Chapter 141: Villentretenmerth
It is a truth universally acknowledged that when a daughter asks, "Who's stronger, you or so-and-so?" fathers across the world have but one answer:
"Your old man is the strongest there is!"
The man claiming to be a Golden Dragon was no exception. He cleared his throat, adjusting his collar with a practiced, elegant flick of his hand.
"Naturally. Your father is the most formidable being in this world."
The girl nodded, though her eyes betrayed a lingering skepticism. She asked point-blank, "Then why did you conjure that bizarre tavern? You weren't... afraid of him, were you?"
Caught in his own boast, the man's face flushed a deep crimson. The veins on his neck bulged like earthworms as he scrambled for a defense.
"I was being prudent! In the world of adults, can you really call that fear?"
He followed this with a string of convoluted explanations mutterings about "using one's head before swinging a blade," the "dialectical unity of courage and honor versus action," and so on until the girl was doubled over with giggles.
Once the laughter subsided, the man turned to her. "We won't be staying here tonight. I'm going to treat you to a bit of luxury. We're going to the Moonlight Moss; it's the most opulent inn in all of Cintra."
"Wonderful! I've never stayed in a human inn before! I've heard they're magical places at night, people even start making rhythmic, yipping noises."
"Where in the name of the Great Sun do you pick up such rubbish...?"
Looking at his excited daughter, the man's perpetually elegant mask slipped for the first time, replaced by a look of pure exasperation. But the expression hardened into seriousness almost instantly. He took the girl's hand and led her toward the exit, uttering a single, sharp word:
"Move."
"Hmph. I knew there was something wrong with that place!"
When Arthur had first fled that queer tavern, his only thought had been to put as much distance between himself and that rose-biting giant as possible. But as his boots hit the pavement of a different district, the realization finally clicked.
This is a different world! A world where social norms are... let's say, medievally conservative! How could such an "advanced" establishment possibly exist here?
In all likelihood, someone had used an illusion to play with his head.
With that thought solidified, Arthur pivoted on his heel and retraced his steps. Sure enough, when he returned to the spot where he'd felt the hostility, the sprawling tavern had vanished.
A quiet, nearly desolate cafe sat in its place. A father and daughter stood by the entrance, looking somewhat lost.
Seeing the bewildered expressions on their faces, Arthur felt a surge of amusement. It seemed these two had been caught in the illusion as well. He strode forward, offering a friendly greeting:
"Hah! What happened here? Do you need some help?"
The girl flinched, lowering her head and shrinking behind the man's back.
The man offered a sheepish, awkward smile, tentatively raising a hand in greeting. "I... I'm not entirely sure. We were looking for a place to stay, but somehow, we walked in and found ourselves in a cafe."
He paused, casting a lingering look at the building's facade. "Strange. Even from the outside, it's a cafe now."
Arthur nodded knowingly, deciding to test the waters. "It seems you've been caught in a sorcerer's prank."
He gave them a brief summary of his own experience, adding, "Large-scale illusions like that require a massive drain on Chaos. If they're held together by a temporary incantation, the moment the caster stops maintaining it, the structure begins to fail. That would explain the anomaly finding a tavern on the outside but a cafe on the inside."
The man spoke with a note of feigned astonishment. "Seeing that longsword on your back, I took you for a simple warrior. I didn't expect you to possess such a sophisticated understanding of the arcane."
Arthur gave a slow, deliberate nod, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. "For an illusion to collapse so completely within minutes... it would seem our sorcerous prankster only recently departed."
He suddenly took a sharp step forward, his gaze boring into the pair like a hot iron. "Did either of you happen to see anyone leaving the shop just now?"
"No!"
Before the man could even draw breath to speak, the girl let out a sharp, jagged cry that was almost a whimper.
She stole a fleeting, terrified glance at Arthur before recoiling as if she'd touched a live coal. Her slender, pale fingers gripped the man's travel-worn doublet so hard her knuckles turned white, her entire frame trembling with a rhythmic, uncontrollable shudder.
Arthur suppressed a smirk. Given her reaction, there was no doubt who had been behind the trick.
However, they hadn't actually done anything harmful. One couldn't exactly commit murder over an unpleasant glare and a bit of illusory theater.
A sudden impulse for mischief took hold of him the desire to play a game of cat and mouse. He leaned in, his voice dripping with feigned concern. "Is your daughter quite alright? She looks... unwell."
As he spoke, he drifted closer, his presence looming.
The girl, likely far too young to maintain such a facade under pressure, nearly broke. She cowered, burying her face completely in her father's back to escape his sight.
"Ah, the fault lies with me!"
By comparison, the man's composure was far sturdier. He smoothed his expression into one of fatherly apology, using the motion of stroking the girl's hair to subtly position himself as a shield between her and Arthur.
"I am Villentretenmerth. We are here because the young Lady Saskia, during her recent lessons on international affairs, developed a sudden, burning curiosity regarding Cintra the southernmost tip of the Northern Realms."
Arthur blinked, wondering why someone would name themselves after 'Three Black Birds.'
The man offered a polite, if somewhat strained, smile, confessing his supposed ignorance with the easy air of a nobleman on a crowded street. "I am afraid I occupy the rank of Count with more pride than wisdom. I thought myself a man of letters for explaining the principles of megascopes and portal towers, yet I had no idea Cintra's spring could be so much more biting than that of Aedirn."
A look of perfectly measured confusion crossed his face. "According to the theories of the academy scholars and court mages, Cintra with the Yaruga to its north and the Great Sea to its west should possess a climate far more temperate than the landlocked depths of Aedirn..."
Arthur's smile twitched. Is this fellow really trying to lecture me on geography right now?
Then, a memory surfaced from Triss Merigold's lessons on noble etiquette. She had once mentioned that when a refined aristocrat wished to elegantly signal that they were bored to tears and wanted a conversation to end, they would often pivot to a topic of staggering dullness.
He's testing me, Arthur realized with a mental chuckle. He has no idea I've already seen through his mask.
Arthur decided to lean into the absurdity. He tilted his head back, rolling his eyes until only the whites showed, and began muttering under his breath like a hedge-wizard in a trance.
Just as the pair thought they might slip away unnoticed, he lunged back into their path, blocking the Count's way.
"Ah! I see it now!" Arthur cried. "The wind carried your question to the Great Sea, and the Sea has provided the answer!
"Deep within the ocean, there are vast, surging rivers of water. One such current is passing us even now, carrying with it the frigid depths of the Koviri and Povissian gulfs. That is why you find Cintra's spring colder than the heart of Aedirn."
"Heh... I see. Most... enlightening," the man replied, his eye twitching. He realized he wasn't going to shake this human off like a common burr.
Behind him, the girl's trembling grew more violent, shifting from fear to a simmering, volatile rage. She hissed through gritted teeth, "There isn't a wind in the world that blows that fast!"