Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Northern Archduke (5)
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The difference between a user of unique sorcery and an ordinary knight or mage was exceedingly simple. It came down to whether they could manifest magic as naturally as breathing.
It was akin to watering flowers. Turning on the faucet was the construction of the incantation. The way the stream of water split at the end corresponded to the type of magic one had learned. The more mana circuits in the body, the greater the volume of water available.
"Barrier!"
Marquis Marcus hurriedly raised his hand and shouted. An iron wall rose from the ground at his feet, blocking the ironclad soldier flying toward him.
It was a family secret technique, markedly different from the standard incantations taught at the Magic Tower. Its activation was instantaneous.
"Charge, advance, destroy!"
Breathing out each syllable to control the ironclad soldiers. He could also strengthen his body or generate iron structures for direct attacks. The linkages flowed as naturally as water. Truly befitting the bloodline of the North's ruler.
Among the various ways to manipulate mana, mastering two or more was no easy feat for ordinary folk. Yet even he fell far short of Serath.
Clank, thud—!
One ironclad soldier collapsed. It couldn't shake off the sanctity blooming from its entire body. If Marcus wielded a fire hose, Serath was pouring rain from the heavens. No—in her case, it was snow.
A realm where she manipulated chill without incantations, magic circles, or even constructing spells—just through intent alone. Whether golem or icy prison, as long as mana supported it, she conjured them in an instant.
Ever-changing, myriad forms. Patterns were meaningless to discern; facing her was utter torment. Regrettably, even absorbing her abilities with Ancestral Power wouldn't grant her mastery.
Like when facing the black dragon, I had only unconsciously emitted cold unconsciously. Freely wielding ice like Serath was impossible. So I watched the battle while feeling the chill, waiting for my moment to step in.
"You seem to be tiring out."
"I'm still fine."
"Is that so? You could've knocked me down with that earlier. It's all over your face."
Marcus unleashed over fifty ironclad soldiers on the ice golem that had spoken to him moments ago. Adept at controlling summons, he knew from experience. Even in large numbers, there were individuals the caster controlled more precisely. Binding it thoroughly eliminated variables.
He surveyed the garden. The snowfall was lightening. Though the accumulation already surpassed a man's height, once it all melted, it was over. Perched atop a mansion building turned snowy wasteland, he flashed a smile at Serath, who pressed him relentlessly with a single spear.
"You're herding me toward that golem spot again? Got some trap set up?"
"……."
"Not going there. Cornered prey gets predictable."
The tide had turned irreversibly. The ironclad soldiers were smashing the ice golems one by one as the ice began to melt. The remaining forces shifted to defense, checking Serath. Wounds multiplied on her body from their weapons.
Ice blades shot out in ambushes, but they couldn't pierce his body, clad head to toe in mana-forged armor like the ironclad soldiers. In the end, Serath dropped to one knee.
"Tough bastard. Capturing without killing is harder than expected."
"Ha, haa……."
"Hand over the barbarian, and I'll spare your life. Of course, no one will find you…… what?"
Thud!
At that moment, an axe flew from behind Marquis Marcus. A transparent axe made of ice.
The Serath before him was out of mana. Her last ice golem was being butchered in the distance. With a "What the hell?" expression, he turned, and our eyes met.
Beneath the thick snow. I had crawled across the ground without leaving footprints and thrown it from under his feet.
*
I'd always wanted to ride an ice robot at least once. But I couldn't deny this plan's higher success rate. For a surprise attack with hastily learned magic, crafting a complex golem was harder than using my usual axe.
Above all, blanketing vision and space with mana-draining snow lured out Marcus's carelessness. It enabled perfect teamwork.
"Guh, iron……."
"Useless."
The ice axe, forged with my sixth rune, was crude, but combined with my strength, it shattered his armor and embedded deep in his flesh. As he tried to squeeze out magic, an ice spike pierced his heart. Blood poured from his mouth.
"Cough, to think you'd ally with the barbarian…… But do you know? If I die, the investiture can't even begin."
Turning toward me in the snow just before death, he spoke. The Imperial Edict of Isolation wouldn't lift without completing all three imperial schedules. But Serath shook her head firmly.
"It will."
"What?"
"I'll conduct it, in the name of Icefern. I'll raise my house's banner here."
Her words declared she would devour this mansion, territory, and all of House Shratma, claiming dominion over the North. She'd poured everything into battling barbarians until now, lacking the leeway. But this woman could truly pull it off.
"Insane……."
Too late, he realized he'd gravely underestimated the barbarian he'd dismissed.
But regret was meaningless before encroaching death.
After Marcus's death, everything proceeded smoothly. The candidates suddenly received their knighting from the 9th Legion's supreme commander.
What must it feel like when the house you visited for employment abruptly collapses? Marcus had little esteem anyway, Serath held a higher title, and joining now made them founding meritocrats—perhaps an opportunity?
From watching nearby, their faces mixed both confusions. After wrapping up all procedures, they holed up quietly in their rooms.
With investigators from the capital inquiring about the day's events and military discharge processes, Serath was swamped. Wagner saw me off instead on departure day, as I never met her.
He handed me my repaired axe.
"Here's your weapon."
"Sharp edge. Thanks."
"The Edict isn't lifted yet, so no reckless moves. And you don't need an escort, right?"
"Nope."
Time to go. But I stood there, arms crossed, not mounting my karangal. After a long wait, Wagner cleared his throat.
"Ahem……! Well, farewell, brother."
"Yeah, brother."
Thus, I returned home. The unchanged village entrance, kids kicking balls as always, the spit roast before Harald's tent.
The only change: sanctity flowers crammed in my tent.
"The Winter Witch's ice flowers were too cold for Ivar's house, so I put them there."
"Stored rations with them too—move if inconvenient."
"Don't use my house as a fridge."
It took a full day to relocate food to the warehouse. I left the flowers too.
That night, despite magic beast hide covers, a chill woke me. Serath gazed down from beside the bed.
"Don't use my mana circuits as fridge coolant."
"Harald's doing. I'll warn him."
Not a dream. She sat wearily on a bone chair, as if it were her room. Glancing around, she muttered, "Cleaner than expected—."
I was surprised. Not because she'd slipped in silently enough to fool even me.
Serath wore a pure white dress. Though topped with her usual coat, it seemed worn just to show.
Perhaps from childhood, it didn't fit. Contrasting her sharp demeanor, pronounced curves and glimpses of pale skin showed.
Courage to act despite shame. I imagined her steeling herself to wear the tight dress, pounding heart; agonizing before the mirror whether to remove it; finally plastering resolve and sneaking out the gates. Her sizzling shame was quite appetizing.
"Oh, just trying it on after ages. Happened to think of reclaiming the mana circuit I gave you."
"I see."
"……Call it sentimental, and I'll kill you."
"Won't."
But it is sentimental.
"All the hassle done?"
"More or less. But this is just the start."
With heirless Marcus dead, the North was masterless territory. Reviving the house and knighting knights didn't claim the land.
"I'm heading to the capital. Judicial proceedings remain there."
"Got it."
"It'll wrap quick, but I won't return for a while."
"Why?"
"Planning to reenter high society."
So the dress wasn't pointless.
The capital's high society. The original story's main stage, hellish by Serath's description.
A garden of flowers laced with poison and thorns, where lives hinged solely on power. There, she'd build influence, gather strength, secure backers, then return, she said.
"A merit or two more, and I can claim Shratma's lordship. Hate to say it after holding the line, but this land's desperately unpopular among nobles."
"Need to be North's lord just for a fief?"
"Obviously can't leave you unsupervised. A beast ruled by instinct—what might he do alone with a woman? Someone must watch firmly."
We're alone now, though. To dispel misunderstanding, I draped my blanket over her.
But Serath brushed it off, approached the bed, and climbed atop me. Soft skin slid down against gravity onto my body.
At breath-mingling closeness, she whispered, gazing straight with lake-deep, beautiful eyes.
"Listen, Ivar."
"Listening."
"Just before coming here, the Edict lifted. You're no longer a barbarian."
Good news. No more fighting the Empire.
But Serath's next words carried the heaviest warning yet.
"So be careful."
"Why?"
"Now you're eligible to marry imperial blood heirs."
Prince Consort Candidate. Like the Edict, nonexistent in the original where barbarians never breached walls—mentioned only.
The imperial house's sole exception to extreme incest. That qualification was now mine.
"Fresh blood enters the rotten lake after eighty years. Sharks will swarm."
"The Emperor won't care."
Hence romance fantasy. The madman dies by a child he overlooked, building power from shadows.
"Emperor might not. But power-hungry others?"
"Others?"
"You know my father was once Defense Minister—the peak bureaucracy for nobles. But for more?"
Impossible to become imperial kin or in-laws at power's apex. They intermarry only among themselves, willing or not.
But a sole path just opened. Marry a princess via consort candidate. Since he's not imperial.
"Two—no, at least three I know. One sent adventurers to the plains last time. Goldline Countess's house……."
Meaning the original heroines would come to this remote North.
Solely to marry me.