Chapter 387: A Guest from the North (2)
Chapter 387: A Guest from the North (2)
“By the way, Senior Fay, so you were aware that you don’t have any friends?”
“Hey!!!”
Fay shrieked, her face flushing with indignation.
It was a rare sight to see her so worked up. As I chuckled to myself, she began to stomp her short legs rhythmically.
“I’m being serious right now! This is no time for jokes, Junior!”
“Alright, alright. So, your father sent someone to take you back, is that it?”
“Exactly! Are you really okay with being separated from me like this? Can you even live without me, Junior? Because I can’t live without you!”
As if ready to unleash a Lion’s Roar (not really) depending on my answer, Fay puffed out her already ample chest even further.
I gave her trembling side a playful poke, and she deflated instantly like a punctured balloon.
“Pshhhhh….”
I chuckled as her breath tickled my bangs and gave my answer.
“Of course not. The reason I’m so relaxed is simple. No matter who the opponent is, I’m confident I won’t let anyone take you away. That’s why whatever is happening right now isn't that big of a deal.”
“…Really?”
“Naturally. You’re always cooped up in the workshop, so you might not realize it… but I’m a God Killer. I can ignore even the Emperor’s orders if I find them unreasonable. How is some noble family from Nidavellir in the far north going to force my hand?”
“But I’m not a God Killer….”
“Good grief. Why are you being so thick-headed?”
I let out a deep sigh and gave her breast a firm squeeze.
“Hick!”
“I have no intention of letting you go. Who cares what they say? Just trust me, Senior Fay.”
“Junior…!”
Fay nodded vigorously, her expression filled with deep emotion. Feeling quite satisfied myself, I continued to knead her chest.
“Oh, by the way, when are these guests from your family supposed to arrive?”
Fay’s family is, for all intents and purposes, considered high nobility. That means they care about appearances and follow proper procedures.
They would likely send a letter of notification first and then visit in person much later. That was the way of prestigious families.
…But Fay was a woman who always exceeded my expectations.
“Huh? Probably in five minutes? No, maybe one minute now?”
“???”
Wondering what on earth she was talking about, I stared intently into the dark eyes hidden behind her messy bangs. Fay awkwardly averted her gaze.
“Well… actually, I did get a message a while ago saying they were coming….”
“And?”
“I was so busy experimenting on you that I forgot!”
“…….”
“When I finally snapped out of it, I realized the scheduled date was today. I just got a call from the front gate security saying the expected guests had arrived, and I was so surprised!”
Fay scratched the back of her head, laughing sheepishly.
Seeing that innocent—if you could call it that—expression, I made up my mind.
“It seems Senior Fay needs a punishment.”
“Ah! Ju-Junior, why are you suddenly picking me up….”
“Secret Technique: Fay Blade…!”
I spun the flailing Fay around in the air like a top.
“Kyaaaaaaah!”
“I told you to tell me about important things like this immediately so you don't forget!”
“I-I was wrong, Junior! So stop this… stop spinning meeee!”
“No, I can’t do that. It’s good that you’re focused on your research, but don’t you think you’ve been overdoing it lately? When was the last time you even went outside!”
“That would be when we went to the Great Forest last time….”
“Excluding that?”
“…The last time I attended a lecture?”
That meant she hadn't stepped a single foot out of the house since she no longer needed to attend classes!
I did make that deal with Rebecca for this very reason, but this is too much!
“Take this!”
“Hieeeeeek! Why are you spinning me faster?!”
“Because I think this is the only way to bring you back to your senses.”
“I don’t want to hear that from the person who’s the least sane here!”
It was right in the middle of me administering this wholesome punishment to Fay.
Click.
“Brother. There are guests outside looking for Miss Fay, so I’ve brought them in for now… Eh?”
Helena froze, her hand still on the doorknob.
It was a natural reaction. Anyone would be shocked to witness the 'Fay Blade' the moment they opened a door.
The problem was that Helena wasn't the only one who was shocked.
“What in the world….”
“Ah.”
“Gasp!”
“Aieeeeeee!”
The voices belonged to an unknown dwarf man, myself, Carla (who had been watching from the side), and the still-spinning Fay, in that order.
If this had been a typical mansion, the guests would have been waiting in a drawing room.
But this building was, at its core, a dormitory. No matter how much we had leased the whole place, the layout didn't change.
In other words, opening the door gave a clear view of the interior!
From the perspective of that dwarf man, he had simply followed the polite guidance of the house's resident, only to witness a half-naked madman spinning the lady he was supposed to escort like a top…!
This is driving me crazy.
I let out a long sigh and brought Fay to a halt.
Thud.
“Top… why a toppp….”
The spinning had stopped, but Fay was still staggering, clearly far from recovering from the dizziness. Only after I sat her down on my lap did I speak.
“…Would you like a beer?”
“W-Water will suffice!”
For some reason, his voice was incredibly tense.
*
After putting on the clothes I had taken off for the massage and getting Fay—who looked like she was about to die of embarrassment—to sit down, Carla brought out some tea.
It was tea made from moss that grows on the roots of the World Tree, a gift from Alfheim.
Of course, I was the only one drinking it. He said water was enough, so there was no need to share. It’s definitely not because the tea is precious and I’m being stingy. I’m just giving him a hint to leave quickly.
Did he pick up on my thoughts? The dwarf man had a bizarre expression, looking like someone who had intended to read a fantasy novel but ended up seeing a mountain of useless platypus trivia instead.
He hesitated for a long time, glancing back and forth between my tea and his plain water. Finally, he downed the water (which had a few ice cubes floating in it) in one gulp and stood up.
Thump, thump!
He struck his left chest twice with a lightly clenched fist and bowed so deeply his crown was visible.
“Forgive my late introduction; the situation was quite unexpected. I am Baru Lokan. A Huscarl granted my name by Yarl Lokan Yarnshard. It is an honor to meet the world-renowned God Killer.”
“Yarl…? Huscarl…?”
Helena, who had been fidgeting in the corner feeling guilty, tilted her head at the unfamiliar titles. It was Fay, still half-covering her face with her hands, who answered.
“Ya-Yarl is a title for a lord in Nidavellir. There are slight differences depending on which territory they rule, but generally, they are high-ranking nobles equivalent to a Duke or a Count in the Empire. A Huscarl is the personal guard of such a Yarl.”
“Aha. My knowledge is still lacking, so I didn't know. Thank you for the explanation, Sister Fay.”
“Uh-huh. It’s nothing. Someone of your standing, Helena, doesn't really need to worry about such things anyway.”
“Even so, the fact remains that Sister Fay kindly explained it to me.”
“Is… is that so? Hehe….”
Helena, who had been awkward thinking she’d caused trouble, and Fay, who had been on the verge of dying from shame, both looked much more relaxed.
Good, good.
I nodded inwardly and spoke up.
“To add a bit more, other countries used to have their own systems in the past, but most have now switched to the Empire’s Duke-Marquess-Count-Viscount-Baron system. It’s become a sort of international standard. However, Alfheim, Nidavellir, and Crassius are the three exceptions.”
In Alfheim, there is almost no hierarchy except for the Queen. It’s practically a theocracy, after all. The mindset is that everyone is an equal child before the Cyclic Life, just with different talents and roles.
The reason High Elves are treated with such nobility is precisely because they carry the blood of that Cyclic Life.
Crassius might be acting like 'beta males' now, but their ancestors were the ultimate 'alpha males.' A crazy military state that invested most of the nation’s resources into martial power.
A hierarchy exists, but it’s a structure where anyone with enough skill can crack their superior’s skull and take a better position for themselves.
Because of that, they only have simple distinctions like Warrior, Great Warrior, and King. Since people change positions so frequently, there’s no need for complex titles.
Of course, the country wouldn't function if every citizen was a warrior. Naturally, there are non-combatant production classes, though they are relatively looked down upon.
So, if one were to divide their society, it would simply be Warriors and Civilians.
Finally, Nidavellir. Their hierarchy was not much different from other small to medium nations, just with different names.
Normally, they should have switched to the Imperial system to match international trends.
Since many other countries had already adopted the Empire’s system, subdividing ranks and creating equivalents for existing titles wasn't a difficult task.
But who are the dwarves? Are they not the most stubborn traditionalists on the Eurelia Continent?
Regardless of international trends, they are the type to maintain the King-Yarl-Huscarl-Commoner structure simply because it is tradition.
Oh, and they grant the title of 'Meister' to exceptional blacksmiths, which carries authority rivaling that of a Yarl.
Just as a Yarl’s power varies depending on their territory, a Meister’s status varies depending on their skill as a blacksmith.
“Right?”
Traditionalists, to put it nicely. Stubborn old fools who are behind the times, to put it bluntly.
These are the same people who kicked Fay out using the tradition of 'blacksmithing skill is everything' as an excuse. What nerve do they have to come looking for her now?
When I asked with that underlying meaning, Baru nodded and replied.
“The Yarl is in critical condition. Since the world is so chaotic these days, he wished to see your face at least once before anything happens, so I hurried here.”
“…….”
Wait.
If you put it like that, it makes me look like a total jerk for being so cynical.