As Valeric stepped slightly to the side—

A horse came into view.

The horse reared.

Its hooves struck the ground with a heavy impact. Its body was large and imposing, its coat pitch black without a single mark. When it turned its head, its eyes caught the light and gleamed.

Jet-black pupils.

The whites of its eyes were strikingly clear, making even its blink look powerful.

Lucas stared.

So… The Huzz is a horse? he thought blankly.

Valeric turned back to face him, his expression unchanged.

"I present this to you, Young Master," he said firmly.

He then gave a brief bow.

"And my apologies for disturbing your recovery. I shall take my leave. There are still matters regarding the allocation of funds for the village's reconstruction."

Lucas could only nod. "Yes… understood."

Valeric turned away without hesitation. Not long after, a luxurious wagon approached. He boarded it, and the vehicle rolled away, leaving the manor grounds in silence.

Lucas let out a breath.

"So, what are we supposed to do with this horse?" he asked, glancing at Silvara.

Silvara was just about to answer—

"ME—!"

A cheerful voice burst out from behind her.

Liona, short in stature, jumped excitedly with both hands raised.

"Me! Meeee! Let me handle it!" she said enthusiastically.

Lucas let out a long sigh. "Fine. Go on."

Liona's face immediately lit up.

She approached the horse without hesitation, stroked its neck, then—completely naturally—rubbed her cheek against the horse's face.

"Good boy," she said brightly. "Come on, let's go meet your friends."

The horse snorted softly.

Lucas grinned faintly.

Liona then walked off, leading the black horse away.

---

Lucas glanced toward the black horse that was now being led away.

"By the way," he said, "why is the horse called The Huzz?"

Silvara turned slightly. "Because that's what it is."

Lucas raised an eyebrow.

"The Huzz is a luxury breed of horse," Silvara continued flatly. "Usually owned only by major noble families. More often than not—it's given between nobles as a form of recognition."

Lucas stopped walking.

"Recognition?"

Silvara nodded. "Yes."

Lucas frowned slightly. "So that old man earlier… acknowledged me?"

Silvara glanced at him briefly. Her tone softened just a little—barely noticeable.

"Perhaps… because of your gallantry during the duel."

Lucas let out a small chuckle.

"Gallant, huh?" He looked straight ahead. "You're pretty good at mocking people."

Silvara stiffened.

Lucas remembered it clearly. He had laughed like a madman in the arena—attacking from awkward angles, striking Aldric's backside, sweeping his legs without a shred of dignity.

Maniac might be more accurate, Lucas thought.

Silvara shot him an annoyed look.

Idiot.

Why did I even bother praising him…

Images of last night suddenly surfaced in Lucas's mind.

"Did you ask the Baron about Myolvidaraz?" he asked.

Silvara blinked once, then shook her head.

"No," she answered briefly. "And there's no need."

"Why?" Lucas frowned.

"The Baroness already told me after you fall asleep," Silvara continued. "The Dark Dragon Myolvidaraz was once summoned by a group that tried to revive the leader of the Admirer of Myolvidaraz."

Revive? Lucas wondered.

"Reviving someone with a title," Silvara added, her tone restrained. "Ras Al'Ghaulreth."

Lucas was still looking at Silvara. From the change in her tone, he assumed, Maybe she doesn't want to talk about her past.

"Oh… so that's how it is," he said shortly.

Silvara glanced at him.

Lucas had already turned his gaze forward again, his expression calm, as if the topic wasn't that important to him.

Her chest tightened slightly.

That's it? Not asking anything else? He… doesn't care about me?

Why… does he rarely ask about me? She thought.

Not about duties. Not about reports. But—about her.

Meanwhile, Lucas was lost in his own thoughts.

The sun isn't that high yet, he thought. But this body is still weak.

He let out a slow breath. I'll go to the fields tomorrow.

As that thought crossed his mind—

The sound of wheels was heard again.

A wagon approached the manor.

Lucas turned his head.

This time, it wasn't Valeric's wagon. Two wagons appeared instead.

From the first wagon stepped down Matruska. Behind her came Veska followed by Karska.

However, Lucas's attention was drawn to two other figures who stepped down from the second wagon.

Geralt.

The old man who had worked with him all this time. The only commoner who truly supported Lucas—because Lucas was the only one who had ever given him hope that he could send his child to the academy.

And beside him—

Anya.

His daughter.

The little girl stood upright, her posture stiff like a miniature knight. Her eyes shone with excitement. For a long time, she had been obsessed with the stories of the Iron Mathron—and always behaved as if she were part of that tale.

Lucas unconsciously smiled faintly.

Seeing them safe makes me feel a little relieved… but why are they here?

As soon as she stepped down from the wagon, Matruska moved forward and gave a crisp salute.

"Greetings, Young Master."

Lucas nodded lightly in response.

Beside him, Silvara remained silent.

Her posture was stiff this time—stiffer than usual.

Matruska continued without preamble.

"My reason for coming here is to request permission from the Young Master."

Lucas frowned.

"Permission?"

"Yes," Matruska replied calmly. "Permission to grant a reward to a small commoner."

"What?" Lucas reacted reflexively.

Matruska raised one hand and gestured toward Anya—her movement polite, clear, and measured.

"This little girl is the one who discovered the sales document for a cursed artifact," she explained.

"The document bore a forged Rosevelt seal. Her contribution deserves consideration."

Lucas fell silent.

He turned to look at Anya.

The little girl stood straight, chin lifted, a proud smile on her face—like a miniature knight who had just received praise.

"Seriously?" Lucas muttered.

Then he looked back at Matruska.

"But why do you need permission just to give a reward?"

Matruska answered without hesitation.

"Because she insisted."

Lucas blinked. "Insisted?"

"She claims herself to be the *Sworn Guard to the Tomato Field*," Matruska continued flatly.

"And the first disciple of Miss Silvara. She said that receiving a reward from another noble would be improper without the permission of the Young Master as the lord of the tomato field and Miss Silvara as the Master."

Lucas slowly turned toward Silvara.

Silvara immediately looked away.

Anya stepped forward half a pace, clenching her small fists.

"And I'll be the best lads for Young Master!" she declared loudly.

"Together with Father!"

Geralt merely chuckled at his daughter's antics. There was no longer any trace of excessive fear in front of Lucas.

Matruska fell silent for a moment.

"Lads?" she repeated.

Behind her, Veska let out a small snort. Karska lowered her head, her shoulders trembling.

Matruska looked at Anya with a rare expression of confusion.

"Little lady," she said carefully, "you cannot be lads."

Anya blinked.

"Why?"

"Because lads are male," Matruska replied. "You're a girl."

Anya's expression went blank for a moment.

Her thoughts clearly wandered far—too far.

The influence of the Iron Mathron tale was too strong. She recalled the part where the Iron Mathron escorted a lord who wished to marry a graceful commoner woman.

"I don't want to be his consort," she said softly but firmly. "Let me just become lads."

Lucas froze.

Emotional damage.

Silvara quickly lowered her head, her shoulders trembling slightly—holding back laughter.

Veska bit her lip.

Karska covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes clearly watery—not from sadness, but from barely contained laughter.

Lucas could only stare at Anya.

"This kid," he muttered quietly.

Lucas let out a short breath.

"Fine," he said at last. "Just give her the reward."

Matruska did not respond immediately. She glanced toward Silvara.

Silvara straightened her posture slightly.

"I grant permission, Lady Matruska."

Veska, who was standing beside the wagon, stared at Lucas for a moment longer.

This is Lucian Voss—the one they say is rotten? she thought. He looks… ordinary.

She glanced toward Anya.

This kid even dares to call herself a Sworn Guard in front of him.

Veska frowned faintly.

So the rumors about him bullying people at the Academy… were they false?

At that moment, Matruska spoke again.

"The reward we have prepared," she said calmly, "is preliminary education at the Grimhelt residence, until the time comes for you to enter the Academy."

Silence.

Then—

"I don't want it."

Everyone froze.

Karska, usually the calmest, widened his eyes.

She… rejected it?

Anya stood even straighter. Her voice was loud and unwavering.

"I already have Miss Silvara now!" she declared.

"And I'm still on my journey to conquer letters!"

Silvara froze.

Geralt stiffened as well. His mouth was slightly open, but no words came out.

Should I stop her? he thought in panic.

But… this is a reward for my daughter. I have no right to interfere…

Matruska looked at Anya for a long moment, her expression unreadable.

"Are you sure?" she finally asked.

"UN!" Anya nodded firmly.

Matruska let out a soft breath, then crouched slightly to bring herself level with Anya.

"In that case," she said calmly, "is there something you wish for that I can grant?"

Anya's eyes immediately lit up.

"I want—"

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