How to Gently Melt the Northern Duke's Daughter
Volkov Line.
The eternal frozen region at the northernmost part of the continent.
It refers to the foremost frontline blocking the legion of frozen, twisted monsters bursting out from there.
“Long time no see, Count.”
“Not calling me by the name you used at the checkpoint?”
“Taking the initiative is important.”
Because the empire's walls blocking that place belong to the Volkov Duke family, it's the Volkov Line.
Thus, the Volkovs were proud blue wolves.
“Haha, Lady… no.”
And the reason the Volkov Duke family maintains the frontline is largely due to the contributions of the swordmaster and only daughter whom the Duke cherishes.
“You'll be the next Duke, so little Duke fits. Lady Isirel Volkov.”
“Please call me comfortably.”
“Hah, quite comfortable. I'll accept the courtesy.”
Isirel Volkov.
The girl with white hair tied up, golden & purple odd eyes, standing right in front of Delpord Energies.
“With such leisure that even a swordmaster can leave her post… the northern front should be fine for a while.”
“So I've come down to fulfill the promise.”
A genius of the sword who received the swordmaster title at the youngest age in history, just 18.
She earned it by slaying ten thousand ice demons with a single greatsword—a tale every knight apprentice aspires to.
“Father.”
“Well, this Count has no reason to be called that yet.”
That was 13 years ago.
Yes. Isirel is…
“In my eyes, you're more like the youngest sister than a daughter—.”
“Watch your mouth.”
31 years old.
A full 13 years older than the current 18-year-old Akion Energies!!
“Remember that the Volkovs sufficiently supported Energies in the noble council.”
13 years ago, Delpord had been under political pressure closing in from all sides.
“And you needed money.”
At that perfect timing, the marquis house elevated to duke was Volkov—and they were suffering financial woes.
“Tit for tat, I see. Fine, let's move on.”
Energies needed political backing.
Volkov needed funds to hold the northern front.
Thus, the two families held an engagement ceremony.
Delpord figured handing over a child without magic talent was fine,
While Volkov Duke and the precocious 18-year-old Isirel thought they'd just take money from their future in-laws and call it even.
“Then, to the main point.”
And now, it had become a stroke of genius.
“Father. I have no intention of breaking my engagement with Akion. And I want to hold the wedding as soon as possible.”
Volkov Duke and Isirel had become prophets of bottom-fishing investments.
Suddenly, incandescent bulbs, turbine pumps, boilers.
Thanks to Akion's artifact-grade magic tools, the Volkov Archduke's fame had shot to the heavens.
“In the letter I sent about a year ago, I declared unilateral cancellation, didn't I?”
“Moreover, it was done without mutual agreement. My father expressed great displeasure over it.”
Delpord had caught wind and canceled the engagement early.
Of course, to soothe the irked Volkov side, he'd kept up the financial support.
- Bang!
“Father. Please reconsider. Volkov Duke was so furious he considered marching down with his knights.”
Did that mean Volkov would just sit idle?
After the unilateral breakup, Energies' brazenness had been off the charts.
Turbine pumps, electric heaters, boilers, ceiling fans, and more… how many nation-shaking magic tools had poured out of Energies?
The clueless thought they were Energies originals, but any noble who'd done their homework knew they were all Akion's feats.
“Therefore, this is an ultimatum.”
Isirel and Volkov Duke, who'd devoted their lives to the family, couldn't help but lose it.
If a man like that joined as son-in-law… the duke house's future would dazzle!
“Count Delpord Energies, fulfill the contract. Bring young master Akion.”
Thus, the swordmaster had descended herself.
To claim her man.
Love in the engagement was secondary—his value was undeniable.
Thus spoke Volkov's official stance to Delpord.
He let out a deep sigh,
“And I say again, no.”
Drawing a hard line.
Isirel twisted her lips into a feral smile.
- Rattle, rattle…
The teacup began to shake.
The swordmaster's mana was coiling around the reception hall.
Anyone sensitive to mana would foam at the mouth from the killing intent laced within.
- Crunch!
But Delpord was a battlefield veteran.
He met it with cool indifference, as if daring Isirel to make a move.
“My, Father. I told you—it's an ultimatum. A notice.”
“You gonna make me repeat myself? I said no.”
The Count clearly treasured Akion too… but this stubborn?
Isirel wondered if she'd need to push harder,
“Also, it's Akion's opinion. He said marriage is too soon—let's postpone.”
“Hm?”
Unexpectedly, the engagement refuser was Akion.
For Isirel, who'd given everything to her family…
“The child defied the family head's command?”
“Hm. And I chose to respect it.”
Absurd.
In noble culture here, you obeyed the family head or got out.
Yet he'd whined he didn't want to, and the head accepted?
“Father.”
“Hm.”
“Did you suddenly sprout doting-dad vibes?”
“No…”
Such a misunderstanding was fair.
Deciding it wouldn't do, Delpord rose.
“Better to see for yourself. Follow me. I'll show you Akion's workshop.”
“Pardon?”
To reveal the charm of Akion's Workshop to her.
*
- BOOM!!
“The pressure exploded!!!”
“Who the hell didn't check the pressure gauge?!”
The place was pure chaos right now.
One of the fluid pressure tanks in the workshop had burst, turning everything into a disaster zone.
“…Count?”
“Happens all the time. No worries.”
Of course, such mishaps were everyday fare at Akion's workshop.
Delpord just told her to watch unfazed.
“Uhahaha!! Serves you right, Hermione Energies! Why'd you trust your gut over the gauge?!”
“Eek, shut it! Brother!”
“You damn brat?! That's the 145th time I've told you to call me big bro!”
“You're Dad and Mom's daughter too?! And you need the right equipment downstairs to earn 'big bro'!!”
For starters, a silver-haired guy and gal who looked like Energies were bickering up a storm,
“Aigoo, aigoo… This has to go to young master by tomorrow…”
“We got spares prepped. Hang in there…”
While artisans with dark circles down to their jaws struggled to reassemble whatever.
Isirel's take on the whole scene?
“Like a marketplace at dawn.”
“Won't deny it. Heh heh.”
What kind of madhouse was this?
Not that it felt negative.
“Father!”
“Ahem, Father. Slept well last night?”
“Saw you scrapping. Just chill.”
Clearly, the infamous womanizer Huan Energies, legend of bedding every skirt in town.
Hermione Energies, academy top entrant, famed for her icy demeanor.
“Ah, ah! Then tell sis to quit nagging me!”
“146th time with the 'big bro,' you little shit.”
“Whoa, whoa! Called me a dog in front of Dad?! Sis, you're— Ack! Fine, fine, quit yanking my hair!!”
Those two, pulling authentic sibling antics.
“Guests are here—what's with the racket.”
“He insulted me first!”
“She won't admit she's the sis— Eeeeek!”
“Aigoo. Enough, you two.”
Wasn't the Energies house rumored all stone-cold lately?
So… human?
Isirel grew more baffled.
“Ever since Akion unleashed his talents, life stirred in Energies.”
Yet no negativity from any of them.
“Tch… Call you big bro if you earned it…”
“Here, wipe those tears.”
The squabbling sibs started looking out for each other amid grumbles,
“Still, tomorrow's a holiday… Wait, no—payday!”
“Right. Research what I want and get paid? Blessed life!”
Even the dark-circle crew brimmed with hope.
All thanks to Akion?
Isirel, ever the family devotee, hated such inefficiency.
“All this thanks to young master Akion, then.”
“Aye. His one request to me? Postpone the engagement. The boy gave us back our family—for his sake, and as his father, I had to nix it.”
But something.
Something just a tad…
“I figured the duke house had no plans to cancel. But could you hold off till Akion gives the okay?”
Ever so slightly… envious.
Did she ever have this cozy vibe with her own folks?
Sure, cozy by commoner or noble standards,
But their chats? All family business.
“Glory to Volkov! Haha!”
“Hohoho! Bragging rights at the next noble council!”
Summed up in one line.
Not jealous. Okay, a little. Whatever.
And right then,
“What happened? Why's the assembly smashed?”
“Gasp, young master Akion!”
The linchpin himself, Akion, finally emerged.
“…Oh my.”
Not the cute kid from 13 years back that Isirel remembered, but a tall, silver-haired stunner.
As a noble lady, she'd seen every "handsome" in high society,
But her heart had never stirred…
“What, Father—why're you here…”
“Came for a lecture.”
Grew up nicer than I thought…
One look at Akion, and she blanked out.
That 13-years-younger look… right up her alley.
“Here to play, huh. And the lady?”
Those sharp blue eyes, brimming with smarts, turned her way—Isirel flashed a light smile.
“A guest. Swordmaster from the Volkov house.”
“Ah, don't tell me—my fiancée…?”
Only then clocking her, Akion bowed with perfect poise.
“Pleased to meet you. I'm Akion Energies.”
“Likewise, young master Akion. I'm Isirel Volkov… but feel free to call me big sis Isirel.”
Rumors painted him a raving young lord, but.
To her? Polite, dashing youth.
Her heart thumped harder.
First time it moved for her, not the family?
“Yes, Isirel sis. Abrupt, but—can you agree to break the engagement?”
“Eh?”
“Uhahaha—!! Akion, you madman!!”
Splat.
Frozen solid.
Along with the laughter from the man she'd called Father.
* * *
“Damn bastard…!”
One week later.
With Count Energies' full-throttle magic aid, Isirel zipped back to Volkov Duchy.
“Loyal! Saint! Welcome home, Lady Isirel!”
“We'll handle the luggage!”
“Hold up. Those crates? Send one to my room.”
“As commanded!”
Fuming and barely containing her rage,
Isirel recalled the day she'd been “escorted out” like unwanted guests.
“Breaking it off was a joke. Still, second time meeting for us, right, sis?”
“But you and I are already—”
“Marriage is forever together. Vowing a century pact without knowing each other… too harsh on both sides, I think.”
Noble blood mattered more, yet here was Akion prioritizing feelings like some fool.
“We should get to know each other first.”
“You're not backing out 'cause I'm older, are you?”
“Huh? How old is sis… Eek, 31?! Thought maybe four years tops?!”
“Ahem, I do look young.”
Smooth talker, that one!
Rattling a cool swordmaster's heart with dirty tricks.
“Well, if we're marrying, age is irrelevant.”
“Mm, true.”
“But right now? Too much I wanna do. Specifically… focus on research to enrich everyone's lives.”
Then plunked down a gift.
“Miss. This is…?”
“Gift from Akion Energies.”
She carefully unpacked the wooden box hauled to her room.
“North's brutally cold, I heard. So take this…”
“Just slot the magic stone here…”
An electric heater.
As Akion demoed, she fitted a standard magic stone—
- Whirr~
“Haaa……”
“Heavens. This heat from one standard stone…!”
Cozy enough to scorch skin up close.
The servants yelped like they'd been burned.
“Can you think of this as me, in your stead?”
“Hmph, calling hunk of metal 'warmth' and such…”
Akion's words during the demo.
“But miss. It is so warm…”
“I know.”
Think of this warmth as him?
Sounded like nonsense to Isirel.
- Whirr~!
- Pffft…
But the north was a hellish freeze even in summer.
To Volkov folk enduring it, this heater was treasure.
“Plenty more—share with the artisans, parents, mansion staff, and the village halls where territory folk huddle.”
“This many…!”
“Colds suck, right? Gotta stay toasty.”
Even hooked them up generously for others.
Isirel knew electric heaters' steep price—knew the massive value Akion bestowed.
“…Hmph. Warm, yeah. For dumping 'em all like an idiot.”
Whether from the heat or fluster, Isirel's cheeks flushed,
“Head maid. Round up gifts fitting for Energies. And these in storage? Install in the servants' quarters too.”
“My stars! Young master Akion sent that many? Hehe, the staff'll be thrilled!”
Her thawed fingers now picked out gifts for Akion.