Arc-4 Ch-04

What’s the joy of winter?

Eating warm food, soaking in a hot bath, and sleeping beneath cozy blankets.

Frankly, I can’t think of any winter pleasures that beat those. Running around in the snow might be fun for overly energetic kids or clueless dogs too dumb to realize they’ve caught a cold.

Looking back, I was a brat—completely lacking in charm. That realization makes me a little sad.

The best way to endure a harsh winter is to simply sleep through it.

It doesn’t cost anything, you can ignore hunger by dozing off, and most importantly, it doesn’t wear you out.

I used to admire hibernating animals—squirrels, bats, bears. I thought they had it all figured out. In hindsight, that’s probably a sign something was a little off with my head.

So when winter came and I had to chop firewood or haul supplies from the shed, I hated it.

At the time, I couldn’t help but think, “Even middle-class commoners must be living better than us.” Who would've imagined that the Bartfort family would one day live in a manor with perfect climate control and a hot spring piped in straight from the source? Free from the misery of freezing winters or sweltering summers.

Sure, I nearly died in a war to get here, so a luxury or two shouldn’t offend anyone. Honestly, I should be praised more.

Specifically, I deserve a beautiful, kind wife with generous curves, a household full of adorable children, and a peaceful rural life with three hot meals and scheduled afternoon naps.

To live like that, I probably need to grind another twenty years.

Isn’t it absurd that you have to work yourself to the bone just to achieve a life of ease?

Whoever created this world clearly has a cruel sense of humor.

So, staying bundled in warm blankets is my way of resisting this unfair, merciless world. A quiet, noble act of protest—a stand for human dignity against a cold-hearted god.

> “So, what exactly are you trying to say?”

To be precise, it’s cold, I’m still sleepy, and I don’t want to get out of bed.

Ideally, I’d stay wrapped in blankets until the sun’s up and it’s nice and warm. Actually, if I could stay in bed forever, I would.

Preferably with a beautiful wife by my side.

I’d bury my face in her soft, warm chest and sleep the rest of my days in bliss.

> “Get up already!”

The blanket gets yanked off, and I roll across the bed in a most undignified fashion.

My wife is stunning—but terrifying.

> “…Morning.”

“You awake now?”

“I want to go back to sleep. My wife’s not exactly gentle.”

“Stop sulking. What are you, a child?”

If sulking ever worked on Angie, I’d do it all day. Unfortunately, it never has.

Crying and throwing a tantrum might work, but if the kids saw me like that, I’d never recover. “Dad’s a mess” would become the family motto.

I want to be the kind of papa my kids respect.

Looking out the window, it’s still pitch dark. Winter mornings are the coldest.

The room’s temperature should be steady thanks to climate control, yet the windows are fogged with condensation, and a vague chill clings to my skin.

> “Don’t wake me up this early.”

“The first regular airship leaves soon. If I don’t get you up now, you’ll sleep past noon.”

“Don’t treat me like a child.”

“So you can get up on your own?”

“…”

> “Honestly.”

I drag myself out of bed and start changing while Angie watches with a weary sigh.

Moments like this make me nostalgic for my poor childhood.

Back then, I could shuffle around the house in pajamas and no one batted an eye. Now I have to maintain this image of “lordly dignity,” which means no more running around in grubby clothes or tilling the fields like a commoner.

> “Should we expand the airport?”

“And who’s going to pay for that?”

“…So that’s a no?”

“It’s not feasible right now. If the sanatorium starts generating more income, maybe then.”

We’ll have to address it eventually.

The regular airships that depart from Bartfort’s airport are vital for commoners—both for visiting the sanatorium and traveling to nearby floating islands.

Our territory operates both direct routes to neighboring lands and circular ones for local movement.

Currently, Bartfort has three airports.

One is for cargo, another for passenger airships—mainly commoners and sanatorium visitors—and the third is reserved for our warships and my personal fleet.

Noble airships are too high-maintenance for the cargo port, and the civilian one is too cramped. So we’ve been awkwardly accommodating them at the military dock, but space is limited.

When we hosted the Saintess’s entourage for a memorial ceremony, it turned into chaos.

To make room, we dispatched warships under the pretense of “routine patrols,” but even that wasn’t enough. We had no choice but to let some nobles dock at the cargo port, which naturally sparked complaints.

Sure, some of those nobles came uninvited just to catch a glimpse of Olivia, but still.

The worst part is, many of them outrank me in noble experience, even if our titles are technically equal. That makes it hard to push back.

Still, expanding the airport just because we might have more noble visitors in the future seems wasteful.

But that’s not even the real issue.

The bigger problem is the steady stream of armed airships coming into our territory. It’s an abnormal situation.

> “If they’d just come unarmed, I wouldn’t mind.”

“They have their pride. They can’t escort a lady of status without a show of force.”

“Are those two even getting married?”

“That’s between them. It’s not our place to interfere.”

“What a mess…”

This all started when Big Bro’s engagement to Dorothea-san became serious.

Ordinarily, as the lower-ranking family, we’d visit the Roseblades.

But Dorothea-san didn’t like waiting around for Bro to show up. So now she’s using her family’s airships to visit Bartfort every few days.

I glance over at Angie again.

No matter how I look at her—still watching me with a calm but slightly puzzled expression—I can’t imagine she’s hiding anything.

I feel a little ashamed for ever suspecting her.

No more of those pointless thoughts.

The secret to living a peaceful life is to avoid making enemies, stay uninvolved, and always hold back just enough to keep some strength in reserve.

I’ve lived my life in complete defiance of that secret—and now, I’m tangled up in all sorts of trouble.

“So, you’re really taking Lionel and Ariel with you today?”

“It’ll be a good experience for them. Exposure to other territories is educational.”

“But Big Sis and Finley are already going. Do you and the kids really need to tag along?”

Despite being the daughter of a countess, Dorothea-san interacts with the Bartfort family so casually. She tags along with my brother during his duties, never looks down on our parents, and treats us—his younger siblings—with warmth. It really does feel like she genuinely loves him.

And yet, when she stands before the Roseblade family, she carries herself with the dignity expected of a noblewoman. I suppose the respect she shows us stems from her affection for my brother. That contrast in her demeanor is… a little unsettling.

The ones most troubled by Dorothea-san’s feelings for my brother are Big Sis and Finley.

In the Holfort Kingdom, the noble class is heavily skewed—noblewomen now far outnumber noblemen, a consequence of the many young men lost in the war. In the past, noble ladies didn’t have to lift a finger; men would naturally gravitate toward them. But that era has passed. Now, men choose women.

Even in divorce trials, it’s said that if the wife is clearly at fault, the court sides entirely with the husband. In this age, it’s only natural that men prefer kind-hearted, capable women.

A woman who can’t cook, clean, do laundry, or sew—whose only asset is her lineage—has become undesirable. The days when noblewomen could simply bear children and enjoy a life of ease are long gone.

Even Angie, a duke’s daughter, and Dorothea-san, the daughter of a count, are doing their utmost to support my brother—making lunch boxes, helping with his work.

Realizing they were at risk of being left behind, my sister and Finley have started taking lessons from Angie and studying Dorothea-san’s behavior closely, desperate to learn how to appeal to men.

If they can’t secure a marriage, they’ll be stuck living alone—likely in a cramped room at my place or my brother’s. It’s no wonder they’re giving it their all.

“I want to see firsthand how many visitors are coming to the Bartfort territory. Depending on the numbers, we may need to adjust how we manage things moving forward.”

“I don’t think a noblewoman needs to personally investigate something like that.”

“Then stop trying to confine me to the mansion. Don’t forbid me from going out into the territory.”

“I’m just worried. You’re already pregnant.”

I gently rub Angie’s belly. She’s six months along now. The baby should start moving soon, and she’s switching to maternity clothes.

Seeing her body visibly change makes me overly protective.

“I’ll be back by the afternoon. Please just rest at the mansion.”

“Take some guards with you. It’s not ideal for just women and children to be traveling.”

“That’s what makes it fun. Besides, a little inconvenience is good for the mother and child’s health. Bear with it.”

Reluctantly, I give in to Angie’s request. I’m completely under her thumb.

As I step out of the bedroom, the corridor’s cold air bites at me. I need to head to the airport soon or I’ll miss the first airship.

At the entrance, Big Sis and Finley are entertaining a sleepy Lionel and an overly energetic Ariel.

“Take care of them, Big Sis, Finley.”

“You should be grateful we’re doing this for you.”

“Here.”

Finley holds out her hand abruptly, clearly expecting pocket money.

“This is exactly why you can’t find a husband—you ask for pocket money like this.”

“A kind older sister who looks after your kids deserves a little something from her brother, doesn’t she?”

“Come on. Hand it over.”

Fine. I pull out my wallet and hand paper bills to Big Sis and Finley. I give coins to Lionel and Ariel.

“Whoa! Ten dia? Seriously?”

“You won’t win anyone over being that stingy.”

“It’s twice what Lionel and Ariel got. Go buy some snacks or drinks.”

Ignoring their grumbling, I open the door. The carriage is already waiting.

When I hug Lionel, he’s still half-asleep and barely responds. Ariel makes a face that screams annoyance.

Papa’s feelings are hurt, you know.

I finally embrace Angie and kiss her cheek. She hugs me back, brushing her lips against mine.

“Come back soon. I’ll be lonely without you.”

“Don’t slack off while I’m gone. No napping.”

“I won’t.”

“Can we go already?”

“You two lovebirds—cut it out and let’s go!”

Just when things were getting sweet, those sisters had to ruin the mood.

I sigh, my breath visible in the wintry air. The cold stings my lungs.

I wave them off as they board the carriage, keeping my hand raised until they vanish into the distance.

The horizon burns red with dawn’s light.

Shivering, I return to the mansion and crawl back into bed.

Just a little longer—I want to drift off, wrapped in the lingering warmth of Angie’s scent.

---

---

Suppressing a yawn, I pore over the documents spread across my desk.

Normally, I’d take a nap after lunch, but with Angie away, I have to cover her absence.

Fighting off sleep, I stamp each document, one by one. Thanks to Angie, the workload is manageable—she pre-sorted everything, leaving me only what requires my approval.

It’s frustrating how the only way to lessen her burden… is to shoulder more myself.

If I want to retire early, the fastest route is to build up a record of solid achievements and pass the responsibilities to my children.

Ironically, the path to an easy life is paved with hard work. That’s just how the world works.

Right now, the biggest issue in Bartfort territory is increasing revenue.

Even if we expand farmland through reclamation, it’ll take over a decade for the yields to stabilize.

Most visitors coming for the hot springs are commoners, not nobles.

This land was once undeveloped royal territory. Angie, the Bartfort family, and I worked tirelessly to get it running. As noble land, it’s barely a decade old.

There are no dungeons. No entertainment districts. Just the hot springs. It’s not the kind of place eccentric nobles would go out of their way to visit.

To make matters worse, nobles who fought in the war with the Fanoss Duchy are preoccupied with covering their losses and are unusually frugal these days.

Ironically, it’s the merchants who profited from the war and lower nobles or knights who received rewards that are driving our local economy.

Recently, we built a war memorial here to honor the fallen.

It’s gained fame because it was blessed by Saintess Olivia-sama—the very same saintess who twice saved the Holfort Kingdom from crisis.

Olivia-sama, a former commoner turned saintess and hero of the kingdom, is now incredibly popular.

These days, young girls in the kingdom no longer dream of becoming adventurers or marrying into nobility.

They want to become saintesses.

Compared to the stagnant nobility, it feels like the influence of commoners is steadily rising. Or is that just my imagination?

Perhaps, one day, the roles of noble and commoner will be reversed.

“Haha, no way.”

I shake my head and speak aloud, brushing off the absurd thought that had crossed my mind.

If something like that really happened, I’d never be able to retire in peace. For me to live a quiet, uneventful life, the kingdom needs to remain stable.

In any case, if more commoners are visiting than nobles, it’s obvious that prioritizing them would yield better returns.

I’ll discuss it with Angie once she’s back.

Glancing at the clock, I roll my shoulders to ease the stiffness from sitting at my desk too long.

It’s about time for the airship to arrive.

With my brother and Colin off to the airport to meet them, only my parents and I are left in the mansion.

The usual noise of the children, barely audible in the background if I listened closely, is noticeably absent. The quiet feels oddly lonely.

To think I’d get restless after just half a day apart... I’ve clearly joined the ranks of doting parents.

Knock knock

“Come in.”

At my response, a servant enters with a respectful bow.

It seems the guests have arrived.

“Viscount, you have a visitor.”

“Understood.”

I rise, straighten my clothes, and make my way to the reception room.

Dorothea-san wouldn’t care much about appearances, but protocol matters. Properly greeting guests avoids complications down the line.

At the reception room door, I smooth my hair and relax my facial muscles.

Smile—always smile. If you look approachable, fewer people will pick a fight with you.

I inhale deeply, give a quick shake of my head, and step inside as the servant opens the door.

“Well, well, if it isn’t—”

But instead of the blonde beauty I was expecting, four young men with eye-catching hair—green, purple, red, and light blue—are seated on the sofa, sipping tea.

…Am I hallucinating from exhaustion?

I blink. Then rub my eyes. Open them again.

Nope. Still four brightly colored nuisances, calmly drinking tea in my reception room.

I grab the servant’s shoulder, drag him outside, and slam the door behind us.

“Hey!”

“Is something the matter, sir?”

“You said I had a visitor, right?”

“Yes. Those are the guests who came to see you, Viscount.”

“Why aren’t they from the Roseblade family?!”

“I only said guests had arrived, sir.”

Who are these guys?

Waltzing in uninvited like they own the place.

Honestly, I want nothing to do with them. After what happened in the capital, I don’t want those lunatics anywhere near my mansion.

Best case scenario? Get them out before Angie and the others come back.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

They’re pounding on the door like maniacs. That brute force—has to be Greg.

I brace against the door, gripping the knob tightly to keep it shut.

“Open up, Bartfort! Why’d you slam the door on us?!”

“I have no visitors. Now leave!”

“Is that how you greet people who came all the way from the capital?!”

“Whether you’re nobles or supposed heroes, it’s all the same to me! We’re barely acquaintances!”

“Just hear us out first!”

“Absolutely not! I’ll give you a list of inns in Bartfort territory—go stay there! And make sure you pay!”

“We’re not here to mess around!”

“Your presence is bad for Angie’s prenatal health! Leave before we all regret it!”

I do my best to ignore the voices shouting through the door. Why the hell did those four idiots come all the way out here?

What, do they think we’re friends now just because we fought side-by-side once? This isn’t some fairy tale.

Sorry, but I’m the type who repays kindness generously—and returns offenses with interest, just shy of murder.

Besides, Angie already knows what happened back in the capital.

It took a lot to calm her down when she started ranting about torching their family estates and leveling the capital.

Why should I protect the same guys who once stalked me?

The doorknob rattles as the pounding intensifies.

Naturally, this is the exact moment my brother and Colin are out.

“What’s going on!?”

I turn around to see my flustered father—and beside him, a very familiar man with blue hair.

Seriously?

Why is he here too?

“It’s been a while, Bartfort.”

“…Indeed, Your Highness Julius.”

I know you're supposed to coordinate with Queen Mylene, but still.

Just because I may have said something polite about meeting again doesn’t mean it’s fine to drop in unannounced.

What, are you suddenly free with nothing better to do?

If that’s the case, then by all means—take your entourage and go home.

“It’s been a while, Bartfort.”

“It’s only been a few weeks, Your Highness. What brings you here?”

“No need to be so cold. We didn’t come for leisure.”

Frankly, I’d prefer if this were just a friendly visit. At least then I could pretend this wasn’t about to become a colossal headache.

Noticing the tension in my expression, my father panics and pushes me against the wall. Ow—my back.

“Leon, what did you do?! Why is the prince here? Why would a royal come to a backwater like ours?!”

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?!”

“I can’t say.”

I’m not about to explain that my wife and I are secretly mediating between the royal family and the ducal house to maintain peace.

Even if I told him, he’d never believe it.

“What are we going to do?! We’re not prepared to host royalty! One wrong word, and we could lose our title—our land!”

“Just stay out of it. They’ll leave once we’re done talking. I’ll handle it—and fast—before Angie gets back.”

Angie and the others should be returning soon, with Dorothea-san in tow.

I need to deal with this mess before these guys trigger Angie’s temper.

I brush past my father, step into the reception room with His Highness, and take a seat.

Six broad-shouldered men now fill the space.

It’s cramped. Tense. Sweaty, even.

The atmosphere couldn’t be heavier.

“…I didn’t expect to see you lot again.”

“Same here. Believe me, we wouldn’t come all the way out to the boonies without a reason.”

“Your Highness, did you tell them about Angie’s plan? They don’t exactly seem like the reliable type—though I’ll give them credit for their strength.”

“I haven’t said anything yet. And this visit isn’t about that. We came to Bartfort territory for an entirely different reason.”

“What plan are you talking about?”

“And what’s with calling us useless?”

“Shut it. I’m not noble enough to play nice with people I nearly fought to the death.”

“You started that fight, Bartfort.”

“Only after you stalked me. Don’t pretend you were innocent.”

Something about these guys just sets me off. I can’t help it.

Our first encounter was a disaster, and I’m not the type to keep my mouth shut when my wife is insulted.

If it’s for Angie, I’d gladly pick a fight with a ducal house—or even the royal family.

The room thickens with tension until His Highness Julius steps in to mediate, keeping things from boiling over.

Honestly, it’s hard not to wonder where this level of diplomacy was when Angie needed it most.

“About twenty days ago, there was a large-scale crackdown in the capital on an underground organization dissatisfied with the kingdom’s direction. You heard about it, right?”

“I read the reports. You guys were hailed as heroes.”

“They call themselves ‘The Ladies’ Forest.’ It’s an old organization—noblewomen at the core—dating back decades before the war with the Fanoss Duchy.”

“For years, they’ve been involved in illicit activity: human trafficking, smuggling contraband, assassinating nobles to seize their houses. After the war, they began recruiting former nobles who had lost their titles and accepting support from foreign powers hostile to the kingdom. They’ve grown into a significant anti-regime faction.”

“Mother couldn’t let it fester any longer. She quietly orchestrated the crackdown. Finding their headquarters took considerable effort.”

“And then some masked knight showed up and helped out. Still no idea who that guy was.”

The capital really is a cesspool.

It might look glamorous on the surface, but underneath, it’s just rotting with corrupt nobles who don’t care about commoners or lower-ranked houses.

I want no part of that world.

“So you beat the bad guys, got your medals, and the capital is at peace again. Happily ever after. Great. Now go home.”

“Would you just listen to the whole story?!”

“I don’t want to. It’s never anything good.”

“This involves the Bartfort family, too.”

“If it’s about money, you’re out of luck. I’m barely scraping by myself.”

“It’s not about money.”

“We coordinated a simultaneous nationwide crackdown on the Ladies’ Forest. Their main base was in the capital, but they had trading hubs and meeting points scattered all across the kingdom.”

“They had a far-reaching network. Just cutting off the capital wouldn’t be enough to eliminate them.”

“We managed to apprehend most of their leadership and gathered a mountain of evidence. Their punishment will be swift.”

“Then that’s the end of it. Go home.”

“Please, Leon. Think back—I said we almost caught all of them.”

Yeah, I caught that. I just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

I really don’t want to be dragged into this.

All I want is a quiet life in the countryside—but fate, it seems, has other ideas.

“So, you’re saying some slipped through the net? Wonderful. Just what I didn’t want to hear.”

“Since the operation, the royal family has been leading the continued investigation. While we captured all the top leaders—”

“—we couldn’t reach the rank-and-file. Many of the lower-level operatives were merchants or minor figures who got involved without knowing the full picture.”

“For the past two weeks, we’ve been working with local nobles under royal orders to root out the remnants.”

“Well, good job. If you need supplies, I’ll sell them to you. Special price—twenty percent markup.”

“Don’t gouge us!”

“Lower the price, dammit!”

“We’ve tracked down a cell of armed personnel and a handful of ex-nobles.”

“You know what cornered, armed criminals tend to do, right?”

“They either become air pirates or flee somewhere else. Give me their wanted posters. I’m not foolish enough to shelter criminals.”

“How’s the security in your territory?”

“I’d like to say it’s decent.”

But postwar peace is never guaranteed.

It’s common for those who lost everything to lash out at those who gained from the war.

Disbanded mercenaries and soldiers from collapsed nations often turn to piracy, attacking merchant airships.

If a pirate group grows too bold, local lords sometimes can’t keep them in check.

That kind of instability can erode the kingdom from within—so suppressing air pirates is one of the royal army’s key peacetime missions.

But unlike adventuring, military service isn’t glamorous. They’re always understaffed. That’s how I, rejected by Zola and barely of age, ended up in the army.

“Peace doesn’t bloom the moment war ends. Air pirates pop up all the time, raiding trade routes.”

“Can’t you catch them?”

“We’re trying. But the sky is vast. Even with observation balloons, we haven’t had much luck.”

“You’re short on soldiers, huh?”

“You wouldn’t understand the burden we’re under. We’re a small border family, trying to fill the gaps left by the war. We barely manage to defend our territory—coordinating with nearby lords, escorting trade caravans, or pooling resources to hire mercenaries.”

The Bartfort family clung to its noble status through military service and pirate suppression.

We’ve never had the luxury of letting criminals run wild. We deal with what we must.

Maybe that’s why I’m so good at surviving this madness—though I wouldn’t mind being good at something else.

“So? That everything?”

“No. We came because we need your help, too.”

“Why would I know anything—”

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

A loud series of knocks cut through the room like gunfire.

It took me a second to register the sound.

When I opened the door, Colin stumbled in, breath ragged, nearly collapsing.

He was drenched in sweat, his shirt sticking to his back, chest heaving.

“Brother! Leon-bro!”

He rushed forward and grabbed my shoulders, gripping them with unexpected force.

“Hey, easy! What’s going on?”

For Colin to be this panicked—calm, steady Colin—something serious must have happened.

He didn’t even notice the prince and his companions in the room.

My father, now looking worried, stepped in behind him.

As I listened to Colin’s breathless report, I felt the blood drain from my face.

By the time I fully understood what he was saying, I was already running—bolting from the room at full speed.

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Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

The Five Idiots Return.

They’ve matured properly, so Leon’s the one who seems immature due to his low favorability with them.  

Dorothea-san is so devoted to Nicks that she’d do anything, which is super convenient.  

This section will focus on the five idiots’ exploits, so stay tuned.  

Addendum:

Thanks to the Patront’s commission, illustrations were drawn by Kinako-sama, Ξoshiri-sama, Dotan-sama, and Namukot-sama. Thank you so much!  

- Kinako-sama:   Skeb

- Ξoshiri-sama: Skeb (NSFW warning)  

- Dotan-sama: Pixiv  

- Namukot-sama: Pixiv  

I’d love to hear your feedback and impressions to motivate me moving forward!