Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The Barbarian's Patron (2)
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"Please, come inside first. At least let me serve you some warm tea infused with deer antler velvet."
"Ah, ah... Th-thank you... I-I'm al-alive...."
The Eisen Baron leaned on me for support and waddled toward the tent like a penguin.
Or at least, he tried to.
Thud!
"Ugh!"
Even with my help, he barely managed a few steps before losing his balance and face-planting into the snow.
His thick fur clothes had no doubt dulled his limbs, but at the root of it, his legs were just too frail.
Flap, flap.
With his nose buried in the snow, he wriggled pitifully and reached out a hand in a plaintive voice.
"O-over there... C-could you gr-grab... me...?"
I stared down at him in a daze.
A round ball of fur flapping around in the snow.
'It's a real penguin.'
The empire's top administrator? A cool-headed intellectual?
What nonsense.
Right in front of me was nothing more than a chubby penguin frozen stiff from the cold.
I swallowed a hollow laugh and hoisted him up by the scruff of his neck like a piece of luggage.
"G-gah-gah... Th-thank you.... Barg...."
Inside the warm yurt.
The hearth blazed with crackling firewood.
The Eisen Baron huddled in front of it, warming his trembling hands.
Gorgon clicked his tongue and rose from his seat.
"Make yourselves comfortable. I'll bring out some snacks."
As Gorgon stepped out, only Kara, the Eisen Baron, and I remained in the yurt.
That was when it happened.
Swoosh.
The Eisen Baron, who had been facing away toward the hearth, suddenly stood up.
And then.
Thump, thump, thump!
He shed the three layers of thick fur garments he'd been bundled in like a penguin, stripping them off in an instant as if removing armor.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
Like a cicada emerging from its shell, a sleek gentleman in a sharp suit burst out from the round fur ball.
He removed his fogged-up glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief from his pocket.
Then, using the condensation beads in his hair from the temperature shift—like gel—he combed his disheveled locks back with his fingers in a smooth swoop.
Perfect slicked-back hair, complete.
As he put his glasses back on, he spoke in a low, clear voice that made it hard to believe it belonged to the same man who'd been chattering his teeth moments ago.
"Phew. Now I can finally breathe."
"......"
Kara and I gawked at him, dumbfounded.
This wasn't some transforming robot.
The Eisen Baron bowed gentlemanly at the waist.
"My apologies for startling you. It's been twenty years since I last visited Norheim, so I'm still not quite acclimated to the northern cold."
The penguin-eyed haze from earlier was gone.
It was the sharp, intelligent gaze I remembered from the original story.
The Northguard Grand Duke's top administrator.
The Eisen Baron was back.
"First, Kara... or rather, Kara of Norheim. Congratulations on your pregnancy. His Grace the Grand Duke was overjoyed to hear the news as well."
Kara nodded hesitantly at his courteous greeting.
By deliberately calling her "Kara of Norheim" instead of from Wintersword, he was honoring the traditional naming conventions of Norheim's barbarians.
At the same time, it was a subtle acknowledgment that the Grand Duke's bestowed surname of Wintersword wasn't purely out of goodwill.
A silent gesture affirming he'd treat her not as an imperial political pawn, but as a dignified member of her tribe.
As expected from a man who never wasted words.
And then his gaze turned to me.
"And Barg of Norheim. I'd heard the rumors that Chieftain Gorgon had taken you as his adopted son... but you truly take after him, down to your sturdy build and those piercing eyes."
An alarm rang in my mind.
'Hold on... He knows I'm adopted?'
The delegation leader earlier had bought the story that I was Gorgon's biological son without question.
But this man knew.
He knew I was adopted—and that no blood tied me to Gorgon.
I could sense his information network was no joke.
What was terrifying was that he remembered it.
Twenty years ago, during his visit to Norheim as a junior envoy, he'd learned the barbarians' etiquette and tribal lineages.
He hadn't forgotten a single detail.
The previous envoys probably had the intel too.
They just deemed a savage tribe's genealogy unworthy of memory.
But not this man.
He smiled faintly and added,
"Ah, of course, that's a compliment. It means you carry the bold spirit of a northerner warrior."
He smoothly swallowed the word "savage."
A slip of the tongue?
No.
Considering the meticulous memory and intel he'd shown, even that "mistake" was likely calculated.
A subtle reminder of the empire's view—"We see you as savages"—while elegantly positioning himself above by "correcting" it.
An advanced probing tactic to test our reactions.
Sure enough, Kara's brow furrowed the instant the word slipped out, and my eyebrow twitched.
His eyes, sharp behind the lenses, caught that fleeting response.
'Do they react emotionally, or rationally brush it off?'
A test to gauge our personalities.
'Not an easy one.'
It pissed me off, but paradoxically, it built trust.
At least it meant he saw us not as dumb savages to dismiss, but as subjects worth analyzing.
The Eisen Baron pulled a document case from his coat and set it on the table.
He rested his interlaced hands on his chin and opened his mouth with a serious expression.
"Before we proceed with enrollment procedures, there's something I'd like to apologize for."
"An apology?"
"Yes. I was aware of... that 'dishonorable scheme' His Grace attempted against the Winter Claw Tribe last time."
Dishonorable scheme.
The assassination attempt on Gorgon.
Kara's and my eyes sharpened.
But the Eisen Baron met our stares head-on without flinching.
"Of course, I opposed it... but as a powerless retainer, I couldn't stop my lord. I sincerely apologize for my cowardice in allowing it."
He rose from his seat and bowed a full ninety degrees.
An imperial high noble—the Grand Duke's trusted aide—bowing his head to savages.
Unthinkable.
Before Kara or I could stammer a response in our bewilderment, he straightened up and pulled another document from his case.
"Apologies aren't just words. I must prove them with actions, no?"
His eyes gleamed.
"As atonement—and as a loyal servant of the Grand Duke—I wish to spare you two the trial-and-error at the academy."
He slid two densely inscribed sheets of parchment across the table.
These weren't enrollment forms.
They were...
Hellish schedules.
"This is the schedule for you, Barg. Until enrollment, stay at my estate and learn imperial etiquette, social dance, dining manners... Oh, and dialect correction classes are included."
"......Pardon?"
"And this is a week-by-week special care chart for you, Kara. From prenatal music therapy to maternity yoga and nutrition plans... Compiled with advice from the empire's top obstetricians."
I stared blankly down at the schedule.
【6:00 AM Wake-up - Imperial Standard Pronunciation Correction】
【8:00 AM - Fork and Knife Usage (Beginner)】
【2:00 PM - Waltz Steps (Partner: Heinkel von Eisen)】
"......"
My gaze halted on the final item.
Heinkel von Eisen.
This man's name, right in front of me.
As I shot him a bewildered look, the Eisen Baron pushed up his glasses and added,
"Ah, of course, Kara will be your partner at first."
"Phew...."
I let out a sigh of relief.
Even for a likable character, a man was a man.
Dancing a waltz with this sweaty middle-aged guy was a hundred—no, a thousand—times worse than with my beloved wife.
But the relief didn't last.
"However."
He attached an ominous caveat.
"In three weeks, the medical team advises Kara needs to rest. It's a critical period for stability."
"Th-then...?"
"After that, I'll take over."
"......"
"You have much to learn, so I'll guide you personally. Brace yourself—you'll get stepped on plenty."
He smiled faintly.
The devil's grin.
In three weeks, I'd be gripping this strict middle-aged man's waist, exchanging soulful gazes as we waltzed.
Just imagining it turned my stomach.
'This guy's... scary.'
Not content with switching to work mode right after apologizing, he'd prepared this meticulously.
As expected from the original story's "extreme job administrator."
He grinned and added,
"At the academy, you'll face plenty of disdain as 'foreign barbarians.' Especially you, Barg. To avoid giving those snobbish nobles any openings... you'll need to grind from now on."
He wasn't wrong.
But.
"Um... could we skip the waltz steps? I'm pretty big-bodied, so...."
"No. Do you plan to step on Kara's feet at the ball?"
Unyielding.
Once decided, no changing his mind.
I sighed and hung my head.
It felt like facing a foe scarier than frost wolves or frost bears.
Just as this marked the brutal prelude to my imperial life.
"Alright! Kept you waiting? This is our tribe's finest brew!"
The tent flap burst open as Gorgon barged in.
In one hand, a steaming platter of smoked meat; in the other, a massive horn mug the size of an adult's head.
Gorgon laughed heartily and slammed the horn mug onto the table.
"Frost ale! The legendary brew that has imperial folk lining up for a taste!"
Thud!
The heavy vibration traveled across the table to the Eisen Baron.
Twitch.
The shoulders of the man who'd maintained a perfect poker face jumped visibly.
He was so startled his glasses skewed.
"How's that? Warming up now? Not cold anymore?"
Gorgon clapped the Eisen Baron's shoulder casually.
No malice. Just a sign of fondness.
But that single touch made the Eisen Baron's body sway like a paper doll.
"N-no... c-cold... Gorgon...."
"......?"
I doubted my ears.
The stuttering was back.
The cool-headed orator from earlier was gone, replaced by a meek lamb cowering at Gorgon's touch.
Gorgon chuckled obliviously (or perhaps pretending) to the cold sweat beading on the Eisen Baron's back as he poured the ale.
"Here, have a drink! Brings back old times, eh?"
"Uh, uh-huh... O-old... t-times...."
The Eisen Baron accepted the horn mug with a pale, trembling face.
Gorgon had smiled warmly while serving Kara her hot winter honey tea, but to the Eisen Baron, he was a tiger of a teacher—or a thug.
'What the hell is this reaction?'
Not shivering from cold.
Pure fear of Gorgon.
Like a herbivore facing its predator.
What on earth had happened between them in their youth?
'Come to think of it...'
I rested my chin on my hand and watched the two with interest.
Gorgon, a barbarian to the bone, dreaming of "coexistence with the empire" might stem from his encounter with this man—starting twenty years ago with envoy exchanges.
To shift a titan like Gorgon's ideology even after that stuttering fit—or the incident causing it—this Eisen Baron was no ordinary figure.
Though cowering under Gorgon's presence now, the depth within was real.
I smirked watching the Eisen Baron down his ale with chattering teeth and my father-in-law—Gorgon—laughing as if the guy was the cutest thing ever.
'And...'
My gaze drifted to the "hellish schedule" on the table.
That meticulousness and intel.
The negotiation skills that had swayed even Gorgon at his most hot-blooded twenty years ago.
'He'd make a damn good mentor for me too.'
Though I'd pass on him as a waltz partner.
Crackle, crackle.
The bonfire burned warmly into the night.
And so, the eve before our journey to the empire deepened.