# Krasilov
The largest city in Droan connected by train from the western border of Krasilov was Eldbark.
It was a stronghold that had most fiercely resisted Krasilov's border expansion until the Great War, and had served as the most active raiding route until Einar unified Droan.
These two sentences define the character of this city. It means that war is always prepared, the city is extremely belligerent, and simultaneously maintains a regional culture most hostile to Krasilov.
"That's not true anymore. That's all prejudice."
Asidis argued passionately. The group was now aboard a train heading to Droan.
"How long has it been since the United Kingdom was established! Even Father explicitly declared that raiding is now a... 'bad custom'!"
For reference, in Droan, a "bad custom" means the easiest way to prove one's manliness if you don't get caught.
It's not for nothing that Lorencia foams at the mouth when someone mentions Droan warriors. Krasilov is too formidable and takes border surveillance seriously, making it difficult to attempt raids there, but Lorencia was relatively easier to target.
But Asidis straightened her back proudly. Logically, how could a trade center be hostile to foreign countries? Who would attempt to trade in such a place?
She wasn't wrong. Ivan nodded lightly and cast his gaze out the window.
She wasn't wrong, but still.
He remembered that the Jarl of Eldbark, Ingvar Hakonson, was not such a logical person.
Older than Einar, or in Droan terms, an "elder."
A "traditionalist" for whom raiding was part of life, battle was a way of life, and struggle was the purpose of life. Such a person couldn't have changed overnight.
That was precisely why he had chosen this land as the first region to approach. If anyone harbored discontent with Einar's rule, this man would reveal his ambitions without hesitation.
The train soon arrived at Eldbark city center.
Droan belongs to the category of newly established nations that have maintained their national identity as a unified country for barely a decade. Before that, the Droan people maintained a loose confederate system divided into dozens of clans.
In other words, the chieftain of each clan and territory literally held authority equivalent to a king of a country. The kind of authority that always had to be proven through one's own strength and ability.
Therefore, all Jarls are fierce ambitious men. They are rulers who have witnessed firsthand how a mere Jarl like themselves could establish a country through individual strength alone. Unlike the pretentious feudalism, the Jarls of this country don't consider it treason to imagine themselves becoming king someday.
On the road to the White Castle of Eldbark, the emblem of a burning axe, presumably belonging to this clan, appeared much more frequently than the royal emblem of the Droan royal family—a manifestation of such ambition.
Ivan looked up at the white walls as he climbed the hill with wooden stairs alongside his companions. Beyond those walls, large warriors were looking down at them.
"Where are you from?"
"Krasilov."
"Are you envoys?"
"No."
When two taciturn people conversed, no sentences longer than a word followed. Asidis sighed and pushed Ivan aside.
She felt she could be a bit more casual with him now that they were engaged.
"Uncle, step back. It's me! Asidis Einarsdottir! I'm here to see Uncle Ingvar!"
"What, the princess?!"
The warrior gasped in shock and looked around frantically. If Einar had been present, his head would have rolled. After searching with frightened eyes and finding no sign of the madman warrior king who breathed killing intent, he let out a light sigh.
"What brings you here? I've heard the west has been suspicious lately. Did His Majesty send you?"
"Something like that! Is Uncle here?"
"He's inside. Please come in."
Ivan frowned as he observed the warriors' attitudes. For a Jarl with ambitions for the throne, they seemed too... respectful.
Soon they were guided into a spacious hall. The interior of the magnificent wooden mansion was filled with all kinds of stuffed animals. The smell of beast lingered in the air, suggesting poor preservation.
From beyond a bearskin rug larger than three adult men, an old man slowly walked out. He staggered forward with his twig-like body and, upon seeing Asidis, smiled broadly with open arms.
"Essie!! It really is Essie!"
"Uncle!!"
Asidis ran toward him with a bright smile, then hesitated and stood before him. She composed herself with a prim expression.
"I'm all grown up now. I must observe proper etiquette!"
"Ah, my. When did our little one become so proper?"
The old man chuckled and headed toward the end of the hall. He sat down heavily in a chair and looked up at Asidis.
"So, our lady Asidis Einarsdottir. What brings you here? If you had told me you were coming, this uncle would have prepared a festival."
"That's not necessary, Uncle. Have you been well?"
"I'm still alive, for better or worse. At least I shouldn't die in bed."
"You look strong enough to live another half century."
Asidis chuckled softly and demurely replied, then gestured toward Ivan. Only then did Ivan step forward from behind and stand before Asidis.
"..."
The old man stared at Ivan's face as if transfixed and opened his mouth. The previously warm atmosphere instantly cooled.
"Ingvar Hakonson. It's been a while."
"...Little Ivan."
The old man's dry lips barely parted. He stammered a few times before asking with difficulty.
"You're alive?"
"Mm."
"Damn it all."
The old man gripped his cane tightly and spoke carefully.
"Have you come to kill me?"
"...No, that's not why I'm here."
"Then who have you come to kill?"
"Um, Uncle? Ivan Uncle doesn't always go places to kill people."
"What nonsense is that, Essie? Get away from him. Wherever he appears, someone always dies...! He's a monster!"
"Oh..."
Isabelle, who had been listening to the conversation, clapped her knees in admiration. Does living a long life truly prove wisdom proportional to that time?
"Enough with the jokes, Ingvar."
"...Is Krasilov preparing for war? But the agreement with Einar..."
"Has old age caught up with you?"
"Heh heh, you really talk like that impudent fellow. I thought my failing eyes were seeing things. No, even hallucinations shouldn't be so ugly. Indeed."
Ingvar stroked his thick beard as he looked at Ivan.
"So what brings you to my humble home?"
"I need soldiers."
"If it's Krasilov's war, why come to me? Is the situation that desperate?"
"No, I'm not here as an envoy of Krasilov, Ingvar."
Ivan looked up at the old man with sunken eyes and said:
"Is Einar still in the capital?"
"No. I heard he went on an eastern inspection tour. How did you know that? No, no. You must have planted spies. As your kind always has... Are you suggesting rebellion to me now? I refuse. What blessings would I enjoy at this age?"
Ivan sighed at the sight of the old man muttering and organizing his own logic as old people do. But he was from the Republic of Korea, a champion of civilization and a Confucian state that upheld the principle of respecting elders as a national doctrine, so he decided to listen rather than interrupt the old man.
Contrary to expectations, Ingvar seemed to have no complaints about Einar's rule. His friendly attitude was quite surprising in a situation where raiding had been officially banned.
However, one suspicious point remained.
"Have you heard anything about demon attacks or offensives?"
"Demons? You mean the western colonies?"
"No. I mean, literally, armies of demons."
"An army? If they were in their right minds, would they dare attack Droan...? Perhaps after Einar's death, but otherwise, I doubt it."
It's certain. The reason Einar left for the east must be to respond to the threat of demons.
While information from the east was unknown, Droan was a country that shared a border with demon territory centered around a narrow eastern front. Excluding the sea, that region was the only place where demons could strike.
Without the rise of demons, Einar would have no reason to leave the capital. The fact that Ingvar only knew it as a mere "inspection"...
'Someone has concealed information in between.'
A traitor. There must be an ambitious Jarl preparing a coup in Einar's absence. Surprisingly, it wasn't the suspicious old man right in front of him.
That would make things much easier.
Ivan looked at the old man with somewhat relaxed eyes. After all, respecting elders was important, and the elderly deserved respect.
"We had intelligence from the homeland. It said that one of the Jarls is working with the demons to target Einar. Demon forces are attacking the eastern front, and 'some' Jarl is blocking information to deal with Einar."
"Hmm. So that's why you asked for soldiers. Yes, if Einar dies, Krasilov would have reason to worry."
Because he's the only obstacle preventing conflict between Krasilov and Droan. Ingvar nodded while stroking his beard.
"But why should I believe you?"
"I'll vouch for him, Uncle. It's true. We came running as soon as we heard!"
"I believe you, my dear. But Krasilov people are inherently untrustworthy. You might believe them readily because you're kind-hearted, but those fellows always carry knives in their bellies. And furthermore."
Ingvar smirked and said:
"If Einar were to suddenly die, well, it wouldn't be such a bad thing for me."
"Uncle...?!"
"That's not to say I truly wish your father dead. After all, thanks to him, I can now engage in 'legal raiding.' But if you want soldiers, that's a different story, isn't it, Little Ivan? What reason do I have to trust you and your damned country enough to provide troops?"
"Wouldn't it be enough if I had proof that I haven't deceived Asidis?"
"Could such proof exist?"
In logic, proving absence is extremely difficult. There's virtually no way to prove something doesn't exist.
But in the advanced logic of the 21st century, this becomes possible. As Ivan was an otherworld hero representing civilization, it wasn't difficult for him to counter this.
The strongest evidence that he had no reason to deceive Asidis and destabilize the border. Evidence that he must actively prevent Einar's death. And...
The very compelling reason why it would be appropriate to request military support from Droan's Jarls.
"I am engaged to be married to Asidis."
"...?!"
"Einar needs to remain alive for Asidis and my rights to be maintained. If Asidis and I have an heir, that child will become king. Could there be a stronger motive?"
"..."
Crack.
The staff in Ingvar's hand made a strange sound.
"How old are you again...?"
"Thirty-five. Why?"
"Essie. Your age is...?"
"Twenty-two!"
"I see. I see."
Ingvar slowly rose from his seat and looked down at Ivan and Asidis. He smiled kindly and gripped his staff.
CRACK!!
The staff crumbled to dust, and Ingvar's red eyes flickered between the particles.
"In Droan, we cut off both arms of thieves, and we cut off the manhood of those who commit adultery with daughters without parental permission. Ivan Petrovich. You will suffer both fates."
"Perfect, Ingvar."
Ivan nodded lightly and stood up to face him.
"I was just wondering if Droan's Jarls still fight like they used to. This will be good practice."
"You can look forward to it."
The time for respecting the elderly was over. Now he had to attack the old man. Come to think of it, this wasn't the 21st century, nor Earth, nor the Republic of Korea.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Droan's only written law is the "proof of strength," so this doesn't contradict the principle of respecting elders.
Survival is proof of strength... Yes, giving his all would be the only way to respect this old warrior.
Passing by the bewildered Asidis, the two warriors headed to the training ground, exuding killing intent.
That evening, a grand banquet was held at the White Castle of Eldbark. It was a festival celebrating Asidis's marriage and blessing the warriors' departure.