"That's… awkward."
Lucian muttered with a displeased expression.
As the chieftain's son, his status was obviously not low.
And starting out as a foreigner with a recognized position wasn't a bad thing either.
The problem was that Lucian's goal was far too ambitious.
"I came here to bring the entire tribe under my command. I didn't come to sit under the chieftain. If I'm going to end up being treated the same as the chieftain's son over something like this, I'd rather be treated as a foreign ruler."
There would be several chances later for Lucian to prove himself.
But first impressions mattered more than anything.
Arriving and immediately being treated as second only to the chieftain?
Even if it meant being viewed with suspicion as an outsider—and shedding some blood—it was better to seize an appropriate position outright.
But hearing that, Helen shook her head.
"My lord, it's the opposite."
"The opposite? You're saying it's better for me to accept and become equal to the chieftain's son?"
"What one gains by subduing a warrior isn't merely equal treatment. You inherit all of that person's authority—their command authority, even their right of succession. Everything."
"…What?"
Lucian's eyes widened at the completely unexpected explanation.
If that was true, then Lucian could become their ruler in Gunstein's place.
No matter how outstanding his abilities were, as long as he was an outsider, the label of conqueror would inevitably follow him.
But to be recognized not as a conqueror, but as a legitimate ruler according to tradition—
"Does such a rule really exist? It's not just something that exists on paper and is never actually enforced, is it?"
"It is a blood rule observed by every tribe of the snowfields. Regardless of Your Highness's origin, there is no one who would dare defy it."
"If that's the case, then that's reassuring—but it's still rather absurd. To surrender and hand over everything you have to your enemy."
At Lucian's doubt, Helen smiled gently and explained.
"Your Highness, this is a land with an absolute shortage of population. In a place like this, if you were to kill everyone just because they became enemies once, the losses would be enormous. On the other hand, no matter how much you might wish to spare them, if the enemy refuses to submit, you have no choice."
Only then did Lucian feel he understood why such a rule had come into being.
The population a ruler commands is a source of taxes, labor, and military strength.
Naturally, the larger the population, the greater the benefit—to the ruler and to the faction as a whole.
But unlike the Empire, this land had no way to bring in people from outside.
Whether enemy or ally, they can only squabble among an already fixed population. In that situation, if you reduce your numbers by killing them just because they're enemies, the entire web of intertribal trade would collapse.
A bitter smile formed at the corner of Lucian's mouth.
Unless there were people ready to newly settle the emptied land, victory would leave nothing behind.
Rather, the loss of trade networks would worsen the quality of life.
From a victor's perspective, it made far more sense to remove the enemy leader and absorb the rest of the population.
Yet even if you wanted to accept former enemies, if they chose death over submission, there was no alternative.
"So it's a kind of social contract. You recognize the victor as the legitimate ruler, and in return you're guaranteed your lives and equal treatment."
"That's exactly right."
"I see. In that case, there's nothing to worry about."
This wasn't some hollow formality—it was a rule created to prevent the annihilation of an entire tribe.
Because it was a matter directly tied to survival, no one would dare violate it lightly.
"Alright. I'll accept."
***
Lucian's group decided to stay one night at the final base, just as originally planned, before setting out again.
More time had passed than expected, and in a snowfield like this, nothing was more important than conserving stamina.
What differed from usual was the increased number of people—and the meal that came with it.
Chiiiik.
The smell of meat sizzling spread throughout the cabin.
As everyone swallowed unconsciously at the mouthwatering aroma, Gunstein cut off a piece of meat and took a bite.
"Mm."
With a satisfied expression, Gunstein plated the meat carefully.
Then, holding the dish with both hands, he presented it before Lucian as though offering tribute.
"It's ready, my lord."
Lucian accepted the plate without a word and put a neatly cut piece of meat into his mouth.
Unlike the earlier plain flavor, it prickled pleasantly against his tongue—surprisingly good.
"The taste is unusual. What kind of spice did you use?"
"Spice? I don't know what that is, but it's dried black weasel liver ground into powder. Add it to any dish and the flavor improves quite a bit."
"Not bad."
"Here—everyone else, please eat as well."
Gunstein personally cut pieces of meat and handed them out to the others.
His earlier insolent attitude was nowhere to be seen; his manner was unfailingly respectful.
The group accepted the plates he offered, still a bit dazed by the change.
One of the subordinates, who had been fidgeting anxiously as he watched Gunstein, finally stepped forward.
"Brother, we'll serve them."
"No. This is my duty."
Despite his subordinate's consideration, Gunstein did not budge.
Even in the Empire, personally cutting and serving food was considered the height of courtesy—but here, it seemed to carry even greater meaning.
Helen quietly watched Gunstein, and only after receiving the plate he offered her did she speak.
"Sir Gunstein, perhaps it's time you explained yourself."
"Explained… what, exactly?"
"Don't play dumb. Why did you ignore my mediation earlier?"
Helen's sharp gaze bore down on the bewildered Gunstein.
"The Gunstein I know wasn't such a headstrong man. You knew how to judge right from wrong, and you showed respect to my master as well."
"…"
"And yet today, you didn't even pretend to listen to me—on top of that, you even insulted my master's guests. Why did you act that way?"
It was a question so blunt it bordered on cold.
Gunstein hesitated for a long moment, then let out a sigh as if he had given up.
No matter how he thought about it, he couldn't come up with anything but a pathetic excuse—so it seemed better to just be honest.
"I wanted to draw the Pathfinder to my side—to become chieftain."
"What do you mean by that?"
"My father has grown very old. He's not so frail that he can't move, but he's reached a point where he can no longer proudly call himself a warrior."
When a chieftain can no longer fulfill his duties as a warrior, selecting a new chieftain is an ancient tradition.
Everyone knew that a contest among the brothers would soon begin.
As one who shared the chieftain's blood, Gunstein was eligible to participate—and he did harbor ambition for the position.
"But unlike my other brothers, my foundation is far too weak. The history I've built, the time I've had—they're nothing compared to theirs. They've led groups and built their reputations for over a decade."
If the contest were a pure one-on-one duel, Gunstein might still have had a chance.
But one's accumulated renown and the strength of one's following were also key factors in the trial.
If he had another ten years, perhaps—but if the contest began now, there was no chance he could win, no matter what.
"My brothers don't even consider me a rival. And truth be told, they're right. But there was one person who could overturn all those disadvantages in one stroke."
"You mean your master."
"Yes. If the Pathfinder stood on my side, I could at least compete on equal footing. But there was no sign of that ever happening, so…"
"So you tried to use us, whom you happened to meet. You planned to invoke tradition, claim us as your property, then release us in exchange for demanding we become your allies?"
At Lucian's pointed question, Gunstein nodded, his face flushing red.
Having his scheme turned back on him was, evidently, not something he was proud to recall.
"…Still, now that I serve you, my lord, I find it a relief. Among my brothers, there isn't a single one fit to be chieftain."
In other words, he'd rather serve Lucian than serve any of his brothers.
Judging by the clarity in Gunstein's expression, it didn't seem like an excuse made on the spot.
"Well, if that's how you see it, then so be it. By the way—this contest you mentioned. Does it really seem imminent?"
"Yes? Ah—yes. At the latest, it should begin within three or four days. My father's been hinting at it quietly."
"In that case."
Lucian set his plate down and said with a crooked grin,
"Does that mean I can take part in the contest in your place?"
"...?"
The next day, Lucian's group left the cabin and headed for their destination.
There was no longer any need for Helen to guide them by piecing together memories from years past.
Gunstein and his subordinates—locals of the land—had taken on the role of guides.
"If we keep this pace, we should arrive before afternoon."
"That's a relief. I was just starting to get sick of trudging through snow nonstop."
"But my lord… do you truly intend to participate in the contest?"
Lucian answered only with a faint smile and quickened his steps.
Gunstein, who had been about to ask more, closed his mouth again.
One could hardly pry into matters their lord chose to keep to himself.
"The blizzard's easing up."
As they followed Gunstein's lead, Lucian glanced around and murmured.
This had been a land where blizzards raged so fiercely that no human could endure it without the path opened by magic.
Yet from here onward, the further they advanced, the calmer the storm became.
Before long, the blizzard died down entirely, and the surroundings evened out into a uniform landscape.
It was then.
"This is where our tribe lives—the Dragon's Jaw."
Walking a few steps ahead, Gunstein pointed down below the hill as he spoke.
Following him up the rise, Lucian let out an exclamation of admiration.
"Impressive."
Beyond the snowfields, at the edge of the frozen land, there truly was a settlement.
And not an ordinary one—every resident living there was a giant, two or three heads taller than an imperial citizen.
The hulking figures clad in leather were busily repairing damaged houses, skinning hunted beasts, each absorbed in their work.
Life itself looked familiar enough, yet the sight before them was far too strange to dismiss with people live the same everywhere.
"…They're carrying logs—one in each hand?"
"And the beasts they're skinning are all ferocious predators."
Loads that an imperial man of the same height would struggle to carry were lifted with ease.
Massive beasts were flipped around one-handed, as casually as handling rabbits.
And the residents passed by without a second thought, as if all of this were perfectly ordinary.
It felt like you could grab any one of them at random and they'd overpower the Empire's elite soldiers like children.
"My lord, please put this on before we go down."
While everyone stood there in a daze, Gunstein removed his outer garment and handed it to Lucian.
Lucian frowned slightly at the excessively thick, oversized leather coat.
"Do I really have to wear this? It's so big I'll look ridiculous."
"It's proof that all my authority has been transferred to you. Later on it may not matter, but when you enter for the first time, you must wear it."
"Hah… can't be helped."
With a sigh, Lucian draped the leather coat over himself.
Fortunately, the hem didn't drag along the ground, so he figured he could at least preserve a shred of dignity.
The group finished preparing and descended—and the moment they came face to face with the residents below—
"Ghh—!?"
"M-my goodness!"
"No way!"
"Ooooh, at last!"
Cries erupted from every direction the instant they saw Lucian.
Caught completely off guard by the reaction, Lucian blinked.
What's with this all of a sudden?
He'd expected hostility, but this wasn't hostility at all—it was closer to shock and fear.
Yet mixed among it were people cheering with expressions full of hope and anticipation.
Completely at a loss as to what was happening, Lucian tilted his head—when one of the residents suddenly shouted,
"Our king has arrived!"
"...?"
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