For the first time in a long while, Seolin, freed from her husbands, obtained her first opportunity since becoming king to examine state affairs.
But instead, she ended up using this prime opportunity, which could have been spent looking after the people, to devise schemes for suppressing divine authority and strengthening royal power.
“Only ten days remain until the Soiree opens. It is an important event where those who will lead the future of our Kingdom of Levantorte gather as one, and the revival of a tradition. Therefore, all of you must participate without fail in both the entrance ceremony and the debut party.”
The Soiree was an old tradition of the Kingdom of Levantorte.
Young nobles gathered at the academy in the capital to hold their entrance ceremony, becoming students, while simultaneously making their debut to step into society.
Royalty and regional notables were no exception.
It was said that the purpose of the Soiree’s students was to form groups, travel around resolving requests to settle internal matters of their houses, and build a network of connections, but this was nothing more than an external pretext.
Not a single penny of state taxes went into managing and maintaining the Soiree.
Because it was a gathering of the upper class.
Furthermore, gathering them in the capital like this was a sort of hostage-taking.
Consequently, from the central nobles to the provincial nobles, they emptied their own coffers to come to the capital, hiring escorts and paving roads to do so.
Everything from maintaining the facilities to bringing in excellent instructors was funded by donations from the nobles according to their status and reputation.
On top of that, they had to cover their own children’s tuition fees, so the provinces naturally consumed enormous sums and lost the means to independently expand their military forces.
The purpose was to weaken the economic power of the nobles and strengthen royal authority.
This could be seen as the very reason for existence of the academy called the Soiree.
The one who had revived the Soiree, which the previous half-year tyrant Orban had abolished during his days as crown prince, was none other than Seorin.
No matter how much she was being swayed by the nobles led by the two great houses, Seorin had not struck a deal with them merely to secure her succession.
Inwardly seething, she pushed ahead with the revival of the Soiree toward Dervek and Highland with an unwavering and resolute attitude, and the two great houses could not simply pressure the queen indefinitely, so they relented.
“I shall crush them with this opportunity and reclaim what is mine.”
However, the queen did not know that even this was precisely what the nobles, harboring schemes of every kind, had been wishing for.
The North, Dervek.
Here were those with boiling blood fierce enough to overcome both a temperament as rough as barbarians and the bitter cold.
The Margrave of the North, Gyuren Dervek, called the Stalwart Bear Giant, faced a massive bear covered in white fur upon the snowy mountain.
“Uwoooooooh—!!!!”
In the barren North, beings possessing hot blood and flesh had met.
This meant that a life-or-death struggle would soon unfold, where the vanquished would be devoured by the victor.
Bare-chested amidst the blizzard, he stood with arms crossed, his muscular black body not stirring in the slightest.
“Kraaaaaaang—!!!!”
The white bear, standing more than twice the height of a grown man, charged at the Margrave without hesitation.
Even as it came within arm’s reach, Gyuren Dervek merely watched the charging bear.
Crunch!
The white bear’s fangs sank into Dervek’s shoulder.
But no matter how it bit and shook, its fangs barely embedded themselves in the rock-hard muscles.
Gyuren Dervek grabbed the thrashing white bear’s head and ripped it away, bursting into booming laughter.
“Hu-hahahahahaat! That bastard’s got spirit!”
Then he grabbed it by the neck and slammed the side of its head with all his might using his palm.
Wham!
The bear’s neck stretched abnormally and went limp.
Gyuren drew a keenly honed dagger, sliced open the middle of the neck, and then pressed his mouth to it, gulping down the blood that spurted out.
After slurping blood alone for quite some time, a robust beauty with white hair and black skin appeared holding an axe and called out to Gyuren.
“Father! Off hunting alone again!”
“You brat! Don’t nag so much! I didn’t even touch the most precious bear paws!”
“Do you still think I’m a child?”
At her unusually sharp response today, the Margrave belched, reeking of blood, and asked,
“Gack! What are you so dissatisfied about?”
“Three years have already passed, yet when will I ever see my cute, lovely husband! Didn’t you promise clearly, Father! That you would give my sickly older brother to the queen and bring Earei back as my mate!”
“Ah, that? It fell through.”
“What?!”
The daughter of Gyuren Dervek, Ortega Dervek’s eyes grew saucer-wide.
“Don’t talk nonsense! My husband must be a peerless hero! If it’s not Earei, then no one else can hold me at night!”
“For someone in her prime to only think of bedding at night, you’re quite the spoiled one.”
“I’d have to have a partner to tell day from night!”
“Exactly.”
Gyuren Dervek, who had been tying a knot with the bear’s long tongue, spat out nonchalantly,
“Marvin said he was driven out. That stupid bastard harassed him like a shrew and kicked him out, yet had the gall to write about it proudly in a letter.”
“That brother of mine did that to my mate! …But if he was driven out over just that much, isn’t he disqualified from being a peerless hero?”
“Daughter, you say that because you haven’t seen him with a sword drawn. In all my life, I have never seen a ghost so starved for blood and steel.”
“Hahahahahat! As expected! Such a monster must naturally be brought in as a man of House Dervek to strengthen the bloodline!”
“Hu-hahahahahat! If only that comes to pass, there won’t be another failure like Marvin!”
“Hahahahaha… Wait, Father, if he was driven out, where do you intend to find him and welcome him as a husband?”
“Do not worry, my daughter.”
“You tell me not to worry, yet I must soon depart to places like the Soiree or the arena!”
Gyuren grinned widely at Ortega, who fearlessly aimed her axe blade at her father’s neck.
“Trust this father’s gut.”
“Huh?”
“Earei will definitely be at the Soiree. He must be in disguise to avoid being discovered by the queen.”
Could it be true?
Though Ortega had her doubts, her father’s instincts had always proven accurate.
“Then I would be pleased, Father. But what if Earei still hasn’t forgotten that wench, Seorin?”
“Foolish girl. Whose daughter are you?”
“The Stalwart Bear Giant of the Bitter Cold, Gyuren Dervek.”
“Exactly! If you are a Dervek, then act like a Dervek. Pluck the flower atop the cliff with your own hands and seize it.”
“But his heart is turned toward the queen. How?”
“Break even that heart and force it to turn toward you.”
“…….”
After a moment’s thought, Ortega smiled, baring her shark-like teeth.
“As expected of my father! Hahahahahat!”
“Hu-hahahahahat!”
The boisterous laughter of father and daughter echoed across the snowy mountain.
The South, Highland.
In this blessed land flowing with milk and honey, there were those who pursued commerce based on knowledge and the joy of academic research.
“Where is Shuren!”
However, unlike the rough harmony of the father and daughter in the North, the South always echoed with the enraged roar of Archduke Antony Hailren, the head of the house.
“In just ten days, he must debut at the Soiree!”
“Please calm yourself, Your Grace. We are all inquiring after the young master’s whereabouts.”
“Is it fitting for Midona’s finest talents to run around searching for such a piece of human trash!”
By rights, authorities from each field should have gathered with Antony at this hour to set policies regarding the year’s agriculture, trade, and the Hagonin League to the south.
The Grand Duke of Highland, who had planned to inform his son of his conduct and goals at the Soiree depending on today’s negotiations, felt not only disappointment but revulsion toward his second son, who was absent once again.
“Enough, enough! I shall consider that worthless wretch as if he were never born!”
“Your Grace, he has been brought!”
Belgirt, the servant who attended Shuren, shouted as he entered the meeting hall carrying his master on his back.
The people in the meeting hall pinched their noses at the stench emanating from them.
It was the smell coming from Shuren, who was caked in mud or some unidentifiable filth.
“What in the world is this smell!”
“Yes, well… He went all-in while gambling again, caused a rampage, and ended up getting thrown straight into a pigsty….”
“Put him down and get out!”
“At once!”
As Belgirt was about to set down Shuren, who had his eyes closed, he raised his head again and looked at the Grand Duke.
“Shall I wake him?”
“Y-… Haah, very well.”
“Young master! Please wake up! You are before His Grace!”
Slap! Slap!
The servant’s slaps rang out crisply.
“Urk!”
But Belgirt, sniffing the mud caked on his hand, frowned in disgust and fled the meeting hall.
Antony was flabbergasted at the servant running away without even paying his respects, but since he was the only one who assisted Shuren, he could say nothing.
Instead, he turned his ire upon the second son, who lay sleeping sprawled on the floor.
“Wake up, you worthless wretch!”
“…Nnn. Huaaaaaahm.”
Shuren shamelessly rose, sat in his seat, and held out both hands to the Grand Duke.
“Father, please give me some money. Your son has suffered a great humiliation at the hands of Highland’s people due to a lack of betting money.”
“This wretch still hasn’t come to his senses!”
Unable to contain his anger, the Grand Duke kicked his son.
The prince, struck in the ribs, rolled on the floor and groaned in agony.
“Ouch… Father, do not be so furious. No matter if I am a bastard and a wretch, if you thrash your son before your vassals, what becomes of the dignity of the noble Grand Duke? You will only be showing the unsightly state of our household.”
“You!”
As he mocked him, imitating Belgirt’s manner of speech, Antony drew the sword of a nearby guard and pointed it at him.
“Your Grace! Please calm yourself!”
The one who stopped him was the stepmother of Shurus and Shuren.
Oquir, now reaching the age of twenty, was far too young to have wed the Grand Duke, who was nearing his fifties.
“Release him, my lady!”
“The subjects are watching, husband!”
At Oquir’s plea, Antony huffed but sheathed his sword.
Instead, he grabbed Shuren’s filth-caked hair and warned,
“Listen well, you worthless son. Today I intended to advise you on how to conduct yourself at the Soiree, as is my duty as a father, but no more. Just go off and die swiftly where no soul will know. Do not disgrace your brother in the royal palace, my pride and joy Shurus. Just drink and gamble yourself to a miserable death.”
“Hahaha! Father, why must I go all the way there to die? I can very well die right here in Highland!”
“You insolent…!”
“Husband! Please…! Young master, please stop as well. You were not always this kind of person, were you?”
Looking at Oquir standing between himself and his father, Shuren suppressed the surging urge to vomit and barely spat out,
“And you, stepmother, were you not also a different person from before?”
“Enough, get lost!”
“I will leave on my own, so stop telling me to get lost. What will you do if I get defiant and lie down right here?”
“I said get out!”
Shuren staggered to his feet, offered a clumsy bow, and left the meeting hall.
Before leaving, he wanted to look into Oquir’s eyes one last time, but even that thought was revolting.
“Young master! You got off easier than expected!”
As soon as he exited the meeting hall, Belgirt quickly appeared and supported him.
“You call this not getting scolded badly?”
“Are your four limbs not intact?”
“Ha… I suppose that’s true.”
“Young master, do you truly intend to go to the Soiree?”
“I do.”
It was to leave the first love he harbored here as a thing of the past, but Shuren deliberately swallowed those last words.
“Wonderful! Meet many pretty young ladies there, fall in love, and become a proper person!”
“What? I have no such intention!”
At Belgirt’s words, Shuren cackled.
Become a proper person?
Out of the question.
He would cause all manner of trouble and rampage there before dying a glorious death.
He wished that Highland would fall to ruin because of him.
“Who knows? You might meet a woman even prettier than Lady Oquir!”
“…….”
Without a word, Shuren beckoned Belgirt with a flick of his finger.
As Belgirt approached with a questioning look, Shuren smeared the filth he had gathered in his hand across his face.
“Kuuuueeeek! It reeks!”
“There is no woman prettier than my stepmother, you bastard.”
“No hand is filthier than the young master’s! Uuuuuuek!”
In the blessed land of southern Highland, the screams of an innocent victim—his servant—echoed.
“Mother, Father. You must stay healthy.”
That same day, at that same hour, the one who had once stood at the center of storms and waves departed for the capital of Levantorte.
Now in a woman’s body, what storms and waves she would bring this time was known only to the gods—or perhaps the mages.