Chapter 19
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Eisen Guard Adaptation Period
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The study inside the mansion of Eisen Guard, Eisen Baron's territory.
There was one month left until the entrance ceremony.
In the meantime, Kara and I were staying here, receiving instruction in imperial etiquette and basic education.
Warm afternoon sunlight filtered through the window.
This was the Grand Duchy at the empire's northernmost tip.
Yet, being inland, it lacked Norheim's biting winds or the desolation of the northern borderlands.
The sunlight was doing its job.
Instead of bone-chilling cold, there was a cozy warmth enveloping the skin.
At the window-side table warmed by that gentle heat sat Kara, elegantly holding her teacup.
Kara had already mastered everything from dining etiquette to social dance theory.
"Mmm, this has a nice aroma."
With her pinky slightly extended, savoring the black tea, she looked every bit the imperial noblewoman.
On the other hand...
"Urgh... ugh..."
I was hunched over the desk, locked in a fierce battle with a feather quill no thicker than my finger.
Sweat beaded on my forehead, and my back muscles were tense.
It had the solemn intensity of arm-wrestling a bear.
But all I held was a single ink-stained pen.
"Relax your grip, Barg."
Eisen Baron clicked his tongue, arms crossed as he watched from my side.
"A pen isn't an axe. Don't clutch it like you're choking someone—hold it loosely, like you're grasping a cold block of ice..."
"Loosely... loosely..."
I chanted the mantra, trying to ease the tension in my fingers.
Cursive handwriting practice.
The goal was to write these wriggly, worm-like letters elegantly without splattering ink.
Suddenly, a distant memory flashed by.
Around age eight, sprawled in Baba the Elder's tent with Kara, learning the imperial tongue.
"This is how the imperial bastards write. All twisty like worms crawling, eh?"
Even as she taught us the imperial language, the old woman was fuming.
She shoved thick deer shank bone pens into our hands instead of quills and made us press hard on hides instead of parchment.
"Imperial scribbles got no power! Like this—bam, bam! Carve 'em into bone for real writing!"
The old woman's resentment toward the empire seeped into the lettering style.
Crude, rough straight lines instead of graceful curves.
Heavy strokes that pierced the hide instead of soft flourishes.
That misguided early education had returned now as bitter poison.
'Elder... why didn't you teach us gently back then...'
My hands had been trained for twenty years on the grip of bone pens and the pressure of piercing hides.
No way they could handle the empire's frail feather quills and paper.
'Alright, this feels good.'
I held my breath and touched the nib to the paper.
Then, ever so lightly, as I applied pressure to draw the stroke...
Snap!
With a crisp breaking sound, the quill snapped in two.
The nib lodged in the paper, spewing ink, leaving me with just the broken shaft.
"Ah..."
I stared blankly at the broken pen.
"Why does it keep breaking? Aren't imperial pens too flimsy? They should make 'em from bone or something."
"That's the twelfth one already."
Eisen Baron adjusted his glasses and sighed.
"It's not a grip issue—it's that your grip strength is beyond common sense, Barg. You're squeezing it like an axe handle; no wonder it can't hold."
"I was holding it as gently as I could..."
I felt wronged.
For a barbarian's body to learn the concept of "gently" was like asking an elephant to thread a needle.
Just then, Kara approached from the window where she'd been sipping tea.
"Aww, my poor husband. Look at you sweating."
She pulled out a handkerchief, wiped my forehead, and giggled.
"You look more strained than when you were hunting frost bears."
"Don't tease. This is seriously tough."
As I grumbled, Kara placed a hand on my shoulder and whispered,
"So buck up. You'll need lots of practice if you don't want to step on my feet."
She smirked, then wrapped her arms around my waist.
"And in three weeks, you'll be learning social dance with the baron."
"......Huh?"
My face froze.
I glanced at Eisen Baron.
The baron was straightening his necktie with an expression that said, 'I'm all set.'
"No reason for you to slack off just because Miss Kara can't dance. I'll stand in as your partner."
"......"
"I'll take the lady's role, so grab my waist and lead. I'll teach you strictly."
I pictured it.
Myself, wrapping my arms around this stern middle-aged man's waist, exchanging soulful gazes as we stepped through a waltz.
"Urk..."
My stomach churned suddenly.
Worse than Kara's morning sickness.
"Puhahaha!"
Kara doubled over laughing.
"Perfect! My husband gets special training from the baron? Go for it!"
"You... you're really enjoying this, huh?"
"Of course. It's hilarious just imagining it."
Kara teased me mercilessly, eyes tearing up.
In utter despair, I picked up the thirteenth pen.
Cursive practice—too tough even for the power of love.
But to avoid that horrific future of waltzing with a middle-aged man, I had to conquer this trial...
Snap!
It broke again.
No, I can't dodge it!
"Baron... please, anything but dancing? I'll do sword dancing instead."
"No can do. The waltz is the flower of high society."
I sighed and dropped my head.
That was when it happened.
Bang!
The door to the adjoining office flew open violently.
"Fath—not, Baron!"
Eisen Baron's son and the family heir, Lonas von Eisen.
But his appearance was far from that of a noble heir.
Hollow eyes.
Dark circles down to his jaw.
Hair messed up like a bird's nest.
He was handling all the territory's affairs in his father's stead, his soul half-escaped from exhaustion.
"Can't you teach quietly for once? Snap! Snap! I can hear the pens breaking next door!"
Lonas yanked at his hair in irritation and yelled.
"I almost shredded the approval papers because I couldn't focus! I'm on edge enough already!"
Even amid his son's wail, Eisen Baron remained unflappable.
He leisurely lifted his teacup and said,
"Oh dear, your concentration needs work, Lonas. A family head must keep calm amid any noise. Back in my day, I approved documents right in the thick of battle."
"Who piled up all that work in the first place?!"
Bloodshot eyes glared from Lonas.
He waved a thick bundle of receipts.
"Sorting the receipts you racked up at the border kept me up all night! Fine, Kairun covered the clothes, but food? Carriage rental? Lodging too?!"
Lonas cried out, voice breaking.
"Father—no, Baron, you retire and go wild like a horse off the reins, spending like mad. The family foundation's shaking!"
"Heh heh, Barg's strength is just too much; can't be helped. Pens keep snapping, so we'll need a bigger supplies budget. Count on you, son."
"Budget? Budget again?!"
Lonas clutched his neck.
He staggered, grabbing the office door.
"Ugh... I'm losing it. Why'd I take over so soon... Being competent is a curse, a curse..."
Slam!
The door shut, and silence returned.
Feeling guilty, I cleared my throat awkwardly.
"Your son... looks like he'll collapse soon."
It didn't feel like someone else's problem.
It overlapped with my past life's overtime hell, stirring pity.
But Eisen Baron just smiled faintly.
"They say the young must seek hardship. Hang in there, son. I need a break."
'...Cruel man.'
This peaceful yet chaotic scene.
It had been like this since we first arrived at Eisen Guard.
A few days earlier.
When our three-carriage procession passed through Eisen Guard mansion's main gate.
The servants and staff who came to greet us as we stepped down gaped in silence.
A massive man and the tall beauty beside him.
Even in fitted black leather uniforms, we looked like giants of the snowfields.
"My god... the baron wasn't exaggerating."
A maid covered her mouth and whispered.
"Look at that height. Won't he hit the doorframe?"
"No bluff after all. Legends of the snowfields... overwhelming."
The old butler adjusted his glasses in awe.
Whenever Eisen Baron spun tales of the Norheim delegation twenty years ago, the staff had thought, 'He's getting old and boastful.'
But seeing us in the flesh, they realized his descriptions had been modest.
There was no fear of the barbarians they'd dreaded.
Quite the opposite.
The moment Eisen Baron's introductions ended, curiosity exploded as the servants swarmed us.
Even border folk less wary of outsiders had met us with prejudiced words and suspicion at first.
But these people had only heard positive stories from Eisen, so they felt no repulsion toward our revered race.
"Oh my, madam! Your skin is flawless!"
The head maid grabbed Kara's hand, eyes sparkling.
"I heard the snowfield winds roughen it—what's your secret? Northern herb packs?"
"Ah, it's just... washing with cold water..."
As Kara stammered in surprise, the maids giggled and surrounded her.
I got the same treatment.
"Um... if it's not rude, could I touch those muscles?"
The gardener set down his pruning shears and asked timidly.
"Never seen a physique like this... feels like a thousand-year-old oak trunk."
"Haha, go ahead, feel away. It won't wear out."
As I flexed, the gardener and male servants chorused "Ooh!" in admiration.
Amid it all.
A little girl peeked from behind her brother Lonas's legs.
Eisen's late-blooming youngest daughter, Alina.
I thought our size had scared her, but her eyes sparkled with curiosity up close.
"Brother..."
Alina tugged Lonas's pant leg and whispered.
"That big sister... she looks like a knight from a fairy tale. So cool..."
To the girl, Kara wasn't a fearsome barbarian but a silver-haired knight princess from a storybook.
Up to then, Lonas's expression was bright.
"Alina, don't hide rudely—come say hello. They're honored guests of our house."
He smiled gently, welcoming us.
Of course, only until his father handed him the "Border Receipts Bundle."
Back to the present.
In the midst of this peaceful tea time and calligraphy lesson, only one soul suffered.
A scream echoed from next door again.
"Aaaah! 'Premium Cushion Add-On' for the carriage rental—what's that?! Gold-plated butt or something?! Father!!"
Thud!
The sound of papers being hurled.
I set down my pen and asked worriedly,
"Baron... your son's gonna cry."
"What if he collapses? Should I bring some stamina-restoring herbs from home?"
Kara gazed sympathetically at the wall.
But Eisen Baron sipped his black tea with the most serene face imaginable.
"It's fine. Lonas has good lungs. Perfect for a family head."
"......"
"It's an Eisen trait—stress speeds up work. Cursing while doing it is most efficient."
He grinned and set down his empty cup.
"Break time's over. Barg, fetch the fourteenth pen. This time, copy the 'Imperial Founding Principles.'"
"...Mercy, please."
Lonas's wails from next door mingled with my groans in the study, filling the peaceful afternoon.
Thus passed our boisterous adaptation period in Eisen Guard.