"But weren't you frightened when the saber-tooth came charging at you?"
Daniela asked.
The moment she had finally calmed down and stepped out of my arms, we decided to make haste back to Winter Castle.
A letter had arrived saying that an imperial envoy had suddenly appeared.
An imperial envoy? The timing was abrupt, to say the least. I had assumed they would send word through Jackson and Roy.
"I was frightened."
"Then how did you manage to loose the arrow?"
"I thought that if I timed it right, I could win for certain. There was already an arrow lodged in its flank, and on top of that, an agitated saber-tooth would be thinking of nothing but escape."
Daniela tilted her head. She still didn't know much about saber-teeth. It had been a stroke of sheer fortune, all things considered, but my read had not been wrong. Daniela flinched when she caught sight of the saber-tooth's carcass being dragged along behind us. A beast that enormous...
"That was remarkable."
"Not really. I could only bring it down because James drove it so well. Isn't that right?"
James, from some distance away, began shouting his praises of me at the top of his lungs.
Daniela stifled a laugh — pff, pff — and nodded along. Seeing her react like that only made me feel more embarrassed.
"As expected of the Grand Duke! You have always said, ever since I can remember, that a fight you cannot win is a fight not worth having. And yet even when victory seemed impossible, you would first create the conditions to make it possible, and only then—"
"Enough! Thank you!"
I raised my voice sharply, and the cloying praise finally ceased. Sometimes it's embarrassing enough to make my skin crawl.
—
"Heh heh. The North, as expected. The stench of country bumpkins is simply overwhelming."
Müller remarked to the servant hovering at his side. The northern winter was, unexpectedly, rather mild. Something about a furnace, they had said. Müller couldn't have cared less. What mattered to him was delivering the Emperor's message — and finding something worth picking off in the process. His plump double chin wobbled with anticipation.
"Do you intend to keep me waiting out here, in front of this decrepit old castle, when I have come to deliver His Imperial Majesty's words?"
"Would it not be better to deliver them directly to the Grand Duke in person?"
"Can't a proxy be appointed?"
"You will deliver them face to face with the Grand Duke."
Jackson snorted. Since arriving in the North, Roy had been forced to step away briefly to tend to his wounds.
And so Müller and the southern envoy delegation remained standing in the garden inside Winter Castle — a garden that, being winter, held nothing at all. It was, in effect, little more than an open ground fit for drilling soldiers.
"The Grand Duke approaches!"
At the gatekeeper's call, Jackson bowed his head.
The moment the gates of Winter Castle swung open, a clamor of voices spilled through.
A massive saber-tooth hung suspended from a pole, and the man walking at the very front carried himself in a manner entirely unlike those who followed behind him.
A full head taller than any southerner present.
His build was similar to the northern men around him, yet with every step he took closer, a mounting pressure made itself felt.
Müller grasped in an instant that the man at the center was the Grand Duke of the North.
"Grand Duke! I have returned to the North from the South, together with the imperial envoy!"
"Mm..."
Not a word more.
Jackson pressed his forehead nearly to the ground in a show of deference.
Behind him, the great saber-tooth carcass swung as it was carried through the gates of the Grand Duke's castle.
The Grand Duke gestured for Jackson to rise. Müller, standing to the side, found himself seized by a strange, creeping dread.
"You, from the South—"
"You are the Emperor's envoy?"
A voice like winter itself.
It was unintentional, but the moment the words 'imperial envoy' reached him, the Grand Duke's response was cold to the point of indifference.
The soldiers and retainers who had entered alongside him all appeared a full head taller than the southern delegation.
But what unsettled Müller most was the Grand Duke himself, who had walked at the fore.
There was nothing of refinement, courtesy, or the elegance one expected of nobility — only the air of a man forged in hard combat and cold calculation.
"There was no need to come all the way from the South. A needless bother."
"Not at all. His Imperial Majesty wished to convey his personal regards."
"With a hundred men in tow? Amusing. Come inside."
The Grand Duke turned without sparing him another glance and walked into Winter Castle.
Soldiers and retainers filed in after him.
Jackson joined the procession and entered as well.
Müller swallowed a dry lump in his throat.
There had been no contact with the North until now, yet Müller found himself instinctively sensing that this was an emergency.
One wrong step and heads would roll — that was the feeling. He quietly reminded himself that surely no one would dare kill an envoy of the Emperor.
The Hall of Winter was cold enough to chill the bones.
There was no splendor of any kind, and it was more worn than any southern castle he had visited.
The moment Müller stepped inside, he understood it was in an entirely different league from the Emperor's chambers.
And yet — was there truly reason to feel such dread in what amounted to a bare reception room?
"Grand Duke! I have returned from the South bearing your words, and in answer, His Imperial Majesty's envoy has arrived here to deliver His Majesty's reply!"
Jackson's booming voice filled the Hall of Winter to the rafters. Müller startled and halted at the entrance.
Several ministers and officials were already arrayed around the hall.
The Imperial Guard soldiers, despite their plain attire, were threatening by sheer presence alone.
"What are you doing standing there? Come forward."
Only at Jackson's prompting voice was Müller able to make himself approach. He resolved to give as good as he got.
To make clear just how discourteous the northern envoys had been in the South, Müller kept his posture deliberately insolent.
"You are the Emperor's envoy."
"I am."
"Speak. What did His Majesty say?"
Müller drew a scroll from within his robes. A scroll bearing the Emperor's seal.
Jackson received it first, then carried it to the Grand Duke.
The Grand Duke immediately examined the seal, then unrolled the scroll.
He read through the document at a measured pace before handing it back to Jackson.
Despite the complete absence of ceremony, Müller found himself unable to raise a single objection.
What madman would dare challenge the Grand Duke on his own ground in the North? He decided he would offer the Chief Minister a suitable excuse later.
"What is your name?"
"Müller von—"
"Müller. Right. This scroll does not appear to contain the answer I was looking for. Is this everything?"
"That is the entirety of what I received from His Imperial Majesty."
The Grand Duke was gradually slouching in his chair. He had been sitting upright, but his posture was slowly unraveling.
Not a trace of propriety to be found.
Müller could not bring himself to object.
What was certain was that the Grand Duke was in a very poor mood — that much he could surmise.
"How far does your authority extend? What has His Majesty permitted you?"
"To appropriately mediate the matters at hand and bring them to a conclusion on this occasion..."
"Then am I to understand that you bear responsibility for this matter?"
The Grand Duke posed the question, but Müller could not give a proper answer.
The palace had expressed a desire for this matter to be resolved quickly, but Müller had not been granted the authority to produce a definitive resolution.
"You are aware of what is written in that scroll. It is woefully inadequate."
"That is the conclusion reached by the palace—"
"Then I offer a different proposal. Do you understand that the sum stated here is nowhere near sufficient?"
Müller found himself nodding before he could stop himself. This was a debt spanning more than a decade.
Yet the amount to be paid directly amounted to barely three years' worth, and the indirect payment came to precisely about five years' worth.
"Then we would expect either the full sum owed to date, paid with interest, or something of equivalent value in its place."
"The North upholds its loyalty to the Empire, maintains a firm defense against the nomads, and in doing so—"
"Spare me the platitudes. If that is the case, then what is to be done about the rightful compensation the North has not received from the South?"
Müller kept his head bowed and said nothing.
Even granting that the North's defense of the frontier was an act of imperial loyalty, the Empire bore an obligation to provide a measure of support in return.
"If we were to leave the gates open and allow the nomads to push south, I rather think we would have very little to lose."
"That is utterly unreasonable...!"
"Which is precisely why you ought to have come with a proper answer."
The Grand Duke clicked his tongue, and Müller could find no words to offer. Yet Müller wished to put forward a new proposal of his own.
It was obvious the Grand Duke would not simply accept it — but if he could provide a pretext for not paying in hard currency, that would be sufficient.
"In truth, His Imperial Majesty has devised a solution for the North's benefit, though it has not yet been fully deliberated in the noble council..."
"And what is that proposal?"
The method the Chief Minister and the Emperor had conceived was simple.
Ignore all the unpaid debts accumulated over the years, and instead normalize the relationship between the Empire and the North on fresh terms.
"Should the North be amenable, a new title would be conferred."
"I am already a Grand Duke. What title could I possibly receive? Margrave of the North? Supreme Commander of all northern forces? I hold both already."
"Not those. I speak of a new title for the North itself."
The Grand Duke stroked his chin in thought. Müller was uncertain whether this persuasion was taking hold.
His Imperial Majesty had, in the end, simply repeated the same refrain: he need not pay the money, so long as the North stopped being a nuisance.
The conclusion reached was to let the North purchase a title with the money that had never been paid.
The Grand Duke continued to stroke his chin.
Jackson allowed himself a faint smile, invisible to all present.
That habit of his — it only appeared when the Grand Duke's plans had fallen into place
perfectly.