MCFPM 23

chapter 23

The next morning, the guest rooms of the Grand Duke’s castle were bustling with the professors’ conversations.

“That cat… it’s become remarkably cunning, hasn’t it?”

Professor Leopard muttered, drunk, and Lynx nodded in agreement.

“Indeed. Was its gaze always that fierce? Wasn’t it just cute before?”
“That’s what I’m saying. It feels like only yesterday it couldn’t even squeak in front of us.”
“It only held its head high in the Arcane Engineering Department of the Academy. That’s the only place those magicless runts could get recognition, isn’t it?”

Except for Assistant Professor Horse, who had chosen a different room, Lion, Leopard, and Lynx thought about the cat beastman who was likely occupying the study room.

All of them were local nobles from the East. Since they were also retainers of the prestigious Freyju family, they had occasionally seen Sherilot at the Grand Duke’s residence.

Back then, in their memories, she had been a helpless little girl trembling. But after majoring in Arcane Engineering at the Academy, she quickly became a certified master. Upon reaching adulthood and inheriting her title, she seemed to have gained complete self-assurance.

“Honestly… even the Duchess of Freyju is soft. If it were me, I would have crushed her from a young age.”

Professor Leopard mumbled as he grabbed the glass of liquor on the nightstand and drained it. Unsatisfied, he picked up the bottle below and shook it. Lynx grimaced.

“Ugh, why do you drink so much of that strong stuff?”
“No, it’s really good. What is this? A northern specialty?”

The maid had set it aside for guests yesterday, but Leopard had become addicted to its sharp, distinctive taste. Gazing toward the lower floor where the kitchen might be, he muttered,

“Can I get another bottle?”
“Better wash your face first. If you go to that cat with such a flushed face, it’ll just ignore you.”
“What are you talking about? I’m a distant cousin of the former Northern Duchess.”

Still, knowing the need to maintain appearances, Leopard dipped his face into the washbasin Lynx handed him. Immediately, he jerked back, horrified.

“Ugh, what is this! Ice water?”
“Huh?”
“I even taste a hint of salt. Did someone fetch seawater?”

Lynx, who hadn’t touched it yet, was relieved but puzzled. When they had arrived in the North, it had felt warmer than expected—so why now?

At that moment, Professor Lion, who had briefly gone out with a servant, flung the door open.

“They’re deliberately making it difficult for us.”
“Making it difficult…? That cat?”
“Yes, to make us leave quickly.”

Leopard let out a hollow laugh.

“Huh, what… even if our servants didn’t say anything?”
“I sent my assistant, but it was ignored. Only through a Northern castle servant did our requests barely get through.”
“Why are they so strict? Is this a military camp?”

In truth, not all Northern servants were loyal to the newly arrived Duke. This was purely due to the skewed staffing structure of the Northern Grand Ducal Castle.

Currently, Labre Castle had relatively many knights and few civilian staff. Consequently, the labor needed to manage the household was insufficient, forcing knights to help with trivial tasks—like hanging tapestries—which directly caused the professors’ hardships.

“Anyway, we should check who brought this washwater.”
“…Ha ha.”

Lynx smiled awkwardly as he watched Professor Leopard’s face contort. Just as he thought it was becoming a nuisance—

Bang!

“Gah!”

Professor Lion, looming over them, suddenly collapsed toward them.

Startled, Leopard and Lynx dodged. Just as Lion was about to scold them, a brazen voice came from the wide-open door.

“Well, well. There you are.”

A scarred young man with canine features bared his fangs.

Rodiere, as he was called, surveyed the sprawled professors and smirked, pointing behind him with his thumb.

“The Grand Duke wishes to see you all.”

The scar tensed, radiating authority. Before Lion could ask if it was the right moment, Cecile and the other servants lined up like a knightly guard. The professors swallowed hard.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

Sherilot greeted the professors casually.

“Yes, exceeded my expectations,” one said.
“That’s fortunate. It’s been a long time since the North hosted guests.”
“….”

Professor Lion furrowed his brow slightly.

In fact, in the central social circles, his words meant “I didn’t even expect much,” but Sherilot ignored their sharp stares. She had long realized that, valuing face as they did, they wouldn’t outright speak against her.

She had them sit on the sofa, signaling it was time to get to the main point. Pulling out a contract and a patent certificate, she continued.

“…And what is this paper?”

Beside the two documents lay a thick research paper.

Sherilot replied without emotion.

“Curious? Then I’ll read it aloud.”

She gathered the professors’ attendants and the Northern staff into the study.

Though the office became a little crowded, both Eastern and Northern staff would hear her voice—they would serve as witnesses.

“Now, let’s start with the first chapter.”

Clearing her throat, she read the title.

“Development of Improved Potatoes via the Introduction of Traits Derived from Mandrake, a Magical Plant, and Analysis of Their Agricultural Characteristics.”

“…What? Wait—”
“This study aims to introduce the potentially useful traits of the magical plant Mandrake into the emergency crop, potatoes, to significantly enhance resistance under extreme environmental conditions.”

As Sherilot read the title and abstract step by step, the professors became flustered. Just as Professor Leopard was about to scold her, Rodiere subtly pushed his arm down.

“To merge Mandrake’s resilient vitality with the high yield of potatoes, various modern magical engineering techniques, including genomic analysis, breeding, and gene recombination, were applied.”

The result: the improved crop thrived even in poor conditions. It also included breeding methods and adaptability evaluations…

“…Furthermore, by publicly sharing the innovative improvement techniques applied in this study, it aims to contribute to future food security and agricultural development.”

It became clear that the Mandrake-Potato was a publicly accessible crop.

“By the way, the publication date of this paper is earlier than the date you filed the Mandrake-Potato patent.”

When Sherilot pointed to the publication date, the professors’ expressions hardened. They were only at the abstract and already this upset. Sherilot snorted and smirked.

“So, how do you feel?”
“Well, that is…”
“Your whining about penalties is illegal.”

A brief silence followed. Then Professor Leopard slammed the table. Cecile’s teacup tipped over.

“Lies! Who’s the first author of this paper? I’ve never heard of them!”
“Don’t you know?”
“What?”
“How could you not know?”

Sherilot tilted her head.

“Oh, perhaps you’ve exploited so many assistants you can’t even remember?”

Nearby, Assistant Professor Horse flinched slightly. Unlike the cat professors, he had remained quiet, neither helping Sherilot directly nor interfering.

“She treated her assistants almost like servants,” he had learned from Rodiere’s report.

Sherilot knew the harassment and exploitation a senior had suffered under professors. The senior, a minor noble, had been powerless against Freyju retainers and ultimately had to study in the Southern lands of the fish beastmen.

Her unforgiveness toward Eastern high nobles wasn’t just from her own experiences.

“Anyway… what should I do with this…”

Showing the paper to both Eastern and Northern staff, Sherilot leaned forward, then rested her chin after receiving it back.

“You schemed to seize the assistants’ techniques, cleverly filed the patent, and probably promised your aunt you’d make the North pay. What happens if we take this back to court?”
“…Ha! Take it all the way to the High Court? Do you even know who controls it?”
“Was that agreement reached?”
“What?”
“Did you make an agreement with the Duchess?”

Sherilot smiled coldly at Leopard. Though cute, her smile reminded one of the Northern snowfields.

‘Fools. Why would the Law King give up his own yard so easily?’

Even if the Law King became hostile toward the North knowing she was engaged to Eonian, the East wouldn’t benefit—they’re competitors.

Sherilot glanced at the silent professors.

“Why the vow of silence? You filed a legal complaint, didn’t you? Then we’ll treat you lawfully.”

The professors’ faces flushed and paled by turns. They knew: to eradicate the Northern improved crop, it would require a grueling legal battle.

‘And Odelle won’t help with that fight.’

She had tied Eonian to a debt with the Law King from his broken engagement to Princess Leonat, but she didn’t want to settle it all at once by overturning the Northern territories.

‘And it doesn’t seem like I’ll lose.’

Thinking of Eonian hiding in the chapel, she recalled why the Law King was called the “Law King.” Most of the continent’s civil law originated from religious edicts—criminal, civil, inheritance, and corporate law.

And now, in the North, there were priests who represented the law.

…Telling that wolf, “You’re a castle lawyer now,” might elicit a confused reaction. Still, having a priest made all the difference: knowing what could be legally guaranteed.

Sherilot’s eyes blazed with confidence as she faced the shocked professors.

“For your information, I won’t back down. Ever.”

That evening.

“Hohoho…”
“You’re in good spirits, Your Grace.”
“Could I not be?”

The Grand Duke’s household toasted to driving out the scheming professors.

Sherilot emptied a bottle of strong liquor Mina had brewed and staggered into her bedroom.

Her head ached slightly…but it was fine. Not overly sensitive to alcohol, she could still manage. At least enough to send a message to her distant senior. She lay on the bed and activated her communication orb.

Soon, a face appeared on the screen.

“Hello, senior.”
-You’ve been calling a lot lately… Is something wrong?

“No, just… I didn’t get to properly thank you the other day.”

As she rubbed the back of her neck, smiling faintly—

“Sherilot, I’ve been checking on the professors you brought here—”

Eonian burst into the bedroom. Startled, Sherilot whispered just enough to avoid the comm orb.

‘Hey, I told you not to barge in like this—’
-……Who?

Ah.

Damn, did Eonian’s voice go into the comm too? Sherilot’s scalp tingled, and Eonian’s eyes widened. Just as he tried to quietly leave the study, her senior on the orb bowed and asked,

-Who is it?
“Oh, well… I miraculously found one retainer loyal to Chartreuse.”

-Bascalia?