Preparing for Next Winter
The nobles dragged into the Walterheim estate wore the blank expressions of men who had no idea what was happening. And once enough of them had gathered, they began to raise their voices.
"Just what is the meaning of this?!"
"We have protected the North since the days of the previous Grand Duke! How can you treat us this way?!"
"Sir Jester! We demand an explanation!"
The traitors' shouting carried all the way into the study, and I felt a headache starting to form.
"We've brought them all, young master."
"Good."
The moment Ruche and I stepped out of the study, every gaze that had been fixed on Jester swung toward me.
"Grand Duke! What on earth is the meaning of—"
"To treat us like this—if the late Grand Duke could see this—!!!"
"Enough."
I lifted a hand and cut them off.
"You dare invoke my father's name here."
"...What?"
"Grand Duke?"
"How shameless can you be."
Fwap!
Documents scattered across the floor at their feet—the records Cecilia had uncovered on the iron ore smuggling.
"Iron ore meant for the armor and blades of northern soldiers, and you had the gall to sell it off to the capital?"
"Th-this is..."
"I-it's a misunderstanding! This is merely..."
"Speak, then. Convince me. Tell me what for, and under what circumstances."
"Grand Duke, you see—"
"But if it turns out this was done not for the North, not for its soldiers, but for your own private gain—"
The knights of Walterheim and Ruche drew their swords in unison. The nobles went white and dropped to their hands and knees on the floor.
"Do not forget. Traitors are executed on the spot. Now."
I settled into the chair Jester had brought and prepared to hear their final arguments.
"Go on. Tell me your stories. I will listen to every word."
"Ha. Honestly, this is just ridiculous."
The report on the desk listed the capital contacts tied to those nobles—and of course, those "contacts" were none other than the Crown Prince and his siblings.
"They're dead set on turning the North into a battlefield for their own power struggle."
"It seems their maternal houses have been working for a long time to secure the next succession."
"It's madness. They've been at this since the Crown Prince and the princesses were still infants, and somehow people still keep pledging loyalty to them."
"Unlike war, politics is a place where enemies can become allies overnight, isn't it?"
"And northern men of all people, diving into that kind of game..."
There were two maternal houses of the imperial family. House Celestia, maternal house of the First Crown Prince and the Second Princess; and House Candler, maternal house of the First Princess and the Second Crown Prince.
Both families had been pillars of the empire since its founding.
"House Candler has been especially busy. Two to three times the work of House Celestia."
"That was House Celestia's miscalculation—assuming the First Crown Prince's position as eldest son was solid. By pushing the Roeyental Duke Family out so hard, they tangled the entire succession."
"And in that mess, the chaos in the North looked like easy prey to them."
"His Majesty the Emperor, after all, takes a double stance—wary of conflict with the North, yet still eager to put a leash on it."
"Honestly... I don't know what grudge he holds against the people who spend their lives at the northernmost edge, holding back snow wraiths and barbarians."
"They say those in power must always be wary of whoever holds a sword. History has proven as much."
I agreed with Jester and checked the territories marked on the map—the estates of those nobles.
"...Do you intend to kill them?"
"No."
I shook my head and rose from my seat.
"It's not the time. Strike them now and we hand the imperial family a perfect justification. The honor of the North would be stained overnight."
"Then what?"
"First, we scramble the intelligence networks of House Candler and House Celestia. Send those nobles home, and put watchers on them. Then we scatter poisoned meat and let them tear each other apart."
"Poisoned meat?"
"We'll leak false information that the nobles aligned with House Candler are opening smuggling routes."
"Ha. If House Celestia catches wind of that, they'll go into a frenzy."
"While they're busy ripping into each other, we'll reorganize northern personnel and fortify the northernmost fortresses."
Beyond the window, flowers were beginning to bloom. Full spring had arrived at last.
"We need to prepare for next winter."
Summoned by Victor, Cecilia knocked on the door of his study. Outside the window spring blossoms drifted on the wind, but the room where Victor sat was still as cold as midwinter frost.
"Grand Duke."
"My lady. You rendered great service in this matter."
"Not at all. It was only possible because you gave me the opportunity."
"Is that so."
Among the papers on the desk, one caught Cecilia's eye.
"An academy entrance ceremony notice."
"Spring has come, so we'll be heading to the academy soon enough. And you, my lady? If you prefer, you may remain in the North."
"No. As a noble of the empire, graduating from the academy is obligatory."
At the academy she would meet Baron, who had cast her aside, and Elysia, who had goaded him into it. An uncomfortable reunion—but still.
"You will protect me, won't you, Grand Duke?"
At Cecilia's words, the corner of Victor's mouth lifted ever so slightly.
Ah. He smiled.
"I see. Yes... Our contract. And for as long as you remain within my fence, I will protect you. So of course there's no need to worry. Heh."
"Yes. Exactly."
"It seems I was fretting over nothing."
"No. On the contrary, hearing that you'll protect me even as a contractual partner, I..."
Cecilia started to speak, then closed her mouth. A simple "thank you" was far too meager to express the strange sense of relief settling over her.
"My lady?"
Victor called to the girl who stood unfinished with her words. His red eyes still showed not the slightest tremor.
"Is something wrong?"
"No... I simply wanted to offer my thanks. That Your Grace's fence is sturdier and warmer than I ever expected—I'm glad of it."
Looking at Cecilia with her faint smile and cheeks tinged peach-pink, Victor found his gaze stolen for the briefest instant.
"My lady? Your face is flushed. You haven't caught a cold, have you?"
"Y-yes? Ah... no. The weather is cold—no, I mean, now that it's gotten warmer..."
Under Victor's tilted, curious stare, Cecilia looked away before she even realized she was doing it.
"I-I'll take my leave now."
"Of course. If you feel unwell at all, I can call my personal physician—"
"Really, no!!"
For the first time since coming north, Cecilia raised her voice to refuse him outright.
"I'm... fine. Truly."
"...Very well."
I stared blankly after Cecilia as she slipped out the door, then sank into a wave of self-reproach—wondering if I had somehow planted a flag for going completely off the rails.
What, she doesn't even want me asking if she's caught a cold? Well... fair enough. A man she has no interest in fretting over her health would be annoying, according to every romance-novel heroine ever...
Still, that was a bit much. I'd asked because I considered her a comrade, more or less.
"Haa... Villainesses of romance fantasy are hard."
Maybe sending a gift she might like would help improve things between us.
"All right, then I'll just—"
But what gift would Cecilia even like?
"The novel never showed any of that."
In my previous life, the only women I'd ever given gifts to were my mother and my girlfriend. In this life, I only remembered giving something to a younger sister on a side branch of the family. I had zero experience gifting anything to a girl my own age.
There's a more reliable method than trying to spin up my romance-fantasy brain.
"Ruche."
"Yes, Grand Duke."
"Go fetch Ran for me."
"Understood."
A short while later, Ran entered the study with Ruche. After hearing my explanation, she had an answer ready at once.
"A sword forged by a northern blacksmith should be more than enough, shouldn't it?"
"Oh, I like that too."
Looking at Ruche and Ran, I felt a headache blooming behind my eyes.
"Argh—northern brains!!!!"
My wail rang through the study. Ruche and Ran simply stared at me as if they had no idea what the problem was.
"Why? Do you know how good northern blacksmiths' swords are?"
"She's right. When I was at the academy, my friends from the capital were incredibly jealous of mine."
"Ah, what if we add some ornamentation to the blade?"
"A self-defense dagger would be more practical than that."
"Then compromise—a self-defense dagger with ornamentation..."
Watching these battle maniacs debate pure practicality, I thought, There isn't a single normal woman around me, is there.
"Ran, you're the one who serves the lady most closely. You've never once heard what she likes?"
At my question, Ran tilted her head, went "Aha," and shrugged.
"She likes me the most!"
"...Good for you."
"Wouldn't it simply be easier to ask her directly what gift she wants?"
"Doesn't that look completely uninspired?"
"Haa. I've heard quite enough. I truly cannot listen to another word of this."
Apparently he had overheard everything. Jester entered the study with a long-suffering sigh. Ran and Ruche both pouted at him.
"Then what would you give her, Father?"
"That's right. What magnificent gift do you have in mind that you're lumping the Grand Duke in with the likes of us?"
"...You little—"
At the very least, I knew Cecilia was a born young lady who disliked swords.
"Haa. Grand Duke, I will give you a hint. The hint is the greenhouse of the Roeyental Duke Family."
"Huh?"
"And if you fail to pass even that hint, Grand Duke, then you are on the same level as my daughters."
"..."
That was the worst possible ranking, wasn't it?
Alone on a chair in the greenhouse, staring blankly into the air, Cecilia felt her face heat all over again the moment she recalled what had happened in the study.
"Why on earth am I like this..."
She cupped both cheeks in her hands and tried to calm herself, but the instant she pictured those gentle red eyes looking at her, her heart started pounding again. For someone who had never experienced anything of the sort, the whole situation was thoroughly confusing.
The thought struck her that whatever she was suffering might be some endemic disease of the North.
"I should go see Lady Shurian, the estate physician..."
So, in search of someone who could give her a clear diagnosis, Cecilia set off at a slow walk toward the physician's chambers.
"Excuse m—...e?"
"Hmm? Aah, my lady!"
A middle-aged woman with a lollipop in her mouth beamed as she greeted Cecilia.
"I've been using the moisturizing cream you gave me last time—it's wonderful. Would you like a candy?"
"Heh. Yes, thank you, Shurian."
"Don't mention it."
Once Cecilia was seated, Shurian smiled slyly and took out a notebook.
"All right then. What brings you here? Tell me everything that ails our dear lady."
"Well... you see..."
Cecilia began to describe, in careful detail, every symptom she was currently experiencing.
Shurian noted them down as she listened, then crunched through the lollipop in her mouth and looked at the pure young lady sitting before her—cheeks flushed, eyes clear and unspoiled, waiting for an answer.
"Could this be... an endemic disease of the North? And if it is, what should I do...? Please tell me, Shurian."