Chapter 743

"Being granted the honor of serving as regent to His Grace Ian Hope, the Demigod of the North, is a privilege beyond words."

From atop the low inner wall encircling the keep, Seras delivered her address at Ian’s side.

She’s certainly full of energy.

Ian glanced at her confident expression. He had noticed it before—she thrived beneath the weight of attention.

"Of course, I wouldn’t dare claim I can shoulder such a grave responsibility alone. Fortunately, however, His Grace has seen fit, for the sake of the North—"

Letting much of her speech drift past him, Ian slowly surveyed the view beyond the wall.

It was already the final day of the festival. Though the citizens must have been exhausted from days of celebration, they had once again filled the streets to hear the proclamation.

The reaction doesn’t seem bad.

Ian studied their faces and felt a quiet sense of relief. After all, this was the formal announcement of the Northern Council’s establishment. Had they mistrusted the council or demanded that he remain in person, it would have complicated matters.

Instead, most of those looking up nodded and smiled.

"As the representative and Chair of the Council, I pledge to work with the councilors to devote ourselves fully to the stability and prosperity of the North."

Seras finished and bowed lightly in the Northern fashion.

It was clear from her tone alone: rather than leaning on imperial authority, she had chosen to approach them with humility, showing respect both to Ian and to the people of the North.

"Long live Her Highness!"

"For the demigod’s representative!"

Thunderous applause and cheers followed, proof that her choice had been wise. Of course, that was not the only reason for the warm reception.

Ian met her eyes and gave a slight nod before glancing behind him. The councilors and their adjutants applauded as well.

As expected. Leaving it to professionals was the right choice.

Each of them had already proven their abilities in the North. Even Utrid, despite his family’s complicated standing, was well regarded within the archducal household. Priest Ferma had earned quiet respect.

And Seras herself had already proven her competence in the capital. It was only natural that the people felt reassured.

The cheers gradually subsided. One by one, fervent gazes shifted from Seras to Ian at her side.

That alone reassured him further.

Through the barbarians, word had already spread that he would soon depart the North. He told them that by the Platinum Dragon’s decree, he still had a task to complete. Judging by the mood, the rumor had been received exactly as intended.

"The council will bring stability and prosperity to a North made whole once more," Ian said with magic woven subtly into his voice, careful to seal the matter properly rather than leave it open-ended.

He cast Seras a brief glance. "The will of the representative and the Council shall be my will as well. I expect you to follow it with the same dedication."

Seras’s lips curved faintly.

Ian looked back over the sea of people. "Wherever I may be, I will watch over you and stand with you in spirit. Enjoy the rest of the festival. That is all."

Cheers erupted again like rolling thunder.

Ian lifted a hand in acknowledgment, then turned and led Seras toward the bridge that connected directly to the keep.

Phaden and Asme stood on either side of the bridge, their expressions resigned. Behind them, Mukapa, Mev, and the other retainers inclined their heads in greeting.

Ian offered Mev a faint smile as he walked past.

"Your Grace," said Seras.

"Yes?"

"Once we return inside, will you begin preparations to depart immediately?"

Ian’s smile deepened.

It was only natural that she did not know his exact timing. Throughout the festival, she had thrown herself into solidifying the council’s structure. The councilors and their adjutants had been summoned at every spare moment to debate details with her.

Ian had refrained from the festivities, focusing on rest. They had hardly crossed paths over the past few days.

Which only proved how tirelessly she had worked.

"That is my intention."

As they stepped onto the bridge, Seras nodded at once. "Then I should assist with the preparations. I will see that ample supplies are arranged."

"I won’t refuse." Ian smiled as the retainers fell into line behind them.

Seras glanced back briefly. "If there is anything else you require, please say so."

"May I say it now?"

"Of course. Anything."

As they neared the entrance to the keep, Ian turned to her. "Would it be possible to borrow the carriage you have been using?"

A sharp breath sounded behind her. Phaden and Asme, who had drawn closer, stiffened at once.

Seras did not hesitate. "Certainly. That works out well. It has already been serviced. You may take it as it is. I will have it ready."

"Your Highness," Phaden interjected in a lowered voice just as Ian stepped inside.

Seras frowned faintly but allowed him to continue.

"That carriage is not only a masterpiece crafted by the finest artisans of the capital, but the last safeguard for Your Highness’s safety. Should danger arise on the road back to the capital—"

"It will be fine. Archduke will accompany me on my return trip," Seras said calmly, cutting him off.

Phaden faltered, then released a sigh heavy enough to sink the floor.

"Lu Solar..."

Whether it was Seras’s stubbornness or the certainty that she would remain in the North, Ian could not tell which troubled him more. Most likely both.

"There is no need for such concern, Sir Phaden."

A gentle voice spoke from behind them. Cherwyn had joined them with no one noticing.

"The North has many dwarven craftsmen of exceptional skill."

She glanced at Ian before continuing. "I will commission a carriage of equal quality to be prepared. And I shall offer prayers of blessing to the Goddess as well."

"With the Saintess’s assurance... that does bring some comfort," Phaden muttered, though his expression hardly changed.

As Seras offered Cherwyn a grateful look, Ian added, "Could you also send word to the Hexagonal Alliance?"

"Of course." Seras turned back to him as they proceeded down the hallway, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

"Tell them to bring as many wagons as possible to Drenorov. If I am not there when they arrive, have them wait."

"Drenorov..." Seras narrowed her eyes and leaned slightly toward him. "If you intend to prepare war supplies, that may prove difficult. The royal house has likely purchased most of the merchants’ stock already, including Drenorov’s harvest."

"That works in my favor." Ian’s lips curved faintly. "Empty wagons will suffice. Tell them to bring every one they can."

Still blinking in confusion, Seras nodded. "Understood."

Ian stopped in the middle of the hallway beside the broad staircase leading to the lower floors.

"Thanks to you, I can depart with peace of mind. It is no light responsibility. I offer my gratitude once more."

He turned fully toward her and gave a slight bow in the imperial manner.

He would take this chance to say his farewells to her and the councilors now. If he lingered, it would turn into a grand send-off, and he had no desire to let it grow larger than necessary.

"It’s nothing. As you know, this will be an invaluable experience for me as well. Depending on how it goes, I may even secure the firm support of the North." Seras bent her knees lightly in return and smiled.

Ian returned the smile and nodded. "Thank you for saying so. I will prepare the Scroll of Correspondence before I depart, so there is no need to worry."

"Yes. Then I will take my leave." She turned slightly. "Come, Vice Chair."

"Yes... Chair." Utrid, who had followed as quietly as a shadow, answered weakly and stepped forward between Phaden and Asme.

As he passed, Ian said, "Work hard. There may be a reward waiting."

"I will do my utmost, Your Grace." Utrid hesitated, bowed, and descended the stairs.

Like Phaden and Asme, resignation lingered in his back—but the resentment was gone.

"We shall take our leave." Phaden and Asme followed him down.

In their place, Mev and Nasser stepped naturally to Ian’s side, joined by Thesaya and Mukapa.

"You are heading West, then, Your Grace," Cherwyn said softly as she faced him.

She had removed her hood. Though her youth had not returned, her complexion had clearly improved.

"That is the plan. I have business there," Ian answered without hesitation. There was no need to conceal it from her.

A faint smile touched Cherwyn’s lips. "I have the feeling we will meet again before long."

"I will try to prevent that. It may be better for us. When do you intend to return to the temple?"

"After assisting my niece a little longer. I have already sent word to the Vice High Priestess, so there will be no cause for concern."

Ian nodded and bowed respectfully. "You have my gratitude in many matters. I will repay the debt I owe you someday."

"It is I who repaid a debt. Remember that I stand ready to aid you at any time... whatever decision you may come to." Cherwyn inclined her head, her tone as meaningful as her steady gaze.

She turned away. Her adjutant bishop offered a polite bow before following her down the stairs, tension still faint in his expression.

He must still wonder why he was not named to the council.

Suppressing a chuckle, Ian turned toward the hallway.

Harald and Torvien approached, Lucas and Mildred trailing behind them.

"You seem to have recovered well."

After exchanging only a glance with Torvien, Ian addressed Harald as the general stopped before him.

"Thanks to Your Grace and the blessing of the Blazing Goddess." Harald shifted his cloak aside, briefly revealing the stump of his severed left arm.

A fitted leather brace encased the wound in place of bandages.

Ian nodded, then lowered his voice as his gaze moved between the two generals. "Don’t forget that the war is not yet over."

"...We will bear it in mind."

"We will remain prepared, Your Grace."

Harald and Torvien stiffened at once, their expressions hardening. They had already heard fragments of what was unfolding in the Central.

For now, Ian and Seras would stand as a breakwater. Eventually, the North would be drawn into the civil war as well.

"Until we meet again. Give my regards to General Gelud."

"We will await your return." Harald bowed deeply, then turned.

Torvien followed in silence, meeting Ian’s eyes for a brief moment before inclining his head.

Ian shifted his attention to Lucas and Mildred as they stepped forward. "I hope you do not feel slighted at serving as adjutants rather than councilors."

"Not at all. It is an honor for our house."

"Indeed, Your Grace."

Lucas answered first, Mildred following. Both wore faint smiles. Their ties to Ian ran deep.

"It also means you are to inherit a council seat one day. Do not betray my trust."

"We will remember. And remember again."

"We will do our utmost."

With that vow, the two commanders descended the stairs after the others.

Only then did Ferma, who had been lingering awkwardly, shuffle forward.

"You look thinner already," Ian remarked lightly, a faint curve at his lips. "Do not overexert yourself."

"Yes. I understand, Your Grace."

"But do not grow too comfortable either."

"I—I will keep that in mind!" Ferma jolted as if struck, bowed hastily, and retreated at nearly a trot, almost stumbling in his haste.

No need to worry about him becoming complacent.

Then his gaze shifted again.

A rough-looking priest stepped forward.

Miguel met his eyes, scratched his jaw, and muttered in a half-grumbling tone, "Say... any chance I could just tag along with you instead?"