Three Years Later,
The biting chill of the Vinlig territory had remained constant throughout the years.
Although the sun made its presence felt for a month, the harsh winds still held sway, reminding everyone of the territory's unrelenting cold.
Currently, there was still another month to go before the sun would once again bless Vinlig with its warmth.
As the days passed, the mansion bustled with its usual routine of hunting monsters for profit.
The territory thrived on the products derived from these monsters, selling them at good prices—all thanks to the teachings of Merchant Vorila himself.
Indeed, after his meeting with the young master of the Vinlig territory a year ago, Merchant Vorila had introduced several individuals skilled in various trades to the territory.
These individuals were adept at financial management and other professions, aimed at imparting vital skills to the residents of Vinlig so they could create their own livelihoods.
Although the locals were just starting out, the perpetual cold and scarcity of raw materials often stifled their talents, relegating them to small, menial tasks.
However, it seemed that Merchant Vorila had begun to recognize the potential within the community.
He provided individuals with opportunities and funding to support their entrepreneurial endeavors, whether it was opening inns or other businesses, clearly showcasing his kind-hearted nature.
His efforts brought a rare warmth to the otherwise frigid atmosphere of the territory.
On the outskirts of the Vinlig territory, beyond the fortified walls, the snow-covered mountains were alive with activity.
Several individuals could be seen traversing the snow on sturdy horses.
Thanks to the presence of mana in the region, these horses had adapted remarkably, growing thick fur to shield them from the cold while easily navigating the snowy terrain without getting stuck.
"Count, the number of monsters is decreasing day by day," reported one of the soldiers, stepping forward to share his observation.
It was a reality that had become increasingly obvious; the population of monsters had notably declined over the past months.
"Hm," Count Vinlig mused, his gaze narrowed as he observed the landscape from his seat in armor at the forefront.
He pondered the implications of this change.
Unlike previous months, when the nearby Hedrian Kingdom had relentlessly pressed its advantage by slaying monsters in large numbers—prompting many of these monsters to flee toward Vendal's borders and even arrive in Vinlig's territory, which served as the first line of defense in the north—there now appeared to be a waning of their aggressive subjugation.
The decrease in their actions seemed to correspond with a noticeable reduction in the monster population within the territory.
"Let's gather what we have; tomorrow is my son's birthday, and we should leave," the Count declared.
Though he wanted to push forward with his duties, the thought of his son turning four the next day made him reluctant to remain busy here, prompting him to turn his horse around.
"I even prepared a sword for the Young Master!" one of the soldiers behind the line exclaimed, his enthusiasm evident.
"Shut up; he's just four years old!" another soldier interjected dismissively.
"You both are fools. Doesn't the Young Master love reading?" another soldier chimed in, recalling how the young master always cherished the book he had received as a gift from the Count.
It was a treasure to him, and after training, he would often be found seated on the training ground, lost in its pages, sometimes even jotting notes in the margins.
"Hahaha, for now, let's hurry; he must be waiting for me!" The Count chuckled as he urged his horse to pick up the pace.
This prompted the others behind him to match his speed.
The carts filled with monster spoils had already been sent ahead with a few escorts, making their load light enough for this distance as they hurriedly made their way back to the territory.
----
Inside the Count's Mansion, everything proceeded as normal, despite the absence of its mistress.
The atmosphere remained charged with energy and positivity, evident in the diligent activities of the maids, each one absorbed in her tasks.
Not a single maid was slacking off or appearing leisurely; instead, the entire household hummed with harmonious productivity.
However, the peace surrounding the mansion did not extend to the territory beyond its walls, where numerous individuals harbored varied intentions.
For the moment, though, the mansion maintained its calm exterior.
"Lily, did you hear about that?" One of the maids, who was dusting off the curtains in the grand parlor, glanced over at another maid busily replacing flowers in a vase.
"What is it?" Lily replied, her hands deftly arranging the blooms.
The newly arrived maid had a unique talent for nurturing flowers, and despite a brief cooldown in her ability, the preservation artifacts within the mansion ensured that the floral displays remained vibrant and inviting.
"The heir of the Liander duchy died in a carriage accident," the first maid informed her, her attention still focused on the curtains as she shifted to dust the glass.
"It must have been her," Lily said with a knowing nod.
Having spent a significant amount of time in the mansion, she was all too aware of the implications.
It was Lady Kassidy who had orchestrated her brother's demise in order to secure her position.
Such actions were not entirely unexpected, especially considering that the head maid had often spoken of how the former head of the Liander family had passed away a year ago under dubious circumstances.
Following that event, the heir—a notorious drunkard—had begun frequenting pleasure houses and indulging in excesses, which made it increasingly clear that he was being fattened up for slaughter.
It was intriguing how these maids had come to learn such details.
The head maid's granddaughter, residing in the capital city, had shared the news with her, filling the staff in on the unfolding drama.
Armed with their knowledge of Lady Kassidy's cunning and shrewd nature, the maids were convinced of her involvement in this so-called accident.
"By the way, isn't the young master gaining too much weight—" the maid cleaning the curtain, known for her gossiping personality, was about to mention how, even though she and everyone in the mansion knew how hard-working their young master was—always waking up in the morning to train and remaining disciplined about his eating—it puzzled her how he was still overweight.
But before her words could be completed, Lily exclaimed, noticing a figure standing at the turn of the corridor, looking at them blankly, "Y-young master!?"