154 The Weight of a Crown
"More importantly, you carry the blood of Grimaldi. Now that you’ve been acknowledged, if you were to claim the rights of the royal family, most would recognize it."
"Viscount."
"Don’t misunderstand me," Harald interrupted before William could say more, raising both hands as if to wave away any misconceptions. "I’m not telling you to rebel against the Empire."
His tone made it clear that this was merely a necessary discussion—a practical consideration. There was no hidden agenda urging William to bring about the kingdom’s revival.
"To be frank, the North is in desperate need of a guiding figure."
"A guiding figure? Do the Northerners truly require such a thing?" William asked skeptically. "I thought strength alone was enough for them." Your journey continues with freewebnovel
"Oh, we need it, alright," Harald said firmly. "No matter how strong we may be, we are not immune to the currents of history."
"What exactly is it that concerns you?"
"The relationship between the North and the Imperial Court."
Harald sighed and leaned back in his chair.
Though he had fought like an unyielding warrior earlier, the weight of his responsibilities as a lord now seemed to press down upon him, leaving him visibly weary.
"The Imperial Court has been displaying increasing weakness in recent times. That, in itself, isn’t enough for the North to desire independence. But what concerns everyone is how the Empire might react when its options become limited."
For centuries, the North had remained a part of the Empire, though its ties with the Imperial Court had always been lukewarm at best.
Their land was barren, offering little in terms of resources. However, their warriors were among the strongest in the realm. This led to a precarious balance—if the Empire interfered too much, it would gain nothing but resentment. So instead, they had been left mostly to their own devices.
And the North, in turn, had accepted this arrangement.
Through trade routes, they had prospered. They had paid their taxes and maintained their place within the Empire, neither too close nor too distant.
"We wish to keep things that way," Harald continued. "But do you think the Imperial Court shares that sentiment?"
"They wouldn’t dare to make an enemy of the North, not with everything else they have to deal with," William reasoned.
"That’s likely true. But trust, William, can be just as troublesome as hostility. We don’t want to be seen as potential traitors, but we also don’t want them to grow too comfortable with us."
"…"
"Think about it—if you were struggling and needed help, who would you turn to first? A mere acquaintance, or a close friend?"
William frowned.
Now, at last, he understood the concerns of the Northern lords.
They don’t want a hostile relationship with the Empire—but they don’t want to be drawn too close either. If they become too valuable, the Imperial Court might start expecting more from them—demanding troops, forcing them into wars they have no stake in.
Given the history between the North and the Imperial family, that made perfect sense.
The North had always been a land of warriors, but it was also a land where every life was precious. Their population was small, and their constant border skirmishes meant they could ill afford to be dragged into larger conflicts.
"There are some fools who, in their impatience, have already begun waging wars of their own," Harald said bitterly. "They seek to expand their domains, believing they must strengthen themselves before the Imperial Court turns its eyes toward the North."
William’s eyes narrowed. "Is that why some have begun aligning with House Calix, which claims the name of Grimaldi?"
"Most likely. There are certainly those who truly believe in Calix’s cause, but for the majority, it’s a matter of pragmatism. They think the North needs unity, a single voice to speak on its behalf."
It all came down to one thing—uncertainty.
The looming presence of the Empire had left many uneasy. The fear of being forced into an unwanted alliance had led some to act rashly, and now, even those who had no interest in rebellion were being dragged into the turmoil.
Worse yet, factions with true aspirations for independence had begun to emerge, using the chaos to push their own agendas.
The North needs a stabilizing force, William realized. Without it, the conflict will only escalate.
In his past life, the situation had played out differently. The Emperor’s paranoia had driven the North into submission, forcing them into retreat. Once the Emperor’s death left the throne in chaos, the North returned to its usual state, dealing with its own internal struggles but avoiding major upheaval.
But now, the Imperial Court was just stable enough to be dangerous—uncertain, but not yet desperate. And that uncertainty was precisely what was causing this growing tension.
"You want me to be that stabilizing force," William concluded. "Not only as the heir to the Grimaldi name, but as the North’s central figure."
Harald nodded. "I won’t ask you to restore House Grimaldi outright. It would be too much to expect you to cast aside your name and bury yourself in this remote land. But I do ask that you maintain the Hern name while serving as a bridge between the North and the Imperial Court."
William fell silent.
Then, slowly, he met Harald’s gaze and asked, in a quiet yet deliberate voice—
"What if I were to claim not just my lineage, but the full rights of the royal family?"
"…!"
Harald stiffened.
It wasn’t just the words that shocked him—it was the way William had suddenly shifted his tone to formal speech, the language of rulers.
He had not merely mentioned House Grimaldi.
He had spoken of the royal family.
This was no longer a conversation about uniting the North.
This was a question of whether the North should restore the kingdom itself.
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Then, without a word, Harald stood abruptly and strode toward a nearby cabinet.
He pulled out a bottle of honeyed mead, uncorked it, and without hesitation, began drinking directly from the bottle.
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Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
The strong liquor vanished down his throat in rapid succession until, at last, the bottle was empty.
Harald set the bottle down—hard—with a loud thud, shaking the table.