AWLITEB Chapter 29

Genos didn't look back. His attention belonged entirely to Isabella.

The dog hurtled toward him, lips peeled back to expose a mouthful of teeth that gleamed wet in the cold light.

It seemed impossibly larger now than it had lying down—all muscle and rage compressed into a projectile aimed at flesh.

A line of sweat traced down Isabella's spine. Her skin prickled with ice.

"Are you insane?! Get out of there!"

She screamed, seizing the fence and shaking it hard enough to rattle her bones.

Her strength ability engaged. The metal began to bend, groaning under the strain—but too slowly. Far too slowly.

In seconds, the fighting dog would launch itself at Genos and tear into him.

"Your Grace, get out! Get out!"

Isabella's voice cracked on the plea, but Genos remained motionless. He faced her as if she were the only thing in the world worth seeing.

The dog closed the distance. Then it sprang.

Through the creature's gaping maw, Isabella saw canines like daggers and saliva dripping in thick strings.

The dog jumped high, instinct driving it toward Genos's throat, and everything slowed. Time itself seemed to fracture. Every movement stretched into excruciating clarity, as if the world had forgotten how to proceed.

In that suspended moment, red light bloomed from Isabella's fingertips like a flower opening to impossible sun.

Time crawling meant she had room to work. Space to control the magic coursing through her.

Isabella swallowed hard, pulled back some of the power, and extended her hand toward the dog.

The red glow that spilled from her fingers wrapped around the snarling animal with surprising gentleness. The moment it made contact, time snapped back to its normal pace.

Yelp!

The dog whined in confusion, legs scrambling at empty air.

Magic shoved it aside just before those teeth could close on Genos's throat. The creature spun in a wild circle, momentum turned against it.

Genos smiled. He turned to face the dog—now floating at eye level, whimpering—and simply gathered it into his arms.

The magic dissipated.

"Well done, Bella."

"Haaa..."

All the strength drained out of her. Isabella collapsed to the ground in a graceless heap.

Genos secured the thoroughly cowed dog back to its leash, tail tucked in defeat, then stepped out of the enclosure.

"That could have gone poorly."

His tone suggested he'd been watching a mildly interesting play.

He extended a hand toward Isabella.

She didn't have the energy to take it. She leaned her head against the fence instead, dragging air into her lungs.

"Every time we train, it feels like I'm wringing myself dry."

"But it helps, doesn't it?"

She wanted to argue. Couldn't, because he was right.

Just before the magic activated, everything had slowed. That crawling time had given her the precision to control her power instead of letting it run wild.

Isabella could feel it—her ability had climbed to a new level.

The fact that it left her body feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds was just the price.

"Can't stand?"

"No. Let me rest. Just for a minute. I'm dying here."

Isabella shook her head weakly. Genos dropped down beside her without ceremony.

"This is bare ground."

Isabella blinked at him in surprise, but he looked utterly unconcerned.

"You're sitting on it too."

"Yes, but—"

"Aren't you cold?"

"Too tense to feel it, I think. The cold went away."

"Good."

Genos closed his eyes, bracing his hands against the frozen earth and tilting his head back.

The winter wind cut through them both—sharp enough to remind her they were truly in the North.

"Next time, don't sit on the ground unless someone spreads a handkerchief for you first."

His words made Isabella shift her eyes toward him, head still resting against the fence.

"Then spread one now."

"Didn't bring any."

"What kind of answer is that?"

Isabella huffed a laugh. Genos shrugged out of his coat and laid it on the ground.

"Wait, no—I wasn't actually asking you to—"

"You need to get used to being attended to."

He caught her waist and lifted her onto the coat with easy strength.

"Less cold, at least."

The honest observation made him smile.

"You're not going to warn me about the next training session either, are you?"

"Today I will."

"Today? But training's over."

"After we go down from the roof, I'm going to have a bowl with one hundred beans brought to your bedroom."

"...Excuse me?"

"You'll use magic to move them one at a time onto an empty plate."

"..."

"Once all one hundred are moved, you can sleep."

"..."

"I'll be watching the entire time, of course."

"...Maybe don't warn me after all."

"You asked."

Genos smiled that flawless smile and leaned his head against her shoulder.

"What are you doing? I'm too stressed about moving a hundred beans to deal with this."

"I'm very pleased with my battle mage."

"You're acting awfully friendly. Like we're companions or something. I'm not in the mood for it."

"We're not companions. How could a battle mage and her master be companions?"

"Right. Obviously."

Isabella's lips pushed out in a pout as she muttered under her breath. Genos maintained his smile, comfortable against her shoulder.

Truly, he'd never possessed a weapon this satisfying before.

The estate erupted into chaos from dawn onward.

Today was the engagement celebration banquet.

When nobility or royalty held a feast to mark a joyous occasion, the usual custom was to host the distinguished guests inside the manor while setting tables for commoners in the town square.

But the North's brutal climate made outdoor feasts impractical.

So Genos invited the common people into the estate itself.

A few nobles occasionally showed their distaste for dining alongside commoners, but they kept it subtle. No one wanted to be known as a noble who couldn't spare basic consideration for the people.

"Wind protection is the first priority. Check everything before moving on."

"Yes, head butler."

The estate's head butler made his rounds, inspecting every detail.

He paid particular attention to the massive cloth draped over the garden, checking each point where it was secured.

No matter how large the manor, they couldn't accommodate all the food for the common people inside.

Tables needed to fill the garden as well to handle everyone who would come.

So they'd wrapped the entire estate—from rooftop to garden—in enormous sheets of fabric to block the wind.

"The stitching held well."

They'd purchased the largest cloth available from the textile factory, then painstakingly sewn multiple pieces together to create this wind barrier.

Maids positioned braziers filled with coal throughout the garden and arranged pristine white wooden tables in elegant formations.

Meanwhile, Isabella finished bathing and dressed in her petticoat—necessary to conceal her scars—before heading to the dressing room.

This would be her first time meeting the Northern nobility.

They'd come to greet Genos when he and Isabella first arrived in the North, but she'd been unconscious from sedatives at the time. Only the Grand Duke had received them.

"Which dress would you like, my lady?"

The moment she entered the dressing room, five maids surrounded her, each holding up a different gown.

Every single one sparkled with elaborate decoration.

"Um, could you choose something not too flashy? And maybe a softer color? Beige or sky blue would be nice. Pale lavender too."

"Ah, you'd prefer something less elaborate?"

"Yes. Since it's a first impression, I don't want to stand out too much."

"I see. We'll find something appropriate."

The maids set aside the ostentatious gowns and returned with different options.

Isabella selected a sky-blue satin dress.

Simple, but with a rounded neckline adorned with delicate beading—not too plain, not too much.

"But you should still wear elaborate hair ornaments and jewelry. You're the lady of this house, after all."

Lady of the house. The words made Isabella flinch as if stung.

"We haven't even had the wedding yet."

Her embarrassment made the protest come out awkward. The maids shook their heads in unison.

"You were engaged before His Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty. That's as binding as marriage itself. A royal engagement is an unbreakable vow."

"Exactly. You're the Grand Duke's intended bride and the lady of this estate. Since you chose a modest dress, leave the rest of the styling to us. Understood?"

Before Isabella could answer, the maids swept out and returned laden with jewelry boxes.

They braided her hair into a thick plait that draped over one shoulder, then wove delicate flower-shaped ornaments throughout.

Diamonds—clear and brilliant—adorned her ears and throat.

They applied toner to her skin, added color to her brows and lips.

When they finished, the maids applauded their own handiwork.

"You're absolutely beautiful!"

"We've created a masterpiece."

"We've waited so long for a lady to dress!"

Even Isabella had to admit the mirror showed someone presentable.

She almost looked like she belonged here. Like she could actually be the lady of this house.

"Thank you. All of you."

Isabella smiled and reached into the pouch Genos had given her—told her to use if she needed anything. She pulled out silver coins and pressed one into each maid's hand.

"Oh! That's not necessary, Miss."

"We didn't do anything special—"

"Please take them. It's a thank you."

Tipping servants for excellent work was an old aristocratic custom. A way to display generosity and earn loyalty from those who served you.

It encouraged servants to attend their masters with even greater care in hopes of future rewards.

But the practice felt foreign to Isabella. She'd never had money to give. Never been attended well enough to want to give it.

Still, she was learning. Trying to absorb these habits.

When they returned to the capital, she'd have to remember to tip the maids there too.

"Come on, accept them. You wouldn't refuse my gesture, would you?"

"Then we'll gratefully accept, Miss."

"Thank you so much."

"We're truly grateful."

The maids held their silver coins, smiling with shy pleasure.

Isabella took one final look at her reflection, then left the room.

The maids followed, adjusting her dress, just as Genos emerged from his own dressing room.

"Finished dressing, I see."

He approached as he spoke.

His attire matched hers—understated but not shabby. Calibrated to the same level of formality.

A white diamond bracelet circled his wrist, complementing Isabella's jewelry perfectly.

"It's like you coordinated your jewelry on purpose."

"Right? We didn't even discuss it!"

"You two must be fated."

The maids' saccharine observations made Isabella smile awkwardly.

"Give them silver and suddenly they're gushing over us."

Isabella's embarrassed deflection made the maids gasp and shake their heads.

"No, we meant it sincerely!"

"If we offended you, we apologize."

"No... there's nothing to apologize for—"

"Let's go down. You're dismissed. Go help with the banquet preparations."

Genos smoothly ended the moment, taking Isabella's hand and guiding her toward the central hall while she was still stammering.

"That kind of joke requires more familiarity with the staff, apparently."

Isabella muttered, feeling awkward.

"Did I seem strange?"

"We're not exactly normal to begin with."

"Pfft—"

Isabella clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh.

"Why are you laughing? I'm stating a fact."

"Yes. It's just funny hearing you say it so casually."

"You laugh at everything."

Genos shook his head with a rueful smile.

Preparations for the banquet were nearly complete.

Guards blocked the corridors leading to private areas, but everywhere else remained open for commoners to explore freely.

Tables filled every available space—from the central hall to the drawing room, the ballroom, the secondary dining room—all laden with food.

They'd reserved the main dining room for the nobility. Some semblance of rank needed to be maintained.

The head butler entered from the courtyard and approached with a bow.

"Your Grace. The Northern nobles' carriages are arriving."

"Good. Thank you."

Genos kept Isabella's arm linked through his as they moved toward the entrance.

A butler opened the doors. They walked side by side down the stone path through the courtyard.

The massive cloth covering the garden looked almost like a decorative installation.

Guards pulled the fabric aside when they spotted the couple. Beyond the courtyard, carriages were pulling up.

"Grand Duke, Lady Isabella."

The nobles bowed deeply.

They treated Isabella with the same deference they'd show a Grand Duchess—no distinction.

"I'm delighted to meet you. I've heard you bring great honor to the North."

Isabella offered gracious greetings as she made her first introductions.

"Please, go inside. The butler will show you to the dining room."

Genos welcomed them warmly, guiding the nobles into the manor, when another carriage came to a stop.

Even at a glance, it looked expensive. The latest model.

"Your Grace!"

The door opened. Before a maid could offer assistance, a young noblewoman leapt down.

She ignored Isabella completely, running toward Genos with a face lit up like sunrise.