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Chapter – 25
“Northmen… Northmen, huh.”
That word—more than anything—was seared deeply into Carlisle’s mind.
Northmen.
Literally, it meant the people of the north—here, it referred to the citizens of Decaron.
The Kingdom of Nürburk was not a homogeneous state but rather a union of thirteen noble houses under a single royal family.
Because of that, the people identified less with the kingdom itself and more with the territories governed by their respective houses.
Among them, the people of Decaron—the lands ruled by House Sigmund—called themselves Northmen, proudly displaying a stronger sense of belonging than anyone else.
The reason was simple.
Decaron was vast and fertile, yet it was a land where not a single day passed without war against the barbarians.
For centuries, the Northmen had written their bloody history under the banner of House Sigmund, defending their homeland against endless invasions.
They were raised from childhood to fight barbarians, and once they reached adulthood, they willingly joined the army to protect their families.
Evangeline was no exception—a Northwoman to her very bones.
That was why, no matter what generous conditions the royal family offered, she had no desire to leave Decaron.
It was also why, when Carlisle threatened not to let her live if she tried to go, she wasn’t frightened or offended—she simply didn’t care.
“Northmen, huh… What exactly are Northmen?”
“Pardon?”
“Just curious.”
“But you’re a Northman too, young master.”
“Am I?”
Carlisle gave a faint, bitter smile at Evangeline’s reply.
‘I wouldn’t know. I’m not really a Northman, after all.’
He knew all about the Northmen’s traits—from the game Overlord.
The Northmen were a hardy people, boasting tremendous stamina, iron wills, and fierce pride in their homeland, Decaron.
But knowing it intellectually and living it were two different things. Carlisle couldn’t truly understand their values.
‘Even that guy?’
He remembered—even the real Carlisle, that notorious scoundrel, had called himself a proud Northman.
“Honestly, I don’t care about being a Northman or not. I just don’t want to let the royal family take you away.”
“P-pardon?”
Evangeline’s eyes widened like a startled rabbit.
“T-that’s…!”
“You’re a contracted spiritist of the Earth Spirit. That makes you incredibly valuable.”
“Ah…”
Her face softened into an awkward expression that said, ‘Of course, that’s all it was.’
“What’s with that face?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Anyway, I’m not letting you go. You belong to me.”
“If the royal family tries to take me by force? What if they really do—”
“They won’t be sending your corpse back, so don’t worry.”
“Yes, young master.”
“Hey, Carlisle.”
“What now?”
“Aren’t you afraid of the royal family?”
“Nope.”
“Y-young master! Don’t say that! The royal family—they’re…”
“What can they possibly do to me? You’ll see. Nothing’s going to happen.”
Carlisle chuckled and walked into his room, slamming the door behind him before collapsing onto his bed.
Right now, the only thing in his head was sleep—he hadn’t had enough lately.
The Watcher sent a messenger to the capital to report Carlisle’s commissioning ceremony and await a response concerning Evangeline.
He had faithfully relayed Carlisle’s refusal to hand her over—and waited for the royal family’s reply.
The messenger arrived swiftly at the capital and delivered the report to Crown Prince Gordon von Oracle.
“Carlisle von Sigmund…”
Though Gordon had not yet gone through his coronation, he was already acting as regent, managing the affairs of state.
“They call him the scoundrel of the north—and apparently, it’s well-earned.”
Rather than anger, Gordon chuckled in disbelief.
No one could have predicted that some reckless noble brat would reject the royal family’s offer outright.
And to top it off, he’d threatened to kill a spiritist bound to the Earth Spirit—right in front of the Watcher?
Only a madman would dare.
‘Do I make an example of him—teach him what happens when one insults the crown?’
Normally, he wouldn’t have hesitated. But this time was different.
‘No… the timing’s too delicate. I can’t afford to alienate House Sigmund right now.’
The barbarians’ large-scale invasion was imminent, and the kingdom desperately needed the Sigmund family’s cooperation.
Besides, they were already sour over the recent scandal involving House Loren—a scandal everyone knew Loren had caused, despite their loud denials.
‘Best to let this one slide. A gesture of goodwill toward the Sigmunds might serve us better.’
The royal dynasty could not rule by force alone.
It required balance—mercy at times, diplomacy among the houses.
True, the crown’s power was strong enough to subdue all twelve other houses by force.
But as long as the barbarians beyond the borders existed, the crown could not afford open hostility—or civil war among its own nobles.
“Send word to House Sigmund, to Duke Guntram.”
“At once, Your Highness.”
“Tell him this: The royal family respects Carlisle von Sigmund’s decision and withdraws its proposal. Furthermore, the crown will mediate the conflict with House Loren to the Duke’s satisfaction, forbidding any armed escalation.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
And with that, Crown Prince Gordon neatly closed the matter.
He was certain the other twelve houses would not see it as weakness—but rather as royal magnanimity, a reward for loyalty.
A month later.
“The royal family respects your decision, Carlisle von Sigmund, and hereby withdraws its proposal. However, the crown expects your full cooperation should a future request arise.”
That was the message Carlisle received from the Watcher.
“Yeah, fine. Sure.”
“…Is that all you have to say?”
“What else is there?”
“……”
The Watcher shut his eyes tightly, exasperated.
The boy showed no fear, no reverence—nothing but indifference toward the royal family.
“Well then, farewell.”
Without giving the Watcher a chance to say more, Carlisle turned on his heel and disappeared from sight.
“W-wait—ah, never mind.”
There was no point in arguing.
After all, this was the infamous scoundrel even his own father had given up on.
If a scoundrel acted like a scoundrel, getting angry would only make the Watcher look foolish.
‘Mission accomplished. Time to head home.’
And so, both the commissioning ceremony and the Evangeline affair came to a close.
A few days later.
“Oh, right,” Carlisle said casually as Evangeline poured his tea.
“You don’t have to go. The Watcher said the royal family withdrew their proposal.”
“…And you’re telling me this just now?”
“I forgot.”
“……”
Evangeline stared at him, dumbfounded.
He forgot?
She’d been worrying day and night about being dragged to the capital—and he’d forgotten?
“You don’t need to make that face. Whether you heard sooner or later, the outcome’s the same.”
“But still…”
“What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Come on, tell me.”
“It’s just… if you’d told me earlier, I might’ve been able to relax sooner.”
“Oh. Fair point. I’ll remember that next time.”
Evangeline closed her eyes tightly as he scratched his head like it had simply slipped his mind.
Right… expecting too much from him was my mistake.
Watching their exchange, Maranello gave a wry smile and spoke.
“Young master, I believe you’ll be receiving a dispatch from the Duke tonight.”
“What?”
Carlisle frowned mid-sip.
If Duke Guntram was sending him a formal letter, it could mean only one thing—
“So, he’s finally decided to send me to where the barbarians swarm.”
“There isn’t a parent alive who wants to send their child to war, young master.”
“Isn’t there?”
Carlisle said it with a bitter smile, because that was exactly the Sigmund way.
Train with the sword from childhood, become a knight at adulthood, and fight the barbarians—that was the destiny of the Sigmunds.
“No parent wishes it, my lord. It is merely the fate given to those born on this land.”
“So… it’s because they’re Northmen.”
“Young master, you are a Northman yourself—you should know this better than anyone.”
“Hmm.”
“I only hope you do not misunderstand the Duke—your father.”
“Yeah, yeah, enough preaching.”
Carlisle cut him off, setting down his fork.
He’d been about to enjoy a slice of cake with his tea, but the thought of heading to the barbarian front killed his appetite.
“He wouldn’t send me anywhere too dangerous, right?”
“Unfortunately, there’s no such thing as a safe place beyond the border.”
“……”
Carlisle grimaced, but didn’t despair.
“Well, he’s not that heartless. Sending a scoundrel like me into real danger would just cause trouble for everyone.”
“Haha…”
“No way he’d throw his own son into a death trap, right?”
With that, Carlisle decided to take it easy.
That evening, a royal messenger delivered Duke Guntram’s sealed letter.
And when Carlisle broke the seal and read the orders, his expression froze.
“…He wants me to go where?”
He could hardly believe his eyes.
The designated post was a rugged mountain region covered in dense forests—an area dotted with hundreds of small fortresses.
It was known as The Blood-Soaked Land, where not a single day passed without battle.
Forts changed hands multiple times a day, and in all of history, no one had ever managed to control the region entirely.
A cursed battlefield.
Though the barbarians had not yet begun their full-scale invasion, at this point in time, there was no place more perilous than that.
