Chapter 94 – The Ice Duke’s Mindset (5)

Since the ritualistic removal of her heart, Esther had existed in a state of emotional detachment. It was an irreversible loss, a permanent severance from the spectrum of human feeling. Even in death, if her hollow chest were opened, only dissipating mana crystals would remain, a testament to her power, but also to her sacrifice.

Yet, she wasn’t merely a machine, blindly reacting to external stimuli. Occasionally, faint echoes of emotions stirred within her, not genuine feelings, but phantom sensations, reconstructed memories dredged up from the depths of her subconscious. Physiological responses triggered by long-forgotten laughter, tears, or the reflexive mirroring of others’ emotions. These fleeting glimpses of her former self were as ephemeral as moonlight on a stormy night, too subtle to consciously register.

Until now.

“Haaa …That was a good nap-nya.”

Adela’s languid yawn, the way she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, triggered something within Esther, a flicker of…irritation? Was it possible? Had her emotions somehow returned? A week ago, such a display would have been met with indifference.

But this wasn’t Adela’s first time in the library. It wasn’t morning. And the book beside her head wasn’t a pillow.

Every one of Adela’s actions seemed deliberately designed to test Esther’s patience, a slow, steady drip of inanity that was beginning to chip away at the Ice Duke’s carefully constructed composure.

“Unni!?” Adela’s eyes widened in mock surprise.

“…” Esther remained impassive.

“I-I’m reading! I’m reading! Almost finished!” Adela frantically fumbled with the ribbon bookmark, flipping through the pages of the book with exaggerated diligence.

Esther, having woken her younger sister every thirty minutes with unwavering stoicism, stepped out of the villa and spotted Zikfreed conversing with the captain of the Farencia guard in the distance.

“My apologies for the…incident,” Zikfreed said, his tone formal, contrite.

“Water under the bridge. It…clarified a few things regarding my employer’s…character.” The captain’s usual gruff demeanor had softened somewhat, the warm weather of the central kingdom seemingly thawing his gruff exterior.

The Rochear knights, like most northerners, were a rigid, unyielding bunch. But separated from Esther’s direct influence, billeted in a villa near the lake behind the academy, they’d begun to…relax.

“Zikfreed.”

He hurried over, his expression alert.

“Yes, Countess?”

“Our stay will be extended. Inform the estate.”

“Understood…is something the matter?”

The matter? There were many matters.

Since extracting Adela from the relative comfort of her dormitory and installing her in the villa, Esther had gained a deeper, and increasingly frustrating, understanding of her younger sister’s…habits.

For one, the girl slept more than twelve hours a day. More than a cat. Even on the day the war ended, amidst the chaos and carnage, Esther hadn’t slept more than four hours.

And Adela’s intellectual capacity…well…let’s just say she wasn’t exactly a scholar. She seemed to possess a remarkable talent for forgetting three things for every one she learned. Esther had even contemplated probing her skull with her spear, just to ensure there weren’t any…structural deficiencies. Adela’s shriek had been…earsplitting.

And then there was her…motivation. Her reason for wanting to learn Rochear’s Unique Magic? To impress a man.

Her head was filled with romantic fantasies, her conversations revolving almost exclusively around her…lover…rather than the intricacies of ice manipulation. She’d even had the audacity to subtly inquire about dowry preparations.

Esther was beginning to understand.

“Zikfreed.”

“Yes, Countess?”

“I believe…I’m experiencing…irritation.”

“But…Countess…you don’t…experience…irritation…” Zikfreed stammered, his brow furrowed in confusion.

***

After a week of agonizingly slow progress, Esther abandoned her initial approach. Theory was clearly ineffective. She shifted to practical exercises after witnessing the library staff weeping over a stack of waterlogged textbooks, casualties of Adela’s…excessive salivation.

She led Adela to the lake, once a popular spot for leisurely boating, now a solid expanse of ice, a testament to Esther’s power.

With a casual flick of her wrist, she carved a grid into the frozen surface, the ice cracking and groaning beneath the force of her magic.

“Cross,” she instructed, pointing to the ice tiles at Adela’s feet. “Reach me.”

“Okay!”

Crack!

As Adela blithely stepped forward, Esther’s spear materialized before her, a wall of ice blocking her path.

“Listen to the instructions before you act.”

“…”

“Each tile has a different thickness. The refractive index and gas solubility have been adjusted. Visual identification is impossible.”

“Then how am I supposed to know which ones are safe?”

“Feel the ice. Unless you wish to experience the…invigorating…properties of glacial submersion.”

Half the tiles were deceptively thin, designed to shatter under pressure.

Adela, after a moment of contemplation, pointed at a tile.

“This one?”

Crack!

“Oops.”

The ice shattered beneath her feet, plunging her into the frigid water. Her hat bobbed on the surface as she spluttered, then, with a shiver, hauled herself back onto the ice. She began poking at the tiles with her ice pick, a pathetic attempt at…analysis.

“Hmm…achoo!”

This exercise wasn’t about identifying thick ice. It was about attuning oneself to the mana within, sensing the subtle variations in density, the purity of the magical energy. It was about instinct, a primal connection to the ice, much like an animal imparting survival skills to its offspring.

And for Adela, who radiated unstable bursts of cold whenever her emotions flared, control was paramount.

But…

“This one!”

Splash!

Adela continued her haphazard journey across the lake, systematically shattering tiles with each misplaced step. Her success rate was…abysmal. Half the tiles were safe, yet she hadn’t identified a single one correctly.

Esther watched her younger sister’s repeated submersions with a detached amusement.

One thought dominated her mind: Adela must be trained. Quickly. I need to return to the front lines.

But how? The girl seemed genuinely…incompetent. Esther had initially assumed Adela’s ditzy persona was a calculated act, a ploy to deceive the Rochear family, but now…she wasn’t so sure.

“What is she thinking…?”

And then she saw him.

A familiar figure strolling along the lakeshore, a pack of iron hounds trailing behind him, their leashes and muzzles clearly for show. He even carried a frisbee.

Louis…

Esther gripped her spear, her gaze hardening.

At that moment, Adela emerged from the lake, sputtering and shivering.

“Teacher?”

“?”

She spotted Louis on the far side of the lake, and her face lit up.

“Teacher!”

Thud! Thud! Thud!

With astonishing speed, she dashed across the lake, her feet unerringly finding the safe tiles, bypassing Esther in the center, and launched herself into Louis’s arms.

“Teacher!”

“Adela? What are you doing here? How’s the training going?”

“Great! I’m a genius! A natural!”

“Really…? Well, don’t overdo it. And if your sister tries to kill you, run. Want to play frisbee?”

Adela, her eyes shining with excitement, chased after the frisbee Louis tossed into the air.

Teacher. The way she’d said it, coupled with her earlier comments about him, confirmed Esther’s suspicions. They were…involved.

“…”

Esther felt…nothing. Romance, love…these were alien concepts to her. Her focus remained fixed on Adela’s progress, or rather, the distinct lack thereof.

Her gaze shifted between Louis, the man who’d humiliated her in combat, and the trail of unbroken ice tiles Adela had traversed.

It wasn’t luck.

Adela had instinctively identified the safe path, driven by a single, unwavering desire: to reach Louis.

The spear in Esther’s hand…melted.

Louis, her former adversary, the man who’d handed her her first defeat, had been relegated to a position of wary observation. Attacking him in the mana-carriage had been deemed…impractical.

And now, her assessment of him shifted once more.

A catalyst.

He was the key to unlocking Adela’s dormant potential.

The Ice Duke’s pragmatic mind, always seeking the most efficient path, had reached a conclusion. And that conclusion would soon translate into action.

***

I’d stepped out for a stroll with the iron hounds, seeking a respite from the stifling heat of the store, when I spotted them near the lake: Adela, soaking wet and shivering, and Esther, looking surprisingly…frazzled.

So, the “rehabilitation” was in full swing.

“Louis.”

“What is it?”

And there she was. Esther Silvesta de Rochear, the Ice Duke, approaching me with an intensity that sent even the heat-averse iron hounds scrambling for cover.

The Rochear women, it seemed, shared a certain…chill…an aura of frigid power that radiated from them like a physical force. Though Adela’s was more of a gentle coolness, Esther’s was…intense.

Why was she calling my name? A shiver ran down my spine.

No spear…good.

I instinctively scanned her for weapons, a habit ingrained from years of living on the edge.

She shared Adela’s delicate features, but her expression was sharper, her gaze colder. Tall and slender, her form perfectly accentuated by the crisp white uniform, she was…intimidating.

“Speak. I haven’t all day.” Her voice was as cold and sharp as glacial ice. Her piercing blue eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, fixed on me, their intensity unnerving.

“You…wish to see Adela Silvesta…improve?”

“…Are you seriously asking for my help?”

“Rochear must grow stronger.”

The audacity. To ask for assistance from the very person who’d humiliated her in combat. Her shamelessness was…almost admirable.

But one concern lingered.

“You’ll just take her back north, to the front lines.”

I knew Esther’s ultimate goal. To transform Adela into a weapon, a tool to be wielded against the demonic hordes.

“I won’t allow it. She’s not going back to the battlefield.”

I glared at her, loosening the iron hounds’ leashes, a silent warning.

But, to my surprise, she shook her head.

“That’s not my intention. At least…not immediately. Simply adding another Ice Duke to the front lines isn’t a guaranteed…advantage.”

“What do you mean?”

“The royal family has requested an Archduke Conference.”

The Archduke Conference. A gathering of Pennheim’s most powerful mages, convened only in times of great crisis. I vaguely recalled two such gatherings in recent history: one during the Great War, when the capital was on the brink of collapse, and another at the outset of a smaller, but no less significant, conflict.

“When?”

“Not immediately. It’s merely a request. But…significant changes are coming to Pennheim.”

“So, even if Adela remains in Farencia, it’s advantageous for her to master her Unique Magic?”

“Precisely.”

Esther nodded curtly.

In the distance, Adela came running towards us, frisbee in hand.

If that was her reason…

“Fine. Do what you want.” I shrugged, a sense of resignation washing over me. As before, there wasn’t much I could do to influence Adela’s…magical development.

“I’ll contact you later,” Esther said, turning to retrieve Adela, who’d abandoned her frisbee and was now attempting to climb a tree.

The Rochear women. A force of nature. And I, it seemed, was caught in their path.