~Chapter 82~
“Jack Wilson.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“I shall commission your guild. Immediately.”
Ancia, heaving a long sigh, addressed the guildmaster, who was smiling obsequiously.
“I ask for your cooperation in managing the mercenaries entering the territory and in strengthening public security.”
“Of course, we shall comply. However, I must beg your understanding, for the influx of mercenaries expressing intent to join the festival is considerable, and the costs may rise somewhat as a result.”
Was this man truly here to assist?
Ancia eyed the guildmaster with suspicion before quickly brushing aside the thought.
Though time was pressing, the monster subjugation festival could still proceed without issue. In the original tale, the head maid had played a significant role—one Ancia herself would now have to shoulder.
Yet the situation was far from dire.
With more mercenaries, some would undoubtedly venture into the mountains where monsters lurked, eager to “warm up” before the festival. If they were guided to gather in a single location rather than suppressed, it might even yield positive results before the event began.
Though premature, it would ultimately be beneficial.
“Ellie, take Jack to the office—no, I shall go myself.”
Ancia had intended to send Ellie with Jack but changed her mind.
That morning, she had felt a pang of loneliness at Rishar’s absence and wished to see his face. It was better to discuss these decisions with him than act alone and risk discord.
“Your Grace, I cannot express how much I reproach myself for failing to recognize your keen insight sooner. To hold a festival in the remote Gwinted territory, where outsiders seldom tread—such a bold endeavor! My heart has not burned so fiercely in years.”
Whether the guildmaster’s heart burned or froze was of no concern to Ancia. Offering perfunctory replies, she walked swiftly toward the office as he showered her with relentless flattery—his demeanor now entirely different from when she had visited his guild.
Upon arriving, she found Arthur just stepping out.
“My lady, what brings you here?”
Startled by his uncharacteristically stiff tone, Ancia masked her surprise with a smile, and the rigid expression on Arthur’s face eased, if only slightly.
From his reaction, she surmised his coldness was not directed at her.
“His Grace has gone to inspect the territory. Do you wish to leave a message?”
“Oh, I see. Then… Sir Arthur, this is the Wind Guild’s master, Jack Wilson.”
“I operate the largest and swiftest guild in Gwinted. It is an honor to meet such a distinguished knight.”
“Is that so?”
Arthur’s hardened gaze fixed upon the guildmaster as though to demand why he had come.
Unlike with Ancia, his stern attitude was clearly directed at Jack.
“This guildmaster spread news of the festival using a communication orb,” Ancia explained. “He said other guilds’ mercenaries would soon be arriving, so I thought it best to inform you.”
At the word communication orb, Arthur’s eyes sharpened to a blade’s edge.
The guildmaster, who moments ago had been all smiles, immediately stiffened under that chilling gaze.
Though the tension was palpable, Ancia pressed on, knowing there were more pressing matters.
“We’re still in the preparation stage, and if more outsiders arrive, we’ll need additional security. I was thinking of commissioning the guild. Would that be acceptable?”
“That would be wise. The Wind Guild has proven reliable thus far,” Arthur replied. “However, I shall need a private word with him regarding today’s matter.”
Arthur’s large hand gripped the guildmaster’s shoulder so firmly that even Ancia flinched at the sight. Jack, though flushed and drenched in cold sweat, forced a smile without uttering a single groan.
Ancia could not fathom the situation.
Arthur hesitated briefly, then spoke candidly, perhaps knowing Rishar would learn of it regardless.
“He knows full well that using a communication orb invites imperial intervention. Hence, a deeper discussion is required.”
This was common knowledge among the nobility, Ancia included.
Arthur led the guildmaster away, and she simply waved lightly before turning back.
The emperor often bestowed communication orbs upon key institutions or houses loyal to the crown. It was no secret, but the number in circulation was scarce.
Even Count Leslie’s family, despite their steadfast loyalty, had yet to receive one. If they possessed an orb, they could have exchanged messages as easily as a magical video call, but the imperial family’s sanctions made that impossible.
Such scrutiny was suffocating, yet unavoidable.
The northern territories had both the magical stones and the technology to craft their own orbs, but the emperor’s blatant surveillance ensured they refrained. Everyone understood what it meant.
That the guild possessed an orb was surprising, but considering the information they traded, the imperial palace could easily glean national trends simply by collecting the data.
“Why so grave? It’s not as if the festival denigrates the imperial family…”
Ancia could not comprehend Arthur’s tense reaction to the matter.
She had no inkling just how great the repercussions of this incident might be.
In the days that followed, Ancia suffered from severe sleep deprivation.
Though she had long abandoned the notion of becoming a villainess, she had never planned to fulfill the role of an exemplary duchess either.
If not for the monster subjugation festival being pushed forward, she would have delegated tasks to competent individuals and lived comfortably.
Once the festival ended safely, she promised herself, she would rest.
That solitary thought kept her going as she sacrificed sleep night after night to review the endless documents that flooded in.
She had not stepped foot in the couple’s chambers; her own room was buried beneath piles of papers, leaving only the bed unobstructed. Her days were consumed by frantic work until she collapsed into sleep each night.
“M-my lady, s-something terrible has happened!”
“What? Why? What is it?”
Ellie was so rattled she could hardly raise her voice.
She was trembling so violently that even the deeply sleeping Ancia bolted upright in alarm.
Glancing at the glaring sunlight beyond the window, she instantly sensed that something grave had occurred.
“Heavens, how long did I sleep? Where do I even begin? Ellie, thank you for waking me.”
“M-my lady… it’s not about the documents.”
“What? Then what is it? Has another bomb gone off?”
Ancia’s urgent question pushed Ellie to the verge of tears. Fortunately, Julie was present as well; when Ancia turned to her, she responded with mechanical calm, betraying none of her emotions.
“He has visited for the first time in thirty years.”
“Julie?”
Behind the far graver Julie, Bianca appeared, grinning as she carried a basket of treats.
Unlike the others, her lighthearted demeanor gave Ancia a small measure of relief.
“Bianca, do you know what’s going on?”
“Yes, my lady. The prince has arrived. I wanted to go see him myself, but everyone is so serious that I didn’t dare ask.”
“The… prince?”
What absurdity was this?
Ancia tilted her head in disbelief, but Julie, regaining her composure, clarified in a voice that trembled only slightly.
“His Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince, has graced our duchy with his presence.”
“Who has come where?”
“His Imperial—”
“Ah, yes, I heard you… but an imperial has visited without so much as a word of warning?”
Even when nobles visited one another, custom dictated that they send a letter or envoy well in advance to arrange the date.
A surprise visit from the Crown Prince was unthinkable.
Moreover, in the original story, he had been such an insignificant figure he was never even mentioned.
“How strange.”
The Duke of the North had always abided by the emperor’s unjust demands. The crown would sometimes test him with excessive requests, yet he would yield without protest.
The emperor, ever wary of the militarily powerful ducal house, sought to suppress it, reducing its knights and even recalling its finest warriors to the imperial capital.
Though the crown extracted endless concessions, its unease was never fully dispelled. The strained relationship endured despite the duke’s constant compliance.
The imperial family regarded the Gwinted duchy and the North itself with barely concealed discomfort, resenting their resilience amid the region’s desolation.
They would never willingly provide an opportunity for the duchy to elevate its standing through an imperial visit.
There was no reason for the Crown Prince to come to the North.
The imperial palace was nearly a month’s journey away by carriage, with Count Leslie’s estate lying far closer.
“Ah… he must have used a gate.”
Only those of imperial blood could open and traverse the teleportation gates.
When Ancia had first discovered the gates’ existence in a storybook at the count’s estate, she had been dumbfounded—especially since they had gone unmentioned in the original tale. At first, she had been delighted, imagining she might travel freely between the ducal and count’s houses, only to be disappointed upon learning one could not pass through without an imperial-blooded escort.
Though every large territory possessed such a gate, northern lands were seldom visited by imperials, who despised the region.
The Northern people’s stoic composure was misread as arrogance, and the emperor resented how the Duke of Gwinted effortlessly commanded the knights’ loyalty simply by existing.
To tighten control, the crown increased magical stone quotas, strictly regulated distribution, and even arranged for the duchess’s position to be filled by a young lady from a minor noble family.
