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During a time when aristocracy and bloodline superiority were rampant.

Many might think that nobles exchanged carriages, wine, and terraces as if they were breathing in pursuit of greater wealth and honor, but that’s a grave misunderstanding.

Of course, if a family had many members and their relationships were strained, or if they were stagnant at the core of power, the situation would be different.

However, attempting to take each other’s lives was only a last resort.

Killing someone complicates matters too much.

While only now, due to compulsory education, literacy has become a basic skill, just a few hundred years ago, or even just a few decades back, the number of people who could read and write was far outnumbered by those who couldn’t.

In fact, even today, in many Third World or developing countries, it’s quite common to find individuals who cannot recognize their own writing.

Moreover, knowledge is power.

In a place like Europa, where bloodlines and families directly translate to credit.

And what about Iceland, where everything is more scarce than in most countries or regions?

Naturally, intellectuals were also precious human resources.

However, if someone like Elder Iona were to disappear, it would not merely shake one family.

From trivial affairs of infidelity, blood ties, and duels to issues of territory and family, it was inevitable that all problems, even those temporarily calmed under the name of the Felwinter Family, would subtly resurface.

Of course, the history and name of the Felwinter Family were not lightweight enough for problems to explode all at once.

Trivial territorial disputes?

At least in Iceland, a mere gesture from Alfred could easily resolve such matters, allowing everyone to get along harmoniously.

But didn’t I mention before?

Iceland is lacking in everything.

Especially in knowledge.

However.

The steward of a noble family spoke a little differently.

A steward of a Duke’s family, of which there are only seven in the kingdom?

What about the value of someone who is also a prominent elder in Iceland’s dominating religion?

Hence, Alfred couldn’t help but tremble with anxiety, even after hastily deploying a rescue team that included a Swordmaster.

If even one of them were injured, it could lead to a catastrophe.

Not just a political crisis.

What about the administrative vacuum that would arise from Elder Iona’s absence?

Elder Iona was an old man who could very easily be downed with a single blow, and if he got injured, a recovery period would naturally be necessary.

But what if he were to lose his life?

Oh, Tutatis, what a disaster.

Alfred continuously prayed and wished to the gods whenever he had a moment.

And shortly after, in his office.

Alfred’s wishes were granted.

“Oh, Tutatis! Thank the gods, you’re unharmed!”

“My lord, I apologize for causing worry.”

“By any chance, are you injured? You must be getting on in years. I trust you’re not insisting that you’re fine.”

“An old man wouldn’t lie to you, my lord.”

Alfred sighed in relief while watching Iona bow his head in apology for worrying him yet again, peering at his stout neck and stomach.

Once the excitement subsided, Alfred could finally hear all that had transpired from Iona.

Naturally, these were not matters concerning something as trivial as a Grizzly Beaver.

“…Swordmaster, are you certain?”

Alfred fixed his gaze steadily on Iona, who sat across from him.

After awhile, he frowned slightly and cautiously inquired.

Of course, this was something he had already confirmed through letters, but he needed to hear it again.

Understanding his intent, Iona nodded silently.

“Yes, absolutely. My lord, the Swordmaster is indeed him.”

“And he is at the peak of his prime?”

“Certainly. His movements are imperceptible to the eyes of ordinary men. His swordsmanship is remarkable. Although I couldn’t confirm the aura, the precision in his mana control undoubtedly indicates that he’s a Swordmaster.”

Alfred struggled to hold back a smile at the report that Iona had also confirmed it from Catherine, who accompanied Sir Churchill, another Swordmaster.

This wasn’t just any ordinary knight; it was a Swordmaster at the peak of his powers.

What a stroke of luck.

There were countless questions he wanted to ask about how they had met and what they had gone through.

However, Alfred suppressed his curiosity for a moment.

“Is it possible to detain him?”

Iona paused his hand, which had been stroking his beard, then clasped his hands on the table and shook his head.

“He seems quite money-oriented. If the compensation is certain, it should definitely be possible.”

“If you say so, then it must be legit.”

Iona had already gauged Gordon’s personality and what he wanted during the journey, and this meeting served as a mere formality to seek approval from his lord.

Moreover, Alfred, barring the collapse of the sky, would have no reason to refuse.

Titles and associated territories?

Iceland overflows with titles and lands while people are what it lacks.

Preparing a title that could satisfy a Swordmaster was a simple task.

Fortunately, Gordon valued money over honor.

“Oh, by the way.”

Suddenly, Iona had an epiphany, as if something had just struck him.

“I heard that Sir Gordon is acquainted with Sir Atanitas and the head chef Karem. I’ve been told he even accompanied them to Borderster.”

“The value of Sir Gordon is rising by the minute.”

“It appears they developed quite a friendship in a short time.”

Iona chuckled dryly and shook his head.

Once a matter arises, Gordon will tease him.

Catherine would deal with him.

And Karem would violently react.

To anyone unacquainted, it would look like an uncle playfully teasing his young cousins.

“If an outsider were to see… they might even mistake them for kin.”

“Really? Is it that obvious?”

“They squabbled over a snack, you see.”

“A snack?”

“Oh, but the custard tart made with the new spices Karem discovered was truly noteworthy.”

During their journey to Winterhome, Iona had the chance to taste it himself.

The familiar taste and aroma of a cold, hardened egg tart.

Yet, the familiar flavors and scents blended with exotic aromas to create a new taste sensation!

“However,”

Iona’s expression soured slightly as if something displeased him.

“Had the spice not come from the Grizzly Beaver’s reproductive glands—”

“What did you just say? The what of what?”

“Ahem, it’s the scent the male Grizzly Beaver uses to attract females.”

That thing.

Iona seemed reluctant to repeat it again, faintly mimicking the shape with both hands clasped together.

Alfred waved his hands to indicate he understood enough without needing further detail.

“No, that, haah. You discovered a new spice. It must be certain, right?”

“My lord, I confirmed it personally.”

“And the taste?”

“Of course.”

Alfred instinctively held his head.

Of all things, the reproductive glands of a Grizzly Beaver!

Certainly, the Fire Witch’s Finger, once considered poisonous, is now quickly spreading throughout Iceland as a spice, but this time it’s, x-gland, no, reproductive gland?

Indeed, every step was beyond any expectation one could have imagined.

“The, the Grizzly Beaver’s.”

“Oh, I named it vanilla.”

“Alright. Can I see the item with the vanilla in it now?”

“I’ve already given the recipe and usage notes to the head chef before coming, so you should be able to taste it shortly.”

Upon hearing that, Alfred couldn’t help but conceal his unease.

Yes, musk comes from musk deer’s glands, and the exotic magical ingredient dragon fruit can be acquired from the occasional excrement of a dragon.

But using them in perfumes or sachets is one thing, and ingesting them is another matter.

True, ranchers and butchers consumed various byproducts, including meat, along with scraps like blood and innards, much like staples.

Moreover, Alfred had eaten various dishes utilizing innards, such as sausages, many times before. So, wouldn’t it be a continuation of that concept?

After pondering, Alfred found himself lost in suspicion.

Of course, what Iona prepared was not the sort of thing Karem had recklessly chopped up right after discovering it.

It had been thoughtfully prepared with Catherine’s help.

Purified from toxic spirits and alchemy, leaving only the essence of pure, sweet fragrance.

And still left with some skepticism, Alfred took a bite out of the now-vanilla-infused egg tart.

Crisp—

“…Iona?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You know what you need to do, right?”

“I’ve already contacted all of Iceland through the subjugation team before coming to Winterhome.”

What kind of reaction could be expected?

*

*

*

At that moment, in Alfred’s office, he and Iona passionately competed over snacks.

“This place—”

“Whoa. Look at this.”

“This is my workspace. How do you like it?”

Gordon marveled around, his expression resembling that of a proud parent or a successful friend admiring their friend’s success.

Gordon’s reaction was understandable.

It had been nearly a year, but the young boy who had run away from his village at such an early age reminded Gordon of his own splendor in the past.

Gordon couldn’t help but feel a sense of vicarious satisfaction as he surveyed the kitchen.

At such a young age, achieving success like this.

“So, you mean to say this whole place is for your sole use? And just this kitchen, and you’re the head chef?”

“Well, I was kicked out of the head chef position long ago, though.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, more people started coming in, leading to mistakes, so I was told to focus on my main duties. By Sir Atanitas, that is.”

“Ah.”

Now that he thought about it, his friend hadn’t undergone his coming-of-age ceremony yet.

Gordon glanced down at Karem, who shrugged helplessly.

Following the welcome gathering after Iona and the others returned to the Great Hall, they made their way to the Wizard’s Tower, accompanied by at least dozens of mages, with thousands more expected on their return journey.

It was logically impossible for an eleven-year-old boy to feed all those people single-handedly.

“And so, is there any other chef apart from you, the head chef?”

“No. The house fairies handle everything.”

“What? There are house fairies too?”

“Yes. Her name is Mary.”

“House fairy, you say.”

As he rummaged through the kitchen, Gordon leaned slightly closer to Karem and whispered softly.

“So, she’s pretty?”

“Pretty? Well, she’s not as beautiful as Sir Atanitas, but she’s cute.”

“Oh, confident, are we? A mature one, huh?”

“Well, it’s nothing too scandalous. It’s just the truth.”

“But why is your reaction so dry?”

Karem’s face twisted as if his enthusiasm had been completely zapped away.

“External beauty doesn’t always match one’s actions, you see?”

“Hm, I’d say she must behave rather poorly then?”

“She’s as much of a workaholic as any ordinary workaholic could be. You’d know if you saw her when someone tries to steal her workload.”

“Workaholic, you say? That’s just the cute charms of a beauty.”

“Pff.”

Karem couldn’t help but burst into laughter, completely taken aback by the absurdity of it all.

Of course, Mary was indeed a beauty.

With skin as smooth as milk, free of blemishes.

Her short hair neatly tidied and silky.

Bright eyes as lively as a cat.

A delicately shaped nose.

And a small mouth that resembled a kitty’s delicate pucker.

Plus, she had a figure so proportionate that even starlets from her previous life would look like mere shadows in comparison.

If it weren’t for Catherine being so extraordinarily stunning in her same attire, Mary would have no rivals in beauty, especially among the inhabitants of the Wizard’s Tower, aside from Narque.

Yet that beauty became utterly unnoticeable when concerned with her work, emanating a suffocating aura that discouraged any stray thoughts.

How could one explain that? Or, was there even a need to explain?

“Karem, Karem! I heard you were here. Oh, thankfully you’re here!”

A sincere voice pulled Karem back to reality.

Before he knew it, Godwin was desperately calling for him from outside the kitchen.

“Oh, Your Highness?”

“Right. But were you with someone?”

“Oh, you must have seen him in the Great Hall. This is Gordon. Gordon? This is His Highness, Godwin.”

The two young men exchanged greetings through a handshake, even though they had seen each other’s faces at the Great Hall.

Suddenly, Godwin flinched, as if realizing something, and seized Karem’s arm.

“No, this isn’t right! Karem! Only your remarkable cooking skills and your unmatched intelligence can rescue me from the famine I’m facing! I need your help!”

“What? Oh. Yes?”

“My mother seems bent on starving me!”

Oh, I expected as much.

His belly and cheeks wobbled notably more than before.

Karem stifled the words that were trying to burst out from his mouth.

 

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