Chapter 86

The Count of Altrierc stroked his chin and asked.

“What kind of person is Aint Armian?”

“He is someone who can become a blade worthy of hunting bulls.”

“So even a merchant recognizes his worth.”

That was the highest of compliments.

“Go to the private residence. Katrina has been waiting to see you for a while.”

“How is the Countess?”

“I don’t understand what she likes about someone trying to devour the foundations of our family…”

“Raising a new pillar and sharing it is not devouring, it’s a legitimate distribution of profits.”

The Count waved his hand dismissively, as if he didn’t want to hear more, and dismissed him.

“Oh, but before you go.”

His gaze changed.

“You still haven’t told me what the price is for mobilizing my knights. Nor how you found out about it.”

“That is a secret of my family, I cannot reveal it.”

Although, in truth, it was a personal secret.

“As you may already suspect, the monster hordes didn’t emerge naturally—they were summoned by the Corrupt. And that summoning requires sacrifices.”

So then, my lord.

“Do you know where the surviving desert clans are located?”

***

Clack.

As he exited and closed the door, Fernan remembered something he had forgotten.

‘Ah, I forgot about the mines.’

Well, maybe it didn’t matter.

In a context like this, he couldn’t propose developing mines, and he hadn’t yet come up with an offer attractive enough to tempt the Count.

He still had time.

At least there was no risk of someone coming to steal the mines from him.

At that moment, he crossed paths on the stairs with a man.

“Fernan?”

“Ludger.”

“The Count seems to enjoy unpleasant things.”

The two exchanged glances charged with tension.

‘So after me, his private audience is with Ludger…’

And they had even made sure they crossed paths. It was far too deliberate.

‘There’s been some dispute recently between Altrierc and Schwaben…’

He had heard there had. That meant all this was just a political display.

And in the process, the Count had used him.

‘Hm.’

Well, things like that could be overlooked if he considered the relationship they already had and the one they could still build.

In the end, those small accumulated details turned into a large debt, and exploiting it all at once was more profitable.

“Let’s go, young master.”

“Yes.”

Passing by Ludger, Fernan reached another door with Rapelle.

“Come in.”

Before he could knock, a female voice sounded from inside.

Upon entering, he saw a woman with her legs crossed, gazing out the window.

Her black hair fell to her waist, her skin was slightly sun-kissed, and her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires.

It was Katrina of Altrierc, the lady of the house.

“Welcome. Coffee? Or tea?”

“Will you serve it yourself?”

“Consider yourself lucky. Not even the most arrogant prince-electors taste a cup poured by me.”

“Then it’s an honor.”

Fernan sat across from her.

“You don’t look well. They say you faced a Demon.”

“It wasn’t that serious. It wasn’t as impressive as it seemed.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

The coffee the Countess served him was delicious.

“The aroma is excellent.”

“It’s from the beans you gave me. Don’t you remember?”

“You still haven’t finished them?”

“You know I prefer liquor over this.”

“That’s why I came prepared. Here I have an Orbis, a 55-year vintage, the pride of Fridian.”

Fernan pulled a bottle from his subspace.

“It seems you’ve been distancing yourself from Schwaben lately.”

The Countess raised an eyebrow as she accepted the liquor.

“What makes you think that?”

“The Count received me before Ludger. That’s no small matter.”

It might seem trivial, but among nobles, hierarchy and prestige were very strict matters.

Even though the prince-electors chose the emperor, and even if they could match imperial power, the emperor was still the emperor.

Under normal conditions, the Count should have seen Ludger first, not him.

“That’s right.”

Katrina nodded calmly.

“Maybe it’s because after three consecutive coronations, Schwaben has grown too arrogant.”

It wasn’t that they desired the throne—they simply didn’t want to be mere vassals.

“Hearing so much about their obsession with securing the throne is exhausting.”

The imperial succession wasn’t hereditary, but decided by the vote of the prince-electors.

That inevitably empowered the nobility.

“So don’t play dumb. I admitted it only because I know they used you.”

In the midst of that subtle warning, Fernan pulled an elegant box from his subspace.

“A gift for you, my lady.”

“Oh, is there still room for gifts between us?”

Despite her words, she pounced on the box with the speed of a hawk catching its prey.

Click. Several fine glass bottles were revealed.

“What is this?”

“The new cosmetics from the Flos brand, from the Golden Turtle Company.”

Flos was the company’s luxury line.

“This one brightens and softens the skin. This perfume enhances the body’s natural scent. And this shampoo leaves hair shiny and silky.”

“And this one?”

“This one has the effects you’ve long desired, my lady.”

“Really?”

The Countess’s eyes lit up. She uncapped a bottle and applied a bit to her palms, rubbing them together.

But there was no immediate change—her hands remained marked by calluses and scars.

“I don’t feel anything.”

“You already know. Cosmetics don’t work miracles in a single use. I can’t promise the marks will vanish completely, but after using the whole bottle, the difference will be noticeable.”

“I’ll trust you.”

The Countess closed the box with a satisfied expression.

“And what about Emond?”

“He’s doing well. He’s already established himself as a teacher.”

“Of course—who do you think his parents are?”

“And Alcmion?”

“He’s in Falansia.”

Falansia was one of the seven fortresses along the wall. And also, on the most dangerous line.

“He must be having a hard time.”

“Young people must be forged through hardship.”

“He’ll enter the Academy next year, right?”

“That’s not certain. If he doesn’t have enough talent, he might fail.”

“Impossible.”

Alcmion was considered the most talented of the Count’s descendants. Even if he wasn’t without his issues, the idea of him failing was absurd.

“I think he’ll make it.”

“You’re his senior. I’d like you to guide him well.”

“I will.”

The conversation continued animatedly.

***

It is often said that the Academy is the cradle of the Empire.

And it was true. Not every inhabitant of the Empire could attend, but most of those with talent passed through its halls.

In Altrierc, outstanding knights were abundant, and naturally, many were graduates of the Academy.

Even those who had already left continued to show great interest in the institution.

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Creffin. I’m an instructor of the knight academy students of Altrierc.”

Grad entered the annex alongside Creffin.

“I’ve brought him for a practice duel. As you know, the purpose of this deployment is to gain experience.”

The professor looked at the gathered students and continued.

“When the Academy sends its students abroad, it is also tradition for them to spar and interact with local knights or mages. It’s not mandatory, only those who wish to participate.”

The Academy was the best educational institution in the Empire, but it wasn’t the only one.

In particular, the knight academies of Altrierc and Bercheff were highly prestigious, to the point of being compared with the Academy in the training of knights.

— Participate without hesitation.

— The knights of Bercheff and Altrierc always live up to their names. Bercheff perhaps a bit more.

— The more dueling experience, the better for you. Nothing bad will come of it.

Aint’s thoughts aligned with Gardner’s.

After the battle with Andromalius, he had felt his shortcomings keenly and craved real combat more and more.

That’s why he had wanted to come to Altrierc—even if Fernan hadn’t said anything, he would have ended up here anyway.

“I want to participate.”

But someone raised their hand before him—Luina.

“Oh, the cadets will be thrilled to face the winner of the jousting tournament.”

“I want to participate too.”

“And I.”

After them, Aint, Almon, Alia, and Verian also raised their hands. The duel was agreed upon, and everyone headed to the training field.

The fort was always occupied by troops, so its training ground was enormous. The dueling area was in a separate section.

The appearance of the Academy students immediately attracted the attention of knights and soldiers training there.

“Cadets, gather!”

At Creffin’s command, over a hundred students from the knight school gathered around the dueling area.

“The Academy students have agreed to spar with you. Volunteers?”

Without a second’s hesitation, absolutely everyone raised their hands.

“Good. Who wants to go first?”

“Alberi Fesley, from Class 1.”

A man in his twenties stepped forward.

At the knight academy of Altrierc, there were no school years—just four classes, from 1 to 4, divided strictly by skill level.

“And from the Academy? Who’s up first?”

Grad scanned his students, but Alberi pointed directly.

“I want to face Luina Bercheff, winner of the jousting tournament.”

“Oh. Good choice. And you, Luina?”

“If I’m challenged, I have no reason to decline.”

Luina stepped forward.

“The duel will be with blunt training swords.”

The Academy’s defensive artifacts were too expensive to waste on a simple duel outside of Pellenberg.

“Why did you choose me?”

“Just as winning the jousting tournament makes you the best at the Academy, I am also the best at the knight academy of Altrierc. And I believe our academy is not inferior to the Academy.”

“I see.”

Luina nodded calmly.

“You know my surname, right? Bercheff.”

“Of course. That’s exactly why I chose you.”

“No aura allowed! Begin!”

Clang!

The training swords clashed and sparks flew.

With just one exchange, the result became clear.

“…Ugh!”

Alberi stepped back with a groan. Luina followed immediately, giving him no room to breathe.

She was an experienced knight. And an experienced knight was like a wolf—once they smelled an opening, they never let go.

Clang! Clang!

Luina’s sword danced. Points became lines, lines became planes, blocking all angles and cutting through every trajectory of her opponent.

One step became two, two became three.

Alberi could barely block, dodge, and endure. Nothing more.

Clang!

Alberi’s sword flew from his hands and spun through the air.

“Haah… haah…”

Drenched in sweat after just a few moments, his figure stood in stark contrast to Luina, who showed no sign of fatigue.

She placed her training sword against her opponent’s neck.

“Finished.”

It was a common thing—men always wanted to measure and rank, even among the strong.

Who was the strongest among the Royal Knights and Archmages? The question remained a topic of debate, as did which noble house stood at the top.

Everyone mentioned Armian, but ever since the throne changed hands a century ago, the dispute had reignited.

Altrierc and Bercheff. Bercheff and Altrierc. The comparison was always there.

Even if they all trained knights, not all produced the same caliber.

Not all electors were equal, and not all knights were either.

Which of the two houses that had protected the first Emperor was stronger?

It was always a burning question.

And so it was.

Altrierc had always been compared to Bercheff.

And Luina had grown up hearing those comparisons until she was sick of them.

Even if her territory was devastated by the Monster Wave.

Even if they had sold the rights of the Golden Edict and their former glory had withered.

Even so.

“Next?”

She must not cower before those of Altrierc.

She must not lose.

If she fought, she must win.

Because she was a Bercheff.

“No one else? Are there only cowards in Altrierc?”

Luina’s eyes burned with determination.