Winter (3)
Around the time YasaengGrill's activities were restricted by this untimely winter survival prep in the Four Seasons Forest.
Outside the forest, things were bustling for all sorts of reasons. The Saint Country and El Dorado were ablaze with investigation teams and the Immortal King incident. Mephisto was burning everything down because the Hollycons refused to accept the match results. Even the relatively quiet nations hadn't halted their activities for their own reasons.
"Was it you who presented the adult mandrake to Us?"
A face oozing world-weary laziness. Yet an undeniable dignity shone through. Golden hair that hadn't lost its luster, a neatly trimmed beard. The man, a perfect specimen of a handsome middle-ager, spoke in a listless voice. Every ounce of boredom seeped from his expression, but he couldn't hide his sternness.
"Y-Yes! That's right, Your Majesty."
Count Gorgon, standing opposite him, bowed deeply at the waist in response. A bit apart from Count Gorgon stood the blond pretty boy Arnold, watching.
"Raise your head. You're practically Our benefactor."
"H-Humbly honored, Your Majesty."
"No need for that much humility. So, what is it you desire?"
This middle-aged man, skipping straight to the point without preamble, was named Robert. Emperor of the Messia Empire, Robert Louis Messia II. He bore the subtle moniker of "domestic emperor," yet wielded immense power. That "domestic" label was only possible with ironclad administrative might—truly formidable authority. It was precisely this terrifying power that allowed him to steadily solidify the empire's foundations.
"Th-This humble subject desires nothing, Your Majesty. I'm simply satisfied that Your Majesty's health has been restored."
"Is that so. Very well. We'll think of a fitting reward for you, so withdraw."
"May Your Majesty live ten thousand years."
Count Gorgon bowed deeply once more, leaving his greeting. Unlike a standard farewell, tossing in "ten thousand years" was a nice touch. Even at such a cheeky pleasantry, Robert kept his stoic face.
Soon, only Robert and Arnold remained in the emperor's bedchamber. Robert stayed silent for a while, and Arnold waited quietly until his father spoke.
"...My son."
"Yes, Father."
"You've done something utterly pointless."
Heavy silence, then Robert spoke. His words carried a hint of reproach. Arnold flinched and glanced at him. Robert stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.
"It's thrown my plans into disarray."
"What plans... if I may ask?"
"..."
Robert said nothing, his attitude screaming he didn't want to explain. He looked at his flustered son, then spoke softly.
"You said it came from the Gallery?"
"Yes. That's... correct."
"What all manner of things they have there. Even items from the Four Seasons Forest..."
Robert stroked his beard thoughtfully, then continued.
"Who was it again? Gora Count?"
"Count Gorgon, sire."
"Right, of course. Leave this matter entirely to him. I have my duties."
"Duties...?"
"Preparing your succession ceremony."
"!"
Arnold's eyes widened. Robert spoke calmly, but the content was anything but. Succession ceremony—meaning inheriting the throne. Arnold would soon become emperor.
Excitement surged briefly at this desired turn, but Arnold quickly calmed himself. He'd learned from experience that letting it show could ruin things.
"I'll have the ceremony ready within a month. We'll be quite busy."
"Father, I'm not yet..."
"Even eating an adult mandrake hasn't restored my health to what it was. I can barely hold on now."
Arnold started to protest, but Robert cut him off. Arnold inwardly cheered, waiting for his father to continue.
"So prepare yourself thoroughly. With the Saint Country's recent troubles and Alvenheim's suspicious movements."
"I'll be vigilant."
"Overcome these trials, and you'll be a greater emperor than I."
"No, Father. You've made the empire's pillars even stronger."
"That's all thanks to Ash."
"Pardon?"
Arnold blinked, wondering if he'd misheard.
"Cough! Cough! Hack!"
Of course, Robert's harsh coughing turned suspicion to worry. Arnold jumped, turning to call the royal physician. But Robert raised a hand to stop him.
"Cough. It's nothing. At my age, a little cough is inevitable."
"Father."
"Anyway, the empire has plenty of talent, so internals are fine. If needed, write to the former Guard Captain."
There was only one former Guard Captain. The swordsman titled Sword Master, the empire's strongest blade: Ash Menesil. Currently in semi-retirement, but he'd heed Robert's request. The emperor had backed Ash fully, and Ash had repaid the favor.
Even if some Gallery user had spilled top sword tips, raising the continent's average strength, it didn't matter. Ash's reputation alone deterred anyone from trifling with the empire.
"Focus on external affairs. Things seem to be escalating."
"Yes, understood."
"Withdraw then. I want to be alone."
"The physician...?"
"I'll call him myself."
"Yes, Father."
Arnold bowed and left the chamber. Robert remained alone.
Left by himself, Robert blinked for a while, then sighed. A wistful glint entered his eyes, unseen before, and he muttered softly.
"I didn't want to work..."
A lament straight out of an overworked salaryman. And that wasn't all.
"Why does something like an adult mandrake even exist... I just wanted a comfy retirement..."
Robert grumbled in a voice thick with worldly boredom and irritation. His health declining? Partly true. But he wasn't bedridden to the point of neglecting duties. It was closer to malingering.
Just malingering laced with poison. A toxin that caused flu-like symptoms without harming health. He'd informed the physician, allowing him to play it up as dire.
Why? Simple. He hated work.
The throne inherently came with overwork. Robert couldn't escape it, so he'd resorted to this. Irresponsible as emperor? No issue. He'd already handed all state affairs to his son, Arnold.
Only the succession ceremony remained, but he couldn't endure even that and took to bed.
'Hope El Dorado and Alvenheim don't kick up a fuss in the next month.'
With recent headaches stirring trouble too. Robert wanted the ceremony over quickly. Which meant more work. Horrifying just to think about.
Confused by future chaos for a moment, Robert gazed into empty space. There, a window floated idly. The Gallery his son Arnold had been enjoying lately.
'It was so nice.'
What had he done while faking his fake illness? Played in the Gallery. Even a stern emperor couldn't resist secret fun. After years of hard work, it was reward psychology—he'd gotten hooked.
'I want to play like that too.'
Why was he emperor? "Domestic emperor" was a fine nickname, but why emperor at all? Why had his father only had one son?
Thoughts swirled. Browsing the Gallery, he found posts from the lately famous figure.
TreePpareumbo StaringAtFire YasaengGrill (TreePpareumbo staring blankly at the fire)
This guy's staring at the fire so hard I try prying him off but he won't budge. Even if I force him off, he comes right back. Even after riding on my fur lol
└Cheonma Oddly cute. Seems to know how precious warmth is.
└SwordTasteStar TreePpareumbo has its secretly cute side, doesn't it.
└StarlightPrincess Is Wonmo there too? I wanna see.
└YasaengGrill (Wonmo curled up sleeping) Here she is.
└So cute every time lol
└Doesn't that one ever wake up? Real hibernation?
YasaengGrill, who fell into the Four Seasons Forest. Lately, Robert was obsessed with his survival logs. He wanted nothing from him. As emperor, he had everything.
'Subtly envious.'
Just envy. For the life YasaengGrill lived. Not raw wilderness, but wild with bits of support. Robert wanted that too. Build an oven, hunt, fish.
He got why people craved farming with age. Busy life bred longing for freedom. Not total freedom, but hard-won. Results from your actions.
Middle-aged now, reading YasaengGrill's posts amplified it.
'Just guarantee safety...'
Of course, YasaengGrill aimed for survival and escape, not lifestyle. Robert wanted the wild life without danger. He jumped every time YasaengGrill faced peril.
'Gotta live vicariously at least.'
For that, YasaengGrill couldn't die. Perfect timing with the boredom. He decided.
One month from freedom from emperorship. Robert resolved to help as much as he could meanwhile.
'First, need a high-nick...'
Soon after, Robert's chosen high-nick was...
AbsoluteKingRobertTheBest
"Heh heh."
Perfect father-son match. His son used it too, bonus. Robert chuckled, registering it.
Nickname already registered.
"..."
Robert was speechless.
'Someone's using this shitty nick?'
His son was.
*****
The TreePpareumbo staring at the fire all day had been a hassle, but I'd gotten past it. Wrestling would've just hurt me anyway. Better to leave it.
Ppareumbo might stray from the fire someday. Or so I thought.
Whiiiiiir!!!
Meanwhile, the blizzard raged outside. I wanted to peek by lifting the flapping tarp, but held back. Messing with it could send the anchors flying—disaster.
Stuck in the cave all day. Considering yesterday's rain, nearly two full days indoors.
'What would've I done without the smoked meat?'
I ate smoked meat for dinner. TreePpareumbo munched stored inner cores. With this crap weather possibly dragging on, I'd need to hunt more. If not, fish it is. Smoking essential.
'Tomorrow after the blizzard, it'll be a pain.'
Wonder how much snow piled up. Kinda worrying. To end the day, I added logs to the fire.
Normally, one stays awake to maintain it, but impossible now. Just blindly pile fuel.
'No auto-feeder for firewood, huh?'
That'd be perfect. I turned in, day done.
Next day dawned...
"...You still not sleeping?"
"..."
The fire blazed on. TreePpareumbo in front, naturally. Did this guy add the wood? Absurd.
'Thanks to him, stayed toasty.'
Tarp not flapping meant blizzard stopped overnight. I pushed the tarp to check outside.
Thud!
"Huh?"
Weird. Why won't it budge? Anchors removed, something off. Tarp frozen? Nah.
Pulling instead dragged it back.
"...What the hell?"
Behind the tarp: a sheer white wall. Took a sec to clock it.
"Oh."
All snow. Hard-packed solid. Enough to seal the entire cave mouth? Panicking.
But bigger issue. Tied to my survival.
'How do I clear all this?'
Not content with trash from the sky.
Boom! Crash!
"Gahhhh!!!"
It taught me time's value. I 'mined' snow furiously with my pickaxe, yelling.
"People in here!!!"
I was starting to hate winter.