Chapter 22
“Sigh.”
As he walked out of the conference room, those who saw him all let out long sighs, as if on cue.
“So the rumors were true.”
“Indeed.”
“How can a person be like that…?”
Just being around him felt like their energy was being drained away.
Some of the nobles’ hands were slick with sweat, showing just how tense they’d been.
The land of gold, abundant with resources.
And the ruler of the northern territories—Grand Duke Persha.
‘Well, the meetings will continue anyway.’
They burned with determination, resolving to somehow build rapport with him over the weekly meetings that would continue for the next month.
“Excuse me first.”
Just then, a man hurriedly offered a bow and left the room following Kainel. It was a gaunt man in his fifties.
“Count Ellesia?”
Everyone looked at him with puzzled eyes.
Why was he suddenly chasing after the duke?
Could it be… he was trying to beat them to the punch?
“Ah, I heard something about that before.”
“What do you mean?”
“That a long time ago, the former head of House Ellesia was very close with the Grand Duke of Persha.”
“Oh, I think I heard that too.”
“You mean Lady Grace, don’t you?”
Grace Ellesia, also called a saint.
Her close friendship with the Grand Duke of Persha was fairly well-known.
There were even rumors that it was the Grand Duke who had taken Grace’s body after her death. But was that really true?
“Ha… is he trying to exploit that old connection?”
“Tsk.”
Everyone shook their heads, knowing full well Count Ellesia’s nature—he would do anything for profit.
Was he planning to monopolize the rare northern herbs?
They sighed as they realized the count was trying to milk a 300-year-old connection for gain.
“Kainel, sir.”
Meanwhile, outside the chamber, Kainel’s aide Del bowed politely as he was the first to greet him.
“How was the meeting?”
“Quiet.”
“Pardon?”
“No one really said much.”
“……”
Del, who knew very well that imperial meetings were infamous battlegrounds of words, sighed silently.
‘Most likely because of Sir Kainel…’
Guessing the situation, he gave an awkward smile.
“Grand Duke Persha!”
Someone hurried toward them with a broad smile, bowing politely to Kainel.
“A pleasure to meet you. I am Creel Ellesia.”
At those words, a flicker of emotion appeared in Kainel’s eyes.
But the brief softness on his face vanished as quickly as it came, leaving only cold indifference.
“I may be lacking, but I am currently the head of House Ellesia. To meet the dear friend of our family’s pride, Lady Grace…”
“And?”
“Pardon?”
“What’s your point?”
“Ah, well… I was wondering if you might spare some time for tea with me?”
“Not interested.”
“Sorry?”
“Not interested. Why should I drink tea with a man I’ve just met?”
“Ah…”
“Is that all you had to say?”
“W-well…”
Creel forced a smile, trying to hide his stiffening face.
‘Did I… get it wrong?’
No, impossible.
The fact that Grace Ellesia was the Grand Duke’s closest friend was recorded even in history books.
And yet, the man’s eyes, looking upon the descendant of his dearest friend, held not a trace of warmth.
Creel’s lips went dry—he had planned to use that past friendship to open a conversation.
“I asked if that was all.”
“Ah, yes! Then, until next time.”
Seeing Kainel’s brow twitch, Creel hastily backed away.
Perhaps he had been too hasty.
‘I should’ve learned more about him before making a move.’
Because of his impatience, all he achieved was confirming that the rumors about Kainel Persha’s foul temper were absolutely true.
For now, he had no choice but to retreat before angering the duke further.
Even as he quickened his pace, Creel couldn’t hide his frustration, clicking his tongue over and over.
“He seems completely useless with a sword. And yet he’s the head of House Ellesia…”
Kainel’s eyes narrowed as he watched the retreating figure fade into the distance.
“But House Ellesia is renowned for healing, not swordsmanship. Isn’t it natural he might not be skilled?” Del asked with confusion at Kainel’s murmur.
Everyone knew House Ellesia was famed throughout the empire for its healing arts.
“It was originally a sword family.”
“…What?”
“It was once called the greatest sword house in the empire. The roots of House Ellesia lie in the blade.”
Del couldn’t hide his shock.
House Ellesia, founded on swordsmanship, not healing?
“And…”
Among them, the greatest sword genius ever born was—
‘Grace.’
“Argh!”
“Not holding your hands straight, are you?”
“N-no!”
“Then hold them properly!”
The Croy gang, notorious loan sharks, were well-known in the underworld.
They were infamous for their ruthlessness in collecting debts, even selling debtors into slavery if they couldn’t pay up.
“Ugh…”
“Hands.”
“Y-yes, sir! I-I’ll raise them again!”
But now, the sight of the Croy gang was pitiful—nothing like their fearsome reputation.
More than twenty men were kneeling on the floor, raising their hands high like scolded schoolchildren.
Not a single one was unscathed. Bruises and gashes were everywhere, and many were missing teeth, slurring their speech.
‘Huff… what the hell is that woman?’
‘I thought she was insane!’
It had happened only a short while ago.
The Croy gang had been enjoying a lazy afternoon when a knock came at the door.
A woman walked in, carrying nothing but a wooden stick.
And her first words left them speechless.
‘So, it was you guys who messed with my employee?’
Most burst out laughing. Some even dug at their ears, thinking they’d misheard.
They thought she was out of her mind.
“Aaagh!”
“Gah!”
“S-stop! Ugh! Please stop—!”
But less than thirty minutes later, they were all on their knees, begging for mercy.
That flimsy wooden stick had been more than enough to thrash them senseless.
And so here they were, arms raised, kneeling before her.
Watching them, Seres snorted inwardly.
‘If trash like this could handle me, no one would believe I was once the head of House Ellesia.’
House Ellesia was one of the empire’s most renowned sword families. Healing had merely been… a hobby.
They studied the human body to learn its weak points, and dabbled in herbs to mend wounds more swiftly.
The “healing arts of House Ellesia” were nothing more than a byproduct of those pursuits—a lucky accident.
‘Over time, I ended up spending more hours on herbs than on the sword.’
A hobby that outgrew the main craft.
Still, she had never once put down her sword.
Her disciples hadn’t either—because swordsmanship was the foundation of House Ellesia.
‘Even that fool Enok was strong enough to rival the captain of the Imperial Knights.’
Seres glanced at the wooden stick she had taken from Mark’s room and chuckled.
Using a sword against these fools would’ve been overkill.
“Ugh…”
A groan came from nearby. It was Croy, their boss, who had been beaten the worst.
‘That son of a—!’
Whack!
‘Aaargh! Die, you bitch!’
Smack!
‘Guh! You bastard! You damn—!’
Whack!
Ignoring the mood, he kept cursing and lunging, and Seres beat him down again and again, putting her whole heart into it.
“Hey, you there.”
“Y-yes!”
Croy, who had been groaning a moment ago, straightened up instantly and barked his reply more eagerly than anyone.
Still holding the stick, Seres asked, genuinely curious:
“Did I miss this month’s interest payment?”
