Citrio showed interest in me.
“You’re the sub-master of Blispiel that I’ve only heard rumors about? Nice to meet you.”
“It’s a tremendous honor to meet Master Altus, renowned as one of the Continent’s Twelve Heroes, in person like this.”
“I’ve been wanting to have a separate conversation with you. However, I can’t ignore my prior guests, so would you mind waiting a moment?”
“Of course.”
As I stepped back and observed the atmosphere of the banquet hall, one of the lackeys guarding Citrio’s surroundings approached me.
He was a middle-aged man who introduced himself as a core executive of the Beldeor Clan.
“Hahaha! I heard that the sub-master of Blispiel is the second son of the Stroke Principality in the north?”
“That’s correct.”
When I nodded readily, the man grinned and said, “Caracol is already a massive clan ranked among the top ten on the continent at this point. If we, who hold some power in Elanore, join under them and lend our strength, don’t you think we could stand shoulder to shoulder with the Four Great Clans in the future?”
The Dayorvek of the Volroestrum Alliance.
The Pecheli of the Vardia Kingdom.
The Lapis of the Liliac Magic Nation.
The Willoria of the Haramadhin Sultanate.
These are the four most famous and influential clans on the current Prima Continent.
Currently, only those four are collectively called the Four Great Clans, but by the time of the original story, Caracol was included, making it the Five Great Clans. Although Caracol was firmly at the bottom among the Five Great Clans, there’s no doubt that their power and authority are immense.
The man whispered, “Prince Aiden. Master Altus is a broad-minded person. If you align yourself now, once Caracol expands its influence, we can enjoy wealth and honor as founding contributors. With your solid background in the principality, you’ll surely be welcomed.”
“………”
When I glanced toward Citrio, he was conversing with those around him but subtly paying attention to this side. He seemed quite interested in recruiting me.
“I see. But unfortunately, I’ve come here today to declare war.”
“What do you mean… Urk?!”
The man collapsed on the spot, overwhelmed by an inexplicable pressure. The cause of his humiliation was my great-uncle following behind me. He had stepped forward slowly and released his qi.
Ebel curled up the corners of his mouth.
“A man of the Stroke bloodline, a prestigious martial family of the north, cannot bow his head and submit before even fighting.”
“Y-You old geezer! How dare a mere bodyguard cause a scene in the banquet hall! Master Altus will never let this slide!”
The executive from the Beldeor Clan flushed red and pointed accusingly. However, Ebel didn’t even spare him a glance.
“…I wondered what the commotion was. This is an unexpected guest in the banquet hall.”
That was why Citrio approached with a hardened expression.
“For the strongest knight of the north to personally visit such a humble place, as the owner of a small clan, I don’t know where to put myself.”
“Spare me the unnecessary humility, Master Altus. Aren’t we both members of the Continent’s Twelve Heroes?”
With that short exchange, all the guests in the banquet hall fell silent. It was easy to figure out the identity of the old man who had come with me.
“Th-The Heavy Sword, Ebel Stroke…?”
The middle-aged man who had pointed at Ebel moments ago finally grasped the situation and turned pale.
Character sheet.
<Citrio Altus>
[Level:55/55]
[HP:16][STR:19][AGI:15]
[MP:15][MEN:07][SEN:13]
[DIV:04]
[Traits:Immovable(S+), Hunter’s Eye(A) and 4 others]
[Skills:Altus Blunt Weapon Art · Extreme(S), Altus Secret Heart Method · Extreme(A+), Tulrui Shield Art · Extreme(A), Thousand Earth Step(B) and 5 others]
[Description:Age 62, Human. A current member of the Continent’s Twelve Heroes and clan master of Caracol. He exerts immense influence in the central region.]
Level [55/55], 6 traits, 9 skills.
All the same as in the original story.
Back when I was a reader, in my personal ranking of the Continent’s Twelve Heroes’ combat power, Citrio was 7th.
In other words, solidly mid-tier.
He would make a good match against my current great-uncle.
Paaah!
Suddenly, an intense energy brushed against my skin.
It was the pressure of the qi released by Ebel and Citrio.
Using the trait, Mana Eye(B), I could clearly see the sharply clashing energies of the two. Soon, the composure vanished from Citrio’s expression. He had personally felt that the opponent before him was a possessor of strength similar to his own.
“…Hah, I heard that Sir Stroke retired from his position as commander of the principality recently, but what brings you to a place like this all of a sudden? Did you come to see your grandnephew’s antics?”
“Hear the details from the person himself. If you think about it, I’m something like a mercenary.”
“A mercenary…?”
Immediately after, Ebel nonchalantly pointed to me behind him, and all eyes in the room turned toward me at once.
“Sub-master of Blispiel. What kind of trick is this?”
“Do I really need to explain it to you, Master Altus? It seems like you’ve already anticipated it all.”
I faced Citrio with a relaxed smile on my lips. Suddenly, numerous presences gathered behind me.
“Our Iekas Clan, like Blispiel, will not cooperate with the Caracol Clan in the slightest.”
“Our Ifrain as well.”
“The Puig Clan also shares the same…”
None other than the representatives of the six clans I had prepped and pulled over to our side.
All this time, I had diligently persuaded the other clan masters, claiming I had prepared the foundation to stand against Caracol. This was an undeniable fact, but even after arriving at the banquet hall, the representatives of the six clans had seemed half-doubting.
However, the appearance of my great-uncle, one of the Continent’s Twelve Heroes, was enough to give them certainty.
The total number of clans based in Elanore is twenty-one. Among them, about one-third had now raised their hands in support of us instead of Caracol.
“This…!”
Citrio glared at me as if to kill, his face flushed red. His fiercely glowing eyes emitted an energy extremely close to killing intent.
It was a technique called ‘Qi.’
A year ago, my legs might have given out and I’d have collapsed, but the me of then and the me of now are worlds apart.
I raised my voice and shouted.
“Esteemed guests invited to this occasion! Although this isn’t a banquet I hosted, since the situation has turned out this way, I’d like to borrow the venue to say one thing.”
Eyes filled with interest, bewilderment, mockery, curiosity… various emotions pierced into me.
“Our seven clans will join forces to oppose the Caracol Clan, which seeks to swallow Elanore whole. The impending civil war in the Glicia Kingdom will be an unparalleled stage to determine who the rightful guardian of Elanore is.”
“…!”
As I openly mentioned the civil war that everyone had been hush-hush about, a great murmur spread through the room.
I pointed to those surrounding Citrio like bodyguards.
“You there should also reconsider cooperating with Caracol. Do you really think you’ll receive the same treatment after Elanore falls under effective control? You’d be lucky if you even get proper compensation for your cooperation.”
“Th-That’s…”
The representatives of Beldeor and Keltica, who had been the first to support Caracol, panicked greatly.
In the original history, only those two remained intact as subordinate clans under Caracol.
No matter how bloated a clan becomes, the high positions are ultimately finite, and Citrio was a cold leader.
He might accept one or two, but there’s no way he’d take in the majority of subpar resources as executives.
In other words, the remaining nineteen clans that hadn’t aligned in advance were destined to be completely abandoned after the civil war ended, whether they cooperated or not.
The representatives of each clan, who had been in agony, slowly approached this side.
“We can’t just do nothing and leave our clan’s survival in someone else’s hands. The Deborah Clan supports the Blispiel Clan!”
“The Cabal Clan. Same here.”
The floodgates opened.
After that, the tide reversed in an instant.
Sixteen clans had joined our side.
Blispiel being small-scale worked in our favor here. Even if we defeated Caracol, there was no worry of being swallowed whole—that was the calculation.
“………”
Citrio looked at me with deeply sunken eyes. He seemed like he wanted to rage right then and there, but with his strong political inclinations, he valued face.
There were also key figures from external major powers present, so he wouldn’t show any disgrace.
Soon, he let out a sigh.
“This banquet, which should have been enjoyable, has turned into a venue for a declaration of war. I can’t keep an opponent who’s bared their fangs openly in this place any longer.”
Citrio subtly gestured, and Caracol clan members swarmed in, surrounding us. They intended to drive us out by force.
He glared at Ebel and said, “You’ll pay the price for this soon enough, Sir Stroke.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
My great-uncle laughed ferociously.
The banquet ended.
Boom!
The desk in the office shattered into pieces under Citrio’s punch. The Caracol executives watched the scene with stiff expressions.
Adelio bowed his head.
“I have no excuses, Father. But the spy we dispatched to Blispiel reported no abnormalities all this time…”
“I’m not in the mood for lame excuses right now. How much impact do you think this incident will have on the direction of the civil war? And what policy do you think we should adopt going forward?”
“…Even if Blispiel and the other seventeen clans join forces, they can’t match us. With three months left until the civil war, there’s no room for meaningful variables.”
“That’s assuming they don’t bring in external powers, right?”
“…Yes.”
Veins bulged on Citrio’s forehead.
“From the looks of it, that damned principality’s grandfather and grandson have been sharpening their blades systematically for a long time. There’s no rule saying the Stroke Principality won’t get deeply involved in the civil war.”
Aiden, who joined the traditionally prestigious but small Blispiel and cleared its debts; the Continent’s Twelve Hero who retired from the commander position just in time; the spy whose identity was exposed, blocking eyes and ears for some reason.
All the puzzles fit together in his mind.
It was all arrangements laid by the Stroke Grand Ducal family to advance into the central region.
“Master Altus didn’t seem to pay me any mind.”
“Hmph, that’s the difference in experience. It’s only natural that he’d be more wary of me.”
Ebel snorted at Aiden’s words as they left the banquet hall.
A week later.
Among the intellectuals of the central continent, rumors involving Citrio and Ebel, the two members of the Continent’s Twelve Heroes, began to circulate.
“Did you hear? The clans in Elanore are uniting to oppose Caracol in the upcoming kingdom civil war. And apparently, Citrio Altus and Ebel Stroke are set to have a proper showdown there.”
“Really? If that’s true, it’ll be the first real sword fight between members of the Twelve in who knows how long. Ho ho.”
It was still just floating rumors.
But it was an extremely intriguing topic.
The Continent’s Twelve Heroes are considered by the public to be the strongest contenders on the Prima Continent. Paradoxically, however, opportunities to showcase their individual strength, which forms the basis of that evaluation, decrease over time due to their social positions.
Once their authority is recognized by the Church of Struggle, the Twelve naturally attract many followers, and as time passes, they become bound by various interests, unable to act freely.
If the two really clashed in the civil war, the outcome of the fight would be talked about among the people for decades.
“I’ve laid enough bait, Great-Uncle.”
Muttering that, Aiden headed to the reception room to greet the guests who had come to the Blispiel Clan House.
The first was a priest dispatched from the Church of Utility, which manages inter-clan disputes.
The second was an envoy sent by Princess Isabella of the Glicia Kingdom.
In other words, a tripartite meeting.
“Sub-master of the Blispiel Clan, Aiden Stroke.”
“I’m Alexander Viacres, the court count assisting the legitimate heir of the Glicia royal family, Princess Isabella.”
After exchanging simple greetings, Aiden and Alexander swallowed nervously and looked at the envoy from the Holy Nation.
At the end of their gaze was a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties.
Long navy-blue hair tied in a ponytail, a tall stature for a woman, a neat but slightly stiff face, a robe made of material symbolizing a saint—considered special from birth in each church.
And decisively, a navy-blue scarf engraved with the ‘Scales’ emblem.
“I’m Flora Markroti, mediator of the Holy Nation and the Church of Utility.”
Aiden furrowed his brow.
Given the gravity of the matter, he had expected someone high-ranking from the Holy Nation, but the visitor was even more prominent than anticipated.