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In the Kingdom of Seophone, the typical nobleman is generally categorized into four ranks:

Duke, Count, Baron, and Knight.

Of course, if you delve into details, there are far more categories.

In any case, it’s common for the territory of a noble to correlate with their rank.

However, not all territories conform to this rule.

Key strongholds, villages and towns at major crossroads, ports, etc.

The circumstances vary tremendously based on the territory and the noble’s situation.

In that sense, the current Baron Bolton’s Territory was quite the opposite.

Although there were no cities, it had far more villages than a regular barony, and the territory was larger, resulting in a much greater population.

This was entirely a gift from Alfred, who had made efforts to secure the wandering Swordmaster, having taken a slice off the territory of a nearby duke’s direct lands.

However, it seemed they hadn’t touched the castle, as Gordon’s Armsport Keep was quite small compared to Winterhome or Winchester.

The village right next to Armsport, as I had seen on the way, was also firmly situated close to the forest, unlike a typical village.

Yet it was just far larger in scale.

“…Looks like that Elf Druid you mentioned has been quite active, huh? Is that Arms Town over there?”

“…I can hardly distinguish between the Elf village of Bersengzeto and a small forest in Iceland.”

Unlike the other villages we had seen, in Arms Town, the wooden fence and the lush foliage of the village’s forest allowed sporadic glimpses of pointed-roof buildings that were common in Iceland.

Kuwung—Kuwung—Kuwung—

There, I could faintly see a Tree Spirit roaming the forest surrounding the castle and village. The branches of the forest vibrated with the footsteps.

Catherine’s words were explaining everything.

Passersby, a small number of pointed-roof buildings.

If it weren’t for the two elements, it would be unmistakably an Elf village.

The group passed through the village towards Armsport.

“Halt! State your business!”

“I have come upon an invitation. Verify it for yourself. Senior! You need to show your letter too!”

The guards, who had contorted faces, looked suspiciously at the mention of the invitation.

“Hmm, please wait just a moment for verification.”

“Sure. Take your time.”

“Where is the sub-chief…?”

“Huh? The sub-chief?”

While Sigurd IV casually dealt with the guards at the hitching post, Karem temporarily disembarked the wagon following Catherine.

“Well then, let’s conclude the escort request here.”

“I’ve received the remainder. How I’d wish every escort request was as peaceful as this one!”

While the undead attacks were frequent, Karem, who was already accustomed, looked back and forth between the castle and the village.

Symbolic of civilization were the stone facilities, alongside stout wooden houses suitable for Elves (alive).

“What, is there something you’re curious about?”

“I’ve been thinking. Those wooden houses are fascinating.”

“Everyone finds them interesting upon first seeing them.”

Having likely had this experience often, Mary nodded with her arms crossed.

“Very few people other than Elves live within living trees.”

“Do all Elves of Bersengzeto live in such houses?”

“Not at all.”

Sure, everyone has different personalities, so they wouldn’t all decorate in the same style.

“Different regions have different trees, and some Elves even dig into oversized mushrooms to live.”

“…Mushrooms?”

“Yes. You heard correctly.”

Huh? The mushroom houses of Hexis? Instinctively, my mind flickered back to a 2D side-scrolling RPG I had played a while back in my past life.

“Damn, just thinking about it makes me mad.”

“Why are you cursing all of a sudden?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

As Karem fumbled his words under Mary’s gaze, a guard who had gone inside emerged with a vividly dressed man.

“Greetings, honored guests! Welcome to Armsport. I am Robelio, here to guide you on behalf of the chief, who had informed me of your arrival in advance.”

“…Chief? Are you referring to Gordon?”

“Yes? Oh no, I should be saying Baron.”

Karem, taken aback by Robelio’s self-flagellation, collected his payment pouch and mission papers and slightly bowed.

“Well then, we’ll be on our way. Please make sure to summon Jurin and his companions next time if the opportunity arises.”

“Let’s get out of this damn tree-filled land. It’s unpleasant being surrounded by so much of that Elf aura!”

“This is simply the life force of the forest. It’s normal for a dwarf who wallows in buildings and caves to not know.”

Inside the castle walls, it was as quaint as it appeared from outside. A spacious courtyard covered in grass, along with several buildings, including Armsport Keep.

However, a small, colorful forest in the center of the courtyard stood prominently.

“This is Lady Flora’s garden, as well as the forest. We call it Bolton Forest.”

At the heart of the dense Bolton Forest, filled with various bushes and wildly colorful flora unstinting to the seasons, stood the Amadeus Tree which had grown larger than when I last saw it in the greenhouse.

“That big tree in the center of the forest, is that the Amadeus Tree?”

“Hmm? Ah, you must be Karem. But the Lord did firmly warn me about secrets, so how—”

“Well, that tree and forest were created by Flora, my daughter.”

“What.”

Struck silent by Karem’s revelation, Robelio—a seasoned former mercenary from a fallen noble family—looked around before asking.

“By the way, where’s Gordon?”

“Um, cough. He took his fists and band of ruffians and went hunting. He should be back soon, having left at dawn.”

“Fists? Ruffians?”

Was he saying that he led some thugs out? Karem looked blankly at Robelio, who blinked in confusion, realizing what was wrong.

“Oh, right. I meant the knights and soldiers. Doesn’t roll off the tongue that well.”

Catherine, who had been quietly listening, chuckled lightly, as if it were a skill to interject like this, whether she meant to change the titles or not.

If the higher-ups say so, what could the lower ranks think?

The mercenary business was far from finished.

“However, what’s the deal with the scenery I saw on the way? The villages all looked like Bersengzeto.”

“Ah, that’s thanks to Sir Atanitas, who volunteered to be our chief’s personal sage.”

Catherine seemed to nod as if accepting this casually, then suddenly turned to Robelio with a sharp look.

“What did you just say?”

“Sage? A sage-tier Grand Wizard as a personal mage?”

Gordon, despite being a Swordmaster in name, was still just a baron. There was no way he could afford an illustrious Grand Wizard, let alone a sage. Catherine wondered if Alfred had hired him with money.

“Oh, it seems he’s coming out now.”

At Robelio’s words, Karem turned his eyes toward the courtyard’s forest.

At that moment, a woman dashed out from between the colorful trees and foliage. With a lush physique that fit well within three fingers after reincarnation and skin of light green, her hair bloomed like a garden in full bloom with flowers, crowned with a pair of leaves.

It was Flora.

“Pororong!!!”

“Lady Baroness! If you could grant me some time to study your hair, flowers, nails, and more, I vow on my tribe and family’s ancestors—!”

Chasing behind her was an Elven woman with white skin, long light green hair fluttering behind her. Along with her staff resembling an ancient tree and a dress, a flowering vine that grew like a decorative chain, longer than a typical Elf’s ears, swayed along. Petals danced comically like something out of a cartoon.

Flora and the Elven woman began to spin around the Bolton Forest in the courtyard like puppies playing tag.

“Pororong! Pororong!”

“How can you say such things!? But Lady Baroness! Please, for the sake of the druidic school that lost its ancient records and this High Elf Shen Arberni de Bersengzeto—!”

The person being chased seemed to find the situation unpleasant. Karem had never seen Flora flutter around in such a manner before.

But wait a second. Did I hear something wrong?

“A lowly High Elf? Is that truly a High Elf?”

“With skin whiter than ordinary Elves and ears more than a thumb’s length longer. She is truly a High Elf.”

Though spoken with such conviction, Mary tilted her head with a puzzled expression, wondering if she had misjudged.

Not all nobles in Bersengzeto were High Elves, but it was said that all High Elves were nobles in Bersengzeto.

However, what lay before them was starkly different from the dignity of nobility.

“Uh, now she’s bouncing around on all fours like a dog.”

“…I never thought I would see that woman here…”

Catherine, perhaps feeling a headache, pressed her forehead with her eyes closed.

“Do you know her?”

“Shen Arberni de Bersengzeto. A sage and a druid. Yes, if she’s a Dryad, it makes some sense… sort of.”

“Is she from a noble family?”

“Not just any noble family.”

In lieu of Catherine, who nodded, Mary opened her mouth with a blank, astonished expression.

“Only those of high nobility are permitted to carry the name of Bersengzeto after their name.”

“…High nobility?”

“Moreover, the Arberni family has reigned as life-long chairs since the founding of Bersengzeto, which arose after the World Tree was burned by the Palatino Empire.”

“…A constitutional monarchy?”

“Have you heard of such a term?”

With that statement, Karem quickly turned his head away.

“O last Dryad!”

“Porong!!!!”

So much for that, the High Elf presumed to be a Druid only looked like a mere stalker madly pursuing a woman.

“Is that her?”

“Yes.”

They say when a person wears a mask, they’re supposed to look beautiful?

Karem learned once again that there’s a limit to that notion.

“The Elven nobility of Bersengzeto consider themselves too noble to care about the shorter lifespan of the short-lived species—”

“That seems absurd.”

Then what in the world do you call that scene? That unspoken question.

Instead of Mary, who could say nothing, Catherine delivered a one-sentence explanation to Karem.

“She’s an offspring gone wild.”

“In my lifetime, what the—”

Sigurd IV, who suffered from Elven phobia, silenced himself amidst the absurdity of the situation, his voice subdued.

“Say, Robelio? You don’t mean to say there are more of those freakish Ear-Magic hybrids here, do you?”

Robelio, understanding the stunned guests’ reaction, shook his head.

“Not at all.”

“…In my lifetime, I’ve seen carnivorous Elves, but having a member of a ruling family behave like that… I don’t even know what to say.”

A typical-looking High Elf, similar to Western ideas of beauty, crawling on the ground like a dog, and even being fast at that.

Catherine appeared slightly better, her hands lowered from her head now.

Yet her eyes still held a mixture of confusion.

“For now, let’s continue the tour—”

“Sister! They’re coming this way!”

“Huh?”

With an expression contorted in amazement, Flora suddenly sprang forth, her face bright as she waved her hands high, running excitedly.

“Flora! Long time no se—”

“Porong!”

Flora pulled Karem into a tight hug before quickly hiding behind him, clinging to his shoulder.

“Lady—Ahem, Sir Atanitas?”

The Shen who had chased after her finally spotted them, lifting his hands from the ground, seeming as if nothing had happened.

“May the riches of the World Tree reach even the barren islands beneath the hazy sky.”

Quite different from the way she had dashed around like a dog.

As a descendant of the founder and a proper High Elf, he offered them a graceful greeting.

“It has been a while since the last conference.”

“Right, the Tree Spirits and the villages I saw on the way—did all this happen because of you?”

“‘You’ is rather rude. You should call me Shen or sister.”

“Stop spouting nonsense and answer the question.”

It wasn’t nonsense. With an expression that seemed to show misunderstanding, Shen slightly crinkled his face before turning his gaze outside the castle gate.

“The villages? Yes. However, the Tree Spirits were summoned in response to the Baroness’s request regarding the old trees. More than that.”

Shen wandered past Catherine, shifting toward Karem. But Flora, who had been hiding behind Karem, swiftly turned and drew him in front of her.

“Um… if it’s this divine power… Your Grace? Could you please step aside?”

“Um, I can’t do that.”

“Porong! Porong!”

Flora’s head furiously shook with enthusiasm as she peered over Karem’s shoulder.

“Wha- Your Grace is your father!?”

However, the Druid understood Flora’s meaning and gulped, his eyes widening in realization. The High Elf’s back nearly snapped, bending like a bowstring just before breaking.

“Your Grace! Please, allow me to conduct even a modicum of research on your daughter!?”

“It’s not permitted.”

“Please! By all means!”

“No, wait. Wait, pants! Pants!”

 

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