As befitted Thilles's reputation for fine cuisine, the meal Maria had prepared was elegant without being humble. In other words, expensive things arrived in small portions, frequent courses, and pretty arrangements. (Eugene proclaimed it fine dining straight from the French motherland.)

How utterly pointless.

Ivan was not accustomed to this sort of culture. He promptly swallowed a thumb-sized filet mignon (a type of tenderloin steak) that vanished in two forkfuls, then waited for the next plate.

"... No, Mother. Listen. He released them on the mountain! Orcs! Thirty of them! And my arm was broken at the time...!"

"Oh my."

Maria listened to Isabelle's impassioned account with the same gentle smile.

Noticing Ivan's empty plate, she flushed slightly and tapped the table softly. A maid soon approached, cleared his plate, and served the next course.

It was a small piece of finger food: a blin (a Krasilof-style pancake) topped with caviar and a soft-boiled egg, paired with a fine red wine.

Naturally, this too would disappear in a single bite. All manner of flavors ran riot in his mouth.

Ivan, whose standards for flavor were exceedingly austere, did not enjoy such busy dishes. He preferred plain food. He was beginning to miss the corn tea in his director's office.

"And then, good heavens, everyone suddenly came rushing out and applauding. Wow. Did you know? I fainted right then!"

"Oh my. Goodness. Then they must have watched over you the entire time, for about five days?"

"Which makes it even worse!!"

"How kind of them."

"...??"

Isabelle's expression cracked. Her face seemed to ask what on earth she had just heard.

Still smiling warmly, Maria turned to Ivan.

"You personally guided and instructed her. How kind of you."

"It is my duty."

"Is the food to your liking?"

"... Yes. Thank you for the meal."

"I had to prepare it in a hurry, so it isn't much. Please let me know if there is anything you need."

"Yes, madam."

Seeing that his plate was empty again, Maria summoned the maid with a small wave and spoke softly into her ear.

Ivan could hear a passing mouse's footsteps through a closed window. Even without mana enhancement, a trained agent could not miss a quiet conversation at this distance.

"You should have the next course ready before our guest finishes his plate, Lucy."

"I'm sorry, madam... B-but table manners..."

"Etiquette was not created to judge people. It was created to make them more comfortable. How can you say that about a guest from another country? Are you really going to embarrass me?"

"I'm sorry, madam."

That was more or less how the meal went. A bite-sized dish arrived. He silently swallowed it. Another arrived, and he swallowed that too.

Thilles had a dish called foie gras. The ingredient was produced exactly as it was on Earth: by putting a funnel into a goose's mouth and forcibly stuffing it with food.

Perhaps that explained it. Unlike Krasilof, where plenty of food was laid out for everyone to help themselves before clearing up afterward, Thilles kept testing the waters, doling out tiny servings on little plates that barely registered in one's stomach.

He did not much care for the method. Ivan put more food into his mouth.

"And he never even came to visit me while I was recovering, then suddenly announced he was going to see the dwarves!"

"The dwarves?"

"Yes! Then he came back covered in injuries and spent another several days bedridden!"

"Oh my, Krasilof really is... harsh on its people."

Time passed as though [Mealtime] had been broken into syllables and each one drawn out at length. Comfortably full, the students followed a maid to their bedrooms.

Ivan unpacked his belongings and waited a while as well. He passed the time organizing his weapons and setting simple traps near the bed.

KNOCK KNOCK.

"Sir Petrovich, my mistress requests your presence."

"Mm."

Some time had passed, and it was early evening. At the word of the maid who had finally arrived, Ivan headed to the rear garden.

* * *

"Was the meal satisfactory? I had no idea... what sort of food you liked, so I prepared what I could at short notice."

"It was quite a luxurious experience. Thank you, madam."

In the middle of the rear garden, surrounded by low shrubs, simple desserts and wine stood on a snow-white table.

At Maria's gesture, Ivan sat opposite her. The maid beside him poured wine into his empty glass.

Maria made a small gesture toward the maid.

"Would you leave us alone for a moment?"

"B-but, madam..."

"Please. We wouldn't want any unsavory rumors to spread. Will you keep this a secret?"

"...!! Yes, of course, madam!"

The maid departed with a faint smile and a light step. Ivan glanced back after her and asked quietly.

"Would you like her investigated?"

"There is no need. I know who sent her. Tonight's 'unsavory rumor' will be making the rounds in Baron Gramont's salon by tomorrow morning."

"Shall I dispose of her quietly?"

"Is that Krasilof's 'secret service'? It is every bit as frightening as I've heard!"

Maria covered her mouth and chuckled.

"It's all right. She only passes things along; she can't judge them for herself. She isn't a cunning girl. She has three younger siblings and a sick mother to look after. Fortunately, feeding her a manageable amount of 'gossip' is something even I can do."

Hypocrisy.

Ivan tilted his glass, reflecting that the world was full of petty hypocrites like her.

Wasn't that why the world still appeared peaceful, at least on the surface?

"You must have many questions. Would you like to ask? Anything I know, I will tell you."

"Your husband... How was Maximilien when you last saw him?"

"He smiled."

The most pressing questions were what condition Maximilien had been in, and whether he had left any veiled meaning at their final parting.

Wasn't he the very man who had starkly demonstrated how the aftermath of killing the Seven Dragon Generals could destroy a person?

"Very, very brightly."

"Did he leave any other words?"

"He always said the same thing. 'What a relief.' What was there to be so relieved about...? That foolish man."

A relief that others had not had to endure it. A relief that the Demon King was dead. A relief that the United Kingdoms had not fallen.

Even if half the world burned, he would say the same thing so long as the fire could ultimately be extinguished.

Ah, what a relief that half the world is still here. That was what he would say. In other words, he would smile not at the half who had died, but at the half who remained alive.

In every statue honoring him, he stood smiling with his sword held upright.

Then it was all right. It meant Maximilien had not lost his reason, at least up to that final moment.

So long as his reason held until this generation's Hero's Party had fully matured, it would be all right. They would be able to stop him.

"According to our intelligence, three counts in Thilles are currently preparing for civil war. Are you aware of this?"

"Would I not know something even the children in the streets know? For a question invoking intelligence reports, that is a very easy one to answer."

Maria chuckled and took a sip of wine.

"Guillaume II, Count Autléans; Etouan, Count Grandmartel; and Jean Beltois, Count Vermontfort. It is an open secret that those three great counts are preparing to turn their swords on Thilles's royal house."

"And Thilles's royal house is doing nothing in response."

"Indeed. How could it, when the three princes each have different ideas? That must be why our king wishes to protect this city even if it means putting a housewife like me on display."

If Maria lived in the royal castle, the nobles who approached her in secret could not be kept in check. But if an ill-fitting mansion were built for her along a main street, drawing the eyes of every citizen, the great nobles watching one another would not dare approach her rashly.

At the same time, it effectively advertised that the Hero's family continued to exist under royal authority. Two benefits from a single move.

For a king who had lost control of his sons and needed to restrain his vassals' greed, it could well be the best move available.

Of course, the best moves these political monsters could devise were no different from cruel torture to civilians.

What a desolate environment for this warmhearted woman. A commoner from a farming village, made a spectacle for everyone, bearing the citizens' wonder and envy alike, longing for four years for the husband who would shield her.

Ivan remained silent for a moment. If he spoke now, he might frighten her. Only after composing himself did he quietly open his mouth.

"What is Gilles Vert doing? He should have settled the succession before the princes' quarrel reached this point."

"Of course he did. The Duke of Etakrich supports the first prince. When none of the princes is exceptionally gifted, having the eldest inherit is the cleanest solution, with no room for dispute."

"Then how...?"

"In this country's politics, supporting someone means it becomes difficult to refuse his 'requests.'"

Refusing a request from a prince one had publicly endorsed could look to outsiders like a dangerous fracture in his support base.

That could deal a severe blow to the first prince's barely consolidated authority. The other princes, backed by great nobles, would never let such an opportunity slip by.

Thus, an official 'request' from the first prince could not easily be refused. Especially if it came with a sound justification.

"The first prince asked the Duke of Etakrich to slay a dragon. There were reports of a dragon appearing in the Bernina Mountains in the northeast. Several villages had indeed burned, and an investigation confirmed that a dragon had ravaged them."

"I see."

Hunting was both an aristocratic pastime and, depending on the quarry, the easiest way for a noble to enhance his prestige.

No one in this country doubted Gilles Vert's prowess, but a dragon's corpse would make an even greater visual impression.

The first prince would not have wanted to miss this opportunity to cement his claim to the succession. If he could count the slaying of a dragon among his achievements, who would dare challenge him?

So he had dispatched Gilles Vert. Sent the Lord Protector and his retainers out of the city. And then...

"The three counts approached the three princes. The moment the Duke of Etakrich was gone. They now carry on as though this country were in their hands. Each behaves like a king in his own right, constantly scheming against the others yet readily joining hands from time to time."

"How did the first prince respond?"

"Who would protect him if he refused? Until the Duke of Etakrich returns, who indeed?"

"What is it you wish for, madam?"

There were three broad solutions. Ivan briefly organized his thoughts.

Kill all three counts.

Kill or imprison all three princes.

Or imprison the lot of them and hand them over to Gilles Vert when he returned.

Having entertained thoughts that would have made Elizaveta clutch her forehead on the verge of tears, Ivan raised his head.

"You make it sound as though you would do anything for me."

"If you wish it, I will."

"Oh my, that is hardly an appropriate thing to say to a married woman, Sir Petrovich. I heard you had become a knight, and now you even speak like a man of Thilles."

Maria chuckled and asked teasingly,

"Is that how you seduced my daughter?"

"... Pardon?"

Ivan rarely asked anyone to repeat themselves. His hearing could detect even the wingbeats of a passing butterfly. People might misspeak in his presence, but he almost never misheard. (Those who misspoke inevitably became truthful after suitable correction.)

This time, however, he had to ask. Malicious rumors of this sort had to be eradicated with hard facts.

"My daughter has fallen quite thoroughly for you. You cannot fool a mother's eyes."

"You are mistaken."

"Really?"

"Truly."

You could not fool a mother's eyes? It would be rather rude to say so to Maria, but that was laughable. No doubt she could not help being a person of the premodern era.

Mothers were generally remarkably obtuse about this sort of thing. Kim Seonwoo could testify to that. Whenever he so much as walked with a girl, his mother would ask, ["Are you Seonwoo's girlfriend?"] As a result, he had never once managed to get into a relationship.

Kim Seonwoo fell silent, shedding tears. Ivan readily agreed with his sentiments and gave a brief shake of his head.

Maria chuckled at the sight. She regarded him with a mischievous expression, a light tone, and eyes that had grown somewhat more serious.

"Please help the Duke of Etakrich. Help him slay the dragon. Restore this country's balance, so the hunt need not drag on any longer."

It was such a difficult request that she seemed ready to laugh it off as a joke if he refused. And yet she pleaded with fervent sincerity.

"I will."

It was such an easy request that Ivan did not hesitate. Hunting, after all, was his domain.

Gilles Vert was a knight. He could not possibly understand the process of following tracks, traversing mountains and rivers, and driving prey into a corner to catch it. If he were that sort of man, he would not have cleaved the sky in the middle of enemy territory.

Hunting had always been Ivan's task. Pursuing in silence, picking up the scent, tightening his grip around the quarry's neck.

The shadowy, 'uninteresting' work the Hero's Party could not do had always fallen to him. He was a scout. He was more the Hero's Party's hunting hound.

Even afterward, though the hand holding the leash changed, his role remained the same. Someone's hunting hound. Unchanging, right up until retirement.

Fortunately, he had retired later than the Hero's Party. His days of personally working in the field were not so long ago; he could still be considered active.

So hunting was his domain. And fortunately, this request was less burdensome than assassinating great nobles one by one.

"Are you serious? A dragon?"

"I've done it before."

Ivan put things in order and rose. Watching him, Maria did not rebuke his rudeness. She merely stared blankly, then murmured in a daze,

"He might make a fine son-in-law."

What to do, though? The Princess of Krasilof would oppose it to her dying breath.