The Silver-Tongued Duke (3)

Taman never even managed a defensive stance. By the time she raised her arm, the weapon had already vanished. Had its wielder wished it, that single strike would have had plenty left over to erase her torso along with it.

I had ordered them to give it their all, but I never imagined it would come to this.

The strongest beings I had ever faced were Ulkaard and Ogmar, both of dragonkind. Yet Uld's power seemed to surpass even that of a first-class dragon. Even I, ascended to the Ascension Realm, could not have promised victory at that level.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Birgir's applause broke the silence.

"If anyone asks how a mere part of the Empire dares defy the whole, I need only show them this fortress."

Uld's face went pale with alarm.

"Wh-what do we do? The fortress..."

"No matter. Thanks to you, I've enjoyed a rare spectacle. I'll leave the fortress just as it is, unrepaired, something to spur on those greenhorns who live drunk on their own reputations."

Taman clicked her tongue and bit her lip. Her pride had clearly taken a beating.

"I acknowledge that you two have earned the right to stand in my court. This is no court, but... you didn't cross an ocean just to cart off a handful of pirates. You came here to say something, didn't you?"

"I have come to propose a formal trade agreement between the Esterzy Domain and the Kingdom of Sirakos."

"You're well aware Pelion lies between you and me."

"Yes, the land route is difficult. That is precisely why I propose sea trade."

"Have you overlooked something rather important? No ship can enter the North Sea."

"Ships can enter just fine. I've secured an unfrozen port."

"How?"

"I changed the weather with an Awoken Ability."

"...Hoh."

Birgir turned to look behind him.

"They say an unfrozen port has appeared in the North Sea. What say you?"

"I find that hard to believe. A port in the North Sea, out of nowhere?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

One of the female Island Lords spoke with open displeasure.

"If it were as easy as he makes it sound, the previous Dukes wouldn't have spent their lives trapped in the north. For my part, I doubt that northerner even understands the words coming out of his own mouth."

"What about you, Finrok? Do you feel the wind?"

This time Birgir addressed a tall man with a calm, unhurried air. He wore spectacles and scholar's robes, the only figure at this gathering of brutish seafarers who looked like a man of letters.

That was Finrok, hailed as the greatest helmsman in Sirakos's history. He was so famous that even I, who had never cared for sailing, knew his name.

A helmsman was the officer who worked a sailing ship's rudder. It was a post of great importance, and a good one needed the sense to read currents and wind.

Finrok went a step further than most. His Awoken Ability was always turning the rudder in the right direction. Finrok deserved a large share of the credit for Birgir's flagship, the Blood Tide, being rated the strongest ship in Sirakos.

"...I feel it."

Finrok closed his eyes and murmured low, as if singing.

"A northeast wind is blowing."

A northeast wind?

"Come to think of it, the wind has been at our backs for some time now. Just look at that cunning wretch Pelion. The man who wiped Sandor and Alkaraz off the map overnight can't so much as lay a hand on a northern domain."

"Yes. Back then, the wind was certainly blowing the other way."

Wind was indeed streaming in through the fortress's shattered walls. But it was a south wind off the nearby coast. No sailor alive would mistake the direction of the wind, so this talk of a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠northeast wind seemed to be a sense shared only among them.

"...I must be getting old. Hesitating to unfurl my sails with a fair wind blowing."

Birgir turned his head and gave Taman his orders.

"Prepare a ship. I sail for the North Sea with Duke Esterzy."

"Your Majesty!"

The Island Lords who had been cool toward me went visibly sour.

"The course is set, comrades. It is time to move."

Finrok smoothed them over with gentle diplomacy. Once Birgir made up his mind, nothing stood in his way. He truly did bring his flagship, the Blood Tide, to the port, and before leaving Sirakos he proclaimed a pardon for Groll, Loki, and Raghas.

Parts of it didn't match the facts, but since the announcement existed to please the public's ears anyway, the truth of it hardly mattered.

The voyage back to Miren Port could not have been more comfortable. Birgir's royal knights, the Bloody Tide, handled the menial work, and the helm was held by Finrok, the finest helmsman in history. With the King of the High Seas personally directing the course, all I had to do was stretch out my legs and plant myself in my cabin.

...Right. Once again, I never got to see the sea, because Uld had gotten seasick on the way there too.

And I couldn't just wander off because I was bored. If word got out that the domain's greatest asset had a weakness like this, it would be a disaster.

"I-I'm so sorry. It's all because of me..."

Uld murmured, her face drained white. She looked truly wretched. She couldn't even stand, it seemed; she only hunched over the bed, breathing in thin, shallow gasps.

"It's fine. Just rest."

Seasickness was not an ailment talismans could cure, so there was little I could do for her. All I managed was to hold a barrier over the bed and dampen the ship's rocking as much as possible. Even that was enough to make Lily fret that I, the Duke himself, was suffering on her behalf, and she didn't know where to put herself.

"Kahaha, what a fine time to be alive."

Birgir read my refusal to leave Uld's side all day in a very different light. Thanks to that, I had become a lovesick fool who couldn't restrain his desires even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with a crucial diplomatic guest before him.

Well... it hardly mattered. He didn't seem to hold it against me.

While I guarded Uld, Lucian held meeting after meeting aboard ship with Sirakos's officials. Groll, who had watched it all from the sidelines, reported to me.

"That chairman fella of the Gray Company."

"Yes?"

"He's running a con."

...

"His tongue must be greased, because the officials were trailing after him like ducklings tied to a rope. I went to see with my own eyes what it means to get your nose sliced off the moment you blink."

I knew it. That man Lucian could skin a god with that silver tongue of his.

On the fifth day of sailing, we entered the North Sea. Drifting glaciers knocked against the bow with dull booms. The North Sea looked different from the Western Ocean from its very color: bluer, and far deeper.

It was as I stepped onto the deck for the first time in ages that a girl with deep-tanned skin came trotting over.

"Duke Iden."

She leaned against the railing beside me as if it were the most natural thing in the world. A trace of flower scent mingled with the sea wind. Like the women of the southern isles, she wore her clothes as if she might as well not wear them at all, and even before the North Sea's knife-edged wind she showed no thought of putting on another layer.

Well, of course. A Grand Master has no use for a little chill.

The girl was Taman, the one who had been blown to pieces in her match against Uld. Since coming aboard, she had been trying awfully hard to close the distance with me.

"So. About your lover."

"My fiancée."

"How did you two meet?"

Taman rested her chin on her hand and smiled sweetly, like any ordinary girl at the height of her curiosity about such things.

"I held a tournament. To choose the strongest Awakened."

"I see. No wonder she was so insanely strong."

Taman bobbed her head, satisfied.

"Duke Iden."

"...What."

"Aren't I pretty?"

"Asking me to rate your looks out of nowhere, isn't that a bit out of context?"

"You already have a fiancée, so why not keep me as a mistress?"

I stared at Taman. Her curious eyes sparkled.

"His Majesty rates you extraordinarily highly. That fascinated me. No man has ever been like that before."

"So fascination makes you want to date a man?"

"If His Majesty holds a man in that high regard, that's reason enough. Besides, you're incredibly handsome. And strong. I'm certain you're every bit as strong as she is."

Apparently the concept of court etiquette simply did not exist in Sirakos. Northern women had thrown every sort of glance my way, but this was the first time anyone had come at me this openly.

"Sorry, but I'm spoken for."

"We don't mind that sort of thing."

"I mind."

"Tch. You're no fun."

Taman puffed out her cheeks, took up a harpoon, and leapt into the sea. Keeping pace with the ship stroke for stroke, she skewered every sea monster in her path.

The most out-of-place man aboard was Nergi. Birgir's younger brother and Mariella's ex-husband, Nergi seemed to do nothing but glare at Groll as if he wanted him dead.

Just why Birgir dragged him along was a mystery. He didn't seem competent, and he hadn't exactly endeared himself to anyone.

The trade agreement was finalized aboard ship. We would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hand over black steelwood and our Oradium reserves, and Sirakos would rush emergency food supplies to cover the shortfall.

"We've settled the most urgent matters first. The long-term items will be wrapped up once we arrive at the port."

"Good work."

"Hard work? I'm the one who's grateful for it."

Lucian beamed with satisfaction. Judging by what the Gray Company stood to gain from this deal, he could hardly keep his mouth shut.

On the seventh day, we arrived at Miren Bay. I could tell the port was near because the frigid sea wind had turned warm. It was proof that the barrier binding the heat was working beautifully.

"The wind is warm...!"

The sailors exclaimed, stretching out their hands.

"Captain, it's true! We're in the North Sea, and the wind's warm!"

"That's right, lads. Worth the voyage, eh?"

Birgir smiled in quiet satisfaction, hands clasped behind his back.

Before long, Miren Port took shape out of the pale fog. The first things to catch the eye were the colossal shipyard claiming half the harbor and the lizardman-style warships under construction. In truth, they hardly looked like ships at all. The lizardmen were quite literally raising fortresses atop the sea.

The port looked at least twice the size it had been when we left. The city was still ballooning like a snowball at this very moment. Countless construction sites sprawled across the outskirts.

"A ship's coming in!"

The docks burst into an uproar at the sight. Our port had never once been opened to a foreign nation, so an incoming ship was, strictly speaking, an emergency.

Heavily armed soldiers mustered at the docks with crisp precision. Some crews trained the siege engines mounted on the bastions, new weapons whose worth had been proven in the Battle of Andrassy.

"A naval base."

Birgir exclaimed in admiration.

"A naval base of this scale rising on the North Sea. I never would have believed it without seeing it with my own eyes."

I showed myself at the side railing so my men would not mistake us for hostiles. The unit commander who recognized me roared.

"All units, stand down! It is His Grace the Duke!"

The assembled soldiers parted neatly to either side to receive me. In an instant, a corridor of men stretched from the docks to the heart of the city.

"Go on ahead, little brother."

Birgir said with a smile. The title he used for me had shifted, ever so slightly.