Chapter 741

Chapter 741

It was the voice of Sir Phaden, the princess’s knight.

Creak—

Footsteps followed as they entered the chamber. At once, everyone rose and bowed. Ferma scrambled to his feet a heartbeat too late.

"That will do. Be seated."

The cool, even voice rang out without delay. Ferma hesitated, glanced around, and only lowered himself back into his chair after the others had done so.

"I see you have all gathered promptly."

The archduke’s voice carried across the room.

Swallowing dryly, Ferma turned toward the entrance.

The princess, her golden hair falling freely over her shoulders, and the archduke, black-haired and crowned in steel, were approaching the round table side by side. Behind them glided a pale, expressionless maid, moving like a ghost.

"Of course. How could we dare be late for Your Grace’s summons?" said General Harald.

The archduke’s masklike expression softened with the faintest smile. "That was not what I meant."

A quiet breath of laughter escaped him as he stopped beside the round table. The princess stood upright at his side. Sir Phaden closed the door and took his place near the waiting maid.

"I know none of you have had the chance to enjoy the festivals. I will get straight to the point."

His black eyes swept across the assembled faces. When that gaze passed over Ferma, the priest instinctively hunched his shoulders and lowered his eyes. A chill crept down his spine.

Archduke was a demigod acknowledged by the heavens themselves.

"I will be leaving the North once this festival concludes."

The declaration fell without warning.

It was enough to make everyone, Ferma included, snap their heads up in unison.

"You mean... you will depart immediately?" Harald asked, his composure cracking.

The archduke nodded at once. "Yes. I told you as much before I ever wore this steel circlet."

"That is... true, but still... even so..." Harald trailed off with a sigh.

Ferma had never seen such an expression on the general. In the few times he had glimpsed him before, Harald had always seemed stern and immovable, as if even a blade would draw no blood from him.

"That is precisely why I have gathered you here."

Unperturbed, the archduke circled the table at an unhurried pace. "You will oversee the North in my absence. Together with Her Imperial Highness, who will exercise my authority in my stead."

"Your Highness will remain in the North?" Harald asked again, eyes wide.

Without breaking stride, the archduke nodded. "For the time being."

At the archduke’s glance, the princess bent her knees slightly in the Imperial fashion. "First, allow me to once again offer my sincere gratitude to the archduke for extending such an honorable proposal."

As all eyes turned toward her, she continued in a calm voice, "As his representative, though I am lacking, I will do my utmost. I ask for your guidance and support in the days ahead."

Her gaze swept around the round table before returning to the archduke. "And with that in mind, I formally request that Your Grace establish a council here and now."

"

Huh...

"

"As expected."

Exclamations and murmurs rippled through the chamber.

Ferma only blinked. Once again, he felt keenly that he did not belong in such a gathering.

"I accept," the archduke replied at once, his gaze returning to the table. "Harald. General Torvien."

"Command us, Your Grace."

"We await your orders."

After Torvien, Harald bowed his head as well, glancing between the archduke and the princess.

The archduke stepped closer and continued, "I hereby appoint you both as councilors of the Northern Council and grant you full authority to oversee and command the defense forces."

As the two generals’ eyes widened, the princess added, "You will hold lawful voting rights, as well as the authority to propose matters concerning the defense forces."

"However," the archduke said as he moved behind them, "should you fail in your duties and responsibilities, your qualifications may be revoked with the consent of the Chair and Vice Chair. Bear that in mind."

The princess offered a faint smile. "For the time being, you must focus on repairing the legion’s losses, rebuilding its strength, and restoring order throughout the North."

"I will appoint Lucas and Mildred as your adjutants. See that they are informed." The archduke rested a hand briefly on each general’s shoulder.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"We will obey."

Neither Harald nor Torvien lifted their bowed heads as they answered.

Moving past them, the archduke turned his gaze to the barbarian warriors seated opposite.

"Askel. Volber."

"Yes, Great Warrior!"

"Command us!"

The two men snapped upright.

The archduke stepped behind the Saintess of the Brazier. "You two will serve as adjutants."

"Pardon?"

"Not... councilors?"

The pair blinked in unison before asking belatedly.

The princess, standing beside them, spoke calmly. "Return to Hope City once the festival concludes. Inform the Council of Elders to elect two representatives."

"They will be granted full decision-making authority over the Snowfields," the archduke added, "Along with the duty and responsibility of governing the region."

The two warriors did not answer immediately. They frowned and exchanged glances.

As the archduke passed behind Ferma’s chair, a cold smile touched his lips. "Before disappointment takes root, understand this—you are just as subject to removal."

"W-We are not disappointed!"

"We will obey, Great Warrior!"

The barbarians straightened further, their voices booming to match the fierce light in their eyes.

"The North stands united once more. The warriors of the Snowfields shall hold the same rights and obligations as those of the mainland, and free passage between the regions will be ensured," the princess added.

The archduke gave a small nod. "Tell your elders that while each region may preserve its customs, they must not hesitate to support one another and maintain exchange."

"Yes, Great Warrior!"

"Understood!"

The archduke inclined his head at their prompt reply, then moved behind the princess and turned.

"High Priestess. And..." His gaze moved from the Saintess of the Brazier to Ferma. "Priest."

"Y-Yes, Saint— no, Your Grace!" Ferma jolted upright and bowed hastily.

The archduke continued evenly, "You are entrusted not only with the affairs of the Order, but with the welfare of the people of the North."

"And you shall hold equal rights within the council," the princess added gently. Her tone softened slightly, no doubt because of her familial connection to the Saintess.

"With gratitude, I accept, Archduke. And Representative." The Saintess inclined her head gracefully. A faint trace of amusement colored the Saintess’s reply.

Ferma, however, could not smile at all.

"Why me?" The words slipped out before he could stop them.

The archduke and the princess both turned toward him at nearly the same time.

Ferma blinked rapidly and lowered his gaze. "I—I only meant... Bishop Andre would surely be far more suited to a council seat than I am."

"You know me better than he does," answered the archduke

As Ferma’s head tilted slightly in confusion, he added evenly, "Which means you also know far better what will happen if my trust is betrayed."

Ferma’s eyes flew open. The words were unmistakably a warning. And they were meant to be.

"Has that resolved your question?"

At the gentle follow-up, Ferma swallowed hard. "Yes. Yes, Your Grace..."

"I will appoint Priest Miguel as your adjutant. Bishop Andre shall serve as adjutant to the High Priestess. I expect you to cooperate well."

The Iron Fist Priest raised his steel prosthetic slightly. "Your Grace. Would not the Vice High Priestess be more suitable as an adjutant than I?"

"She still has much to learn. When the time comes, you may pass your duties on to her."

"

Ah...

I see. A deeper intention. Understood." The Iron Fist Priest nodded without the slightest tension.

The archduke moved past the generals and came to a halt once more. "As you likely expected, Her Highness will serve as Chair."

"I will hold final authority," the princess continued smoothly, as though every word had already been arranged in her mind. "However, I may not issue unilateral decisions without the consent of the Vice Chair and a majority of the councilors. The finer points can be explained in detail later."

Then the archduke spoke again, his tone carrying quiet weight. "And the position of Vice Chair shall be held by Lord Utrid."

Every gaze in the chamber, Ferma’s included, snapped toward Utrid. The man himself stared wide-eyed as the archduke placed both hands firmly on his shoulders.

"You will share decision-making authority with the Chair and take primary responsibility for most administrative matters."

"Y-Your Grace." Utrid finally found his voice, his bearded mouth trembling. "I am the former archduke’s—"

"You would do well to accept. It will also grant your house justification to remain in Travelga." The archduke cut him off.

Ferma understood the meaning at once. Refusal would mean exile for the entire household. The tremor in Utrid’s eyes suggested he understood it just as clearly.

"I will comply." He lowered his head slightly and squeezed his eyes shut, hidden from the archduke’s view.

With a satisfied smile, the archduke gave his shoulder a firm pat and turned away. "Then, while I am gone, I trust you will aid Her Highness and govern the North to the best of your abilities."

"I will do my utmost, Your Grace!"

"We shall give our all!"

"We will comply..."

Voices answered from around the table.

Ferma’s lips moved as well, though the words barely formed. Any flicker of pride at being entrusted with power was crushed beneath shock and the weight of what lay ahead.

As the archduke passed behind him, Sir Phaden stepped forward and opened the doors.

The archduke paused and cast one final look around the table. "My business here is concluded. I am certain you have many questions. I will take my leave. Discuss the rest with the Chair."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and strode out, never once looking back.

Thud—

Sir Phaden shut the doors behind him.

A strange silence settled over the chamber, though it lasted only a moment.

"There is much to coordinate in advance," the princess said calmly. "We must define each person’s authority clearly and establish strict regulations."

At her composed voice, every gaze shifted toward her.

The maid behind her had already glided forward. From within her sleeve, she produced a tightly rolled parchment.

"I have prepared the most fundamental statutes, drawn from both Imperial and fairy customs."

As the princess accepted the parchment and unfurled it across the table, Ferma realized the true meeting had only just begun. He had not even recovered from the earlier shock.

"Please read through it first. Then we shall discuss."

She spread the parchment neatly across the table, showing no intention of granting anyone time to collect themselves.

"Understood."

"Would you mind reading it aloud? I cannot read."

The other councilors were already rising from their seats.

Ferma staggered to his feet as well, only for a heavy metal hand to settle on his shoulder.

"Well, now, this makes things convenient. A familiar face. I look forward to working with you, Councilor.

Hehe...

" Priest Miguel said, flashing yellowed teeth in a broad grin.

Ferma stared at him for a long moment before letting out a resigned sigh. "Likewise... I look forward to it."

***

The noise of the banquet drifted faintly through the dim hallway.

Striding down its center, Ian finally released the quiet breath he had been holding.

Good thing we coordinated beforehand.

With Seras playing her part, he had delivered what needed to be said and departed without resistance or needless argument.

Of course, he had not hurried merely to push tedious matters onto others. There was someone he needed to see before the night grew any later.

The westernmost tower, was it?

At the far end of the hallway, he turned into the spiral staircase winding up along the outer wall. The silver-haired fairy had discreetly passed along the location.

Step. Step.

As he climbed, his expression gradually settled.

Unfinished thoughts resurfaced and drifted through his mind once more, but the staircase ended before he could gather them into order.

Whoosh—

The distant clamor of the city sharpened, and a cold wind swept over him as he stepped onto the watchtower.

A wide opening framed the star-scattered night sky. Below, the city lights shimmered like scattered embers.

Standing before that view, armor catching the glow, was a familiar figure.

Ian’s gaze followed the flutter of red hair.

At the sound of his footsteps, Mev turned sharply. Her eyes widened, and she stiffened. The bottle in her hand thudded softly against the windowsill.

"I was wondering why you never came back after stepping out for air," Ian said lightly.

A faint smile touched his lips as he stopped beside her. "So this is where you were. Keeping the best view to yourself."