Antidote Chapter 13.2 - Eastern Karlac

At that moment, Slan slowly raised his eyes to meet Jiyod’s gaze. Blue eyes sparkled beneath golden eyelashes.

“Don’t do it alone.”

At the same time, he reached out with both hands, covering the upper part of Jiyod’s penis as if enveloping it.

“Ugh…!”

There was no time to hold back. Jiyod’s penis throbbed violently, and semen spurted from the tip of the glans. It didn’t stop at once. Twice, three times, the semen shot out in succession, splashing from Slan’s lower abdomen up to his chest.

“Ha, ha…”

Jiyod’s shoulders heaved roughly as he gasped for breath.

The afterglow of ejaculation was intense but brief. Still unable to quell his arousal, his half-erect penis twitched as he obsessively stared at it and the milky semen clinging to Slan’s lower abdomen. Then he lifted his head.

A sticky smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

“Haha…”

At the sound of that laugh, Slan, who had been dazed, blinked. Jiyod reached out and gently caressed Slan’s chin.

“Since you’ve done this much for me, I’ll return the favor.”

“What did I do… ah!”

Jiyod lifted Slan in one swift motion and stepped into the tub with one foot. Slan clung to his neck with both arms. The sensation of those smooth, pale arms clinging to him like wet snakes was electrifyingly intense. With one foot in the tub, Jiyod paused to look down at Slan.

“Hmm… will you permit this humble knight to join you in the bath?”

Instead of answering, Slan struck Jiyod’s back with a fist. It didn’t hurt. Jiyod chuckled and stepped fully into the tub.

The water had cooled to just the right temperature. As he sat in the tub with Slan in his arms, water spilled over the edge. Amid the sound of splashing water, Slan’s quick breaths mingled.

Jiyod reached one hand out of the tub, rummaging over the jade shelf. A few spice jars clattered to the floor as his hand brushed them. He poured rose-scented bath oil generously.

Tossing the empty bottle aside carelessly, Jiyod grabbed Slan’s chin with his other hand and kissed him. Slan, perched atop his chest, trembled slightly.

“Mmm…”

Beneath lowered eyelashes, half-closed eyelids twitched.

Jiyod’s other hand traced between Slan’s shoulder blades. His index and middle fingers slid along the spine, stopping just before the cleft of Slan’s buttocks at the protruding tailbone, teasing it ticklishly.

“Ah… ugh…”

Slan tilted his chin upward, moaning. His lips parted, and Jiyod thought again, ‘I need to touch the inside of those lips.’ This time, he did. He gently pressed Slan’s lower lip with his finger. As Slan flinched, Jiyod slipped his finger into the parted lips. Slan’s mouth opened wider.

“Show me the inside of your mouth. Hmm?”

Slan tried to glare at Jiyod, raising his eyes sharply. But his wet, glistening eyes weren’t threatening at all. Jiyod shrugged, feigning fear.

“You can show it to me. Or rather, you can’t show it to anyone else, can you?”

Nonsense. Slan muttered in a muffled voice.

“…Pervert.”

“Hmm… maybe so.”

Nodding readily, Jiyod pushed his fingers deeper into Slan’s mouth. Spreading his index and middle fingers, he revealed the wet interior—small tongue, cute mouth. Jiyod kissed the parted lips tenderly while sliding his other hand between Slan’s legs.

“Hic…!”

Slan jolted, lifting his hips. Jiyod laughed against their joined lips.

His fingers slid over the tightly closed hole between Slan’s buttocks. The rose oil-mixed bathwater was slick enough to ease the way.

Jiyod stared intently at Slan’s face as he slowly inserted his finger. Slan’s eyes wavered hazily, growing moist from the corners. His parted lips revealed the cute tongue Jiyod loved, trembling.

“Ah… ah…”

Jiyod thrust his index and middle fingers deep inside, pulling out and moving as if making love.

Slan hadn’t climaxed from the earlier oral. Just a little stimulation made his hips buck, his flushed penis dripping fluids.

The rose oil-mixed bathwater made wet, sucking sounds. Splashing water mingled with the noise. Each deep thrust of Jiyod’s fingers made Slan’s hips quiver.

“Ugh, ugh…!”

Semen dripped from the tip of Slan’s penis, then spurted suddenly. His hips clenched tightly, trembling beneath the waist. The semen splashed onto Jiyod’s chest, sliding down his finely sculpted abs.

Jiyod chuckled, pulling Slan’s waist close with one arm. Their bodies pressed together, making the bathwater slosh.

“Did you come? What should I do next? Tell me. Should I keep thrusting?”

Jiyod whispered lewdly, sucking Slan’s ear into his mouth. His fingers didn’t stop probing Slan’s buttocks. Spreading them inside the pulsing hole, Slan let out a long cry.

“Hn, hnn, ah, ah…! S-stop…!”

Slan lifted his hips as if trying to escape, but it ended there. Jiyod laughed lowly, nibbling Slan’s ear.

“How did it get this tight again? Hmm? You didn’t do this on your own, did you? It’s sucking my fingers like a virgin.”

His teasing voice spouted filthy words. His low tone, faintly hoarse with arousal, panted intermittently, and the lascivious whispers that followed were sweet enough to make Slan’s hips tremble.

“Ha, it’s so tight… how am I supposed to…”

Jiyod murmured softly, his palm pressed so deep it touched Slan’s perineum.

It wasn’t entirely untrue. His penis was terrifyingly erect again. The ridge beneath the glans was pronounced, and the thick shaft was veined like tree roots. His manhood was as menacing as his body, hardly seeming suited for lovemaking.

“If I thrust in like this, I might tear your hole apart. Open up more. I’ll loosen it.”

He pressed his palm against Slan’s perineum and scrotum, thrusting inside. His long, thick fingers were stimulating enough on their own. Slan, hips raised, moaned breathlessly. Having climaxed during penetration, his penis was still slightly erect, dripping fluids onto the water’s surface.

Jiyod pulled his fingers out. Rose oil-mixed water dribbled out.

“Ah, ugh…!”

Slan trembled, tilting his chin back. Jiyod grabbed his chin, kissing the tip of his lower lip.

“Let’s do it like this. It’s been a while…”

Grabbing one of Slan’s buttocks, he pulled it outward forcefully. The hole stretched, revealing the pulsing interior. Jiyod pressed the tip of his erect penis against it.

“I’ll go slow until you’re used to it. Just a little. That’s okay, right?”

Contrary to his words, he thrust in without giving Slan time to adjust.

“Ugh, ugh…!”

Slan bit his lip, stifling a moan.

Jiyod stared at his face without blinking. Pain and pleasure mingled on Slan’s expression.

The glans pressed tightly inside the hole. Slan’s hips arched, his submerged toes twitching. His moist eyes were half-closed, his open mouth and flushed cheeks red from his nose to his face.

“Ha…”

Jiyod exhaled long, pressing his lips to the corner of Slan’s left eye. He waited for a moment. As the pleasure settled, he gripped Slan’s hips with both hands, lifting and lowering him with arm strength alone, pistoning slowly. Each time the thick shaft withdrew, a sucking sound echoed, and the hole pulsed. Jiyod deliberately pulled out completely before thrusting in again. The ridge beneath the glans rubbed the sensitive shallow part, making the hole quiver.

“Hic, hnn, ah, ah, this, doing this, like this, is weird… ah, ah…!”

“Weird?”

Jiyod asked with a laughing voice.

“Seems like you’re enjoying it.”

Slan bit his lip. His flushed cheeks twitched. That small reaction only excited Jiyod more. He clenched his teeth, the muscles in his neck standing out. Sweat and water mixed, streaming down his neck and chest.

He thrust his penis halfway in, then out again. As the glans withdrew, Slan arched forward, hips twitching. The hole pulsed intensely. His lower abdomen clenched, his eyes glazed, and his mouth hung open. Semen trickled from the tip of Slan’s penis, continuing in bursts until it soaked the surface, yet his erection remained. It was a penetrative climax.

Jiyod licked his upper lip, watching Slan lost in orgasm.

Steam filled the bathroom, the air hot and humid. Not just Slan but Jiyod’s body was drenched in sweat and water. Yet his throat burned.

“You know, few people get as wet as you. Soaked like this…”

Jiyod spoke without blinking, sliding his hand between Slan’s buttocks, rubbing from the pulsing hole to the perineum. Then he pressed the glans in again, piercing slowly.

“Ah… hn… ha, hic, hnn…”

Slan buried his forehead in Jiyod’s shoulder, sobbing with moans. His back heaved, and the penetrated hole clenched tightly.

Jiyod withdrew when Slan seemed to calm, then thrust again. Each time, Slan writhed in endless climax. Jiyod’s expression faded as he focused on lovemaking. Veins stood out on his forearms as he lifted and lowered Slan faster. The sound of flesh and water clashing grew louder as thrusts deepened and shallowed.

“S-stop…! Ah, ah, I don’t, like, it’s scary, ah, I’m, again… ah…!”

“Ugh…!”

At one point, Slan trembled violently, biting Jiyod’s shoulder. Jiyod didn’t notice.

At the last moment, he pulled out his penis and ejaculated between Slan’s buttocks. It was their first time in too long, and it didn’t end with one release. Three or four spurts left his erection still menacingly upright.

“Hoo, hoo…”

Burying his nose and lips in Slan’s hair, Jiyod steadied his breathing. His back and shoulders rose and fell slowly with deep exhales.

The pleasure was deep, and the deeper affection brought mental fulfillment with the orgasm. Jiyod savored the afterglow briefly.

When some rationality returned, he looked down at Slan. Slan’s eyes were already fluttering, his face red from the bath’s heat and climax’s pleasure. Fearing he might faint, Jiyod stood, carrying Slan out of the tub. Water slid off his toned body.

He wrapped Slan in a large towel, roughly drying him, and carried him to the bed.

Near the bed, the gold tray, snacks, and drinks the attendants had prepared remained untouched.

Slan, still flushed and wrapped in the towel, sprawled on the bed.

The window was wide open. The scent of greenhouse flowers wafted in.

Jiyod, unashamedly naked, picked up the gold tray and sat on the bed. Tilting a glass bottle, he poured grape juice into a cup and held it to Slan’s lips. The juice, kept in an ice bucket, was still cool.

Jiyod tilted the cup carefully, letting Slan drink slowly. When Slan turned his head after quenching his thirst, Jiyod set the cup back on the tray and fed him a jelly dusted with sugar and gold powder.

After thoroughly enjoying feeding Slan like a mother bird, Jiyod pushed the tray aside and climbed onto the bed.

He leaned down, pressing his nose and lips into Slan’s wet hair, which smelled strongly of rose oil.

“I told you to grow your hair out.”

“Hmm… too much hassle.”

Slan, regaining some composure, replied softly.

“I want to dry and brush your hair.”

Instead of answering further, Slan reached up and grabbed Jiyod’s chin. Jiyod let himself be pulled willingly. Their lips met.

As they kissed, Jiyod reconsidered. If Slan grew his hair out, some fool would probably end up drying and brushing it.

The kiss, initially a light brush of lips, quickly deepened. Jiyod leaned closer, pressing his body against Slan’s. Tilting his head, he adjusted so their lips overlapped more. His heavy body pinned Slan down, one hand gripping Slan’s chest tightly.

“Mmm…”

A soft moan escaped between their joined lips.

Without breaking the kiss, Jiyod pressed Slan’s nipple hard with his fingertip.

“Hn… ugh…!”

Slan turned his head away. Jiyod laughed lowly.

“Why? Should I suck it instead?”

“What are you… ah…!”

Twisting the nipple with his fingers, Slan’s hips arched. The areola swelled quickly, and Jiyod teased it by flicking it.

Slan curled his toes, trying to hide his chest by turning face-down.

“Don’t… ah… ahhh!”

Jiyod thrust in from behind in one motion, piercing halfway in a straight line before pulling back. Pulling Slan’s buttocks apart with one hand, the glans caught, revealing the stretched hole. As he withdrew completely, the hole gaped then tightened, pulsing. The area behind the scrotum was still slick, the perineum swollen and protruding obscenely. Who could imagine Duke of Karlac’s groin like this?

Jiyod licked his lips and thrust in slowly again.

Slan’s body was now completely relaxed. Each time the thick shaft pierced the soft inner walls, Slan’s beautiful back twitched, moans spilling out as if he’d forgotten to hold back.

Jiyod, restraining his own pleasure, angled slightly upward while pistoning. He paused only when Slan, leaking semen like he was incontinent, soaked the sheets.

“Hoo… hoo… how’s that? I think you can take it all now. Hmm?”

Jiyod propped one hand beside Slan’s head, lowering his body more. Heat radiated from his aroused body, pressing down on Slan like a wall.

“S-slowly, come in…”

Slan looked back at Jiyod with glazed eyes.

A thin film of tears glistened over his blurry blue irises. Flushed cheeks. Jiyod exhaled long.

“I won’t hurt you. Have I ever?”

“Ugh… ah… ugh…”

Jiyod moved slowly, as Slan asked. Bit by bit, so slow that Slan squirmed with impatience, his penis pushed inside. At the same time, Jiyod slid his palm between the bed and Slan’s abdomen, pressing firmly near the navel.

“Ah, ah…!”

Slan cried out in shock and pleasure. The cry turned to moans in an instant.

Jiyod chuckled, asking softly.

“Pressing here feels good, doesn’t it?”

“J-Jiyod, that’s too deep… hnn, ah, ah, ah…”

Slan’s abdomen tensed then relaxed. His insides pulsed, gripping Jiyod’s penis tightly.

At the moment of Slan’s climax, Jiyod pulled out. The sensation of the shaft scraping the inner walls made Slan’s body jolt again. Lost in the orgasm of penetration, he moaned messily, writhing.

“Ah, ha, ugh, ah, ahh, hnn, ugh, ugh, ugh…”

Jiyod ejaculated with just the tip of his glans between Slan’s buttocks. Holding the base, he pistoned shallowly, prolonging the climax before pulling out completely.

The double orgasm of the long penis sliding out made Slan tremble, gasping hic, hic. Semen oozed from the loosened hole, then spurted as if released.

Jiyod thrust his fingers in, teasing.

“How’s that? It’s finally getting loose enough for my cock.”

“Ah, no, no, hic, ha, ah, ah, ah…”

Each deep thrust of his middle finger, pressing the perineum, made semen splash. The hole was so loose Slan could feel the fingers sliding in easily. Naturally—it had been relentlessly pierced by Jiyod’s penis for a while.

An absurd amount of semen overflowed, soaking between his legs. Meanwhile, thick fingers, now including the index, moved inside.

“Ah, n-no, s-still, ah, I’m, s-still, c-coming… ah, ahhh…”

Slan’s hips twitched, his eyes softened, and tears rolled down.

“Hmm. That won’t do.”

Jiyod flipped Slan over, spouting nonsense. Flushed face, parted lips. His chest heaved, nipples hard and glistening. His penis remained erect but didn’t ejaculate.

“Don’t come alone…”

Jiyod spread Slan’s knees wide.

His half-erect penis tapped Slan’s open groin.

Slan’s lips trembled.

“Ah, n-no…”

Before his loosened tongue could finish the refusal, Jiyod thrust in deeply. Slan trembled silently. His lower abdomen quivered, his feet curled, toes clenching.

Jiyod’s penis fully hardened during penetration, more than sufficient for lovemaking.

He leaned down, kissing Slan’s cheek. Absurdly, his lips were tender. Below, his hips pistoned forcefully, making loud smacks.

“…Ah! Deep, too deep! Ah, ah, ah, ahhh!”

The third round was longer than the previous two combined.

Jiyod changed positions once more, prolonging the act while restraining his pleasure, releasing Slan only when he was on the verge of passing out.

*

“You’re… too… persistent.”

Slan mumbled, lying face-down.

Jiyod, wiping Slan’s body with a warm, wet towel, hummed and shrugged.

“I think differently.”

“What?”

Slan, exasperated, tried to sit up but lacked the strength, only rolling his eyes to glare at Jiyod, full of indignation.

Jiyod carefully wiped Slan’s back, replying.

“Put your hand on your heart and think about how long you left me alone. Even in northern Karlac. As soon as that mess was over, you left me in that lonely, cold place and sailed off alone, didn’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Slan’s voice rose in exasperation.

“You were the commander of the northern Karlac garrison back then. It was only natural for you to stay there…”

“And what about Mannerheim last time? Why did you take that blabbermouth mage instead of me?”

“You were in Ipsen!”

“If you had called me, I would have come running in an instant. Just like now.”

“I can’t just summon you back and forth every time something happens…”

“It was your business. Mannerheim’s business. For such important matters, you left me out and went off to have a honeymoon with that mage.”

“Honeymoon?!”

Slan retorted immediately.

“For one, I didn’t go alone with Ismion, and it was work. Besides, you were busy, and Ipsen, not to mention, is changing rapidly, second only to northern Karlac. It’s set to become our maritime hub…”

Knowing Slan wouldn’t stop talking, Jiyod decided to focus on wiping him down. He gently massaged Slan’s calves with a warm towel, meticulously cleaning between his heels and toes. Then he applied oil to the tops and heels of Slan’s feet, slightly disappointed that Slan’s toenails were perfectly trimmed without a single flaw.

“…Unlike York or the southern cities, the lack of developed ports and navy in our Karlac is, in hindsight, a critical issue. Of course, there are excuses. The currents are complex, the coastline is barren and rugged, with few places suitable for a large port. But now we have Ipsen and the northern route…”

“You’d better not be thinking of sending me back to the north.”

Jiyod issued a rare stern warning. Slan paused, then recoiled as Jiyod lifted his ankle and sucked on his toes with a loud smack, trying to roll away in disgust.

The escape failed. Jiyod leisurely slid his arms around Slan’s waist, pinning him to the bed in an embrace. After Slan squirmed briefly and gave up, settling down, Jiyod lay diagonally, facing him.

“What other wicked schemes are you plotting?”

“Wicked schemes…”

“All this talk of Ipsen’s port and sea routes. You’re not seriously thinking of banishing me to the Black Continent again, are you? I’m done fighting Kirda’s lunatics.”

“No way.”

Slan mumbled, averting his gaze.

“And Kirda isn’t an enemy anymore. At least for now…”

“No northern Karlac, regardless.”

“Fine.”

“I’m serious.”

“I said fine…”

Slan grumbled, resting his head lightly on Jiyod’s shoulder.

Soon, complete peace settled over them.

Jiyod closed his eyes for a moment. Shadows stretched from the balcony window. Birdsong drifted in. Slan’s breathing and heartbeat were louder.

When he opened his eyes, unexpectedly, Slan was awake, watching him. When Slan reached out and took Jiyod’s left hand, Jiyod wasn’t surprised.

Slan’s soft hand slowly traced over Jiyod’s rough left hand, moving up to his strong wrist, forearm, and elbow.

A beast’s arm, or a human’s. Either way, it was undoubtedly the arm of the man Slan loved most, regardless of whatever powerful, terrifying magic it was born from.

Jiyod let Slan touch and stroke the most dangerous part of his body without protest.

“Ha…”

Slan let out a short, soft sigh.

“I… thought it was a hallucination born of my madness.”

In all those moments of trembling fear, seeing Jiyod come to his rescue in the perilous yet beautiful form of a beast—how could that not be a hallucination fit for a madman?

“You don’t need to worry about it.”

Jiyod whispered quietly.

“If not for the northern Karlac incident, you wouldn’t have known…”

The knight’s voice grew ominously low.

Slan silently continued stroking Jiyod’s left arm.

Of course, his thoughts differed from Jiyod’s. This was something he absolutely had to care about. Even without Kirda’s seven-horned dragon, he would have found out eventually.

“I don’t care what you are.”

“Not even human?”

“Even better.”

Slan replied nonchalantly.

“It’s why you saved me. Multiple times.”

Jiyod just looked at Slan silently. Instead, Slan playfully narrowed his eyes, placed his hand on Jiyod’s left hand, and laced their fingers together.

“But you and Ismion keeping this from me all this time—I’ll need an apology for that.”

“We didn’t deceive you.”

Jiyod replied, sounding aggrieved. His voice was slightly low, almost choked. Slan leaned forward and kissed his cheek. As Jiyod moved to return the kiss, Slan continued with gleaming eyes.

“Ismion mentioned the mages in York’s capital.”

“Ha… how long do we have to talk about that guy? In bed, no less?”

“Listen.”

Slan continued, undeterred.

“Ismion’s magic isn’t perfect yet, is it?”

He was talking about Jiyod’s left arm.

Jiyod narrowed one eye in displeasure. He knew where Slan was going.

“So, you want to use the capital’s magic?”

“If it’s possible.”

Well, Jiyod was skeptical. What the capital’s mages taught was clear just from Ismion—exclusivity, arrogance, rude speech, and cursing in at least five languages…

“Hmm… I don’t think the capital’s mages would be that cooperative.”

“We’ll know once we talk.”

Slan was unfazed.

“Besides, I’ve always been interested in their magic. The golden citadel piercing the sky, the magical barrier that blocks tsunamis and storms. Even without the Black Continent’s mines, it was bound to happen eventually.”

“Let’s see. It sounds like that Ismion put some bad ideas in your head…”

Jiyod said, sliding his fingers into Slan’s hair, tickling it with his fingertips. Slan giggled.

“Or we could become family.”

“With the mages?”

“If Kirda’s duke married a capital mage, why can’t Karlac?”

Thinking it was a joke, Jiyod burst into laughter.

“Who are you planning to send?”

“There are plenty of people.”

“That’s your opinion… Considering how many Karlac nobles you and I took out over the past two years…”

“Come to think of it, Sir Lea is still unmarried, right?”

Jiyod froze for a moment.

“…If war’s the goal, that’s a fine choice.”

“What’s wrong? Sir Lea’s matured. Still young, good family…”

As Jiyod narrowed his eyes to gauge if Slan was serious, Slan yawned.

“Well, nothing’s concrete yet. We need to wrap up the talks first… Why drag it out? I want it done before winter. I’m thinking Mannerheim for the meeting place. Honestly, I don’t want to drag them all the way to eastern Karlac.”

Only then did Jiyod realize Slan was serious. But instead of arguing that sending Lea was tantamount to declaring war, he chose to enjoy their honeymoon a bit longer.

“Get some sleep first. How about dinner in the greenhouse afterward? I brought some rare ingredients. I handed them to the cook, so if his hands are still attached, tonight’s table will be splendid. If not, those hands will have outlived their use.”

“Next time, I’ll go to Ipsen. Seems like the rarest things go there now, not here.”

“How dare they?”

Instead of laughing, Jiyod frowned seriously. Slan laughed instead.

They laughed at each other, pinched lips, and shared a long kiss. After a while, Slan yawned again.

“Rest now.”

“If I sleep now, you’ll have to go back to Ipsen when I wake up.”

Slan grumbled in a sleepy voice. Jiyod found the grumbling sweeter than any honey.

“Then should I stay? Maybe I’ll give up that tiresome lordship to someone else. You wouldn’t abandon a loyal knight who gave up his title for you, would you? Preferably, I’d like your personal guard position…”

“Hmm… that won’t do.”

Half-asleep, Slan’s reply was firm. Jiyod burst into a long laugh.

“I knew you’d say that.”

Then he gently kissed Slan’s half-closed eyelids.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be here while you sleep, at least. Rest. I’ll sing you a lullaby.”

Slan’s schedule was hectic.

He wasn’t particularly organized by nature. He tackled tasks as they came to mind, and since no one pointed this out, it reflected in his governance.

Early in the morning, he met the chancellor to hear budget reports, then summoned a council meeting after receiving a telegram from Yofius via a breathless messenger. The meeting focused on northern Karlac’s port expansion, with topics ranging from the Black Continent’s silver mines to York merchants docking at Ipsen’s port, road construction, and wall repairs.

Decisions were made swiftly.

Karlac’s power was centralized in him, and Slan wasn’t one to linger on decisions.

Karlac was stabilizing rapidly.

And changing just as quickly.

Tax reform was one of Slan’s top priorities. Karlac’s current tax system was a bidding model, granting collection rights to the highest bidder. It was the continent’s most common system, but Slan had long thought it flawed. Back when he was still a lesser duke, he tried tackling it. He expected it to take years, but circumstances had shifted.

Those with power to oppose tax reform were dead.

The only remaining old power was the chancellor, who had bowed to the new Duke of Karlac, making the rest easy.

Last winter, Heinz, a former vassal from York, returned with York noble subordinates. Slan welcomed them warmly. Every pair of hands was valuable now.

Council meetings were as chaotic as Slan’s personality.

He listened to simultaneous chatter, interjecting or issuing orders as needed.

Time passed.

Soderik, ever loyal, brought simple foods to eat during the meeting.

Slan raised a hand to quiet the noisy debate, ordering the food distributed.

Fruits, ham, cheese, flatbread, olives, and pickles were served on large silver trays, with chilled sparkling white wine and orange juice.

People cooled their sweaty brows, eating and drinking.

The atmosphere relaxed slightly.

Perhaps that’s why someone failed to hold their tongue.

“There’s too much work and too few people, Duke of Karlac.”

No issue there. It was a simple complaint anyone, even Slan, could agree with.

But the next words were different.

“Shouldn’t we fill the Triad’s vacant seats soon?”

Slan, rolling an olive in his mouth, turned to the speaker. A bearded man with short hair, the youngest of Illot’s three sons. Duke Illot was a seasoned Karlac noble, adept at balancing power to stay neutral, surviving the purge.

Slan neither heavily favored nor distanced Illot’s family.

But spouting nonsense was another matter.

The lively council fell silent instantly.

It was a topic everyone had avoided.

No one was unaware that the Triad’s lion heads were Slan’s greatest rivals in the past era. Or that Slan had ended them all.

Yet the Triad was eastern Karlac’s oldest political institution and symbol. It was entwined in all political, diplomatic, military, and personal decisions. A triumvirate balancing Karlac, it was a rational system—until the lion heads grew too large and tore themselves apart.

Without the Triad, Slan alone propped up eastern Karlac.

Wasn’t that too heavy a burden for a young archduke?

Some might think so.

They’d argue a powerful group like the Triad was needed.

The chancellor lacked legitimacy. Ipsen’s lord lacked authority. Glenberg had fallen, and Karlac’s magical society was purged.

A void in political power.

Ambitious men coveted it; the cautious feared foreign powers infiltrating Karlac’s leadership.

Duke Illot was the former. His family, surviving the purge, served Slan with ulterior motives. But testing Slan with such nonsense in this setting wasn’t likely his intent.

“D-Duke of Karlac. My foolish nephew spoke out of concern for your overwork.”

A panicked voice cut in.

Slan slowly chewed and swallowed the olive.

He wasn’t angry. He’d been through too much, including reacting to fools’ nonsense, to get upset over this.

“I’ve always thought,” Slan said casually, leaning on the throne’s armrest, “that Karlac doesn’t need so many heads. Don’t you agree?”

He surveyed the room with an elegant, dignified air. No one spoke.

“What I need are hands, not heads.”

Slan continued leisurely.

“But I already have plenty of hands, so… well, it’s something to think about later.”

No heads needed. In other words, Karlac needed no other powers.

Only a fool who couldn’t grasp that would sit at the council’s lowest seat.

Slan waved lightly to shift the mood. Someone quick-witted raised a new topic. The atmosphere changed swiftly, except for the poor young man, pale with fear.

*

Ismion entered, carrying a small silver tray with medicine.

Slan sat by the window, gazing at the greenhouse cloaked in darkness.

“I heard what happened.”

“What?”

Slan asked, rising from the window.

This cynical mage was one of the few who could handle Slan’s sharp tongue. Placing the tray on the table, he replied casually.

“About the council meeting. Illot’s youngest son slipped up, didn’t he?”

Slan chuckled.

Tying his loosened robe, he walked to the table. Ismion, with a dead-serious face, personally opened the silver bowl’s lid. The wax seal, applied after filling it, broke as the lid lifted.

Slan took the bowl and swallowed the medicine in one go.

That the young Duke of Karlac took daily medicine was top secret. Routine was dangerous for a ruler, especially regarding food and drink.

Ismion watched until Slan finished, then took the empty bowl.

Slan pulled a chair to the table, gesturing for Ismion to sit. The mage sat without hesitation.

“Good timing. My legs were getting stiff.”

After saying so, Ismion placed a hand on the table, tapping it rhythmically.

Slan waited patiently for him to speak.

“In my view, it’s not good for you to leave Karlac so often.”

Instead of the main point, Ismion started elsewhere.

“Like the Black Continent matter. Left alone, Sir Jiyod would handle it. The conflict with Kirda was anticipated, wasn’t it? And the capital… after what happened with Kirda… it’s unthinkable. Especially for mages who remember the old Kirda war.”

Slan hadn’t lived through the Kirda war but knew how it engulfed the east beyond Mannerheim’s canyon. And how the magical kingdom, defeated, curbed its ambitions and stayed south.

A mocking expression flickered on Ismion’s face.

“Even a political novice like me knows the continent’s situation is shifting rapidly.”

It seemed he’d need more time to get to the point.

Slan decided to speak first.

“You said you heard about the council meeting?”

“The council? Oh, the Triad talk?”

Slan liked his bluntness. Except for Jiyod, no one in Karlac would dare mention the Triad so openly in front of him.

Slan rested his chin on his left hand, gazing steadily at Ismion.

“Do you think Karlac needs the Triad?”

“Slan-nim, I’m not a mage who dabbles in politics. If that’s what I wanted, I’d have become a marquis in the capital. So if you’re expecting me to take on the role the old Karlac magical society played…”

“Is Karlac too vast to be managed by a single head?”

Slan asked again, and Ismion fell silent.

The mage’s face twisted as if he had a toothache, but he soon reverted to his usual cold, cynical expression.

“Karlac is still unstable.”

Due to two purges in a short time, the current Karlac was like a structure riddled with holes.

“But that doesn’t mean the Triad is necessary. What Karlac needs now is time. Plus some overwork, sleepless nights, and… well, things like that.”

His voice sounded almost chilly.

Slan listened with amusement.

Ismion, who claimed not to be a political mage, quickly continued.

“The Triad system is a tricky topic in many ways. Regardless of intent, some people might think it’s needed… but honestly, it’s not a conversation worth having right now.”

Finally, the main point emerged.

“It’s too early.”

This wasn’t just about the Triad system.

Slan already knew what Ismion meant by “too early.”

They were preparing for talks with the capital, set to take place in Mannerheim. Slan’s goal was to conclude the talks before winter closed the great canyon. Thus, preparations moved faster than anyone expected, especially Ismion.

“If it’s just about magical exchange… if that’s really all you’re aiming for, Slan-nim, there’s no need to do it now. I’m not a political mage, but…”

Ismion repeated the sentiment.

“There are more urgent matters piling up, aren’t there? The Black Continent, or rather, the northern Karlac silver mine issue… ahem. You know I hate that name, right?”

“Haha?”

“Anyway. You’ll likely visit northern Karlac next year, so that preparation is more important. And in terms of urgency, there’s York’s bond repayment issue, the northern Lemberg road construction, and adapting new weapons for naval use…”

“Hmm. For a mage who doesn’t do politics, you’ve thought about a lot, haven’t you?”

“I can’t help it.”

Ismion replied curtly.

“I know it’s tiresome to hear this two or three times, but the talks with the capital are far off. They’re premature, too. We can guess how they’ll act, of course. Slan-nim, the capital doesn’t do anything that loses them profit. Magical exchange? Well, they do have some willingness to share magical technology. But they’ll lose more than they gain. Especially when we’re this unprepared!”

“Of course, our Karlac won’t do anything that loses us profit either.”

At Slan’s calm, almost innocently naive tone, Ismion touched his forehead.

“Karlac… lacks mages. Even if the exchange talks go well, we’re not yet ready to accept the capital’s mages…”

“Are you afraid of running into old hometown friends?”

At that, Ismion genuinely bristled.

“Ha, really… what do you take me for? I don’t make friends.”

Slan laughed softly. The quiet chuckle bloomed into a bright, flawless smile that belied his complicated past.

“Do you remember what I told you, Ismion?”

“What…”

“Everything you could have had in the capital, you can have in Karlac too.”

The young archduke’s voice was bright.

“The exchange talk needs to happen now. The timing’s good. The Black Continent’s silver mine issue, too.”

Ismion stayed silent for a moment, then mumbled in a slightly subdued voice.

“I’ve already received everything I wanted, Duke of Karlac.”

Then, trying to make his voice cold again, he continued.

“What I want now is for York’s mages to cooperate more readily. Did I mention? York’s isolated terrain fostered unique flora, allowing their mages to develop distinct pharmacology. It’s not my specialty, of course. But if those mages were cooperative, we could improve the medicine…”

Slan half-listened, letting the words slip past.

He replied absently with a “sure” and stood, leaning on the table with both hands.

“Talk to Heinz about that. He’s got connections with York’s nobles, so he’ll have sway with their mages.”

Then he dismissed Ismion.

A touch of languor. Pleasant fatigue. A faint loneliness. Wrapped in those feelings, he thought of Jiyod, who must have reached Ipsen by now. A messenger summon would likely arrive tomorrow.

Walking slowly through the corridor from his study to his private chambers, Slan mentally reviewed the possible scenarios for the Mannerheim negotiations.

The Black Continent’s silver mine shares. The distribution of new wealth. The unpleasant tug-of-war with Kirda over war reparations. The magical kingdom’s ambiguous stance.

It would be a long, very long journey.

Slan tried to recall the version of himself that once enjoyed such challenges. He felt he could manage. It would have been better with Jiyod here, though.

He glanced up absentmindedly. The high domed ceiling sparkled with red stained glass and pearls, reflecting the light from golden lamps beautifully.

‘If I scraped off those pearls, I wouldn’t have to hear budget complaints for a while.’

Then he chuckled at his own absurdity.