[Greenhouse—Frojnholm—Later]
Father even inspected the greenhouse project later. The archmages explained the runes and heating circles to him, and with villagers bustling inside—tending soil, planting seeds, fixing glass panes—I could see him silently weighing every detail like he was calculating the world’s balance sheet.
Then his eyes slid toward me. "Did you come up with this idea... alone?"
I blinked, puffed my chest out like a rooster and raised my nose high. "Of course. Who else could?"
Father stared at me for a long second. Then he turned his head away and muttered under his breath, "Taming Crimson Packs, a greenhouse in the north, and now the Trivium Core Stone... The Imperial family will not simply watch. They’ll definitely lay their hands here. Especially with the Trivium stone. The Crown Prince may keep silent... but the Emperor and Empress will not."
I scratched my cheek, suddenly less rooster and more nervous squirrel. "...Then what should we do, Father?"
He turned to me, and this time his eyes weren’t cold—they burned with something sharper, a flame I hadn’t seen before. He placed one heavy hand on my shoulder, the weight like an oath."Don’t worry, son. I am still alive—" his fist clenched, his voice hard as iron "—and as long as I breathe, no one will dare lay a hand on this territory. For that... I shall make it an independent territory."
I blinked once. Twice. "...Independent territory?"
He nodded, expression unshakable. "Yes. A land that belongs to no crown but its own. So... don’t worry."
I mumbled, "W-well, I wasn’t worried to begin with—"
His other hand came down on my shoulder, firm, unyielding. "I shall leave now, son. I must begin preparations for this land’s independence immediately."
"Ah... yes. All the very best, Father." I tried not to squeak, but it came out dangerously close.
He gave a curt nod, then turned toward the exit. At the doorway, though, he paused, glanced over his shoulder, and in a voice quieter than steel, said, "... Visit home soon. Your sister and mother miss you."
I nodded quickly. "Yes, Father."
And just like that, Viktor Thorenvald strode out, leaving me in the greenhouse surrounded by warm air, villagers’ chatter, and a sudden weight pressing on my shoulders.
Independence? Imperial meddling? Crimson Packs, elves, glowing rocks, greenhouses—
...How in the frozen hells did I go from chilling with beer bottles to nation-building again?
I slumped against a wooden beam, rubbing my temple. "And on top of everything else... I have to look for elves too. Elves! And I don’t even know where to start..."
A voice, old and raspy, slipped in from behind me. "Elves, my lord?"
I flinched. Turning, I saw one of the old villagers—bent back, wrinkled hands, eyes bright despite his age. He carried a basket of soil like it weighed nothing.
"Ah—yes," I admitted awkwardly, scratching my cheek.
He set the basket down and tilted his head. "Are you... looking for them, my lord?"
I nodded quickly, puffing my chest as if I had the faintest clue what I was doing. "Yes. I heard they’re skilled in... controlling stone heat. And jewelry. And..." I lowered my voice like I was sharing a royal secret. "...and maybe making all my problems disappear in glitter and wisdom."
The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "You heard right, my lord. Elves are indeed skilled with stones, and they were also unmatched in medicines. But..." His smile faded, replaced by a heavy sigh. "...didn’t they disappear more than a hundred years ago?"
I froze, then slumped so dramatically my spine nearly bent. "...Yes. And now I’m starting to wonder if chasing after them is just me adding another impossible task to my ’how to die faster’ list."
The old man studied me for a long moment, eyes narrowing with something like memory. Then he said slowly, "My father... used to say the elves did not disappear. They hid."
I blinked. "Hid? As in... peekaboo but for a century?"
The old man nodded gravely. "Yes. They grew weary of human greed. Many wanted to use them as slaves—for their skills, their beauty, and their gifts. So the elves withdrew and concealed themselves from sight. The last stories say... they vanished into the forests of this very territory."
I straightened, my mind racing. "Our territory?"
"Yes, my lord. But..." His voice dropped, almost a whisper. "...I doubt they would reveal themselves easily. They are said to appear only to a human with no greed in his heart."
For a moment, silence filled the greenhouse, broken only by the villagers’ distant chatter and the creak of wooden beams.
I let out a nervous laugh, scratching my head. "Ha... well, then that’s impossible. There’s no human alive who’s completely free of greed. Not one."
The old man smiled faintly, as though my answer pleased him. "Exactly, my lord. But it doesn’t mean you cannot, my lord. You should give it a try."
"I don’t know..." I mumbled and sighed, though my brain was already spinning with what-if scenarios. "Thank you, anyway. Really. Even the smallest piece of information helps."
The old man bowed slightly, his expression softening. "Please, do not thank me, my lord. Because of you, we villagers have work again. A way to survive the winter. You gave us hope when the world had none. For that, we owe you more than words."
His voice carried such sincerity for once. So I just smiled, small but genuine, and nodded.
"Still... I’ll find a way to thank you properly," I said.
***
[Thorenvald Estate—Later]
The carriage rattled to a stop in front of the estate, and I climbed out, immediately clutching my poor backside.
"Gosh... I thought carriages were supposed to be the height of comfort," I muttered, rubbing my butt. "But my butt feels like it’s been pounded into a pancake... a very flat pancake. Hopefully my beautiful butt hasn’t turned into parchment paper."
Baron Sigurd appeared at the steps, bowing deeply. "Welcome back, my lord."
I straightened my coat with exaggerated dignity and asked, "Did Father already leave, Baron?"
He nodded. "Yes, my lord. And he instructed me to tell you this: no matter what happens, he will ensure this territory belongs solely to you."
I froze mid-step. "I... never asked for that."
The Baron only smiled and bowed even deeper that he might hit his head on the floor. "Thank you, my lord."
I flinched. "What—why are you bowing like that?!"
"Because," the Baron said, still bent so far forward I feared for his vertebrae, "thanks to you, and now the independence Lord Viktor seeks, we villagers will never again live in fear of greedy nobles or Imperial collectors. We will finally breathe free."
I scratched my cheek, suddenly very aware of the weight of his gratitude. "...I see. Well, that’s... good. But, um, please stand up, Baron, before you break your spine. If you snap in half, who will run the estate? Not me, that’s for sure."
He chuckled softly and straightened. "Very well, my lord. I’ll have Nick bring you a beer to your chambers."
"No, no—spare me the beer. Just hot cocoa, please. If I keep drinking beer, I’ll end up rolling around like a potato. Also... pack some food. Snacks, dried meat, bread, anything portable. I need to leave soon. I’m going to look for elves."
The Baron inclined his head. "Understood."
I strolled down the hall, humming to myself, until I spotted Alvar speaking with Sir Haldor. The moment Alvar’s eyes met mine, his expression softened, warmth flickering in those cold glacier eyes of his.
"Did Lord Viktor leave already?" he asked quietly.
I nodded. "Yes. Off on some... very determined task."
Sir Haldor, cut in. "I heard from Princess Sirella that you mentioned you were looking for elves, my lord."
"Indeed," I said. "I shall leave this evening. It’s about time I gave it a try—at least once. Who knows, maybe I’ll trip over an elf hiding under a mushroom."
"But my lord," Sir Haldor’s brow furrowed, "going out at night, alone... it’s risky."
Sir Haldor frowned, concern wrinkling his brow. "But my lord, going out at night, alone... it’s risky."
I waved him off, puffing my chest. "Oh, don’t worry! My crimson babies will be following me, and Sir Ronald will accompany me. You see, nothing to—"
"No."
The word cut through the air like steel on stone.
Both Sir Haldor and I froze. The room seemed to still—the fire in the hearth hissed lower, and even the clatter of servants outside the hall faded. Alvar’s gaze locked on me, cold and sharp, like a predator sighting prey.
"I shall accompany you tonight," he said, voice steady but laced with that commanding weight that brooked no argument. "Not Sir Ronald."
I blinked rapidly. "Y-you don’t have to trouble yourself, Grand Duke—"
"Leif." He stepped closer, his shadow falling over me, his tone low and unyielding. "I said I’m accompanying you. That is the end of the matter."
My mouth opened and then closed. I sighed and muttered, "I see... Then, thank you very much."
Sir Haldor glanced between us, clearly baffled, but I could only think one thing:
Had I just gained a terrifyingly protective guardian for my elf-hunting quest... or signed myself up for a moonlit forest hike with a man who could freeze the air with a single word?
Either way, my butt still hurt.