The One from the North
My head felt strangely light, as though I’d sweated through an entire fever. The disheveled length of my black hair tickled my ears, and I opened my eyes. Normally, long hair like this would be a nuisance, but what could I do? This flowing black mane was Werner’s trademark. With a low grunt of displeasure, I sat up and realized I wasn’t in the carriage anymore—I was inside a mansion. The furniture and scenery looked almost identical to Glecia’s room from the game… yet I distinctly remembered being told it would take several days to reach the estate by carriage.
“You’re awake.”
The voice was clear and crystalline—Glecia. She leaned forward, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead, then to her own, checking my temperature.
“Your fever has come down considerably.”
“Could you tell me where we are?”
“My mansion. More precisely, a Winterheart family estate.”
So that was it. If I was lying here like this, I must have been unconscious for quite some time—three or four days, probably. Honestly, I envied those pocket creatures that could just hop into a ball and get patched up by some beeping machine. And their medical care was free, too.
“How long was I out? Three days? Four?”
“No, only about a day.”
“What?”
What did she mean? The distance from where I collapsed to the mansion should have taken three days and nights of nonstop carriage travel. Unless they had a magic school bus or something.
“It was supposed to be three days by carriage…”
“I carried you on my back. It only took half a day that way.”
She’d basically run a one-woman marathon. At that speed, she’d have shattered every record in the north. And carrying a grown man across snowy terrain at that pace—was that even physically possible? Then again, with the blood of a northern barbarian warrior and a vampire queen running through her veins, her physical specs were top-tier in the story.
“I suppose I owe you my thanks. You’re practically my savior…”
“Why would you say that…? It’s all my fault…”
Glecia, who had been perched on the edge of the bed, suddenly stood up, her hands trembling. I could guess why. The reason I’d collapsed was almost certainly that magic-sealing restraint.
The magic-sealing restraint was a device meant to suppress a mage’s spellcasting, but its mechanism was rather unique. To cast magic, a mage had to expel mana outside the body to offer it to the spirits. Werner’s restraint, however, blocked that expulsion entirely, sealing off magic use. That alone wouldn’t have been a problem—except when the target was a grand mage.
Becoming a grand mage required vast knowledge, intuition for handling mana, and communion with spirits. But the most critical factors were the maximum mana capacity and the rate at which mana could be replenished. In games, resources were everything, and the workers gathering those resources were the most important. In other words, a grand mage’s mana was like having four drones.
Werner’s mana regeneration ranked among the highest in the story; in a non-combat state, a light meal or short nap was enough to top him off completely. His maximum capacity was also among the top five mana tanks. Essentially, he had a body with both exceptional battery life and lightning-fast recharge times—the ultimate cost-performance ratio.
Unlike a machine, however, a mage’s body didn’t stop supplying mana once it reached maximum capacity. It kept accumulating. If a normal mage was like a hose connected to a faucet, constantly expelling water, then slapping on the restraint was like stomping on the middle of that hose. The water would have nowhere to go, building pressure until the hose burst. For ordinary mages with low regeneration, it might not matter—but for a grand mage with rapid mana recovery, wearing the restraint was a game of chicken with their own limits. Mana would pile up inside the body with no way to know when it would explode.
The game had only mentioned it briefly, and it was knowledge only grand mages or those deeply versed in human physiology would understand. I didn’t particularly blame Glecia. Everyone made mistakes.
“I put that restraint on you, Lord Werner, and this is the result. So why…”
“It wasn’t your fault, Lady Glecia.”
“But…”
“I scold others for their wrongs and sins, but never for their mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes.”
I forced myself upright and gently patted her head. Dogs and people alike seemed to calm down when their heads were stroked, so I did it without thinking.
“Even I forgot that the restraint I created would affect the body this way. So… let’s call it mutual negligence.”
“Still, since it was my error, I must apologize.”
Glecia bowed her head. For the heir to the northern archduke’s seat to formally lower her head to someone who was, on paper, merely a commoner—it carried significant weight. If any of her vassals or fellow nobles had seen it, they’d have frothed at the mouth, screaming about lost dignity and how she was bowing to some orphan commoner.
“Because of my foolishness, I placed that dreadful thing on you and, in my haste to see you, even left the medics behind.”
Hearing her call something I’d developed “dreadful” stung a little… though I had nearly died because of it. Still, the original intent hadn’t been malicious. I couldn’t protest, though. She was already drowning in guilt; there was no need to make it worse by pointing that out.
Magic-sealing restraint, you damned thing—from this moment on, you are no longer my child. What kind of son tries to kill his own father? If we’re going by that logic, Arthus would be a filial son.
“Please don’t worry so much. As you can see, I’m perfectly fine.”
At that moment, my body swayed. My legs suddenly gave out—or perhaps my sense of balance had vanished, or something had gone wrong with my muscles or bones. I could come up with enough hypotheses to form an entire surprise team, but the exact answer eluded me. Glecia caught me as I staggered, her eyes still filled with remorse. She didn’t need to feel that guilty, yet she did.
“The physician said you should rest until tomorrow or the day after.”
“Is that so…? I suppose it’s been a while since I’ve had a proper rest.”
“Therefore, we’ve decided to postpone our engagement ceremony as well.”
Damn, so that’s actually happening. Though thanks to the aftereffects of the magic-sealing restraint, we could delay the date. How moving. Magic-sealing restraint, you truly are my child. Forget future daughters—you’re my real child. To care for your father this much… you’re nothing like that delinquent Arthus.
“Then when will it be…?”
“Four days from now.”
That was the delay? Magic-sealing restraint, you incompetent lump of dung. You’re no child of mine, you unfilial brat. I never should have made you in the first place.
“Four days… haa…”
“Father and Mother have also adjusted their schedules and will arrive around then. You can look forward to reuniting with them.”
“No, I’m not particularly…”
I had no desire to meet that muscle-brained sister-lover or the vampire who enjoyed teasing Werner. The moment we met, I’d probably get crushed in a bear hug, followed by mockery about how they’d finally taken their daughter back.
“I’ll handle the preparations for the ceremony, so you just need to wait quietly until the day.”
“But Lady Glecia…”
“You are the man who will become my husband. According to romance novels, a northern archduke shouldn’t burden their betrothed with troublesome matters. So I’ll take care of everything myself.”
I didn’t know which bastard had written that novel, but I wanted to find them immediately and punch them 57,000 times—not 5,700 words, but 57,000 fists.
“By the way, is my disciple safe…?”
Priority one was Airi’s safety—my life vessel. Why call her that? Because if anything happened to her, I was screwed. So Airi was no different from my own life.
“I’m not sure… According to reports, she’s heading this way.”
My head was already splitting over the engagement, and now Airi was joining the fray. That would double the headache. I could only hope this damned disciple wouldn’t make things worse. What the hell was Camellia even doing if she couldn’t control the kid? No—Camellia would find a way to mediate. There was no one more reasonable than her…
“We’ve also confirmed that Lady Camellia is traveling with your disciple.”
This was exactly why you shouldn’t trust elves.