The Time With the Grand Duke

It had been a simple combination of words, but the meaning came through clearly enough.

"You took my words more seriously than I expected."

"Yeah. A northern alliance, was it?"

"As I said, I'm aiming for something grander than that — but for now, yes."

A barony — the lowest rank of nobility, governing a tiny fief — was far too small a voice to found an alliance of the North.

And Ian, who wasn't even a lord in his own right, had even less standing than that.

Which is exactly why I need to build up the House.

So that no one could afford to dismiss it.

That had been Ian's reason for seeking the goodwill of House Bahen in the first place.

Of course, Bahen itself couldn't step forward directly. He remembered Luke Bahen mentioning during their conversation that they had to mind the central court — the Emperor's watchful eyes.

Push too far, and a real civil war could break out.

The current Emperor was a problem.

He had sat on the throne far too long, lost the brilliance of his younger years, and degenerated into a power-hungry demon.

And that cursed apocalypse scenario stems from him, too.

A madman who, even while ravaged by illness, insisted on waging reckless wars of conquest. That was precisely why he ranked so high among players' most-hated characters.

"Understood."

Well, this works out fine, actually.

Grow his influence, expand his territory. It was what Ian had wanted to do anyway.

"Ian, what are you brooding about over there?"

"Ah, my lord."

There had been four official banquets held over the course of the Subjugation Festival — practically one every single day. Given that this was the grandest event in the North, perhaps it was only natural.

Even so, he could see the shadows deepening under the Count's eyes.

"Are you holding up all right?"

"No, honestly? I'm exhausted."

"I thought you might say that."

"Why, you little……."

But for all his grumbling, a smile he couldn't quite hide played at the Count's lips.

"If you're tired, you should rest. Why throw yourself into every single ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one of them?"

"That's how noble society works. Put on a dull face and wait for people to come to you, and they never open up."

"I see."

It was a hard answer to give. In truth, with a few exceptions, Ian hadn't been paying the northern nobles much mind at all.

"House Rashid is small. And yet here you are, reaching for a much larger stage."

"……"

"I don't know what you discussed with the Grand Duke. But I can't very well hold you back, can I."

Somewhere along the way, the Count's exhaustion had softened into something warmer as he said it.

"And you've reaped quite a few benefits besides."

"Leave it to you to notice, my lord."

In these matters, the Count was far and away his superior. Masking his true nature and posturing for profit had never suited Ian's temperament.

"Anyway, the official banquets are finished, so I'm thinking of heading back to the fief for some rest. What about you?"

"I plan to stay a few more days."

"I see. Well, you seem to have found yourself a fine connection, so I'll keep my meddling to a minimum."

"……My lord."

"I'm joking, you rascal."

With that, the Count strode off ahead of him.

The official banquets had ended today, but the festival's heat hadn't cooled one bit. This was one of the biggest events in the North, after all — everyone was surely busy mingling and exchanging favors.

One glimpse of him was enough to drain me…… How on earth did my lord endure it?

And so, even after every banquet had drawn to a close, Ian remained in Velburg for several more days.

The reason was simple.

"Hoo……"

The Covenant.

Word was that he could make use of House Bahen's armory — there was no way he was letting this chance slip by.

I'm going to squeeze them dry, down to the marrow.

His entire body was already soaked through with sweat. But rather than feeling worn out, a far greater sense of satisfaction welled up inside him.

— That's it! Kids these days can't even manage the fundamentals!— Hah, look at those arms swing.— Extreme training…… hck, I could die happy like this…….

A chorus of voices from countless weapons drifted past his ears. House Bahen's training equipment truly was of exceptional quality.

Good thing I secured permission to use the training armory.

He was putting the privilege he'd won in exchange for returning Winterbane to excellent use. Befitting a famous northern house, they had swords in absurd abundance — and thanks to that, his proficiency in various skills climbed steadily.

At this rate, Northern Swordsmanship might hit S-rank soon.

A+ was the realm of mastery. Push beyond it, and you reached completion. Completing multiple sword arts was, in effect, the path of a Sword Master and beyond.

His Frost Step proficiency was rising as well. The quality of the swords really did make a difference — the rate of proficiency gain itself was on another level compared to his family's blades.

Still, I haven't gained any new skills.

That was a mild disappointment. He distinctly remembered quite a few skills remaining that would suit a northern warrior build.

But there was no need to despair over it. The benefits he was reaping here didn't end there.

"Lord Rashid, might I trouble you for a spar?"

"The honor of crossing blades with a knight ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Bahen should be mine to request."

The chance to test himself against Bahen's many knights. Their caliber was on an entirely different plane — it felt like only yesterday he was sparring with his own household soldiers, and yet here he was now.

It's not an overwhelming gap.

He still fell short in places, but that gap was narrowing fast. Granted, the gulf between a Sword User and an Expert was nothing to dismiss……

Still, this is easier than Tarian or Larissa.

Well, considering those two's abilities, facing an ordinary knight almost felt like a relief.

"Lord Rashid, might I ask for a lesson?"

"Of course."

It wasn't only Bahen's knights he faced. Promising young scions of the northern nobility also stepped up to test their mettle against him — rising talents who, as fellow seekers of the sword, genuinely tried to measure his strength.

I'm a little envious, honestly.

And so he pressed them harder still — making certain they understood exactly how strong he was.

"Now I see why you shone at the Subjugation Festival. I concede."

"A fine match."

This, too, was something only possible because he had come to Velburg. Knights, then the northern nobility — and eventually even Tarian and Larissa.

What I'm lacking now is passive-type skills.

He had Cold Heart and Frigid Hide, but he needed something that surpassed them. Especially something he could only obtain here in the North.

A steadfast mind and a hardened body, swordplay and footwork — and beyond those, heart techniques and buffs.

"Hmm……"

He was pondering what to pursue next when he heard footsteps. Turning his head slightly, he found Larissa Bahen standing there.

"You've gotten better."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

……Then what was it?

"I merely stated a fact."

She answered his bewildered expression with a languid voice. His skill chaining had certainly grown smoother, but more than that, it felt like his very mindset and posture in combat had changed.

Still, something nags at me.

And so he'd been mulling it over — which direction he should develop in.

"Something feels off?"

"That obvious, huh?"

"Yeah. It shows."

Larissa had been quietly observing every match he'd fought. Hearing her say it, he realized the dissatisfaction gnawing at him stemmed from that very discomfort.

Then why?

Why did he feel this discomfort?

It wasn't a matter of imagery. Larissa hardly seemed perceptive enough to pick up on that.

So it had to be a matter of movement.

I started feeling it fairly recently.

He pieced the puzzle together bit by bit, thought by thought. As a test, he swung his sword without using Extreme Training or Blessing of Frost.

Whooosh—

The swordplay unfolded naturally, without a hitch. Of course there was no discomfort — he'd repeated this countless times before.

It was the output!

Only now did it click for certain. The synergy between Extreme Training and Blessing of Frost was near-perfect — efficiency, compatibility, maximum output, all of it captured at once.

But the swordsmanship is a different story.

Northern Swordsmanship was undeniably solid, but it was, at its core, a foundation. With such a heavily defensive bent, it inevitably clashed against that output.

In other words, he needed a new sword art capable of handling this power.

And fortunately, he had a very capable sword instructor on hand.

"Thank you. Because of you, I finally understand what the problem is."

"……You really are better than Johannes."

Johannes grinned sheepishly, enduring the discipline Tarian disguised as instruction. At least being rated above that guy was something to be grateful for.

"That's all thanks to Lady Larissa's help."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠"Noona."

"……?"

"Call me Older Sister Larissa."

She declared it flatly, arms crossed, face utterly blank. At her words, he averted his gaze, feeling oddly awkward.

Noona, she says.

Still, calling her that was a bit much……

Come to think of it, Larissa hadn't long since passed her coming-of-age ceremony.

Adulthood is twenty in this world too, isn't it……

And this young thing, saying that.

Granted, Ian himself hadn't even had his ceremony yet. But there was such a thing as a gap in mental age.

"Anyway, I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like to speak with the Grand Duke……"

"……"

"Lady Larissa?"

"Hmph."

She turned her head away, still expressionless — and from that reaction alone, he immediately grasped what she wanted.

"Larissa…… Noo— Lady Larissa."

"Father is probably waiting for you already."

She seemed mildly displeased for a moment, then responded instantly at his words, and Ian let out a small sigh.

When he'd first met her, he'd taken her for the very image of the northern knight — cold, expressionless, unreadable. The reality was nothing of the sort.

"By 'already,' you mean……"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

So that's what he meant by that. He nodded silently.

No doubt this summons had to do with what he'd said last time, and with Winterbane.

A northern alliance is impossible as things stand.

Which meant reasonable conditions would be required — and he needed to hear them directly from the Grand Duke's own mouth.

Moving through the North without Bahen's blessing is next to impossible.

"What Ian needs to do right now is get stronger."

"I know."

"Not just knowing. That won't be enough."

She watched him as he slowly steadied his training sword.

"You have to become strong enough that no one — not anyone — can refute you."

"……"

Emotion flickered to life in Larissa's once-blank eyes.

It was heat. The smoldering heat of a beast long hidden away in the North — the heart of a swordswoman aching to swing her blade this very instant.

"Then how about one more spar—"

"Ian!"

The very moment she reached for her sword, someone came rushing up, and the tension between them cooled in an instant.

"Johannes?"

"Hah, hahh, wait, just a second."

"Johannes. Did you come here just to interrupt?"

"N-Noona, it's not that! Ian, F-Father is calling for you!"

At the words Johannes blurted out between ragged breaths, Ian smiled faintly.

The time had finally come.

The time to speak with the Grand Duke face to face.