Wildspeak Hills.
This had once been fertile land on the border between Linburg Province and Southern Border Province, rich in sugar beets and flax. Now, the blizzard had flattened the rolling hills, leaving nothing but a deathly expanse of white between heaven and earth.
Inside the Black Swan-class magical carriage, it was as warm as spring.
Brass beast heads in the four corners breathed out streams of temperature-controlled air. The scent of hot wine spiced with cinnamon and cloves filled the carriage, yet a faint, rank musk seemed perpetually mixed into that cloying warmth-the smell coming from the old man sitting opposite.
Kaden Valentine wrinkled his nose in disgust and covered his mouth and nose with a silk handkerchief embroidered with a Blood-Weeping Bell. His green eyes swept over the man opposite, regarding him as though he were a pair of boots smeared with horse manure.
Marius Strauss sat across from him with his eyes closed. A few dried blades of grass still clung to his badly worn wyvern-hide coat. He looked like an old bear in hibernation, without a shred of aristocratic dignity.
Damned weather, and that damned smell. Kaden cursed inwardly, but not a trace of displeasure showed on his face as he lifted his silver goblet and gently swirled the crimson wine.
"Count, it seems those old fossils in the War Department have a peculiar sense of humor when it comes to defining a 'holiday.'" Kaden took a casual sip and gazed out at the bleak white wasteland, distaste coloring his voice. "In this godforsaken backwater of Sea Land, there's nothing but mud and paupers. The gold Hector promised is about the only thing worth getting excited over."
Marius listened to this lofty speech without the slightest stir of emotion. He almost wanted to laugh.
He knew