Regressing as the Reincarnated Bastard of the Sword Clan

Chapter 294

"Ice-cold northern beer for sale!"
"Try the roasted giant boar meat!"
"Northern specialty fire liquor and red wine available too!"

Winterer was alive with a warmth that defied its icy reputation.

Stalls lined the streets, their vibrant displays offering everything from food to trinkets. Children laughed as they cheered for street performers in the bustling square, while melodies from musicians mingled with the crowd’s lively chatter.

Drinking, dancing, and revelry filled the air, a grand celebration in honor of the succession ceremony.

For the first time in decades, Winterer was hosting such an event. And this wasn’t just any succession—it was the formal ascension of Theo Ragnar, the heir to the legendary Kyle Ragnar.

This historic moment drew caravans of nobles and their retinues from every corner of Winterer, each laden with treasures. The steady stream of arrivals kept the castle gates busy as carriages and wagons poured in.

But as the crowd approached closer to the lord's castle, the atmosphere shifted.

Clink, clank!
The sound of weapons and soldiers’ cries filled the air.

Though only a few blocks away from the lively streets, the scene around the castle felt like an entirely different world. Lines of knights exuded a commanding presence, their expressions grim and determined.

Winterer did not use its knights to entertain onlookers; instead, it showcased a tense readiness as if preparing for war.

The knights’ disciplined movements, sharp stances, and the weight of their resolve were clear to any who approached.

Those nobles heading to meet Theo couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

"…This doesn’t feel like a welcome. It feels like a warning."

Tamuth Narsio, moving in line toward the lord's castle, couldn’t shake his discomfort.

Though the knights didn’t exude killing intent, the sharp aura of hostility occasionally pricked at his senses.

• "That’s Tamuth Narsio. What a formidable aura!"
• "Of course he’s here. No Ragnar event happens without him."
• "The second most powerful family in the North, after Ragnar. Makes sense."
• "Especially after recent events…"
• "Quiet! Why talk about something so unpleasant?"

Though the whispers were meant to be discreet, Tamuth heard every word.

It wasn’t just their words, either—their gazes conveyed it all. Some were filled with respect, others with ridicule.

Tamuth, however, showed no outward reaction. He was far too accustomed to this mixture of admiration and scorn.

The Narsio family—eternally the second strongest in the North.

That truth was both their pride and their shame.

But today, it felt entirely like shame.

"It seems Father was right."

Tamuth exchanged hushed words with Timothy, the deputy head of the family, through a mental transmission.

• "Ignore them, brother. They’re just sycophants desperate for Ragnar’s favor. Father wouldn’t care about their opinions."

Timothy’s attempt at reassurance drew a bitter smile from Tamuth.

Having swallowed their pride, the Narsios had arrived at the castle days ahead of schedule, intent on currying favor with the new lord.

Yet even now, they found themselves waiting. Others, seemingly less important, were given priority.

"To show such hostility toward those who’ve come with goodwill…"

Tamuth clenched his jaw. While it was expected for Ragnar to assert its dominance, the degree to which they flaunted their power felt excessive.

It was as if they were hedgehogs, bristling with spikes out of fear of being underestimated.

"Kyle’s absence has left a greater void than we realized."

Tamuth could understand, to some extent. Filling the shoes of such a monumental figure was an impossible task.

No successor, no matter how talented, could replicate Kyle Ragnar’s legacy.

Even his father, Kallen Narsio, had recognized this when he reached out to the imperial court.

Tamuth’s face took on a complicated expression.

"Perhaps the time has finally come for our great plans to take shape."

The Golden Lion Knights had been sent north, ostensibly to oversee the ceremony. But Tamuth knew better.

If the Ragnars realized the imperial knights were there to support the Narsios, they wouldn’t act recklessly.

"Perhaps this was Wellington’s final gift to us."

Though nothing was certain, one thing was clear—this was an opportunity that would never come again.

• "Let’s not reveal anything just yet."
• "Understood."

With that, the Narsios stepped through the gates into the lord’s castle.

* * *

"They must think it’s their moment of glory," Theo said nonchalantly, sipping his tea as he glanced at Black Dragon.

Black Dragon, too, nodded as he carefully examined the inventory of tribute items brought by the nobles.

"The Narsios host a grand spectacle for every succession ceremony. It’s their tradition. Though it wasn’t like this during your father’s time."

His tone carried a faint hint of disdain as he flipped through the documents.

The castle was packed with guests, and Black Dragon had a thousand other matters to attend to.

Theo smirked at his senior's dismissive attitude.

Despite the Narsio family’s status, Black Dragon clearly didn’t hold them in high regard.

"Fools blinded by their own brilliance."

Though not as powerful as Ragnar, the Narsios possessed considerable strength.

However, their rigid thinking and predictable strategies made them easy to read.

This inflexibility was why they had never surpassed Ragnar.

Even Theo, still grappling with the depths of Kyle’s genius, could see this clearly.

And so, the Narsios were doomed to remain second.

"If they were even slightly smarter, they could have stood shoulder to shoulder with Ragnar."

Theo thought of Wellington Narsio.

In his past life, Wellington had managed to accomplish what no other Narsio ever had—he’d rivaled Ragnar.

But in this timeline, that potential would never come to fruition.

Not during Theo’s reign.

The only unpredictable factor was the Golden Lion Knights. Their true strength was an enigma.

If they joined forces with the Narsios and rose in rebellion, the resulting bloodshed would be unimaginable.

"The weight of being the patriarch is heavy indeed."

Theo clenched his fist.

The thought of Wellington’s face lingered in his mind, filling him with unease.

"If they rebel, they might face total annihilation."

For anyone to rise against Ragnar was to court destruction.

Theo could only hope it wouldn’t come to that.

"Tomorrow will bring answers."

"Indeed," Black Dragon replied, standing with a resolute expression.

"From tomorrow onward, you’ll be addressed with full respect as the official head of Ragnar. Even I will speak to you formally in public. Command us as you see fit, and let your will shape the future."

Theo blinked in surprise at Black Dragon’s words.

Though he hadn’t planned on enforcing such formalities, the significance wasn’t lost on him.

"Understood. From tomorrow, I’ll ensure none dare underestimate Ragnar’s authority."

As Black Dragon departed with a faint smile, Theo steeled himself.

"Let’s show them."

The knock on the door broke his focus.

"Enter."

The steward announced Harald’s arrival.

Harald’s gaze briefly flicked over the piles of paperwork on Theo’s desk before settling on the young patriarch with a mix of amusement and concern.

"Why trouble yourself with this?"

Theo blinked, momentarily confused by the unexpected question.

"It’s the patriarch’s duty, isn’t it?"

Harald chuckled.

"In name only. The real work is delegated."

For a moment, Theo felt an intense pang of envy.

If only he could pass off these endless tasks.

But as he sipped his tea, he dismissed the thought.

"What brings you here, Harald?"

Harald grinned.

"I wanted to leave you with one last gift during tomorrow’s ceremony."

His cryptic words hung in the air, filling Theo with both curiosity and anticipation.