"When I received your invitation, I did consider refusing."
Mifein looked at Kroya with great sincerity. "The kingdom has all but abandoned the Northern Frontier. Even the Heraldry Court and the Mage Association have no intention of developing it."
"Even Aistena, the current president of the Mage Association, doesn't know about this."
"Is that so?" Kroya nodded slightly and began to think.
This really was news to him.
Even if the Northern Frontier was a little remote, surely the kingdom wouldn't simply abandon such a vast territory.
After a brief moment of thought, Kroya realized that Mifein was extending an olive branch, showing his goodwill.
If he could learn the real reason, it might greatly help him take control of the Northern Frontier.
So he followed up with a question. "Why?"
Rather than answering directly, Mifein mysteriously held out a hand. The young man's hand was slender and fair, with well-defined joints, but a closer look revealed many calluses on his fingertips. It gave the strange impression of both youth and a lifetime of hardship.
At the very center of his palm was a peculiar mark.
It was an ocher sphere, its surface covered with rolling mountain ranges, endless plains, and hills. Almost every kind of terrain could be found on it.
"Please look at this dream."
As Mifein spoke, a strand of magic flowed from the mark and formed a screen of light in front of Kroya.
What appeared within it, however, was an immense expanse of farmland. Tall wheat grew there, swaying in the breeze and forming waves across the fields.
The drooping ears were clearly plump and full, looking like flowing gold. The entire world was covered in these endless waves, as though it were a world made of wheat.
"Quite beautiful," Kroya praised, then asked curiously,