Chapter 61
“Um… Your Grace, would you like a cup of warm tea?”
Ah—right. Reyna came to visit as a proper guest, yet I hadn’t even offered her tea.
I had been so focused on the accessories she brought that I forgot basic hospitality.
Feeling embarrassed, I smiled awkwardly and nodded. Greta bowed politely and left the sitting room to prepare tea.
Soon, warm tea was served. It was a fragrant flower tea from the capital, sweetened with honey.
Reyna, lifting the cup awkwardly—as if this treatment felt unfamiliar—glanced at me. I nodded softly, and she relaxed enough to take a sip.
Her eyes widened instantly.
She seemed to really like the tea. Watching her cautiously smell and taste it with big, bright eyes made me smile as well.
“Used Torpaz is said to be very weak…”
I gave her enough time to enjoy the tea. When her cup reached the bottom, I took the chance to ask.
“Ah, yes. Just as Your Grace said, it breaks very easily. Some pieces crumble even with a little force.”
Reyna set her cup on the saucer and continued seriously.
“There were many failures. But after trying again and again… I started noticing something.”
“Noticing?”
“Which ones are stronger and which ones aren’t. Now I can tell easily.”
She explained that when she held used Torpaz up to a candle, the ones that didn’t let light pass through easily broke with even small pressure.
“But you can’t tell just by looking at them normally!”
Reyna blushed shyly, proud of her discovery.
“The ones that are at least a little stronger—are they easier to craft?”
“Yes! After several failures, I finally figured out the right way!”
People in Winterford were generally good with their hands. Since childhood they helped adults handle leather or even made simple hunting tools.
Reyna was known to be especially skilled among them. After many failures, she naturally learned how to work with black Torpaz.
Listening to her, I felt confident about the future.
“By any chance, do you have design sketches for the accessories you made?”
“What? S-sketches?”
Reyna panicked. Her face reddened, and she shook her head apologetically.
“I just made them by instinct… whatever felt natural to my hands…”
“Do you not like drawing?”
“No! It’s not that I dislike it, it’s just…”
Her voice trailed off. Mia, who had been quietly observing, stepped in.
“Most paper for drawing is… expensive, Your Grace. Paint too.”
I frowned deeply.
When had I ever lived a life without lacking anything?
I barely understood the real lives of commoners in this world—and that ignorance now hit me hard.
Since we still didn’t have a steady supply of black Torpaz, and Reyna also had her own work, I had only asked out of curiosity.
If we eventually got more workers, design sketches would help speed up production.
But perhaps I hadn’t thought it through enough.
Pressing my lips together, I blew out a long breath and drank a sip of the now-cold tea.
“I’ll provide materials for drawing. If possible, could you make simple designs for accessories that common people could use?”
“W-what? M-me?”
“Yes. Accessories that commoners can wear. Do you think you can?”
“Yes! If you ask me, of course!”
I instructed Mia to give Reyna extra paper, writing tools, and paints.
I also asked Reyna to gather a few people around her who had good crafting skills.
As I stood up to leave, Reyna suddenly grabbed me.
“Your Grace! Thank you!”
Reyna bowed deeply, shouting with sincerity. Mia—walking out with me—blinked in surprise.
“Thank you for forgiving the children… and thank you for caring about the things I made, even though they are nothing special…”
Reyna bowed even deeper, saying she had always wanted a chance to properly thank me.
“The matter with the children was forgiven by His Grace, not me. And what you made isn’t ‘nothing special’—it’s excellent. If everything goes well, you might earn money aside from leatherwork.”
I gently lifted her by the shoulder.
“If things go the way I hope, it will help not only your village but all of Winterford. And the biggest credit will go to you, Reyna.”
When she lifted her head, her eyes were filled with tears.
Startled, I offered her my handkerchief. She quickly waved her hands and wiped her tears with her sleeve, then smiled brightly.
“It seems Winterford is finally getting its spring.”
I knew exactly what she meant.
Not the season after winter—
But hope.
A hope found after a long, cold despair like Winterford’s endless winter.
What the—?
Isaiah smirked inwardly, twisting one corner of his mouth.
The knights who rushed to the Brodyshengster Count’s mansion near the border were warmly welcomed.
Delicious food and warm rooms were wonderful, yet something felt strange—almost unsettling.
Kailen spoke politely with the Count, wearing the usual gentle noble smile. But Isaiah knew.
Kailen was extremely sharp right now.
Isaiah lifted a wine glass to his lips, letting his golden eyes wander around the dining room.
Compared to Winterford Castle, this place was blindingly luxurious.
Paintings by famous artists hung on the walls. A clock from Sharente—the region known for its master craftsmen—decorated the fireplace. Everything screamed money.
The food was extravagant too. Fresh vegetables and fruits filled the table. Thick soup, full of ingredients, steamed with a savory scent.
Even the wine they were drinking was expensive—an Anteban vintage.
Were the Brodyshengsters always this wealthy?
Isaiah narrowed his eyes in thought, and at that moment noticed someone.
Angelina Brodyshengster—the daughter of the family.
How old was she again…?
He sipped his wine and casually observed her until their eyes met.
He smiled lightly.
Angelina immediately flushed red and lowered her head.
Holding back a quiet laugh, Isaiah wiped his lips with a napkin and stood from his seat.
The scraping sound of the chair made Kailen and the Count look his way.
“Excuse me, but I’ll head up first. I’m tired after the long ride.”
“Oh! My! I lacked consideration! Please, go ahead!”
The Count’s easy acceptance proved his focus was entirely on Kailen.
Isaiah smiled politely and left the dining room.
Of course, he made sure to give Angelina one more smile before stepping out.
In the hallway, he headed toward the stairs. Several servants passed, bowing respectfully.
Nodding back, he climbed to the third floor and approached his room—right next to Kailen’s.
He entered the dark room and spoke into the pitch-black space:
“Why didn’t you light a lamp? I hate the dark, you know.”
Feeling around, Isaiah lit a Torpaz lantern.
The room brightened instantly.
A shadowy figure hiding in the darkness revealed himself.
“It’s been a while, Sir Isaiah.”
“Yes. How’s Viola?”
“She is well.”
It was Randall—the messenger working for Viola Crewdop.
“Well then. Let’s hear what she sent us.”
Isaiah pulled up a chair, stretching his lips into a long grin.
