While Victor was busily developing his territory, Cliossá, accompanied by Sylvia, was returning to her grandson's domain, in a foul mood.
During her stay at Baron Selitas's estate, she had to tolerate the most annoying aristocrat she'd ever encountered.
Under various pretexts, the baron tried to arrange meetings or invite her to daily events. This drove her insane, but as a countess, she couldn't openly express her feelings. At that moment, Cliossá was close to accidentally injuring this man.
— That tiny worm completely forgets his place! — she grumbled, seated in a carriage struggling through snow-covered roads. — My son knows nothing about controlling his vassals!
Sylvia observed everything during the trip, but unlike the countess, she wasn't bothered by the baron's advances.
As the duchess understood, the baron and her husband had mutual interests, and this man was heavily reliant on Victor. She couldn't comprehend how her spouse managed to dominate him, but Géctor seemed genuinely fascinated, recounting tales of friendship with his neighbor.
Sylvia was accustomed to aristocratic exaggerations, but this was different. The baron genuinely admired her husband, repeating that he epitomized nobility.
— Sylvia, did you hear how he praised Victor? What do you think? — Cliossá interrupted Sylvia's thoughts.
The girl reflected, having no definitive opinions on the subject. She was merely intrigued but not invested.
— I don't know what to think, but according to Selitas, they're good friends, — she finally replied.
Whenever she referred to Victor as her husband, it felt unnatural.
— It's bizarre; he's constantly diminishing himself in comparison to Victor, — Cliossá remarked. — Since when do nobles become so humble? There's definitely something this boy is hiding from us.
After saying this, both women fell silent. Cliossá closed the curtain to observe the exterior landscape.
They'd reached the boundary of Ironwood, where she noticed an abundance of vehicles, something she'd never seen in smaller domains. Crowds of people moved along snow-covered roads, dressed well and discussing or laughing, creating a lively atmosphere.
Initially, she assumed these were refugees, similar to those they encountered at the migrant camp, but closer inspection revealed differences: these people were cheerful, energetic, and elegantly dressed. This vibrant scene was unseen even in the empire's capital.
Usually, commoners hid indoors during winter, while aristocrats preferred not to pause in the streets.
Cliossá pulled the curtain shut, deciding to inform Victor of her arrival.
Ever since her son began forwarding reports about her grandson, she harbored doubts. Visiting Selitas only deepened her suspicions.
She never lost touch with County Shermainin, tracking and regulating every event. Her son was merely a facade; she controlled everything.
Receiving reports on Victor, she found inconsistencies, some absurdities, prompting her to investigate.
Initially, she intended to resolve matters before the wedding, but her grandson's gift threw her off track. Eventually, she chose to visit in person to uncover the truth.
***
Victor was unaware of the impending danger and eagerly awaited the countess's arrival. He'd prepared gifts for her, enjoying her presence.
Though harboring no romantic inclinations, her beauty provided aesthetic pleasure.
A special room in the manor was reserved specifically for her, its layout tailored exclusively for the countess.
Victor remained in the manor, preparing for her arrival. He still hadn't finished renovations.
Since informing her return, two days had passed, and finishing even one room was impossible.
Thus, he opted for an alternative approach, incorporating exposed brick walls into the décor.
Placing furniture, bookshelves, and plants salvaged from the castle, he tried to hide defects.
Efforts paid off somewhat, but the plain wooden floor and lack of repairs betrayed the crude setting.
— My lord, we can depart, — Alganis announced, entering the manor's reception room.
Separated from the dining area, this room contained chairs and a functioning fireplace, bathing it in warm light reflected from the snow outside.
Acknowledging Alganis, Victor stood and, accompanied by Linnea and Alganis, headed toward the castle, or rather, the training grounds.
Today, soldiers would receive their first batch of weapons, and he wanted to witness their new gear firsthand.
Half an hour later, they arrived, noticing soldiers lined up in rows, rehearsing formations.
Victor introduced them to tactical maneuvers: the "turtle shell" for archer defense, the "shield wall" for frontal assaults, the "wedge" for penetrating enemy lines, and the "square" formation to protect against cavalry attacks.
"Turtle Shell": Soldiers formed a tight square, shielding front, top, and sides, leaving rear exposed.
"Shield Wall": Three rows of soldiers: the first kneeled, embedding shields in dirt; the second layered theirs overhead; the third row sealed gaps, shielding heads.
"Wedge": Led by strongest fighters, spearheading attacks.
"Square Formation": Similar to Shield Wall, but center troops used spears or bows for ranged attacks.
Time until deployment was critically short, leaving no room for archery training or bow production.
Soldiers executed routines fluidly, at least in exercises. Real combat effectiveness remained untested.
Victor reveled in their progress, deciding Alganis would represent soldiers for class promotions, distributing "class stones" to enhance their skills.
Touring the troops, a knight from Cliossá's escort arrived, informing him of her wish to see him.
Content that this wasn't an order, Victor thanked his soldiers and returned to the manor.
Troops cherished praise from their lord, equivalent to hero medals in Earth culture.
They'd spend evenings debating who received his approval and where he gazed.
Today's honor fell to Kihran, one of Victor's earliest knights, now ranking highest among peers.
Kihran aspired to become a guard, motivated by future titles.
Promoted to "silver level," soldiers could officially attain knighthood, one step shy of barony.
As the first baron-to-be, Alganis's promotion became a beacon for soldiers.
***
Returning to the manor, Victor entered the reception room, finding Cliossá alone.
— Enter, — she invited calmly, sipping tea.
Her graceful movements created an illusion of floating in water.
Upright posture accentuated her slender waistline and petite bosom. Long neck highlighted refined facial features: large emerald eyes, straight nose, plump lips. Brown hair, tied in a bun, framed her face.
Darkness filled the room, firelight dancing in her eyes.
Victor sat in a chair beside her.
— Who are you? — she asked abruptly.
Panic shot through him. Assuming discovery, he feigned calmness.
— What do you mean, grandmother? — he asked, choosing the most unnatural term imaginable.
— Everyone else falls for your tricks, but mentioning the underground was your mistake, — she stated, sipping tea from her cup.
Heart racing, Victor realized his vulnerability. Nobody dared question the underground, but Cliossá had no qualms.
— I did find artifacts there, but sadly, the cave collapsed, preventing retrieval, — he lied, closing loopholes.
Cliossá smiled mysteriously, sensing deception.
— So, that's where you found those books, filled with knowledge? — she prodded, pushing him into a verbal trap.
Trapped, Victor sought escape.
Facing a Diamond Knight, he had no chances if attacked.
— Quite accurate, — he affirmed.
Suddenly, Cliossá released her aura, penetrating his body. Surprised, Victor failed to brace for it. Yet, the aura harmlessly dissolved.
— You're mistaken; no book survived mythic eras, not even magical tomes, — she declared, placing her cup back on the tray.
Victor wanted to argue, citing luck, but his disseminated knowledge contradicted her claims.
— What's your next move? — he asked, resigning to honesty.
Her lack of aggression hinted at insufficient evidence.
— Who are you? Definitely not my grandson, and I sense no demon within you, so something else is at play, — she warned.
Sweating profusely, Victor scanned for exits, trapped like a rat.
Unexpectedly, Cliossá's expression softened.
— You've contributed greatly to the county and aim to develop your estate, — she said, studying him with emerald eyes. — I'll stay here for a while and monitor your actions. Feel free to confess the truth if you wish.
Relief washed over him.
— You may leave, and by the way, I haven't shared my suspicions with anyone, so be thankful, — she waved dismissively.
Victor staggered out, legs trembling, his first thought: run!