Chapter 740

Seras’s eyes twitched faintly.

"I see."

After a brief silence, she answered in a subdued voice. Almost at the same time, uneven breathing filled the air. Thesaya’s shoulders rose and fell rapidly.

Ian narrowed his eyes and turned toward her. A smile had spread across Thesaya’s face—one he had no intention of deciphering. Then her head snapped sharply to the right.

Following her gaze, Ian paused.

Mev had gone completely still. Like a statue, she sat with her head slightly lowered, the rim of her goblet still touching her lips.

"It seems at least one of the rumors held a grain of truth," Seras said quietly.

She, too, was looking to the side.

Ian cleared his throat and faced her again. "I would understand if you refused my request."

"How cruel, Archduke." Seras met his eyes with a faint, wry smile. "If you say that, it truly makes it sound as though I have been rejected."

So that’s how it becomes.

Ian said nothing further and lifted his goblet instead.

Seras continued lightly, "In that case, I suppose I have no choice but to accept your proposal. Very well. I will serve as your representative, Archduke."

Ian looked at her over the rim of his goblet.

There was mischief in her smile now.

He lowered the goblet and inclined his head slightly. "Thank you. And for not making this more awkward than necessary."

"It was nothing." Seras tilted her head.

"After all, the concerns you mentioned will likely resolve themselves if left alone," Thesaya interjected smoothly, finally tearing her gaze away from Mev. "If Your Highness acts as his representative, people will draw their own conclusions."

Her eyes slid toward the centurions in the distance, still whispering and bickering among themselves. "Especially those loud, oversized braggarts. There’s no need to correct them unless someone asks directly. And I doubt many would dare."

At that distinctly fairy-like reasoning, Ian’s mouth curved.

Seras nodded. "That is not a bad solution, provided the Archduke permits it."

"How could I possibly control what people say when I am not present?" Ian shrugged lightly under her gaze.

They had already made their intentions clear to one another. Allowing rumors to serve a purpose was tolerable.

Even so, his eyes flicked unconsciously toward Mev. She remained perfectly still, head bowed. Through the strands of her hair, he caught the faint shimmer in her eyes.

"Then that settles it. Shall we discuss the finer details later?" Seras straightened. "There are still people I must persuade. As you know, I am excessively protected."

She likely meant Phaden and Asme. Both would likely clutch their necks again in disbelief. They had surely assumed she would return to the capital once this ended.

Ian nodded slightly. "Before that, may I ask one more thing?"

"Of course. Please."

"I understand you hold priority to renew Mukapa’s contract. May I assume you will not exercise it?"

Seras’s gaze shifted forward.

Mukapa, who had been eating quietly as though absent, swallowed the piece of meat in his mouth and bowed his head.

A faint smile touched Seras’s lips. "It seems you have something specific in mind. Yes, I will not exercise that priority. As you know, I expect to remain in the North for some time."

She then leaned slightly toward Mukapa. "Come to think of it, I never properly thanked you, Sir Mukapa. I made many unreasonable requests, yet you fulfilled them faithfully."

"I merely did what was required, Your Highness," Mukapa’s voice was steady. He meant every word.

Ian glanced at him, then added with a faint smile, "It feels as though we’re overdue for fresh reports from the capital. Has nothing arrived?"

"There have been some."

Seras straightened again after giving Mukapa a small nod.

"Most of it concerns unrest in the capital and the Central. The sudden redeployment orders have caused confusion within the chain of command along the Eastern Front. Through it all, the Great Church remains firm in its stance."

"So it’s a mess," Ian muttered, nodding slowly.

It was easy enough to picture the state of the capital and the Eastern Front. Information had not even been properly shared within the royal palace to begin with.

"On top of that, unverified rumors have begun spreading, which makes it difficult to grasp the exact situation in the East."

"Unverified rumors?" Thesaya asked, her eyes gleaming with interest.

Seras traced the rim of her goblet with her finger and smiled faintly. "There are reports from various regions claiming that the sun no longer rises even during the day, or that hills have turned into ravines overnight. Even in areas far from Worsbell."

"

Hmm...

"

Not all of that would be mere rumor.

Ian recalled the Black Lions and the brown mages. Such feats were well within their reach.

At the same time, he began to understand Hyked’s intentions.

"It seems His Highness is deliberately deepening the confusion," Thesaya said quietly. She had reached the same conclusion.

Seras nodded calmly. "Most likely. At present, we cannot confirm the exact size of my uncle’s forces. Nor even his location."

"Impressive. It’s as though he prepared for every possible outcome in advance," Thesaya said, a note of admiration slipping into her voice.

"He likely considered multiple possibilities and is choosing the method suited to each situation. Probably the one that spills the least blood," Ian replied.

"Even so, before long, the truth will come to light. At the very least, his destination is obvious," added Seras.

Ian nodded. "Do you have a spare Scroll of Correspondence? I would prefer to continue receiving updates from the capital even after I leave the North."

"Unfortunately, I do not. Though... if you search the Archduke’s vaults, you may find one. Or you could inquire among the mages."

"I’ll do that." Ian clicked his tongue lightly and shrugged. He hoped to avoid speaking with those mad spellcasters if at all possible.

A faint smile curved Seras’s lips at his reaction. "If possible, I would prefer a matched pair with ample pages. As you know, I tend to write at length."

"I’ll see what I can do. Thank you for the thorough answers. I’ll see you later."

Seras nodded and rose. "Very well. It would be best to meet a little earlier than planned. We should discuss the composition of the council as well.

Ah

, of course, Sir Phaden and Asme will accompany me."

"Let’s do that. Send a word once you’ve finished speaking with them."

"Yes. Until then." She bent her knees slightly in farewell before turning away.

As she crossed the lively hall and disappeared into the crowd, Ian’s eyes narrowed. The silver-haired fairy was staring at him again with a sly smile spread across her face.

The moment their eyes met, Thesaya spoke as if she had been waiting.

"You rejected her with absolute firmness, Ian. Honestly, watching that, even I—"

"Enough," Ian cut in.

Thesaya’s smile only deepened. "Why? You already said everything. It’s the first time you’ve said it in a setting like this, but between you two it’s long been settled—"

She turned to the right mid-sentence and fell silent.

Mev still sat there, head lowered, the rim of her goblet pressed lightly to her lips.

Thesaya blinked. "What, don’t tell me you still—"

Mev set her goblet down and abruptly stood. She turned her head sharply away from Ian. Through her hair, the tip of her ear burned red in the firelight.

"I need some air. The drink’s gone to my head." Her voice was stiff.

Without waiting for a response, she strode off, cutting straight through the banquet hall.

"Running away already? That’s disappointing." Thesaya watched her and let out a quiet snort.

She shook her head and turned forward again.

"I truly don’t understand it. What exactly do you see in that stiff—" Her voice trailed off when she noticed Ian’s cold stare fixed on her.

With shameless ease, she shrugged. "You shouldn’t look at me like that, Ian. Go after her immediately... no, give her a little time. Then follow. She’ll need a moment to compose herself."

Winking, she continued, "Don’t worry. I’ll trail her at a distance and let you know where she hides. Somewhere dramatic, most likely. A secluded tower, perhaps. It’s obvious."

At that, Ian finally let out a chuckle.

Thesaya grinned broadly and rose. "See you later. I’ll take a look at your vault while I’m at it. If I find a suitable Scroll of Correspondence, I’ll bring it to you. Just pretend not to notice if a gem or two goes missing."

With that, she turned and walked away, her long silver hair swaying behind her. She looked thoroughly entertained.

Only after she disappeared did Ian avert his gaze and shake his head with a soft sigh. In truth, he needed a moment as well.

A large hand reached across the center of the table.

"The contract has been settled, Your Grace," Mukapa said calmly as he placed another piece of meat onto his plate, as if nothing unusual had occurred.

"Good. I’ll prepare the token tomorrow," Ian replied, guiding a piece of meat onto his own plate with the Willful Grasp.

It was going to be a long night. Appetite or not, he needed to eat.

***

"For the Demigod of the North, His Grace the Archduke!"

"Long live His Grace!"

Drunken cheers and raucous music rose through the floorboards.

Even though the sun had long since set, the banquet showed no sign of ending. The celebration roared on as if it meant to swallow the night whole.

"

Hmm...

It would seem this is...."

"I share your thoughts, General."

Yet one floor above, in the conference chamber, a different atmosphere prevailed.

A single candelabrum burned at the center of the round table. Its unsteady flame cast long shadows across the faces gathered there.

General Harald and General Torvien...

Beside them sat two barbarian warriors, their faces carved with thick, jagged scars that lent them a ferocious presence even in stillness.

"Whoever becomes commander, we accept it without complaint."

"You’d better. If you start spouting nonsense, I’ll knock your jaw loose."

They growled at one another in low voices.

Across from them sat the former archduke’s second son, stroking his beard as he sank into thought.

"The Vice High Priestess must be disappointed in many ways. She could not even witness the coronation, and now she cannot join us here either."

At his side sat the Iron Fist Priest, known as the Golden Fist, and the Saintess of the Brazier, her hood drawn low.

Every person in the room was far from ordinary.

Why am I even here?

All but one.

Priest Ferma’s eyes darted around the chamber as the same question surfaced again for what felt like the hundredth time. He swallowed and pressed his lips tight.

No matter how I look at it, this is a meeting for something extremely important.

His confusion had begun the moment the dark-skinned knight delivered the archduke’s summons.

He had always spoken cautiously regarding that man, if at all, and only ever in favorable terms. Surely their minor past misunderstanding had long since been buried.

In truth, Ferma had been certain he had already been forgotten. The archduke had not even acknowledged him during the coronation. That alone had seemed proof enough.

And yet here he was, seated among figures of such stature.

Could it be... without realizing it, I’ve offended him again?

The dreadful thought struck him cold. Ferma squeezed his eyes shut and clasped his hands before his chest, offering a silent prayer to the Radiant Goddess. He desired neither wealth nor power nor honor—only to leave this room unharmed.

As always, the Goddess gave no reply.

Creak—

Instead, the heavy doors of the conference chamber opened.

The room fell silent in an instant. Ferma held his breath and snapped his eyes open.

A solemn voice rang out.

"Her Imperial Highness the Princess and His Grace the Archduke have arrived."