Aurora Trovik, Teresa's mother, dominated the Continent fifty or sixty years ago, traversing the lands fearlessly. When Laine saw her a few days ago, she still appeared as a beautiful woman in her thirties, which explains a lot.
After discussing business, Villarld seemed to want to chat more with Laine: "Laine, you're about twenty-four or twenty-five years old now, right? Haven't thought about getting married? Want me to introduce a lady from a lord's family? Don't worry, she's definitely beautiful."
Hearing this topic, Teresa became interested as well. She adjusted her black-framed glasses with purple butterfly patterns, intending to listen to Laine's response.
"I still have a long time ahead. I'm not interested in these matters right now. I think it's better to let things take their natural course," Laine said without agreeing.
"That's true. Your advancement speed is too fast, Laine, and rashly marrying now might just hinder you," Villarld laughed heartily, then gave the beautiful female sorcerer a meaningful glance and didn't say more.
"Why don't you two continue exploring the city? I've already arranged a banquet. Please join me here for the banquet tonight," after chatting for a while, Villarld mentioned that he still had work to attend to and invited the two to the evening banquet.
The two left the lord's longhouse, and Laine noticed Teresa seemed to want to say something but hesitated: "Want to say something?"
"Perhaps these local lords aren't as bad as I thought," Teresa chuckled lightly, exuding mature charm: "In my impression, those local nobles are always indulging in luxury, getting up from a woman's belly only by noon each day and forever hiding behind high walls. Besides holding banquets and collecting taxes, they know nothing else, entrusting all assets to their steward, who very cleverly takes a few years to turn the nobles' money into their own. Whenever a battle looms, these nobles are the first to flee, yet when benefits arise, they are the first to appear."
"Only those residing in the capital, holding important positions, have any real capability."
"But after meeting Mr. Villarld today, I realized it isn't like that. Despite his age, he is still an excellent warrior, isn't he?" Teresa walked beside Laine, the black suede high-heeled boots making a clicking sound on the road.
"You're right, but not entirely, Teresa. Your perception may still be stuck before the establishment of the Old Empire," Laine said, lifting his Warhammer as he suggested exploring around: "The laws of the New Empire stipulate that when higher-ups need to go to war, all nobles must respond proportionally according to the scale of their territories. Those who don't respond face severe punishment."
"Moreover, under the new laws, if a lord can't defend against attacks from those evil forces before reinforcements arrive, it also means he has lost ownership of his territory, which would then fall to the parliament to decide upon further."
"Previously, the bestowment largely depended on bloodline. A pampered wastrel with a noble lineage could inherit a fine fief, but ever since His Majesty Ludwig's reforms, bestowments are now based on military merit. Only those who achieve military success qualify for fiefdom, which is why most lords now have battlefield experience. Those who've been to war aren't exactly useless."
The two strolled down the street. The weather was nice today, and the townsfolk came out for activities. Several kids were having a snowball fight, and adults seized the clear weather to work and do laundry. Many mercenary-looking individuals moved together down the street, and Laine noticed a black armband with a black dagger drawn on it.
"That seems to be the mark of the Gray Blade Mercenary Corps. These people have come too, have they? Seems there are indeed many caravans stranded here," Laine commented to Teresa, "The leader of the Gray Blade Mercenary Corps, Billger, is an Elite Tier Wanderer advancing to a Dagger Master, known for wielding a gray dagger. It's said he once successfully assassinated a High Elf; we're not sure if that's true or not."
Teresa furrowed her brows but remained silent. From a caster's perspective, she naturally disliked these sneaky wanderers, as many powerhouses perish not from frontal confrontation but from a simple backstab.
A group gathered, seemingly up to something, piquing Laine's interest: "Shall we go have a look?"
"Not interested." The female sorcerer wasn't fond of crowds, especially squeezing among a bunch of sweaty men.
"Alright then." Seeing Teresa's disinterest, Laine led her to avoid the group. It appeared the mercenaries were having a dispute with the merchants' guards over payment – such incidents were common. As the crowd blocked the road, Laine simply took Teresa's hand and squeezed through, crossing two street corners to find a small shop to sit. It was a small restaurant offering some food; Laine ordered grilled pork chops, two bowls of rice porridge, and a pot of stew, which cost about a dozen copper coins for a simple lunch.
Picking up her bowl, the female sorcerer looked at the unidentifiable stew clumped together hesitantly and then set it down: "Why have lunch here? Wouldn't it be better to eat back at the Butter Beer Inn?"
"We're not on vacation, Teresa," Laine said in a serious tone, "Belte's matter hasn't been resolved. We can't be sure if he really has set sail for Marinburg. What if it's a ruse, and Belte simply laid low somewhere, waiting for us to rashly venture forth? Mind you, the Nord Kingdom doesn't have many Legendary Powerhouses; without you and me, not considering the Celestial Vault Castle, there are only about twenty or thirty in Nord, many of whom can't or won't move, especially amidst the mass gathering of Northern Barbarians."
Discussing the Fallen Hunter brought seriousness to Teresa's demeanor: "You mean Belte may not have left Nord?"
"As of now, it's uncertain. Perhaps he left, perhaps not. Yet, that's no reason for us to relax. If we confirm he's gone and we're unable to depart by sea soon, I'd gladly prepare a grand meal for you, do you understand my point?"
"Oh ho? So you're ordering me around? I don't need you to explain what should be done, dear Laine. I know to prioritize what's important." The female sorcerer lifted her head, eyes filled with defiance: "Or are you under the impression you're my superior?"
"Care for a little competition? I'm ready whenever you are." Laine chuckled, watching her defiantly.
"Tsk, let's just… Ugh! Let go of me!" Before she could finish, Laine, with knightly strength, pinned her wrists to the table, resisting all her attempts to break free from his iron-like grip. After struggling for five minutes until her face turned red, the female sorcerer murmured: "Can't you be a bit gentler with a lady? You call yourself a gentleman."
"Of course I'm a gentleman. Please, my fair lady, let's head to the harbor after lunch." Only then did Laine release her.
Sometimes, teasing this mature woman was rather amusing, Laine thought with a touch of mischief.
Luncheon was merely a small episode. At its close, an unexpected guest appeared before them.
This uninvited guest had strikingly handsome features, smooth long hair, and slightly pointed ears. To humans, he resembled an Elf; however, Laine had met real Elves and knew to their eyes, he'd look human.
It was a Half-Elf.
The same Half-Elf they had encountered at the city gate earlier.
"You are 'Great Hammer' Laine? Greetings, let me introduce myself. My name is Estelle from Saint Lorenzo Forest. Do you recall five years ago when you participated in the siege against the Beastman Warband by the Ovrel River?" The Half-Elf noted Laine's hand on his warhammer and quickly assured them of his peaceful intentions, though his tone bore a hint of arrogance.
Laine's eyes twinkled as he recalled the battle: "Yes, indeed. I remember. A group of Half-Elf Rangers joined the Nord forces and contributed significantly. May I ask what's the matter at hand?"
"Could we speak in private?"
"Let's discuss here."