skills—was the unusual case.
People tend to want to keep doing what they’ve always done.
If Asagrim hadn’t been flooded with such an excessive population, they too would likely have chosen to become hunters, just like the other territories.

“The number of immigrants sent to other territories isn’t large, so we can organize most of them into the standing army and grant hunting permits to the remainder.”
“Will that be all right? If we do that, nearly all of the hunting grounds owned by Your Highness will be opened.”
“That’s fine. If I’m not going to use them anyway, it’s better to give my people a way to make a living.”

The hunting grounds he currently owned had originally belonged to the House of Count Calyx and had simply been seized from them.
He had acquired them by chance, but since he had no interest in hunting, he would have no use for them in the future either.
It was better to open them up so that the people who had switched to being hunters could pay taxes.

“By the way, has Sir Aizen shown no improvement still?”
“It seems there’s nothing to be done. It’s not an illness, but a natural result of aging.”
“Felicia must be deeply distressed. At the very least, perhaps a tonic to restore his vigor—”
“Your Highness.”

At the sudden voice from beside him, Lucian turned his head.
The official who had called out to him spoke haltingly, his face pale as a sheet.

“Just a moment ago… someone claiming to be an imperial inspector has arrived.”

—

Lucian had anticipated great chaos within the imperial court after the emperor collapsed.
The foolish first prince, the brilliant second prince, the secret history known to only a handful, and the second prince’s ambitions—
by any measure, it was a situation where a smooth transfer of power was nothing but a fantasy.

Still, no matter how great the turmoil, it would eventually be brought under control.
The imperial inspector who had come to see Lucian now was explaining how that balance of power had been settled.

“I am Casval, of the White Flame Knight Order and an imperial inspector. I pay my respects to Your Highness, lord of Asagrim and heir to the Grimaldi family.”

Lucian’s gaze settled on Casval as he offered a respectful greeting.
Despite his young age, there was none of the hot-blooded vigor typical of young knights about him.
Instead, his impassive expression carried a cool-headedness more often seen in seasoned nobles.

He looks more adept at politics than swordsmanship. Is this the result of careful selection?

After sizing him up, Lucian nodded and replied.

“Welcome, Sir Casval. And please forgive the discourtesy of not offering proper hospitality, even though you are an imperial inspector. Had you sent word ahead of time, I would have made the appropriate preparations.”
“That’s quite all right. I came only to carry out official duties—there is no need for special treatment. Your sentiment alone is more than enough for me.”
“Ha, I’m grateful for you to say so.”

At Casval’s shamelessness, Lucian clicked his tongue.
It had been a reproach for barging in without prior notice—basic courtesy demanded advance word—yet Casval played dumb and took it in stride.
From the look of it, he intended to gloss over the reason for his sudden appearance without offering any explanation at all.

He’s coming on strong from the outset. Does he have something he’s relying on?

Those who acted this brazenly usually did so because they were convinced they had found their opponent’s weakness.
Since Lucian had no idea what that supposed “weakness” might be, he decided to probe first.

“So then, what brings you here? No matter how I think about it, I can’t recall doing anything that would warrant a visit from an imperial inspector.”
“His Majesty the Emperor has returned to the embrace of the Eight Gods.”
“……That is truly unfortunate. I received a great many favors from His Majesty. May the Eight Gods grant him rest.”

It was something he had long expected, so Lucian bowed his head calmly.
After a brief moment of silence to mourn the emperor, Casval moved straight to the main point.

“Soon, His Highness the First Prince will ascend the throne as the new ruler of the Empire. However, we have recently received reports of unsettling movements within Your Grace’s territory.”
“Unsettling movements?”
“You have brought in people from outside the Empire—those who do not even know what the Empire is, nor pledge loyalty to His Majesty the Emperor. In other words, barbarians.”

Lucian frowned at Casval’s accusation.
From a political standpoint, bringing in tribespeople from beyond the snowfields was indeed a delicate matter.
Depending on the timing, it could be exaggerated into an enormous threat—or dismissed as something trivial.
It seemed the one who had sent Casval had chosen the former.

“What is it you’re trying to say?”
“What Your Grace has done could be construed as treason.”
“How dare you…!”

At Casval’s words, Felicia moved her hand toward her waist.
However, before a sword could be drawn, Lucian stopped her with a glance.
Then he let out a faint chuckle and looked at Casval.

“Listen carefully, Sir Casval. I’ll give you one piece of advice.”
“I would be glad to hear it.”
“You don’t toss around accusations of treason lightly. Do you know why?”
“I’m not sure. Please enlighten me.”
“Because even if you had no such intention, you can provoke real treason—an idiot who doesn’t know his place.”

The previously composed Casval flinched at Lucian’s words and stumbled back for the first time.
Being threatened with a charge of treason and personally speaking the word treason were worlds apart.
Yet despite the horrified look directed at him, Lucian continued without batting an eye.

“Do you know the price of treason? Extermination. Total annihilation.
Every member of the family—elderly or infant, pregnant women included—has their heads severed and displayed, and even their corpses are burned away. That is the fate of traitors.”
“Y-Yes, but that is…!”
“Shut up and listen. Interrupt me again and I’ll cut out your tongue first.”

Fwooooom—!

“Ghk!”

Casval was hurled backward as the explosive surge of mana released from Lucian’s body struck him head-on.
It was nothing more than the collision of released mana, yet the impact felt as though a steel mace had smashed into his abdomen.
He hastily reinforced his body, but even so, the crushing pressure continued, as if his entire body were being flattened.

I-Is this really the amount of mana a single individual can possess!?

Overwhelmed by the utterly unimaginable amount of mana, Casval let out a cry of shock.
It was enough to make one suspect that this was not a man at all, but a dragon wearing human form.
Even as Casval struggled to hold onto his consciousness, Lucian’s words continued.

“Fools are quick to abuse accusations of treason. They think fear of extermination will force obedience.
They don’t even realize how many loyal subjects have been turned into real traitors because of that stupidity.”
“Ghk…!”
“Remember this. When you threaten someone, you must leave them a way to retreat.
Anyone who drives another to the edge of a cliff and mistakes that for superiority is only inviting a companion for the road to the afterlife.”

Huff—

“Hah… hah…”

The mana pouring from Lucian’s body vanished as suddenly as a candle being snuffed out.
Freed at last from the crushing pressure, Casval lay sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath.
After sweating as though caught in a downpour, Casval finally managed to steady himself.

“Welcome, Sir Casval. And please forgive the discourtesy of not offering proper hospitality, even though you are an imperial inspector.”

“Had you sent word ahead of time, I would have made the appropriate preparations.”

Lucian repeated word for word what he had said earlier, wearing a friendly, pleased-to-meet-you expression, as though this were their first encounter.
Startled by Lucian’s sudden behavior, Casval was momentarily confused, but soon grasped his intent.

So this is his way of telling me to start over from the beginning—now that I know my place.

It was a threat: if Casval behaved arrogantly again as before, he would not be spared this time.
Humiliation unlike anything he had ever experienced flooded his body, but there was nothing he could do.
If Lucian truly decided to go mad and overturn the table, Casval would be the first to die.

And his own lord would panic, declare that everything had been Casval’s independent action, and cut him off without hesitation.

In the end, Casval had no choice but to give Lucian the answer he wanted.

“How could this possibly be Your Highness’s fault? It was I who failed to give proper notice of my visit, despite courtesy demanding it. I humbly ask that you forgive my rude conduct with your generous magnanimity.”
“Haha, I’m grateful for you to say so.”

Having finished setting the hierarchy straight, Lucian smiled in satisfaction.

“Now then—what brings the imperial inspector here?”

Only now did it seem possible to have a proper conversation.

 

[I will not upload the chapters after chapter 150 for time being. But I have completed the translation of A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles , and I would say this story is fantastic in every aspect. You can buy the rest of the chapters on my website : https://beastnovels.com
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