Winter Field Chapter 2

However, Rensley submerged his naked body into the boiling-hot water, starting from his toes, without a word of complaint. Each time he sank little by little into the water, a sensation akin to a shudder tickled its way up his body. Once he was completely submerged, leaving only his head above water, he had to part his lips slightly and let out a silent exhalation.

‘Has bathing always been this electrifying?’

The sound of the wind that had been slapping at his ears could not encroach upon the Archduke’s bathroom at all. The only sound was the water that had spilled over a little when Rensley entered, wetting the sandy floor below the tub, and the droplets clinging to the edge falling with a plink, plink.

Rensley stirred the water with his hand a few times. The splashing sound gradually melted his heart, which had been rigid with tension. He submerged himself to the very top of his head and blew bubbles. When he rose above the water again, his hair was drenched, clearly revealing a smooth, white forehead beneath his blond hair.

After wiping his body clean with a dry cloth, Rensley dressed again. Fortunately, the maids had prepared new clothes, so he did not need to put back on the several layers of undergarments and the dress soaked with snow and ice.

‘In the north, they wear such thick clothes even indoors.’

Fortunately, the garment was made to be fastened at the chest rather than the back. Rensley threaded the cord that ran from waist to chest, tied a knot, and even donned an indoor cloak. Then he put on the veil that completely covered his face, leaving only his eyes exposed. His body, which had been submerged in the hot water for a long while, immediately began to overheat once he put on the clothes and veil.

He pulled the cord the maids had told him about. There was no apparent sound, but a moment later, the maids entered.

“Please, come this way.”

Rensley walked quietly, following those surrounding him. The servants who had escorted him were nowhere to be seen, likely having gone off to rest already. Having successfully transported the bride alive, they had no further duties left.

They’re probably drinking their fill somewhere. Rensley envied them. Ah, if he could just down a mug of beer in front of a hot brazier right now, he would have no other wishes.

He descended a long spiral staircase. How far did it lead? His body, which had been loosened by the bathwater, began to stiffen again. There was no explanation, but where he was headed was clear.

The Archduke of the Northern Territory, Gisel Siebendad.

Rumors about him had spread across the entire continent and even beyond the sea. A monster and an eccentric who ruled this vast, barren territory. A madman who, though a sovereign, refused to meet most outsiders and shut himself up in his castle, studying black magic regardless of day or night.

A few people who claimed to have met him described him as resembling a giant raven. Someone else said a great black falcon, or a wolf.

They said that, draped in the black cloak symbolic of the Northern ruler, even his hair was black as jet, and while every surface of him was so black, only his eyes shone with a golden light—a sight more chilling than beautiful. That the Northern people had a savage side and did not know how to value lineage, so surely the blood of barbarians or monsters must be mixed in his veins…,

“Your Grace, Princess Yvette Elvanes of Cornia has arrived.”

As the elderly vassal announced, the door opened. What filled Rensley’s vision first was a red light.

At the flickering crimson, as if the furnace of hell itself had been brought in, Rensley tensed and clenched his fists tightly, but upon calming himself and observing, the light was simply the glow of a large brazier that dyed the dark basement.

What entered his eyes next was long, black hair, the black fur adorning below it, and a black cloak embroidered with the silver crest of the North. A massive back view, no different from the rumors, stood imposingly before Rensley.

“Of all days, today….”

…surely the blood of barbarians or demonkind must be mixed in his veins, and that is why he came to have such an ominous appearance….

“At such a late hour.”

The man, who had muttered low as if to himself, slowly turned around.

Rensley quickly lowered his head a little more. Unable to speak, he hoped that his gesture might at least convey an apology for the late visit.

His heart pounded as if it would leap out of his mouth. Everything was exactly as the rumors said. The madman shut up in the basement of a fortress-like gray castle, doing nothing but magical research; the appearance of a great black beast; the golden eyes flashing in the darkness.

Good heavens. A whole, human eye cannot shine in that manner. Rensley clenched his teeth tight, nearly letting a startled groan slip out involuntarily.

Typically, a castle’s basement is used as a food or wine storehouse, or a prison. It is not common for the lord of the castle to come down to the basement except to execute and interrogate criminals, or to personally inspect the state of the food stores.

However, the scenery of the Archduke’s castle basement was quite different. Every direction, dyed a red-gold by the blazing brazier fire, was filled with books, and on the empty walls hung several drawings and plans that looked like maps. Stone tablets covered with what seemed to be calculated formulas were also visible.

Were all these materials for studying black magic…? Though he was no longer cold, goosebumps rose on his back and shoulders.

While Rensley stood demurely in one spot, rolling only his eyes and diligently looking around, one of the maids conveyed his intentions to the Archduke in his stead. Once the Cornian custom—that one could neither show one’s face nor speak before the wedding ceremony—was delivered, the wolf’s golden eyes turned squarely toward Rensley. He strode closer.

Rensley swore he was not short in Cornia. He was confident he was rather on the taller side compared to the average. However, perhaps because the people of Oldenland were generally large in stature, Rensley did not particularly stand out even when among the maids. While it was very fortunate that this was advantageous for concealing his gender, his chest fluttered when a man far larger than himself stood before him like a wall.

In the twenty-odd years of his life, he had never seen a person this large. If one were to place this man in Celestine Square, everyone would flee in terror. But for now, the fear, the anxiety, the nervousness were all concealed within the veil covering his face. The Archduke, standing before him, slowly parted his lips.

“The welcoming party….”

His voice was as cold and low as the icy wind they had encountered at the end of their journey. Heard up close, it was even more menacing.

While Rensley, unable to meet his eyes, cast his gaze downward and stared only at the floor, the Archduke continued.

“…I apologize for not being able to come out. As it is the middle of the night, the news was conveyed to me late….”

After a moment of silence, Rensley hesitantly raised his head.

He planned to put off facing him up close for as long as possible, but for now, only his two eyes exposed through the gaps in the veil would be visible to the man. The Archduke’s expression was rigid, but if his ears had not deceived him, the man had clearly uttered the word “apologize.”

‘Did he just apologize?’

Rensley blinked at the unexpected, courteous apology. …It was a little surprising, but then, was he not the sovereign of a country? He had heard that although Oldenland was situated in the cold and barren north, it was more economically and politically stable than any other country on the continent. The king of such a country might be an eccentric person, but perhaps observing etiquette was a separate matter.

Rensley shook his head to signify it was all right. At that, the man stood in place as if hesitating for a moment, then cut across in front of Rensley and stepped toward the stairs.

“Follow me.”

“….”

“I will guide you to where you will be staying.”

He could not answer that the maids’ guidance was sufficient, and just as he was about to remain silent, the golden-eyed man returned to his side as if realizing something.

“Go up first. In case you might miss your footing, it would be dangerous….”

He was not so clumsy as to trip and fall on the stairs. Rensley could, if necessary, perform swordsmanship on a balcony, a bridge, or the narrow railing of a castle tower.

Nevertheless, Rensley silently lifted the hem of his dress slightly in gratitude and climbed the stairs ahead as the man had said.

However, he soon regretted it, thinking it would have been better to follow behind. For the sensation of an unidentified predator trailing behind his back was so chilling and uncomfortable that he did not wish to experience it twice.

Fortunately, once they left the basement, the Archduke led the way again. Rensley followed him almost like a ghost, as if he had forgotten even how to breathe.