275 The Path to Legacy

“If you cannot bear the dishonor of serving the man who killed your father and brother, then stay here and die. But if you want your name to live on—if you want your story to be remembered—then follow me.”

Ainar’s throat felt dry.

“…If I follow you,” he rasped, his voice unsteady, “can I carve my name beyond the Tundra?”

William grinned.

“I will make you a legend,” he said. “One that will never be forgotten.”

Ainar had made his decision—he would serve William.

The land he called home was barren of opportunities. For a man born into it, only a handful of desires were worth pursuing—power, strength, and a name to be remembered. Yet power had already slipped beyond his reach, and strength was something he could not even begin to compare. If he wished to leave behind a legacy, there was only one path left—to follow William.

“If my lord keeps his promise, I shall serve with my life,” Ainar declared.

“I promise,” William responded, satisfied with the oath.

Though defeated, Ainar was still a man worthy of leading. He had the ability to unite the tribe and minimize internal discord—a rare asset. A warrior of his caliber would be invaluable in bringing order to the integration process.

“From now on, you will handle all matters concerning this land. If there are any issues or advice worth mentioning, bring them to me at once. Should discontent rise among the people, gather their voices and relay them to me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“My lord?! Why would you cast me aside for this man!?”

Gunstein’s outcry was immediate.

William’s words had been clear—Ainar would not simply oversee the Snowfield but all tribes they would conquer in the days to come. He would be granted more authority than Gunstein’s father, Ivar, had ever wielded.

And yet, William had chosen Ainar over him, the man who had been by his side first.

“I’ve served you longer, haven’t I?” Gunstein pressed, his voice desperate. “If you entrust this role to me—”

“Are you saying you would do a better job than Ainar?” William interrupted. “You couldn’t even build a force of your own.”

“…”

Gunstein fell silent, struck speechless.

Ruling and managing others required experience. He had never been able to amass a force strong enough to challenge his brothers—how could he claim to be fit for command?

William chuckled at his sulking expression and clapped him on the back.

“Don’t take it too hard. Every man has his place.”

“But—”

“I’ll make it up to you when we return. I have a gift for you. One far greater than the dragon’s power your brother so clumsily absorbed.”

“…!?”

Gunstein wasn’t the only one stunned—Ainar’s eyes widened as well.

The power of a dragon.

It had done nothing against William, but for any other man, it was an overwhelming force, elevating one beyond what they had once been. And yet, William spoke as if he possessed something greater.

“Is that… really possible?” Gunstein asked hesitantly.

“Of course. You’ll see.”

William’s so-called gift was, of course, nectar.

Strictly speaking, a dragon’s heart was the greater treasure, but that was only if one could handle its power. For humans, the strain was immense—those like Ivar and his sons could only absorb mere fragments of its strength. In contrast, nectar amplified one’s own power, making it far easier to wield.

After all, external mana could be fickle, but an internal reservoir—when strengthened—was infinitely more reliable.

The so-called ‘Authority’ was a ridiculous ability, but even that meant nothing without a vast wellspring of power to sustain it.

If one did not possess a source as abundant as William’s, they would only be able to use it for the briefest of moments before exhausting themselves.

Reaching a higher realm required more than raw power. It required control, refinement, and mastery. Nectar would grant Gunstein that path.

Having settled Ainar’s new role, William gathered his retainers within the chieftain’s dwelling.

“With the Azure Dragon Tribe under our command, it’s time to decide our next course of action,” he announced.

“Our course?” Gunstein asked. “Shouldn’t we simply return?”

“That would be the case… if the Azure Dragon Tribe was the only force in these snowfields. But there are still five others I have yet to meet.”

Of the original thirty-five tribes, nine had vanished, leaving twenty-four. Time had further whittled their numbers down, and now only six remained—including the Azure Dragon Tribe.

“The Azure Dragon Tribe is the strongest among them, with the greatest population. The others combined can barely match their strength,” William mused.

“That is true,” Ainar acknowledged. “However, our real advantage lies in the high proportion of warriors and the magic of our seers.”

William nodded. “And that is exactly the issue. If their numbers are similar to yours, then leaving them alone would be a waste.”

Ainar’s explanation had only cemented William’s decision.

With a dragon’s heart and an artifact that controlled the cold, he now had all he needed to conquer the snowfields. It would be easy to return with an army and take the rest by force.

“If I return with the Azure Dragon Tribe at my side, everyone will know that my words were true. The rest can simply be conquered by military might. But tell me… would those taken by force ever be as loyal as the Azure Dragon Tribe?”

“That would be… difficult,” Marius answered.

As someone well-versed in both the Empire and the Snowfield Tribes, he could already see what would unfold.

“Unlike the Empire, these lands have no concept of conquest. Even if they surrender under the weight of an invasion, they would see Your Highness as nothing more than a foreign invader. They would never truly pledge their allegiance.”

“And yet, I do not have time to convince each tribe as I did with the Azure Dragon Tribe,” William admitted. “If we leave Asagrim unattended for too long, it will invite trouble.”

Hans was currently overseeing Asagrim in his stead.

Though William had spent six months rapidly training him, experience in governance could not be gained so quickly. His status as William’s closest aide would keep the more ambitious nobles at bay—for a time. But fear could only last so long. Eventually, they would grow bold, and trouble would follow.