Chapter 14

The footsteps weaving through the crashing ice were more like a butterfly’s flutter than a human’s movement.

People were so mesmerized by the elegance that they didn’t realize the Grand Duke had already swung his sword. Only when powdery snow fell instead of ice did they gape in shock.

No one saw the attack that reduced the ice wall to fine particles.

Unbelievable power, even more unbelievable speed.

Whether people were awed or not, Erich von Schwert kept his expression bland. He gave no verdict—neither “it’s terrible” nor “it’s better than expected”—and only the instructors fretted.

His long, languid fingers tapped the sword’s hilt in a steady rhythm. His dark blue eyes gazed endlessly at the white snowflakes.

Only then did some instructors remember.

Their lord really loved snow. Everyone who’d gone to war with the Grand Duke knew his preference.

He liked snow so much, even cats had to be white… No, maybe he liked white so much that he liked snow…

The instructors exchanged glances, waiting for the Grand Duke to look away from the white.

Finally, the sound of tapping the sword hilt stopped.

“At this rate, you’ll be wiped out in real combat.”

His tone wasn’t scolding, but the weight of his assessment was heavy. The instructors, who thought the same, bowed their heads and stared at their toes.

“Still, most of you have the basics, so with more experience, you’ll be fine.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.”

With the order to provide more varied experiences, the instructors nodded with solemn faces. It was a moment that signaled a new hell for Schwert’s disciples.

Just when everyone thought the Grand Duke would leave, he slowly turned and looked at Schwert’s warriors.

The sharp sword tip pointed at exactly five people. One woman, four men. The five suddenly singled out couldn’t hide their confusion.

“Follow me.”

The instructors waved at the five to hurry and go.

The Grand Duke glanced at the head instructor.

“Contact the Ivory Tower to restore the ice wall.”

“…Understood.”

“When will you contact them?”

“If I do it today, they should come tomorrow. Do you want the ice wall restored exactly as it was?”

The Grand Duke nodded briefly.

“It’s a job only the Tower Master can do. I’ll contact her.”

He nodded again.

And when the Tower Master from the Ivory Tower came for the Grand Duke’s request, she still boasted her snowy white hair. Arriving with one disciple dangling along, she looked around the scene and crossed her arms, grumbling.

Three crystal butterflies fluttered their wings on the hairpin in her hair.

Just like Schwert’s Grand Duke, the Tower Master of the Ivory Tower was a rare sight, so the warriors gathered to watch her.

“Dame Beatrice.”

“It’s been a while, Marcus.”

It was a long-awaited reunion.

Schwert’s head instructor Marcus and the Tower Master Beatrice exchanged a light hug.

Since Beatrice had spent her childhood in the Schwert ducal household, they were old acquaintances.

“How have you been? Meeting you again here at Schwert is really refreshing.”

“I’ve been well. How about you, Marcus? I was worried something might’ve happened when I heard the ice wall collapsed.”

“Something did happen. His Highness showed up at the training ground and demonstrated the difference in skill. He personally showed us, ‘This is the difference between you and me.’ So yes, it was an event.”

“Oh my, even Schwert acted childishly.”

At her harsh assessment, the head instructor raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. It was a silent plea to be left out of the gossip.

His actions and expression were so funny that Beatrice burst out laughing.

“Still, it was nice to see His Highness at the training ground after so long.”

“Oh, Schwert doesn’t participate in training?”

“I think it’s been three years.”

“So he showed up after years and destroyed the ice wall… That’s flashy, really flashy.”

Beatrice smiled, then tilted her head.

“Now that I think about it, that’s very Schwert-like. That man has a talent for dramatic effects.”

“Only you would say that, Tower Master. Since you’re here, could you help us out?”

“Hm?”

He gestured briefly toward the disciples gathered a little distance away.

“His Highness said they lack real combat experience and ordered us to give them more.”

“Aha…”

“If it’s uncomfortable, please feel free to decline. I don’t want to trouble you unnecessarily.”

“It’s not too much trouble. But the request comes first, so I’ll help as well. Is that okay?”

“We’d appreciate it.”

Beatrice and Marcus held hands and chatted a few more minutes.

Then Marcus herded the disciples away like a mother bird, clearing space, and Beatrice turned to her waiting disciple, Liam.

“What do you think?”

She was asking about the picky request to restore the ice wall exactly as it was. Liam’s deep green eyes scanned the spot where the ice wall had stood.

“In this request, I think the biggest issue is the word ‘exactly’.”

“Hm?”

“The client may know what the ice wall looked like, but I don’t. So to restore it ‘exactly,’ I think we need to read the memory of the land first.”

“And then?”

“And then rebuild the ice wall according to the land’s memory.”

Beatrice nodded. Liam’s expression brightened noticeably, relieved to have gotten the answer right.

Liam Heisel was talented, but lacked confidence.

“Exactly. Try reading the land’s memory. I’ll help with the reconstruction.”

“Understood.”

After a short pause, Liam took out a black tourmaline from his inventory. The black tourmaline, symbolizing insight, was a good choice for borrowing the land’s memory. Beatrice helped Liam pick a particularly large, high-quality gem.

“You don’t need my help with drawing the ritual circle, right?”

“But…”

“You’ll do fine.”

Liam pouted. Beatrice grabbed both cheeks and stretched them out.

“Ow! That hurts!”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“It really hurts! Master… are you headed to Schwert’s training ground?”

“Yeah. I want to see how skilled the warriors are these days.”

Liam shuddered. Having studied under her for a long time, the young sorcerer knew exactly how tough Beatrice Winter was in practical training.

“Please don’t go too hard on….”

“On you? Or on the Schwehrt trainees?”

“On me, for now.”

“Alright. You focus on reading.”

Beatrice grinned and stretched his left cheek again.

Then she marched straight to Schwert’s training ground.

In less than ten minutes, she fully understood why Erich von Schwert had given such an assessment to the disciples. Warriors trained in peacetime inevitably differed from those who survived wartime.

With plenty of training time, they could solidify the basics, but lacking desperation and hardship, their attacks were dull. Their adaptability was lacking too.

“Still, not bad.”

After knocking out the last remaining warrior, Beatrice complimented Marcus.

She meant it. Compared to the Ivory Tower, they were much better.

As she returned to Liam, Beatrice glanced up at the ducal residence. Marcus had said Erich von Schwert hadn’t shown up at the training ground for years.

Beatrice wore a bitter smile.

Three years ago, when she made her wild claim that war might break out again, no one believed her.

Some openly denied it, others acted as if they’d never heard it.

Erich von Schwert…

Well. Whatever he thought, one thing was certain—he didn’t believe her. If he had, he would have trained diligently, thinking war might break out again.

At least he wouldn’t have lived in seclusion for over three years.

Beatrice turned her back on the ducal residence.

“I just don’t get it.”

She thought he didn’t believe her, but then again, when she mentioned the <Sand Scorpion>, he didn’t seem surprised at all.

“He’s difficult.”

Muttering softly, Beatrice took a few steps and then chuckled.

Of course he’s difficult.

Erich von Schwert was always the greatest challenge for her.

* * *

She didn’t bother seeking out Schwert.

* * *

On the morning of her third day at the ducal residence, she heard the news that the statue of Grand Duke Schwert had been smashed.

She could guess who’d committed such an outrageous act without even investigating.

Beatrice rolled her eyes skyward and dashed off.

Erich von Schwert wasn’t in his bedroom.

Nor in the parlor, nor in the study, nor in the greenhouse.

After searching diligently, Beatrice finally spotted her target in a garden chair.