163 The Imperial Gift
Glenn spread the paper across the table, revealing a detailed map of the North. The level of precision was astonishing—it could have been mistaken for a military-grade battle map, fit for use in a war.
"There's no need to say it, but the lands of His Highness Klaus, the forr duke, will naturally be restored to you."
"That much is a given," William muttered, barely masking his displeasure.
The once-mighty Grimaldi family was now little more than a relic of the past, a forr royal house stripped of its power and left with nothing but its na. Their remaining lands amounted to little more than a minor barony—a tiny, rural territory of no real significance.
Even the tax revenue was abysmal. By all accounts, the cost of transporting those ager earnings to Hern had been higher than the revenue itself, leading the empire to abandon collection entirely.
At best, it was enough to sustain a re semblance of dignity. At worst, it was an afterthought, a aningless scrap of land. Whether he had it or not made little difference.
No, what truly mattered was not what had been taken—it was what was to be given.
"In addition to that, His Majesty has granted you the right to reclaim all lands seized by Count Calix through force, as well as any territories occupied unlawfully. If you so wish, we can issue an imperial decree demanding their imdiate return."
William's eyes twitched.
He was being offered all the land that Count Calix and his faction had taken by force?
'Is this a joke?'
If he could actually claim those lands, he would beco the ruler of an enormous domain. But the reality was far from that simple. The mont he made a move to take what was rightfully his, those who held those lands would never relinquish them willingly.
The empire itself had failed to put an end to the territorial disputes. Why would his re declaration suddenly make them surrender?
'They'll ignore the decree, scoff at the orders, and if I push further, they'll mobilize their armies to crush instead.'
Without military force, there was no way to enforce such a claim. And yet, William had no soldiers of his own. He would have to rely on his allies, which ant sharing the spoils in return for their support.
In the end, even if he won, his gains would be divided among those he owed.
"Your Highness, you don't seem pleased," Glenn observed.
William exhaled slowly, keeping his tone asured. "To be frank… I don't quite understand His Majesty's intentions. Is he expecting to raise an army and punish them?"
His words were diplomatic, but his thoughts were anything but.
'This feels like a trap. A sche to weaken the North by fueling internal conflict. Am I nothing more than a pawn, a convenient sacrifice to spark a civil war?'
At this rate, the title of Margrave was nothing more than an empty shell—an honor in na alone.
Glenn, still smiling, shook his head. "You misunderstand, Your Highness."
"Misunderstand? Then is there so other aning behind this so-called gift?"
"The lands of House Grimaldi were yours by right to begin with. His Majesty is not 'giving' them to you; he is simply restoring them. As for the territories seized by Count Calix, the right to reclaim them is not a gift, but a request for intervention. His Majesty is asking you to act as a check against them, not to see it as a reward."
At best, it was an offer of compensation for additional labor. An agreent that if William put in the effort, he would be properly compensated.
But this was not the true imperial gift.
Glenn pressed a finger against the center of the map.
"His Majesty has decided to grant you Asagrim."
"…!?"
William shot up from his seat before he could stop himself.
"Asagrim? You an… the Asagrim I'm thinking of?"
Glenn nodded. "Indeed. Right here."
He tapped the location on the map again.
William's eyes fixed on the spot—marked in yellow.
Yellow, the color denoting imperial territory.
He stood frozen, unable to find his voice. Glenn, unfazed by his reaction, simply continued.
"His Majesty has chosen to place the capital of the old Northern Kingdom back into your hands."
After Glenn's departure, William wasted no ti summoning his retainers. Among them, he also called for Viscount Harald.
Once they had all gathered, William unrolled the very map Glenn had left behind.
"His Majesty has granted a gift far beyond my expectations."
"We heard the news. You've been granted the title of Margrave," one of the retainers said. "But what of the land? Where exactly is your new—"
"Asagrim."
"…!?"
The room fell into stunned silence.
The retainers' eyes widened in shock, while Harald practically lunged forward, seizing the map in his hands. He scanned it frantically, his eyes darting up and down.
"A-Asagrim? You an that Asagrim? The forr capital of the Northern Kingdom!?"
William nodded. "Yes. His Majesty has given it to ."
"The Eight Gods above…"
Harald collapsed to his knees, still clutching the map. His breath ca in sharp, uneven gasps, as if he were on the verge of tears.
Hugo and Felicia shifted awkwardly, unsure how to react to such an intense display.
"Forgive my ignorance, but what exactly is so special about Asagrim?" Felicia asked. "I understand that it was once the capital of the North and that it is currently under imperial control, but—"
"It is the spiritual heart of the North," Raymond interjected, his expression unusually grave. "An impregnable fortress. One of the greatest relics of the ancient world. Its historical, military, and artistic value is beyond asure."
Unlike Harald, his reaction was not one of joy, but deep suspicion.
"This is… concerning," he muttered. "Restoring the na of House Grimaldi was one thing. But giving them Asagrim? This feels like a trap."
The empire had maintained Asagrim as a direct territory for a reason—its symbolism alone was enough to turn it into the rallying point of any potential rebellion.
Yet now, the emperor had chosen to relinquish it entirely—and not just to anyone, but to a descendant of the old royal line.
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