From the gate tower atop Heim City's walls, Hel and her retainers looked down at the scene below.
A formation of elite cavalry was slowly advancing toward the city gates.
Each rider was clad in heavy plate armor from head to toe, and even their horses were armored to the teeth.
The midday sun blazed down, glinting off their polished armor until it gleamed like molten silver — under the brilliant light, they looked almost divine, as if heavenly soldiers had descended to earth.
Whether they were strong or not was another matter, but their entrance was certainly dramatic.
"Is that mithril armor?"
Arwin's eyes widened as he looked at the knights below. He compared them to his own armor and muttered in disbelief,
"Don't tell me… they're all Earth Knights?"
He swallowed hard. There were nearly three hundred of them. If all of them were Earth Knights, then this battle would be—
—well, interesting.
The thought made Arwin's eyes flash with excitement. It had been too long since he'd had a proper fight, and his hands were itching.
Coincidentally, his last opponents had also been knights from Mandrake.
"Patience, Lord Arwin," said old Sebas calmly, adjusting the single-lensed spectacles on his nose.
"The Mandrake duchy only has about ten Earth Knights in total. Do you really think Everton, as a duke's son, has the resources to form an entire company of them?
Even his father couldn't manage that. So—"
"It's silver-plated," Hel interrupted, immediately cutting through the mystery.
"True mithril armor can only be worn by Earth Knights strong enough to move freely in it.
But if you coat regular steel with a layer of mithril, you can still get decent protection.
It won't reach rare purple-tier quality, but blue-tier fine quality should be no problem.
"Still, no sane person would actually waste mithril like that — it's far more valuable than red copper.
If you're going to put that much effort into forging armor, it'd make more sense to just use red copper instead.
Unless…" She smirked. "They've got so much mithril lying around that they don't know what to do with it — and not enough copper to spare."
"I see."
Arwin nodded, then glanced back down. His expression dimmed with disappointment.
"Two fourth-tier, thirty third-tier, and three hundred second-tier knights… I honestly have no idea how they dared to march around with such a small force."
Hel sighed, gazing down at the cavalry with mild disbelief.
What was this so-called 'Grand Duke's Son' thinking? Was he not worried about his other brothers trying to assassinate him?
"Young master, this unit is already quite formidable," Sebas reminded her.
"A single Mandrake battalion has about this much strength. The entire Mandrake Knight Order only has five such battalions in total."
"Alright, fair point."
Hel rubbed her chin and nodded seriously.
"Guess it's just been too long since we fought a battle this one-sided."
While Hel and her group discussed the approaching cavalry, one rider broke off from the formation and galloped up to the city gates, raising his voice:
"The Grand Duke's first son, Lord Everton of Mandrake, arrives! Open the gates immediately! The Grand Duke's son—"
He repeated the announcement three times, as if reading from a menu, then turned his horse around and rode back without waiting for an answer.
Up on the wall, Hel and her group exchanged puzzled looks.
"So polite? I thought they'd attack right away, but they actually said please?" Hel muttered.
"Perhaps, young master," said Anna softly, "that soldier was afraid you might order his immediate execution if he didn't."
"Am I that easy to kill people?" Hel grumbled, ruffling Anna's hair — but when she glanced around, everyone else was nodding in agreement.
"…Alright, maybe my reputation among the nobles isn't the best. But whatever." She shrugged.
"Let them wait a bit. I'm heading back to the castle. That so-called Grand Duke's son doesn't deserve a personal welcome at the gate."
With that, Hel left with Niv and Anna, leaving Sebas and Arwin behind.
"So, uh… do we just wait here? Maybe grab lunch first?" Arwin asked, watching their backs disappear down the stairs.
Sebas's eyes suddenly brightened. "Ah, you mean we should cook up here on the wall — as a show of contempt, to humiliate them a little before receiving them?"
He nodded appreciatively. "Brilliant idea, Lord Arwin. A perfect power play against unwanted guests."
Arwin blinked, confused. "Uh, no, I was just saying it out of habit… from when I was alive."
Sebas: "..."
In the great hall of Heim Castle, Hel had a single chair brought in and placed at the center of the raised platform.
That spot was originally reserved for the lord's throne — where the ruler would sit to receive guests or hold balls.
Hel had found the original throne hideous, so she'd ordered it removed. Usually, meetings were held upstairs in the conference room.
But today, with the Grand Duke's son himself visiting, she supposed she should show a little lordly dignity.
Before long, the heavy doors of the hall swung open. Sebas led in a group of men — at the front was none other than the Mandrake family's first son.
He wore an ornate suit of silver-inlaid noble armor, complete with a closed helmet engraved with Mandrake floral patterns.
The most flamboyant part, however, was the plume — a long, fiery red horsehair crest that stood proudly upright before cascading down over his shoulders.
Everton's eyes locked onto Hel, sitting calmly upon the raised platform where the lord's throne once stood.
She hadn't even bothered to stand and greet him.
Remembering how he'd been left waiting outside the city walls — that humiliation —
and recalling how Hel had dared to ignore his orders, even going so far as to attack his men, his anger boiled over.
New grudges joined old ones, and rage filled his chest like wildfire.
He stormed to the base of the dais, glaring up at Hel as if he were the one looking down upon her, and growled in a low, venomous voice:
"Get down here, you Heim bastard."