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Ianbert is looked down upon by many nobles. Of course, being a prince is a position that naturally invites scrutiny. His ambiguous attitude, his status as a grand sword noble, and the simple fact that he just doesn’t appeal to many—there are countless reasons.

However, very few bold nobles would say such things openly.

The synergy between his title as a grand sword noble and his royal blood is hard to ignore.

He is a being who executes the will and judgment of the king. On the contrary, because of that, Ianbert cannot move carelessly.

His name and the authority he bears weigh heavily upon him.

Yet, the gazes directed at Ianbert were nothing like that.

Royal blood? Grand sword noble? Authority?

None of that mattered to them.

What was more important to the owners of those gazes was that the esteemed Duke had personally rolled up his sleeves to welcome them.

During his stroll through Winterhome, receiving countless stares, Ianbert skipped lunch and finally poured out the conversations he had missed with Alfred before stepping into the office.

As the gazes dispersed, a short while later, Catherine, accompanied by Mary, entered the office alone.

In the office, where an introduction was briefly given, a gentle floral aroma began to waft through the air.

The tea culture of Servianus, which he had taken a passing interest in since last summer, had faded away like many other nobles, but the scent from the tea lingered.

Alfred wrinkled his nose at the unfamiliar scent.

Clack.

As the fragrant, hot tea entered his stomach, Ianbert’s haggard appearance, which looked like it could collapse at any moment, transformed into something that resembled a human being.

“You look like you’re about to fall over. I couldn’t tell this morning, but are you really okay?”

“Don’t worry. I’m just tired.”

Soothed by the fragrant tea, Ianbert handled leather. To be honest, he was a bit unsure.

“So… this is it?”

The leather he brushed against was wrinkled and flimsy, a dull gray that even allowed him to see through to the other side, eliciting discomfort just from the sight of it.

“Atanitas?”

“The skin of a shapeshifter from the Demon Army.”

Catherine tapped the remaining pile of leather on the table.

“It is presumed that they are all items shed by the same creature.”

“Ah, demons, huh.”

Ianbert pondered with a dubious expression, stroking his chin.

“From the far north?”

“From Afterglow Fortress in the far north.”

The Demon Army had been eradicated. But that doesn’t mean the demons themselves are extinct. The fewer of them there are, the harder they are to search for.

“This summer, near Coldon, fragments of the dragon Naglfar and traces of necromancy were discovered. At the time, I thought it was just the aftermath of a bold necromancer’s failed ritual…”

“The Grizzly Beaver black mage and necromancer giant, along with the reappearing fragments of demons.”

“One incident might be acceptable, but two occurrences?”

Iceland is often described as the back of beyond.

However, the value of Coldon, at its center, and Afterglow Fortress, at the front line, does not diminish.

“I am certain similar events will occur in other regions as well. My chief magic consultant agrees.”

Catherine nodded as she observed Ianbert, who was somewhat uncertain while handling the leather.

“Perhaps it has already happened.”

If someone else had said that, it might have been dismissed. But considering the credibility of the individuals speaking, it could not be ignored.

The duke who governs the largest territory in the Kingdom of Seophone. The youngest grand wizard in history, now a sage.

Both of those powerful figures are voicing the same concern.

And alongside them, the actual demon skin as evidence. Not just a couple of pieces, but a whole lot.

“…Wait, could this mean other dukes…”

Yes. This means that the other dukes… Wait, what?

“What do you mean ‘other dukes’?”

“…Even before I received contact from Iceland, there had been similar messages from other dukes.”

Ianbert frowned as he stroked the shapeshifter’s leather.

“There were attacks in Richgold and Southcoast as well.”

“…both of those regions divide the southernmost part of the kingdom. Could it be…”

“Similar to what happened at Afterglow Fortress.”

“Undead?”

“Undead.”

Ianbert narrowed his eyes as he stroked the leather. At those words, Alfred and Catherine gulped in unison.

“Could it be that the attacked cities are…”

“Garfield, Falkenstein.”

“…the timing?”

“This late autumn to early winter.”

Richgold is the region that houses the largest agricultural zone in Seophone Island. Garfield is the city that stores the most of the harvested grains and is directly governed by the Duke of Richgold. Falkenstein is the southernmost port city in Southcoast, closest to the continent of Europa.

“I’ve never heard of the dragon fragments before. Is there no real evidence?”

“A nameless traveler personally came down to recover them.”

“Oh…”

Alfred does not lie. Even Mary, who had been quietly listening, nodded in agreement.

If that is the case, then a god truly has descended…

“Hah, seriously. Is that why you also dispatched a messenger to the other dukes?”

“Mm? Bert, a messenger?”

“Hold on… where did I put it… Ah.”

While rummaging through his cloak, Ianbert finally pulled out a luxurious silk scroll and handed it over. As soon as Alfred took it, he resumed stroking the shapeshifter’s leather.

“…Is that a summoning order?”

The seal on the rolled parchment shimmered with the golden letters ‘Summoning Order,’ swirling like an aurora on the ceiling of the office.

“When spring comes, he told me to immediately bring the message to the kingdom.”

“You really convey royal commands without any procedure?”

“Well, this isn’t an official occasion, so why bother?”

Catherine could not find words as she watched Ianbert wave his hands dismissively.

Though she felt slightly uneasy, unless Alfred had directly called out his lord’s rudeness, it seemed pointless to push the matter.

Catherine decided to ignore it. No, more than that.

Swish – swish – swish –

“…Are you worried about something with that leather?”

“Mm? Worried about it?”

“You’ve been continuously stroking that leather since just now.”

“Ah, I just love the soft texture.”

In the midst of discussing a serious matter, to suddenly say he likes the texture… Catherine couldn’t help but glance at Alfred.

Catching the gaze of the servant, Alfred shrugged as he peeled the seal off the scroll.

“Could you just pass me one piece?”

There was a profound meaning in the fact that he hadn’t changed a bit since childhood.

*

*

*

The Great Hall, awaiting dinner, was busier than usual with guests and their entourages excited for the feast.

“The head cook has been preparing for several nights without rest since a few days ago.”

“I hear they’re using a few storage rooms as kitchens?”

“I’m really looking forward to tonight’s dinner.”

It was only natural to expect such things. Very few had ever witnessed such an astounding array of delicacies entering the castle, even during festivities.

Typically, on the grandest feast day, only the most common livestock or hunted game were presented, but this blowout featured rare monsters and beasts beyond comparison.

Some even wondered if the duke had gone mad. Of course, they only thought that in their hearts. Speaking it aloud would be disastrous.

Karem was among those gripped with anticipation, glancing between Catherine’s seat and the royal seats.

“When are they coming?”

Many seats that would usually be filled were conspicuously empty.

Karem sat alone on the outer edge of the royal seats.

Of course, Karem understood why Catherine was absent.

He understood equally well why Mary was also missing.

‘An important discussion.’

If it involved Alfred and the guest, Ianbert, it was undoubtedly important conversation. Nevertheless, Karem felt awkward regardless.

‘Hmm? Karem seems to be sitting alone today.’

‘Indeed. Isn’t he always with a consultant?’

The royal seats are where people’s gazes converge. Yet, while nearly all other seats were filled, the surrounding area remained conspicuously empty, inevitably drawing attention.

“What are you staring into space for?”

“Yikes!”

A familiar voice patting his shoulder startled him. Turning his head, he found Catherine and Mary casually sitting down beside him.

“What were you thinking so hard about?”

“I’m just overwhelmed by the gazes below. By the way, where are the duke and the guest?”

The royal seats were set aside for the families of Alicia and others seated on Alfred’s left, filling the area where Alfred’s and Godwin’s seats should be.

Yet only Catherine had returned.

Those two seats remained vacant.

“They said they would talk for a bit longer before coming.”

Upon hearing Mary’s words, Karem was left pondering, seeing a brownie reset the tableware before them.

“Why are you resetting the tableware?”

“I dislike it being crooked.”

“Crooked? The tableware?”

Karem looked down at the reset tableware. To be frank, he couldn’t tell what had changed at all.

“The tableware is just an excuse.”

“Excuse?”

“It’s merely a protest to a punishment that has barely lasted the day. This guy.”

Now that he thought about it, Mary’s seat in the Great Hall was to Catherine’s right—set to ease Catherine’s service. Now Karem occupied that spot.

Mary closed her eyes tight against the grim reality.

“Calm down, Mary. Just one more meal, and if you endure—”

“By the way, you do know there’s still some late-night snack left, right?”

“Gah—”

As she reset the tableware again, Mary could no longer contain herself and ground her teeth.

“That seat, that job, was originally mine…!”

“No, you’re being punished for screwing up yet again.”

“Mary will remember this grudge.”

“Oh, come on. Who would want to do this willingly?”

If it weren’t for the careless interruption, this whole situation might not have happened at all. And if it weren’t for Alicia desperately trying to smooth things over, no one would have to endure punishment for three days.

“Oh? So kiddo, are you saying it’s something you have to do unwillingly?”

Catherine, with narrowed eyes, mumbled in a low voice that it was displeasing.

“No, Sir Atanitas, that’s not what I mean.”

“So you found it bothersome and didn’t want to serve?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that. I actually enjoy it.”

No one dislikes a loved one showing a clumsy side, revealing that they need support.

“What…?”

The fact that it was the right answer surprised Catherine, making her eyes go wide as if a cat had just seen a cucumber, and she silently flapped her lips.

“Though I’d rather do it for a longer time…”

Karem subtly glanced over Catherine’s head.

He found himself meeting the sharp eyes of Mary.

It felt like something from a nightmare.

“That’s what I hear.”

“…you cheeky little…”

“Everyone is busy chattering amongst themselves. What can I say?”

As the empty spots around the royal seats began to fill, it became glaringly clear that those at the banquet table were increasingly drifting off to their own conversations.

‘It’s not entirely bad.’

Mary cast a sidelong glance at Karem, who was sitting behind her.

With her eyes closed and beads in hand, Elder Iona silently prayed, while Alicia bent low behind her like a prey facing a predator.

Alicia saw it all.

To speak it openly like last time would lead to obvious consequences.

She couldn’t afford to lose any more work here.

‘I saw nothing.’

‘Alicia shall return to her seat.’

Alicia bit her lip at Mary’s silent gesture, smoothly stepping back without turning around.

“The main characters are coming.”

“Are you talking about the duke and the guest?”

Catherine silently pointed to the entrance to the Great Hall.

Turning her head along the fingertip, she saw Alfred entering alongside Ianbert, still clad in his deer skull armor and horned helm.

“He’s still wearing the armor.”

“He probably didn’t have the chance to take it off.”

“Yes?”

“This is business. Just business.”

Now that he mentioned it, Karem thought the conversation they had would probably revolve around that.

He turned his attention to Zigmeser and the chefs from the main kitchen who were accompanying them, sweat glistening on their foreheads.

The Great Hall, bustling more than ever, fell silent for the first time.

The sight that sprawled on the large platter seated before the guests was just the beginning—a gigantic ice blue Snowrunner, looking as if it might leap into action at any moment.

An enormous eagle screaming to the sky.

A wyvern glaring with eyes wide open, wings folded.

Unique fruits sprouting from wooden sculptures.

A magnificent Winterhome, carved out of pure white on a plate.

A dazzling display of decorative dishes that were a feast for the eyes, followed by an array of cooking that promised delightful aromas.

Using generous amounts of meat from cattle, chickens, pigs, sheep, and a variety of unidentified monsters, there were steaks, grilled meats, fried dishes, stews, and pies—far exceeding the number of guests at the Great Hall.

Just when the celebration of gastronomy seemed endless, Zigmeser waltzed in alongside servants carrying a massive box.

“A box?”

“That must be from King Frost, as instructed by Sir Atanitas.”

“The one he told me to use as a vessel?”

“Yes.”

As if confirming that statement, Zigmeser placed the box directly in the center of the hall and, without hesitation, opened the lid with force.

Wooosh— whooooooosh—!

King Frost floated slowly into the air, just like a giant blowing up a balloon.

Catherine watched with curiosity as King Frost, whom she entrusted, was being processed.

The many valves on both the top and bottom of his body, filled with purple wine and bubbling orange beer, glimmered as they caught the light.

Climbing up a ladder, Zigmeser removed the top lid of King Frost’s head, revealing an entire mound of ice cream in various colors—red, orange, yellow, purple, blue, white—waiting for someone to indulge.

“…Men are just childish beyond measure.”

“By the way, I heard the wine inside is some 10-year-old Luarre.”

“…10 years, a limited edition?”

“Yes. The chefs were utterly astonished, you know—”

“Go fetch me a glass right away.”

Catherine was serious.

 

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