By the time they arrived at Red Castle, it was already late May.
Roland had friends to visit and a mistress kept in a small courtyard to comfort, so Russell set out alone.
He first paid a visit to Count Merlin.
"Grandfather, these are one hundred crates of Frost Rain Dragon Cigars." Russell gestured for his subordinates to carry the hundred crates inside. "After fermenting through an Ice Age, these Frost Cigars have reached their most perfect quality."
Tobacco leaves imbued with magic only needed simple fermentation to achieve their finest flavor.
"Good, this old man has finally been waiting for Frost Cigars." Count Merlin immediately had someone open a box, lit one, and took a careful puff. "The flavor surpasses White Dew and Cloud Mist by far. Not bad, not bad!"
"It took many rounds of refinement before I finally settled on the flavor of the Frost Series," Russell said with a smile.
Then he began further elevating the cigars' image. "If cigars represent a knight's life, and smoking one to the end means fully savoring that life, then Frost Cigars represent a knight's detachment toward life—nothing more than a little frost and wind."
Count Merlin's eyes lit up, and he laughed heartily. "Well said! All the chaos and turmoil in this world is nothing more than a little frost and wind!"
As a Wyvern Knight who had governed the Elder Council for many years, Count Merlin had seen far too much.
From scorching volcanoes to bitterly cold snowfields, his footprints covered the entire Shadowflame Grand Duchy. Perhaps people criticized him for being authoritarian and cold-hearted, but he had at least striven to keep the Grand Duchy running, his heart as steadfast as stone.
The world's honors and humiliations truly were nothing more than a little frost and wind