In actuality, the territories bestowed upon the nobility by the Empire, particularly the eminent nobles such as dukes and marquesses, were so extensive and bountiful that they hardly differed from kingdoms.
However, the Emperor would not tolerate the existence of any so-called kingdoms within the Empire. Each Emperor manifested such immense desire for control, much akin to the Empire itself, which bore no name, merely the Empire—harbouring the voracious ambition of the Flamefeast Royal, aspiring to rule the grand nations of the entire world.
It required no appellation, just as a continent is simply a continent, the world merely the world. The Empire was destined to become such a commonplace noun in the future, necessitating no additional footnotes.
To return to the matter at hand, it was precisely for this reason that, although the Red Frost Territory was merely a "territory," it was considered bountiful in the "barbaric north." Coupled with its unique characteristics, a significant number of northern nobility, as well as merchants, had chosen to put down roots there. Consequently, even though barely half a day had passed since the death of the Count of Red Frost, numerous individuals, anxious about the future, had been forced to pay exorbitant teleportation fees and arrive at the manor of the Count Stoneheart.
— The reason for their haste? Of course, it was because everyone feared death, and those who didn't were hanging at the entrance of Ansel of Hydral's residence.
And even those who feared death might find themselves hanging there.
Thus, when Ansel entered the main hall, the men and women, dressed so lavishly that it caused Seraphina's eyes to ache, flocked to him like bees to honey.
As previously stated, she had absolutely no idea how to perform her duties as a guard and stood stiffly beside Ansel, watching them surround him.
Those who could make it here were individuals with some influence and vision, who naturally understood the unwritten rules of "high society" etiquette. Despite Hydral's notorious reputation creating an initially unsightly scene, with everyone behaving like courtesans in a brothel, the rules forged by millennia of societal evolution swiftly restored order to the scene.
The first batch to approach Ansel could naturally only be the nobles of the Red Frost Territory, second only to the Count of Red Frost. The nobles who were accustomed to wielding power within their own small territories were now so humble that it sent shivers down Seraphina's spine, causing her to rub her arms and step back a bit.
Ansel, rubbing his snake-head scepter, had a slight smile on his face, which to the onlookers, of course, appeared as a friendly grin. He conversed with the surrounding nobles, his tone light and approachable. Even when chatting with four or five people simultaneously, he didn't let anyone feel isolated.
At that moment, our fair-haired guard was in quite a bind. Ansel's command prevented her from straying too far, yet the nauseating scent of the nobles caused her nose to ache.
Decay, sourness, pungency, and an indescribable foul odor. Some were strong, some faint, but all of them, to some extent, carried these scents.
She watched Ansel, surrounded by these rotten individuals, yet still engaged in lively conversation, and curled her arms as close to the edge as possible, pulling a cold, sarcastic smile.
Although this sissy didn't have any repulsive smells, the fact that he could mix so well with this lot made her question—how could he be anything but a rotten apple as well?
… Wait a second.
The girl's fingers gently tap on her arm, her sharp canines revealing their gleaming points.
What a sterling opportunity! An occasion to expose this chap's true nature not only to Marlina... but to everyone! Witness how I record every word he utters and recite them for all to hear!
"...I too express my deepest regret about the Count of Red Frost, the rest of the Red Frost family will be treated benevolently, I assure you."
— Regret? Just as I suspected, he's no better than the other rogue!
"Her Majesty has temporarily entrusted me with the role of the lord, and there are many political orders that will require your cooperation."
— Just as I thought! He's in league with the nobility! He undoubtedly has malevolent intentions! His murder of the Count of Red Frost was nothing but a scheme to usurp him!
"Details? Well, it's not that I'm reluctant to share, let's have a brief meeting to discuss them after the banquet, shall we?"
Then came a flood of inane conversation that, in Seraphina's view, was utterly devoid of substance. Nonsense about the quality of wine from this or that place, the merit of someone's painting, who acquired some peculiar artifact... Although these words were meaningless, they confirmed one thing for Seraphina:
This Ansel of Hydral was no different from any other noble! He looked down upon commoners, cared not for their wellbeing, and only had eyes for the glory and prestige of his own kind. The only difference was that unlike other nobles, he put on an act in front of commoners.
As she thought about this, Seraphina was filled with joy. Now she had a reason to refuse to associate with this man. Marlina was the most sensible person, and if she knew Ansel's true nature, she wouldn't let her continue with this.
The girl glanced at the young nobleman who was now controlling the banquet. He accepted everyone's flattery without a hint of arrogance. Everyone who spoke with him seemed to feel genuinely pleased and at ease. He navigated the intricate social web with ease, interpreting people's thoughts and feelings as if turning pages in a book. Despite her intense dislike for Ansel and her rudimentary aesthetic sensibilities, even Seraphina had to admit that the man was... competent.
But the more she thought this, the more her irritation and discomfort grew. The more she looked at Ansel, the more she disliked him.
*
As time slowly passed, the high society guests at the banquet enjoyed the delicious food and wine, admired the beautiful women singing and dancing in the light of the twinkling magic crystals. It seemed like everyone was happy, like every person who had come with fear had now cleared their melancholy.
Standing by Ansel's side, Seraphina felt out of place in this merriment, as she restlessly awaited the approach of her prey and enemies- if these cowards didn't show up, wouldn't she have suffered for nothing?
But the hostility she sensed remained at a... ah, safe distance from Ansel.
What a bunch of useless lot!
The enemy that was closest to Ansel and radiating hostility was 13 meters behind Seraphina in a crowd of people. If it weren't for Ansel's "order" not to leave his side, Seraphina would have rushed over, broken his arm, and taken him down.
Finally, after what felt like a long torment, the banquet... ended.
Saraphina looked at Count Stoneheart, who was standing on the stage announcing the end of the banquet, with a face full of disbelief.
Just like that? All this time spent in the company of these filthy nobles and these sycophants reeking of money, and nothing happened?
The banquet ended on a high note, with the hosts and the guests in high spirits. Only the barefooted girl, clad in brown hunter's garb, seemed out of place in this world. She grit her teeth, her savage and barbaric eyes making every nobleman and merchant bidding farewell to Ansel break into a cold sweat.
"Alright, noble lords, those of you with the glorious imperial blood flowing in your veins."
Ansel stood up at this moment, smiling at the circle of influential nobles of Red Frost:
"The conversation we are about to have will determine the future of the Red Frost domain for the next few years. I am not expert in governance, so I hope you will speak freely and offer me your valuable advice."
"You're too modest, Lord Hydral." Count Stoneheart was the first to speak, "Everyone knows that the territories under your rule are like paradise on earth. We are hardly in a position to give you advice. We should be asking for your guidance instead."
The nobility echoed in unison, and amidst this jovial atmosphere, Ansel, led by the Count Stoneheart, strolled towards the prearranged council chamber.
Catching sight of the stationary lady guard in his peripheral vision, Ansel gently tapped the ground with his scepter, "Seraphina, it is time to move."
"Ah... Huh? We're leaving? Let's hurry then!"
"I mean, it's time for the next phase. Follow me - have you forgotten my orders?"
"..."
The nobles observed the astonishingly beautiful girl in snow-white hair with either subtle or blatant gazes. As if mocking her, the absurd extra tasks at this damned banquet, and the demeaning gazes assessing her like an object, all served to fuel Seraphina's burgeoning rage. Fixing her gaze on Ansel's retreating figure, she articulated each word with deliberate pause:
"You'd best anticipate someone coming to kill you, Hydral."
This statement stunned the other nobles, even the Count Stoneheart, who had observed the peculiar relationship between Ansel and Seraphina, was momentarily dumbstruck.
After the shock came fury. In the eyes of the nobility, the flawless Lord Hydral represented their noble bloodline. Someone immediately reprimanded Seraphina, "You lowly servant, who gave you the audacity to insult Lord Hydral! Kneel and slap yourself in the face!"
A twitch played at the corners of Seraphina's mouth. A strange, beast-like growl of savage wildness squeezed past her bared teeth.
She could never forget the humiliation of being slaughtered, controlled, wantonly insulted, and the humiliation of her sister begging her to apologize in the most demeaning manner.
The phrase "slap yourself" served as the spark that could instantly send Seraphina into an uncontrollable rage.
But by now, Ansel had already placed his serpent-head scepter before Seraphina, the message was crystal clear.
—You must not cross this line.
"Hyd...ra—"
"Viscount VerdantSnow."
Before Seraphina could finish her hate-filled growl, Ansel had already begun speaking cheerfully to the viscount who had just stood up.
The called-out viscount responded excitedly, "Yes, Lord Hydral! May I ask you—"
"What gave you the audacity to overstep?"
Ansel kindly interrupted him.
The Count Stoneheart subtly shook his head, regarding the young viscount with pity.
The viscount's face hardened, and then it was filled with immense panic and fear, "No, I didn't..."
"Is it my affability, or your foolishness?"
Ansel approached the Viscount of Snow, looking at the young man who had spoken for him with a gentle gaze.
At this moment, all the nobility and prominence of this viscount had disappeared, or rather... had been obliterated.
Obliterated by the even younger Hydral with his soft, gentle words.
"Kneel."
He said this in a compassionate tone, placing his scepter on the viscount's shoulder.
"Slap yourself."
The young noble, his face and lips already drained of color, fell to his knees as if bearing a tremendous weight, and forcefully slapped himself with his trembling hand.
"Once the viscount realizes his mistake, he can stop— and you too, Seraphina."
Ansel slightly tilted his head, glancing at the slightly subsided Seraphina while maintaining his elegant smile:
"Upon your return, prepare to face punishment."
"…Tsk."
After administering a lesson to two impertinent youths, Ansel acted as if nothing untoward had transpired, turning to the Count of Stoneheart, "Please lead the way, Lord Stoneheart."
Immediately comprehending, the Count of Stoneheart initiated conversation amongst the nobles with topics of fine wine and artistry. Again, the imperial bluebloods cheerfully discussed magnificent matters unrelated to the mortal world, and departed.
Witnessing Ansel, who had displayed no dissatisfaction from beginning to end and conversed joyfully with the nobles, Seraphina was overwhelmed by a surge of potent loathing.
How could a man be so profoundly hypocritical? Did he not feel revulsion at his own façade? Did he believe his prior actions were just? Could mere words of his provoke gratitude in her heart?
An anonymous rage burnt within Seraphina, scorching her insides. In her eyes, every action and deed of Ansel was utterly repugnant, mirroring her inexplicable intense hatred for him.
The restless young wolf, endeavoring to rein in her claws and fangs, suppressed the urge to thrash the nobles who spouted frivolous and irrelevant words, and followed Ansel in silence to the doors of a council hall.
"I've saved a bottle of Red Python wine, and I hope Lord Hydral will relish it," said the Count of Stoneheart, laughing as he motioned for the servants to open the grand doors. "You must sample the specialty of the Red Frost territory—"
His words were cut midway as the doors were slightly ajar, and an imperceptible thunderous explosion echoed in the snowy night outside the mansion.
Bang!
The Count of Stoneheart at Ansel's side was flung against the partially opened door as if he were struck by a terrifying beast. In the blink of an eye, a pristine snow-white intruded upon Ansel's peripheral vision.
The next moment, an abrasive sound echoed jarringly down the corridor of the council hall, accompanied by the barely perceptible sound of flesh being torn apart.
A sharp triangular arrowhead halted an inch before Ansel's nose, slowly ceasing its rotation. Further ahead, a delicate, pale hand stretched out from the side, with crimson liquid slowly dripping from the back and palm. The owner of the beautiful hand rose slowly from her charging stance.
The grating sound that had just made one's teeth on edge was the noise emitted as Seraphina clamped the arrow that was about to pierce Ansel's skull with her palm!
"Hmm... hahaha..."
Before the screams could erupt, the girl's laughter, filled with delight, already echoed down the corridor.
The two servants who had opened the door, after a brief moment of shock, rushed toward the unmoving Ansel, intending to draw daggers hidden in their sleeves towards his throat and heart!
— Alas, it was but a fantasy.
Because the moment they stepped forward, before they could even grasp the hidden blades, Seraphina forcibly pulled the arrow out along its trajectory, and amidst the splattering blood, she hurled it back in the direction it came from, instantly shattering one man's kneecap!
Before the man's wail of agony could ring out, the young wolf, her claws bared in exultation, dove low, her palm striking the assassin's chin. Her fingers closed, seizing his lower jaw as if she held his entire skull, lifting him bodily into the air. She then sent him crashing down, his head…
— the focal point of impact.
In the midst of a heart-stirring hum, another arrow tore through the air with no room for delay. Seraphina Marlowe, crouching, seemed to have foreseen the projectile. Her robust yet supple body twisted, her long, powerful leg swept upward in a fierce kick that produced a whistling sound as it cleaved through the air.
The snow-white instep of her foot, sharp as a knife's edge, split the black-gold arrowhead. The rotating pointed arrowhead cruelly tore through Seraphina's flesh, but at the same time, her foot, acting as a blade, violently kicked it away. The arrow was flung back with such force that it was embedded into the wall of the corridor.
"You should have let me deal with the guy outside first," the standing Seraphina grumbled in displeasure, "Noble young lords who only cause me trouble."
Ansel, seemingly oblivious of his near-death experiences, smiled and said, "So, to our Miss Marlowe, this is an insoluble problem?"
"Who are you looking down on?!"
Her words instantly caused Seraphina's hackles to raise. Her foot, from which a chunk of flesh had been ruthlessly torn, stomped down heavily. Not a trace of pain showed on the young girl's face. She tore a piece of cloth from her sleeve, skillfully bandaging her foot as she glared coldly at Ansel.
"Bring me ten more archers. The prey I've killed is hundreds, thousands of times their number!"
"Hmm... I don't think continuing to block arrows with your hands and feet is a good choice."
"That's because you idiotically stood there letting them shoot at you!"
Furious, Seraphina roughly dragged Ansel away from the door gap, snatched two daggers from the fake servant turned assassin, and casually twirled them around.
"Unfamiliar... No matter, they'll do to block arrows."
She forcefully kicked open the heavy double doors. The daggers in her hand effortlessly deflected another incoming arrow in an almost inconceivable manner.
"Finally, they show up, the useless lot."
The girl standing in front of Ansel licked the gash on her palm. The blood on her sharp teeth mirrored her wildness and brutality, striking fear into the hearts of others.
"Come."
The young wolf showed her fangs in delight.
"Try and kill him before my eyes."