"Why, then?"
"That's just the kind of man my uncle is."
Bjorn smirked bitterly. This was sothing only soone who knew his uncle firsthand could understand.
"He's extrely cautious with profits and losses, avoids risks at all costs, and particularly likes to swoop in when he can gain without effort."
"In other words, he won't launch a preemptive strike if he senses any chance of loss?"
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"Exactly."
Toby sighed, sinking back into his chair. Not every lord was a capable commander, so perhaps Bjorn's uncle was just one of those conservative types. However, if Bjorn's words were true, it presented a problem. Defensive action would be nearly impossible.
"The enemy won't move first, and we can't afford a siege. That leaves only one option."
Sylas looked at Bjorn and spoke.
"We'll have to draw them out of the fortress."
"Indeed."
"Do we have any suitable bait?"
"I would volunteer myself, but I doubt it would be effective."
That much was clear. Even though Bjorn had raised a flag of defiance, his uncle, concerned about any risk, wouldn't leave his advantageous position. Having already secured the role of head, he wasn't likely to take any unnecessary risks.
"So, we need bait that'll actually entice him."
The man wouldn't move unless sothing extraordinary, so priceless treasure, lured him out. Scanning the map, Sylas's eyes glead with realization. Among the reasons he had co to the North, he noticed the location of a place he had intended to visit once everything was settled.
"I might have just the thing."
The pieces of Sylas's plan fell into place perfectly, and a smile tugged at his lips. Looking over at Bjorn, he asked, "What about a dungeon?"
"A dungeon?" Bjorn echoed.
"Yes, could it be the bait to draw your uncle out?"
"If he sees an opportunity for profit that far outweighs the risk, he'll co running, no doubt."
A dungeon filled with ancient artifacts was enough to tempt even the most cautious of people. For a lord like Bjorn's uncle, it would be irresistible.
"But my uncle is very suspicious. He'll see through any false rumors quickly."
"This isn't false information," Sylas replied.
"What?"
"There really is a dungeon."
One of the reasons Sylas had ventured this far north was to confirm whether there was anything left in a dungeon rumored to have been looted. Unfortunately, he hadn't found anything back then, aside from revisiting the hotown of his maternal grandfather and mother on his way back.
"But in this era, it should still be untouched," Sylas thought, casting his gaze on the map, his eyes landing on a snow-covered mountain slightly removed from Veldaine's territory.
Lugres Veldaine, the current head of the Veldaine Viscounty, was in a foul mood. He had received news that his nephew had raised a rebellion against him.
"I had planned to slowly wear him down until he was too weak to resist," he thought bitterly.
For the first few years, Lugres had rely aid to bring him into submission, intending to squeeze resources gradually, weakening Bjorn through starvation, cold, and frequent barbarian raids. But his nephew had rebelled while he still had over a hundred soldiers.
"That idiot Philip handed over the entire territory instead of depleting their forces?"
Grinding his teeth at the thought, Lugres shredded the letter he had received and tossed its bearer into prison. Requests from a rural baron who couldn't even handle his own affairs were irrelevant to him.
"Hmph, let him rebel; it's futile."
Although the news of Bjorn's rebellion angered him, he felt little threat. His territory had once been a crucial outpost against the barbarians, with sturdy walls and ample resources. If they attempted a siege, Bjorn's forces would exhaust themselves first. Still irritated, Lugres tried to soothe himself with a drink when another letter was delivered.
"What is this?" he spat, trembling as he held the paper. His face turned red with anger.
The ssenger remained calm, despite Lugres' fury.
"What do you an, what? I told you. It's a personal letter from the Great Chief."
"A personal letter? From a barbarian?!"
A "personal letter" was a term reserved for correspondence from soone of royal rank or higher. Yet here was a barbarian calling his letter that.
"That Ragnar… He's lost his mind! Just because we've traded a bit, he thinks I'll bow to him? Has he been drinking poison?"
"…Mind your words, Viscount," the ssenger said coldly.
"What?! You barbaric filth!" Lugres grabbed his sword and approached the ssenger, but the steely gaze from the ssenger made him hesitate.
"Six families have already agreed to the Great Chief's terms."
"What?" Lugres blinked in surprise. The "six families" referred to the noble houses stationed at the front lines against the barbarians, including Veldaine. Could this an that all these families had accepted the barbarian leader as their king?
"Don't lie to !"
"It's no lie. If you don't believe , you can ask the other lords yourself."
Lugres hesitated at the ssenger's confidence. If this were true, it was no small matter. After his anger and confusion subsided, he was left with one thought: Why?
"Why would the six families acknowledge Ragnar as king?"
Even if he had unified several tribes, it shouldn't have been enough to subdue six noble families. Noticing Lugres' deep contemplation, the ssenger spoke up.
"In any case, I've delivered my ssage and ca to hear your response. Though it appears your answer is a refusal."
"Wait! Hold on."
"There's no need to ponder," the ssenger said, narrowing his eyes.
"What?"
With a faint smile, the ssenger clarified, "The Great Chief doesn't actually desire your alliance. He wishes to wipe out at least one family as a warning to others."
"...!"
"And he believes you're the most suitable candidate."
The implication was clear. Lugres trembled with rage, but a nagging feeling of dread held him back. What if the ssenger was telling the truth? If all six families had submitted to Ragnar and he indeed had the power to annihilate Veldaine...
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