—THREE DAYS HAD PASSED…
"Why are you wearing a tank top in this cold weather?" Rhys asked.
"Why? Are you bothered, you old geezer?" Lia barked back.
They were together in the study, reviewing the terrain maps and Cris's notes on the centipedes.
"I am not! And at the same time, yes! It's cold, Lia. Pick a season," Rhys shot back.
"My wound needs air, okay? And I don't feel cold indoors anyway. Besides, wearing a shirt all the time is suffocating," Lia said.
"I get you, but it looks like that wound is going to scar. It's shaped like a vertical 'L'," Rhys observed.
"So? Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Lia asked.
"Well, if you want. You know I was well-known in the Russia Branch as the best tattoo artist," Rhys said, not looking up from his scribbling.
"I heard you charged them a fortune for it, you jerk," Eliana eyed him.
"Well, you're family, so I'd give you a discount. No—as a recovery gift, I'll do it for free this time," Rhys said.
"Tsk. You better do it better than Don Ed Hardy, then."
"Anyway, Your Grace," Rhys chuckled, sliding a document across the table. "Here's the list of immediate repairs and allocations using the funds you documented."
"Approximately, we have 500,000 gold coins from selling some family assets. Repairing the fortress walls from east to west will cost us 200,000 gold coins, and I've already deducted it. So now we're left with 300,000."
"I'll gut you," Lia said, but her tone was thoughtful. "Hmm, yeah. The townspeople are basically squatters. The wyvern attack last time made it easier for their roofs to get ruined." She looked over the papers. "They're flocking inside the fortress city because it's safer, but they're abandoning the outlying lands." She pointed at the center of the map. "This is the safe zone, right? The walls only cover the area bordering the Void Forest, so the fortress isn't fully enclosed."
"I think it's because of the mountain terrain, and there are rare animals to hunt there, too. Besides, it's too far from the Central Town where wandering merchants stop."
"About the repair project for the east-west walls, I'd like you to hire capable men from the Northern people. It'll help them financially while we're still looking for ways to become self-sufficient," Lia said.
"I already factored that in. The repairs will begin when the supplies arrive. By my estimation, they'll be here next week from the capital. They'll use the teleportation at the temple, so we also have to pay 500 gold coins per wagon for that."
"Seriously? Aren't churches supposed to be generous? Those damn priests."
"Well, that's how sucky this world's system is," Rhys replied. "Also, the temple here in the North is run-down, not to mention there are only two mages and one rookie priest sent by the head temple."
"I was planning to relocate some of the citizens back to the safe zone, which is the South. It's wide and unused. We have a total of 185 houses here in the central area now. Relocating will cost a lot. This is a headache, and we can't risk selling all our family assets in the capital, either." Lia massaged her forehead.
"You guys also sold half of your personal assets, right?" Lia asked.
"Yup. We put half of it into an emergency fund and half for soldier and knight recruitment," Rhys confirmed.
"Do I have any assets in my name?"
"Hmm, yeah. Uncle gifted you that seaside castle in the East Region for your coming-of-age ceremony, right?" Rhys said.
"Well, I can't sell it. It was Uncle's birthday gift," Lia said.
Rhys stopped and stared at her, contemplating. "What about the seaside mansion in the West Region, then? The one Uncle gifted you for your wedding."
Lia looked at him. "Oh, I have a seaside mansion?"
"Yeah! Sell it!" Rhys said, smiling.
"Okay, you sell it," Lia agreed without hesitation. "How much do you think it's worth?"
"Well, as I recall, it cost roughly 2.5 million gold coins," Rhys said. I remember mouthing off to Uncle about it. Ugh, the thought of working myself up over that makes me question what kind of nerd I was back then.
"That's a lot! With that, we can fund the repairs for the small temple in the central area," Eliana said. "Rhys, you better sell it."
"I will. I'm already writing the letter for it," Rhys said.
"That fast? Tsk, why do I get the idea you've been planning to get rid of it?" Eliana asked.
Hell, I am! I was worried you'd feel sentimental about it because it's the townhouse near Wykenight's castle.
[ADMIN B: DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO HINDER YOUR SISTER'S MARRIAGE?]
Shut up. No good will come from associating with that jerk.
[ADMIN B: TSK, YOU SIBLINGS AND YOUR PAST.]
You guys always act like you know everything, right? I'm pretty sure you know why I'm being like this, so shut your trap if you ain't helping us financially.
[ADMIN B: FINE! SO ATTITUDINAL.]
"Hey, I'm talking to you," Lia's voice rose.
"Oh, yeah. What is it?" Rhys asked.
"Those two wizards—I want them to learn more about magic, but it's too risky to send them away. They're always our distance fighters for Level Three threats, so…" Eliana trailed off.
"I'll try to find a solution for it," Rhys said, finally folding the letter and placing it on the trademark Javier parchment—yellow with intricate designs, sealed with emerald wax.
'To Jill Teleston'
Rhys walked toward the trained messenger falcon and slipped the letter into its small leather backpack. The bird wore a collar bearing the crest of House Javier: a stylized sun partially eclipsed by a crescent moon, all within a circle of interlocking silver chains. As the bird took wing, its shadow briefly crossing the pale sun, the fate of a seaside castle and a neglected townhouse began its flight south—and straight into the heart of Wykenight.
「WYKENIGHT DUKEDOM — Wykenight's Castle」
It was already late afternoon, and Jill looked drained inside the massive tactical study room of Wykenight's Castle. Because of the Javiers' sudden resignation, he hadn't been able to return to his free life at the Capital manor and was instead managing logistics.
"Jill, are you alright?" Lady Alice asked, carrying a tray of snacks.
"P-please h-help m-me… Your Grace…" Jill slumped over the table, exhausted from staying up all night helping Alistair and Dante with Malcorian probing attacks.
"Oh, you poor child. You gentlemen, halt those papers and take a break for a moment," Alice chided Alistair and Dante, who were both busy reviewing the neutral zone map.
NEUTRAL ZONE: Located between the western Solarian border (Wykenight's Dukedom) and the eastern border of the Malcorian Kingdom. The size of a small country, it was once a neutral buffer but had become a war zone after Malcoria broke the treaty in an attempt to claim it—a conflict that had spanned generations and continued to this day.
"This is madness. I wonder how Lord Marcus was able to so easily approach Malcoria's defenses. Their prowess in magic is no joke—they have mages of advanced level," Dante said.
"It is weird, isn't it? How were they able to recruit such exceptional mages? Mages are known to be isolated in their towers and usually don't participate in political conflicts," Alistair mused.
"Right. Aren't the mages seen in wars usually non-tower ones? What do they call them again?" Deitre asked.
"They call them 'impure,'" Alice said. "Mages who manifest their talents after the age of thirteen are called 'impure,' and those who manifest without coming from a mage's clan are called 'decoy' by them."
"See that? They love to discriminate. So how can Malcoria have sway over them?" Deitre pressed.
Alistair looked out the window. "Malcoria… this dark kingdom and its greed know no bounds."
A knock sounded at the door. One of the letter-receiving knights stood there with an envelope in hand.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but you have a letter, Lord Jill," the knight said.
Jill sat up straight. "A letter? From whom?"
"It was sent by a falcon. If I remember correctly, it was wearing a collar with the crest of a sun and moon, and chains—"
"How can you not know that crest, you brat?!" Dante yelled, making the soldier flinch. "It's from the North itself!"
Jill immediately went to the knight. "The North? Could it be the Javiers…? It must be a response to the letter I sent last week."
Alistair finally set down the paper he was holding, anticipation tightening his expression as he awaited the response to the letter he'd instructed Jill to send to Eliana.
"Father, why are you so mad at that poor knight?" Deitre asked.
Alice sighed. "Son, there are only two families who use a 'sun' in their crest: the imperial family and the Javiers'. The sun and moon with chains is the Javiers' trademark crest. It's considered more sacred and mysterious than even the Emperor's crest of the rising sun and lion."
"Why is that?" Deitre asked.
"Because nobody knows the meaning of the Javiers' crest except for the first Emperor and the first Duke of Javier. Every noble family's crest is recorded with its meaning, but the Javiers' is strangely absent. The siblings have been using the imperial crest since they were raised in the capital. For them to use their own crest now… it's a declaration of the depth of their seriousness in taking back the North," Dante explained.
"So, what's the letter about?" Alistair asked from his seat, his voice calm but expectant.
Jill broke the seal, unfolded the parchment, and began to read.
His jaw dropped.
"What's the matter? Isn't it a response to the letter I asked you to send last week?" Alistair pressed.
"N-no… ahem. As a matter of fact, it is not from Her Grace. It is from Lord Rhys," Jill said. He looked acutely uncomfortable and sweaty, as if all his fatigue had been replaced by a cold, dreading alertness.
"Is it too personal?" Alice asked, sensing Jill's distress.
"Uhm… it is? Your Grace, would you like to read it yourself?" Jill offered weakly.
"Read it aloud. If it was meant for me, then Lord Rhys should have addressed it to me," Alistair said, his expression stern and unyielding.
"Alright then… here is the content of the letter…"
Jill cleared his throat, his voice trembling slightly as he read:
"Hey, Jill.
Tell the Duke it's time for him to pay his dowry. We are in a tight spot here in the North, so you'd better send it before I spam you with letters.
Ah, given you're a lackey of that man, I'd also like you to process and sell the seaside mansion of Lia's there—the one gifted by the Emperor for their wedding.
Ps. Don't give me any shit about it being jointly owned. I remember nagging the Emperor for a month while finalizing the asset under Lia's name.
Pps. Eliana agreed to it.
Ppps. Tell your boss to stop fucking sending letters to Lia if he wants to keep his jaw intact.
Yours truly,
Rhys Javier."
A tomb-like silence followed Jill's recital.
Deitre was the first to break it, a choked sound escaping his lips that was halfway between a gasp and a snort of horrified laughter. He immediately covered his mouth with his napkin, his shoulders shaking.
Lady Alice's hand had flown to her chest, her eyes wide as dinner plates. "He… he did not just…"
Dante stared into the middle distance, his face a mask of profound, philosophical disbelief. The sheer, unvarnished crudeness of it, wrapped in the formality of the eclipse-and-chains seal, was a cognitive dissonance so violent he felt his understanding of nobility quietly shatter.
Alistair had not moved.
He sat perfectly still in his high-backed chair, his knuckles white where they gripped the armrests. The calm, expectant mask was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous: a glacial, building fury. His eyes, usually a cool, assessing gold, had darkened to the color of a funeral pyre.
"He…" Alistair began, his voice deceptively soft, the only sound in the room besides the crackle of the fire. "He dares…"
Then, the dam broke.
"HE DARES?" His voice dropped to the deepest tone it could give. "Pay his dowry? What does he take me for?" He stood up and snatched the letter from Jill, who was already sweating in fear of this cold, unpredictable man. "Sell the seaside mansion? The gift from the Emperor himself for our wedding? As if it were a piece of discarded furniture?" The veins in his forehead were almost visible in suppressed anger.
Deitre finally lost his battle with composure, a full, helpless laugh escaping before he could stifle it. "I'm sorry, brother, it's just… the audacity… it's so…"
"I didn't know you valued your wedding gift that much, my son," Dante chimed in, subtly teasing his son, and he received a glare from his wife, Lady Alice.
"You really think this is funny, Deitre?" Alistair asked, his voice colder than it was before. "And Father, I may appear as a neglectful husband, but I do value my marriage. It was officiated by His Majesty himself. It was just that the West also needs me, and that—"
Alistair wasn't able to finish his words when Lady Alice cut him off. "Still, your responsibility here in the West as Duke and Commander is separate from your responsibility as a husband," she said calmly with elegance in the air, and sipped from her tea.
The three men of Wykenight were silenced. It meant only one thing: Alistair neglecting Eliana for a year was his fault and non-negotiable.
Jill, pale as a ghost, finally found his voice. "Y-Your Grace… the dowry… technically, since the marriage was not annulled and Her Grace is reinstated in her title… the Wykenight treasury did set aside a substantial marital allocation for the Duchess's maintenance and household. It was never sent because… well, she never established a household separate from the capital."
Another beat of silence.
"So he is technically correct," Dante murmured, the former Duke's political mind cutting through the outrage. "It is not a demand for a new payment. It is a demand for the release of funds that are, by law and contract, hers."
"Well, it was His Majesty's fault anyway. He stopped Lady Eliana from living in the Wykenight estate and used brother's absence as justification to keep her at the palace," Deitre said, defending his brother.
"Well, it is already done and all in the past. Let's move forward to what is being addressed. Alistair, my son. You are not only a Duke, but a husband. Lord Rhys is obviously asking for the dowry because they need it. Will you be that man whom her brothers see you as, or will you be the husband you claimed to be?" Lady Alice said again in her calm manner.
Alistair pondered for a moment and sat back down in his seat.
"Very well." He turned to Jill, his voice dropping to a terrifying calm. "Jill. You will do two things."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"First. You will release the entire marital allocation. Have it ready not as coin, but as actual practical supplies—medicinal herbs, quality steel ingots, hardy seed grain. Things that can help a territory, should they choose to use them wisely."
"I understand, Your Grace. If I may be so bold, should we also send a food supply? Maybe sacks of rice, meats, and vegetables? And some thick clothing? It may be summer right now, but it is winter in the North," Jill said.
"Jill, why would you ask for something that is definitely not something those siblings will need?" Deitre asked.
"As Her Grace—I mean, Lady Alice said. This is definitely not for them but for the North. The three brothers are smart enough. They won't sell all their assets, and they won't use all the profits they have from selling some of their assets either," Jill explained.
"You are a man worthy of being the Secretary of my son, Jill," Dante said.
Jill smiled shyly in response.
"You may do so as you see fit. Now second, you will deliver it personally."
The smile from Jill's face vanished in an instant.
Jill stiffened. "Your Grace? To the North? Personally?"
"Yes. And the fee for every wagon comes from a different budget for that. So the amount of the dowry can focus on the supplies," Alistair said without caring whether Jill wanted to deliver it or not.
A stunned silence fell. Using the imperial teleport for a personal envoy was an almost unheard-of expense.
"But, why exactly does it have to be you to deliver it, Your Grace? I am not done yet with my own tasks on the Capital's estate, let alone here," Jill said, trying to suppress his rage at this absurd request.
"I want you to see what the three brothers are up to. If what they are doing right now in the North is worth abandoning their positions in the Capital, and if their brains perhaps got infected by the void of the forest that they forgot their decorum," Alistair said, obviously not yet over the letter. "And… see how my wife is," he added, yet the firmness in his voice and expression somehow softened.
Lady Alice and Lord Dante exchanged looks and smiled.
"Then let my eyes be yours as well, brother."
All heads turned to Deitre. He had leaned forward, his earlier amusement replaced by a keen, serious interest. "I mean, Jill needs company, no?"
Alistair studied his younger brother. Deitre was often dismissed as clever but unserious. Yet his mind was sharp, and he possessed a disarming charm that could open doors Jill's stern demeanor might shut. Sending the Duke's own brother was an even greater statement—one of grave concern, not just pique.
"Very well," Alistair said after a moment. "But don't do anything troublesome. Be quiet and don't be a headache for Jill. Do you understand?"
"Well enough," Deitre said, a faint, intrigued smile touching his lips. The frozen hell of the North had just become the most interesting place in the empire.
"Then it is settled," Alistair said. "You will leave in three days."
The slight correction held weight. This was not a rushed, angry reaction. It was a deliberate deployment.
"I want a word from my wife. Ask her directly why she left me out of this sudden reinstatement of the North's ruler. I want a reply directly from her mouth."
I have a feeling the letter stopped at her brothers.
He looked at both men, his gaze imposing finality.
"In three days, you will depart. In three days, you will arrive at the Northern Fortress. You will deliver the goods, deliver my message, and bring me back the truth."
Unbeknownst to Alistair, his calculated timeline had just forged a cosmic coincidence. In exactly three days, over a thousand miles to the north, four siblings and a giant silver wolf would shoulder their packs, check their strange weapons one last time, and step beyond the fortress wall into the mist-shrouded, rotting teeth of the Void Forest.
The messengers would arrive at the exact moment their quarry vanished into the legend they were sent to investigate.
— To Be Continued… —