"Thoughts like that are always beneficial to oneself. Impressive."
"Impressive? Hardly. This is my job, Your Grace."
"You're so thoughtful."
So good at getting under my skin, you mean.
Suppressing a scoff, Seton echoed the Grand Duchess's words in his mind, watching as the tea in his cup sat untouched and cold.
Not that it mattered.
Once he returned to the Tower, far better things would be in abundance.
Still, perhaps due to his sour mood, he felt a petty desire to be properly served.
"The tea."
"Pardon?"
"The tea,"
he repeated, tilting his chin toward the cup.
Only then did the maid realize what she had forgotten.
Her neck flushed crimson, and she bowed her head low in apology.
"I deeply apologize, my lord."
"Forget it. Just bring the tea."
"Yes, my lord. I'm truly sorry."
Though she apologized again, Seton said nothing more, his eyes fixed on the cup.
The once-warm atmosphere instantly chilled.
The maid, who had been laughing just moments ago, now trembled, pale and stricken.
But Seton didn’t want to dismiss the issue with a simple "
it’s fine
."
Seton Blythe.
He was the Tower Master of the Northern Mage Tower.
And this was how they treated him?
He had made the trip himself, set aside his precious time—and this was the reception he got?
His mood turned sharp, bristling like thorns. Just then—
"Catherine, that's enough. It was a small mistake. Apologizing so much will only make the Lord more uncomfortable."
"...Are you certain of that?"
Seton deliberately addressed the Grand Duchess.
Until now, she had managed to skillfully converse only with the maid, excluding him.
Would she try to dodge him again?
A childish irritation rose within him.
"Would you make it certain for me, Lord Seton?"
A question in response to his question—should he count that as an answer?
Still... somehow, it was enough.
His displeasure began to dissipate.
It was absurd, but Seton accepted it.
Clearly, he was feeling
something
toward the Grand Duchess.
Whether it was annoyance at her unpredictability, or fascination with a kind of woman he had never encountered before—a genuinely gracious lady—he wasn’t sure.
But something about her kept him tethered.
"…Very well."
He lazily waved a hand, granting the maid a pardon.
He wasn’t entirely over it, but his mood had improved significantly.
The maid, previously frozen, sprang into action, reheating the tea and carefully refilling his cup.
Trickle…
Watching the rich red hue swirl in the cup, Seton took a sip this time without letting it cool.
"This tea is quite good. I’ve no further complaints."
"Th-thank you, my lord!"
At last, the maid’s hunched shoulders relaxed at his gracious words.
The frozen air around them thawed with it.
Seton, catching the Grand Duchess’s gentle glance toward the maid out of the corner of his eye, realized it was time to take his leave.
It would be ideal to stay longer and uncover why she was keeping her guard up—and why
he
cared so much about it.
But his instincts told him now wasn’t the time.
And Seton generally trusted his instincts.
He stood with a smile.
"Now that I’ve enjoyed your fine tea, I’ll take my leave."
"Oh, you're heading back? Thank you for your time today."
"Not at all. May I offer you my hand?"
"Pardon?"
"The North is cold. Before I leave, I’d like to cast a warming spell on you."
Your hands seemed quite cold earlier,
he added in a low, deliberate tone.
Warm, polite, even affectionate—it was meant to seem like a thoughtful gesture.
As expected, the maid beside the Grand Duchess looked elated.
"My goodness! A warming spell!"
She tried to whisper, but her voice echoed clearly enough for everyone to hear.
She kept stealing glances at her mistress, clearly hoping she'd accept.
But the Grand Duchess was the problem.
"...Oh?"
The delicate hand that peeked out from her wide sleeves subtly withdrew.
"I’m truly grateful for your concern, but your powers are too precious to be used so casually. Please, allow me to accept the thought alone."
Despite the polite words, her gaze deliberately avoided his.
Oh, really now.
Seton felt a strange heat rise at her stubborn refusal to meet his eyes.
She showered affection on even a lowly maid, yet treated
him
, the Tower Master, with such dismissiveness?
His eyes flicked briefly to the hand hidden in her sleeve.
Pale, slender, delicate.
Ridiculously enough, a childish sense of competitiveness flared in him.
He hadn’t offered the escort earlier out of romantic interest.
He’d been under Adrian’s orders—to confirm the Grand Duchess’s magical power.
To do that, he needed physical contact.
And escorting her had been the most natural way to make that happen.
Once wasn’t enough for certainty, though, which was why he now offered the warming spell.
It required direct skin contact.
A perfectly logical reason.
So how dare she reject him again?
At this point, it wasn’t about Adrian’s orders. It was personal.
That hand—I'm taking it.
"It’s quite alright."
"This isn’t a casual offer, so please don’t worry, Your Grace."
Seton smiled sweetly, gently flicking his extended hand.
His movements were graceful and light, but his eyes were piercing.
"You’re the most distinguished lady in the North—arguably, in the Empire. We can't have such a person walking around with cold hands."
Still smiling, he gently admonished her.
"Consider the dignity of the North, Your Grace."
"But..."
Something just doesn’t feel right.
Ione instinctively clasped her hands together.
As he’d said, her fingers were ice cold.
Whatever his intentions, there was no flaw in his logic.
Her mind told her to accept. But something about this sudden shift in the mage’s demeanor made her uneasy.
She hesitated.
"If you're worried, shall I demonstrate on your maid first?"
With that generous offer, Ione promptly pushed Catherine forward.
If he truly meant her harm, he’d have to cast a proper spell on the maid to avoid suspicion.
"Please, go ahead."
Without hesitation, Seton took Catherine’s hand.
A faint shimmer of light—and it was done.
"Wow, it’s so warm!"
No need to ask if it worked. Catherine's awed reaction said everything.
There were no more excuses left.
As soon as Ione extended her hand, Seton seized it.
She had thought her hands were small and delicate—but his hand completely enveloped hers, surprisingly warm.
"Ah, of course."
Seton smiled again.
"I nearly forgot. You’re currently unable to even sign your own seal, aren’t you?"
That blooming smile on his face was
incredibly
irritating.
Crunch, crunch.
"There’s been an unusual amount of monster activity this year,"
Orgen said, walking alongside Adrian through the snow.
"We should have caught the signs earlier, at the start of winter. That’s the price of missing it."
"No, I disagree."
Orgen shook his head.
"The knights conducted frequent reconnaissance. It’s not that we failed to find them—we
did
find them. We just weren’t able to respond in time."
Crunch.
The snow had piled so high overnight it reached up to their thighs.
As they trudged through it, warm vapor rose from the knights’ bodies.
All except Adrian.
Thanks to the blessing of the dragon, his body temperature was naturally lower than a normal human’s.
"If it were only a few stray beasts, sure. But monster nests? Our knights are capable of handling them by now."
Though he had been away managing affairs in the capital, Adrian had governed the North for years.
The knights trained under him were leagues above those from other territories.
"And yet they suddenly appear all at once, with no warning?"
"Exactly. That’s what seems strange."
"Maybe it’s too early. You might’ve missed it. Even things right in front of you can go unnoticed sometimes."
"...That’s true,"
Orgen admitted.
Monsters were apex predators, but also prey.
Their survival instincts were razor-sharp.
They hunted humans, and were hunted in return.
Over time, their hiding methods evolved so well that unless the egg sacs had matured, it was nearly impossible to detect them.
Still—even considering all that—something felt
off
.