The morning sun over the metropolis of Gimle cast a golden glow that reflected beautifully across the blanket of pristine snow.
Although the outside air still bit at the skin, the hustle and bustle of citizens and merchants in the main shopping district generated a warmth that contrasted with the cold of the northern winter.
In the middle of the crowded marketplace, packed with a row of spice carts from Baronia and wool merchants from Winterfell, the sight of a small family walking leisurely caught many pairs of eyes.
Duchess Freya walked gracefully at the front in a pristine white fur coat with a silver trim, holding the small hand of Aiden, whose sapphire eyes sparkled with innocent wonder at the surrounding sights.
To their right, Edward walked calmly, keeping watch over the situation—though beneath his calm exterior, the young man’s mind was filled with surging anxiety regarding the condition of Sir Raymond, who had been completely paralyzed by severe abdominal cramps early this morning.
Meanwhile, long before the morning sun cast its golden light over the city of Gimle, the atmosphere in the wing reserved for the House of Silver delegation had been touched by a minor panic.
At that time, a young palace servant was seen hurriedly carrying a silver tray holding a silver kettle of warm water and a special herbal bowl meant to soothe a cold throat—ordered specially to restore Sir Raymond’s physical fitness before he began escorting the Silver family.
The servant walked quickly down the quiet marble corridor connecting the quarters of the border high-ranking officials.
However, his footsteps came to an instant halt as a young man in a white velvet robe embroidered with pure gold threads stood right in the middle of the dim corridor’s corner.
Julian Vallière-Silver.
The silver-haired young man stood with a calm posture, wearing a thin, intensely sharp smile.
Behind that elegant smirk, no one knew that Julian’s heart was pounding wildly with profound fear at his father’s decree.
Yet he had to do it; he had to ensure that the House of Silver’s bulwark of rage was incapacitated today to prevent a massive bloodbath on the capital’s streets involving innocent civilians.
”Y-Young Master Julian…” The young servant immediately bowed respectfully, his body trembling slightly, feeling terrified to cross paths with the notorious and ruthless heir of the Vallière faction in the palace.
”Warm water and the herbal brew for Sir Raymond?” Julian’s voice sounded soft, almost like a whisper of wind, yet it carried an absolute authority that made the servant not dare raise his head.
”Y-Yes, Young Master…
This was sent specifically for the border knight so that he stays in top condition,” the servant answered stammeringly.
Julian nodded slowly.
He stepped closer, as if merely wishing to inspect the quality of the refreshment for the palace’s honored guest.
His white-gloved hand reached out to touch the silver tray.
In a lightning-fast movement unnoticed by the servant, Julian’s fingers unfolded a small fold in his palm.
Pure white mushroom powder—a rare, mildly toxic extract that was odorless, tasteless, and entirely non-lethal—was sprinkled with pinpoint precision into Sir Raymond’s kettle of warm water.
The powder dissolved instantly without leaving a trace of sediment or the slightest discoloration.
This white mushroom won’t take a life, Julian bitter-sweetly thought to himself, easing the turbulence of guilt in his chest.
The poison will only paralyze the sturdy knight’s digestive system, triggering intense cramps and extraordinary stomach aches for a full day.
Enough to leave him bedridden and helpless, with no casualties.
”Take it and give it to him,” Julian said with a feigned cold tone, perfectly maintaining the mask of his ruthless monster persona.
”Make sure he finishes every last drop…”
”Y-Yes, Young Master!” the servant answered in terror, hurriedly walking away without ever knowing that the kettle in his hands had been compromised by the hand of the Vallière heir.
And just as the first sip of that warm water entered the iron stomach of Sir Raymond this morning…
Returning to the present moment,
Elena was walking with sparkling eyes—her head busy turning left and right, planning which shops they should visit to buy gifts for her little brother—when she suddenly stopped.
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she spotted a small street-corner stall displaying rough wooden carved protective amulets with a pungent herbal scent.
For a moment, the image of a massive young man with bulging muscles, a brutal aura, and a hobby of lifting boulder-sized rocks flashed across her mind: her second oldest brother, Cedric, the “muscle-brain” of the Silver family, who considers a five-hour weightlifting session barely enough to burn calories.
Ah, wait a minute…
do I need to buy a souvenir for that idiot too? This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Elena thought for a second, wondering if her brother, who loved brawling, would even appreciate a souvenir from the capital.
Yet, in less than two seconds, Elena immediately brushed the thought far away with a mix of annoyed and amused expression.
Ugh, heavens no!
Such a waste of coins and effort!
Elena muttered inwardly with an annoyed snort.
Why buy souvenirs or sweets for a man whose brain capacity consisted solely of meat fibers and rusty iron?
Even if given a strawberry cake carved with flowers or an ordinary river stone, his reaction would surely be the exact same—he’d chew it raw right away while saying, ‘Ah, it’s hard and tough, but pretty good for building muscle mass!’ Without an ounce of artistic appreciation!
Besides, does that ape-creature even care about souvenirs?!
Elena continued with her increasingly wild, absurd logic.
He’s the kind of immortal being who, if thrown into the middle of a desert or an arctic ice trench, would still thrive!
If he starves, he’d surely just graze like a goat, chew on pebbles, or lick rusty nails on the roadside for iron!
Why give him an expensive souvenir when it’ll just end up being used as a push-up weight?!
With that cruel yet hilarious logic, Elena waved her hand in the air as if banishing the shadow of her muscle brother from her head.
Right at that moment, far away, Cedric—who was training with weights in the snowy courtyard of Silvergard Fortress—suddenly felt an extraordinary itch in his nose.
Hatchiiih!
Cedric snorted loudly while wiping his nose with the back of his muscular hand covered in sweat vapor.
He cast a suspicious glance around the empty training barracks, while the snow around him scattered from the vibration of his breath.
Strange…
why are my goosebumps acting up like this?
It feels like someone is slandering me or calling me a grass-eating goat…
Cedric muttered to himself with deep furrowed brows.
The young man fell silent for a moment, staring at a massive three-hundred-kilogram chunk of glacial ice he had just lifted onto his shoulder.
Instead of growing suspicious of his sister, Cedric’s brain drew a conclusion that strayed drastically far from reality.
Ah, I know!
This must be a sign that my body is starting to soften because I’ve stayed inside the fortress for too long without any heavy challenges!
Cedric thought with eyes blazing with burning enthusiasm.
He immediately dropped the ice boulder, carving a small crater into the snow, and firmly clenched his large hands.
Starting tomorrow, I need to step up my training load!
Cedric resolved in his heart with full conviction.
If I usually lift a three-hundred-kilogram ice rock while doing a thousand squats, tomorrow I have to add weight by carrying two arctic ice bears on my shoulders, or run around the fortress walls while hoisting the main gate pillar!
Only then will my muscles not weaken from this bone-chilling weather change!
Content with the crazy training plan he had just crafted in his mind, Cedric smiled widely without a shred of guilt, then casually resumed lifting heavy weights as if nothing had happened.
Meanwhile, in the magnificent capital of Gimle, Elena—who was completely unaware that her second older brother was becoming even more motivated to turn into a muscle monster—had put her wide, sparkling grin back on as she looked at Aiden.
After successfully leaving the spice stall area where Elena had previously entertained her absurd thoughts about Cedric, the House of Silver entourage continued their leisurely stroll through the main shopping district of the capital Gimle under the rising winter sun’s golden rays.
Elena’s focus now fully returned to her sacred mission of pampering her little brother.
”Mother, Edward, look at that shop!” Elena exclaimed enthusiastically, pointing at a luxury mahogany-wood boutique with a silver-carved plaque.
The large glass storefront showcased the softest silk wool coats edged with white fox fur, small velvet-lined boots, and a row of elegant toddler accessories typical of high capital aristocrats.
Without waiting for approval, Elena immediately pulled Aiden’s hand and stepped inside, leaving snowy bootprints on the clean marble floor of the shop.
As the door opened, the aromatic scent of cinnamon and soft lavender immediately welcomed their senses.
The boutique owner—an elderly aristocratic woman wearing gold-chained glasses—immediately bowed respectfully upon recognizing the House of Silver crest on Duchess Freya’s coat.
However, the store owner’s gaze instantly shifted and lit up brightly upon seeing Aiden.
”Oh, goodness…
Such an extremely sweet little prince!” the store owner praised in an adoring tone, stepping closer with graceful strides.
“Welcome to Summer Bloom. Is this little Young Master a member of the northern hero family?”
Before Duchess Freya could reply, Elena had already darted forward with eyes sparkling like a hunter finding prime prey.
Both her hands stretched out in front of the display case, pointing everywhere mercilessly.
”Auntie shop owner!
Please get me that pink silk wool coat, the black fleece-lined gloves, the silver-tasseled winter hat, and…
oh, that small blanket embroidered with gold thread in the corner!”
Elena ordered with the firm tone of a general launching a total invasion.
“Everything in this display case, wrap it up in sizes for a two-year-old! Don’t leave anything out!”
Edward, standing by the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, could only let out a long sigh as he pulled a leather pouch filled with gold coins from beneath his cloak.
I knew it…
my wallet today is seriously going to bleed to death, Edward thought resignedly, lamenting the fate of his savings which were about to vanish for his younger sister’s shopping ambitions.
Amidst Elena’s burning wave of enthusiasm, Aiden—held safely in his mother’s embrace—could only blink his sapphire eyes with a blank expression.
Beneath his toddler mask, the Pantheon veteran pondered deeply.
What kind of dress-up fashion is she going to make me wear next?
Aiden thought with resignation, feeling the chilly breeze of palace political conspiracy pale in comparison to the terror of the homemade “fashion show” prepared by his own sister.
Yet, just as the House of Silver family was busy shopping through the entire boutique without a care, the capital Gimle’s tranquility slowly began to be stalked by dark shadows.
Far at the end of the main avenue, behind the shadows of a narrow alley near the central square, a pair of sharp eyes marred by magical burn scars watched their movements from beneath a black hooded robe.
The third-generation god-blooded man sneered coldly, gripping a dark-gray magic memory-recording stone that emitted a faint magical glow in his grasp.
The stone possessed the capability to record and replay detailed events from the past few minutes.
Their faction’s foul plan was not some barbarian assassination in the middle of a crowd, but rather an intelligence scheme of public opinion manipulation far more lethal.
They intended to deliberately provoke the Silver family into losing their cool, recording every second of arrogant reaction that emerged, then twisting the narrative as widely as possible before the palace nobles as if those northern border folks were a group of savages disrespectful of capital law.
The scarred-eyed man channeled a bit of mana into the magic stone until its surface felt warm in his palm, signaling that the recording device was now on standby mode.
Tucking the stone back into his cloak’s pocket, he gave a secret signal to three sturdy-bodied henchmen nearby.
The three hired thugs began stepping out of the alley, blending in among the civilian crowd, preparing to intercept the path the House of Silver entourage would soon pass—setting up the stage for an initial clash ready to explode and stain the good name of the northern noble family.