160 The Trial of Kings
It was clear at a glance—he was a negotiator, not a warrior.
And he wasted no ti getting to the point.
"I will speak plainly," Marcel said smoothly. "The Count of Calix wishes to settle this matter in a fair and honorable competition for the Grimaldi na."
William raised an eyebrow.
"A fair competition?"
A chuckle escaped him.
"That's an amusing suggestion. A competition is held between those with equal claims. Yet here you stand, asking —the grandson of the Grand Duke—to compete as if my right to the na is uncertain?"
Marcel remained unfazed.
"But you are not a Northman, Lord William. No matter how many tis you argue otherwise, this fact remains unchanged."
At that, Harald and the other knights surrounding William bristled, their expressions twisting into anger.
It was a blatant attempt to undermine his legitimacy.
It didn't matter that William had the strongest claim to the Grimaldi legacy.
It didn't matter that the Northern lords were already acknowledging his right to it.
House Calix was determined to drag this out—to delay and obstruct him for as long as possible.
A storm of disapproving murmurs filled the room, but Marcel stood there without flinching, as if completely indifferent to the hostility directed his way.
William tapped his fingers idly against the armrest of his chair.
"Let see if I understand you correctly," he said. "Calix has already spent years manipulating the North, causing unrest, dividing the lords, and illegitimately claiming the Grimaldi na."
He tilted his head.
"And now, after all of that, you wish to stage a competition and act as though the outco is binding?"
Marcel gave a small nod.
"You are correct in saying that the North has changed in these past years, Lord William. So have prospered, others have suffered. No one will accept simply returning to the way things were."
William narrowed his eyes.
"And if I win this competition?"
"Then the matter is settled," Marcel replied evenly. "If Lord William proves himself in this trial, House Calix will have no choice but to recognize him as the true heir of Grimaldi."
William scoffed.
"And you expect to believe that?"
Marcel's lips curled into sothing resembling a smile.
"This competition will be held before the eyes of all the North. If House Calix were to go back on their word afterward… well." His eyes glead with sothing sharp and unreadable. "I doubt their allies would look favorably upon that."
William humd in amusent.
They were desperate to stall him.
Desperate enough to pretend at fairness.
Still, if he simply refused this challenge, the people's perception of him would suffer.
And they knew it.
"…Fine," he said at last. "What is this so-called competition?"
Marcel's smile widened.
"A ti-honored Northern tradition."
William's brow furrowed slightly.
Then—
"The Hundred-Day Hunt."
BANG.
Harald's fist slamd into the table with enough force to send splinters flying.
"You bastard!"
Marcel didn't so much as flinch.
"I am rely delivering the Count's proposition."
Harald looked ready to strangle the man on the spot.
William, however, remained calm.
"Explain."
Marcel inclined his head slightly, as if pleased by William's composure.
"The rules are simple," he said.
"You will enter the frozen mountains of the North. For fifteen days, you must survive with nothing but your wits and skill. You may bring no more than five companions, and no food or supplies may be carried."
"At the end of the hunt, the one who returns with the greatest prize shall be declared the victor."
William absorbed the information in silence.
It was a brutal tradition.
Originally, it had lasted a hundred days, but over ti, the sheer difficulty and mortality rate had forced them to shorten it to fifteen.
A competition where only one's individual survival skills mattered.
No armies. No politics.
Nothing but raw ability.
William chuckled under his breath.
"…A fascinating tradition," he admitted.
He could almost admire the simplicity of it.
But Harald was seething with fury.
"Don't even think about it, boy," he growled. "This is a trap, clear as day!"
William didn't argue.
It was obvious House Calix wasn't acting in good faith.
The chosen hunting ground was practically in their backyard, surrounded by friendly lords.
Even if William's allies sent people to monitor the event, it wouldn't matter.
This was Calix's territory.
They could set as many traps as they wanted, and no one would be able to prove anything.
"This is a deliberate setup," Harald continued furiously. "You'd be walking straight into the wolf's den!"
William exhaled softly.
"I know."
"Then we refuse—"
"We can't refuse."
Harald stiffened.
William t his gaze evenly.
"They invoked tradition."
If he turned them down, it would shatter the image he had worked so hard to build.
The Northern lords had begun to see him as one of their own—as soone worthy of the Grimaldi na.
If he hesitated now, it would undo everything.
"…Damn it." Harald gritted his teeth, but he knew William was right.
If he declined, Calix would spread the word:
"See? He is no true Northman after all."
William exhaled slowly, turning back to Marcel.
"I accept."
Marcel's eyes flashed with sothing unreadable.
Harald muttered a curse under his breath.
"You're a damn fool, boy."
William only smiled.
"Relax. They won't try anything too reckless."
Even House Calix wasn't foolish enough to directly assassinate him.
The Hern family would never let such a cri go unpunished.
No—Calix would have to rely on more subtle thods.
Sabotage. Starvation. A staged accident.
They would try to break him without getting their hands dirty.
But they had underestimated one thing.
William didn't lose.
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No matter what ga they played, he would always be ten steps ahead.
And as long as he erged victorious, it didn't matter what tricks they tried.
Because once this was over—House Calix would have nothing left to hide behind.
Just as he was about to dismiss Marcel, a knock echoed through the chamber.
"Lord William," ca Felicia's voice.
"A royal inspector has arrived," she said. "They bear a decree from the Emperor himself."
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