Three Years Later.
The Valemont territory did not improve.
If anything, it rotted faster.
Snow still clung to the mountains year-round, but now the fields below were half-barren. Trade caravans had stopped coming regularly. Bandit raids increased. Taxes were raised.
And the people whispered.
"The Duke is weakening."
"The border won't survive another winter."
"The Empire won't send help."
Inside the castle's eastern wing, a small boy sat quietly at a long wooden table.
Silver hair.
Sharp blue eyes.
Too sharp for a three-year-old.
Lucien Valemont held a wooden spoon in one hand and stared at the blue screen floating before him.
[Host: Lucien Valemont]
Age: 3
Strength: 2
Magic: 1
Authority: 0
Territory Stability: 41%
Survival Probability: 24%
It dropped.
It actually dropped.
I can't even walk properly without wobbling and my survival rate is declining.
Is this world speedrunning my death?
He sighed internally.
Over the past three years, he confirmed something important:
This was not a dream.
Pain felt real.
Hunger felt real.
Cold felt very real.
And the political situation?
Very, very real.
Through servants' whispers and accidental overhearing, Lucien learned:
The Valemont territory guarded the northern border.
The treasury was nearly empty.
A neighboring kingdom, Ardrath, was mobilizing troops.
And the Empire had quietly withdrawn military support.
In simple terms?
They were being abandoned.
Footsteps echoed across the hall.
Lucien looked up.
Duke Alaric Valemont entered the dining chamber, cloak dusted with snow.
His presence alone made knights straighten their backs.
"Leave us," the Duke ordered calmly.
Servants bowed and exited.
The Duke sat across from his son.
For a moment, silence filled the room.
Then—
"You've been observing the war maps again."
Lucien blinked.
Ah.
I may have overdone it.
Earlier that morning, he had wandered into the strategy room and stared at troop placements for nearly ten minutes.
At age three.
That might've been suspicious.
"I like the pictures," Lucien said softly, forcing childish innocence into his voice.
The Duke studied him.
Long.
Carefully.
"You look at things like a soldier," Alaric muttered.
Not a compliment.
Not an accusation either.
Just… observation.
Lucien lowered his eyes.
If he stood out too much, he'd attract attention.
If he stayed useless, he'd die.
What a lovely balance.
Suddenly—
A flicker.
The system screen glitched.
[Emergency Sub-Quest Generated]
Threat Detected Within Castle.
Probability of Internal Betrayal: 63%
Objective: Identify the Traitor
Time Limit: 30 Days
Reward: +5 Authority
Failure Penalty: Survival Probability -10%
…
…
Excuse me?
Internal betrayal?
Inside the castle?
Lucien's small fingers tightened under the table.
Across from him, Duke Alaric suddenly frowned.
Outside, distant shouting echoed faintly through the corridor.
A knight burst into the chamber without permission.
"My Lord!"
The Duke stood instantly.
"What happened?"
"The western watchtower signal went dark!"
Silence.
Heavy.
Sharp.
The Duke's jaw tightened.
"That tower is inside our territory," he said coldly.
"Yes, my Lord."
Lucien's mind raced.
Internal betrayal.
Watchtower disabled.
Thirty-day time limit.
So someone inside Valemont was working with enemies.
And if that betrayal escalated—
The border would collapse.
And I'd die with it.
The Duke turned to leave, but paused.
His gaze returned to his son.
For a brief second, something passed through his expression.
Concern?
Or calculation?
"Lucien," he said quietly. "You are the heir of Valemont."
The air felt heavier.
"If something happens to me… you must endure."
Oh, that's not ominous at all.
The Duke left.
The doors closed.
The hall fell silent.
Lucien sat alone at the long table.
The candles flickered.
Wind howled faintly outside.
The system interface hovered before him.
Survival Probability: 22%
It dropped again.
So the Duke might die soon.
That's what this means, isn't it?
Three years old.
Can't even reach the top shelf.
And now I have to find a traitor in a medieval castle.
This world doesn't believe in difficulty scaling.
But Lucien's eyes slowly sharpened.
He had something no one else here did.
Memories of another world.
Modern thinking.
Pattern recognition.
And a system.
If betrayal exists…
It leaves traces.
Information.
Movement.
Behavior.
Even adults make mistakes.
And I don't need strength yet.
I need leverage.
The small boy slid off his chair.
His feet hit the cold stone floor.
A servant gasped softly.
"Y-Young Master? It's cold, please—"
Lucien looked up at her.
And smiled faintly.
"I want to see the tower."
The servant froze.
A three-year-old should not speak like that.
Not calmly.
Not clearly.
But she bowed anyway.
"Y-Yes, Young Master."
As they walked down the corridor, Lucien's thoughts sharpened.
If someone inside is working with the enemy…
Then this territory is already half lost.
And if Father dies…
My survival rate hits zero.
Outside, snow began falling harder.
Far beyond the walls of Valemont—
A shadowed figure watched the castle from the forest line.
And smiled.
Inside the boy's mind, the system pulsed faintly.
The Conquest Begins With Survival.