CHAPTER 110: DELICACIES OF WINTER [I]

The monsters in the Winter Expanse were powered by a more controlled version of the Battle Mode that people born of the Winter had.

That faint but constant rage gave them an edge — sharper claws, denser bodies, quicker instincts.

To hunt them was never simple; even the strongest Hunters had perished because of one careless mistake.

Azariah knew this, which was why his son’s return made him pause.

Thirty Arctic bears.

Ten Ice Hounds.

All neatly slain, dragged back as if they were nothing but rabbits on a roadside.

He had lost his composure earlier, blurting his shock, but he caught himself now and straightened his back, adopting the smile of a Patriarch.

"This is a great amount for your first hunt, my son," Azariah said warmly, voice carrying enough authority for the surrounding Hunters to hear.

The others nodded, though their expressions betrayed their awe.

This was the Patriarch’s heir; such feats should be expected of him.

Still, to witness it with their own eyes left a heaviness in their throats.

The Prince was no ordinary youth.

"Alright," Azariah continued, clapping his hands once. "I’ll help you sell these. You can return with Anya and focus on your training for now."

Azel gave a short nod and turned away, hands tucked behind his head as if the slaughter he’d just committed was hardly worth remembering.

Anya followed close at his side, careful but radiant with pride.

Azariah sighed deeply as he waved over some of the nearby Hunters.

"Take these to the butcher’s hall. Every piece must be recorded properly."

The men obeyed immediately.

None would dare mishandle the Patriarch’s son’s first hunt.

...

"My Prince, do you wish to return to the manor now?" Anya asked softly as they exited the gates.

"No," Azel said, his crimson eyes flicking over the bustling streets. "Although this is my home... I don’t know any place around here. Show me."

Anya brightened, tugging her cloak tighter as the wind blew snow across their path.

"Then allow me to guide you. I’ll take you to the best parts of the city."

She hesitated before adding, "Though you can’t compare the city to the Empire. The former Patriarchs always said the Empire is advanced but cruel... and that no one from there should be trusted."

Azel chuckled under his breath.

"Anya," he said, making her glance at him nervously. "There are good and bad sides to everything. While I won’t deny the Empire has its rotten parts... it’s not nearly as terrible as you’ve been told."

Her lips parted, but no rebuttal came.

She only lowered her head and murmured, "I understand, my Prince. Forgive me if I overstepped."

He waved it off. "Don’t worry."

Before he could say more, Anya grabbed his hand and pulled him forward with surprising boldness. "Come. You’ll enjoy this."

The narrow street they entered was alive with noise.

Shouts of vendors competed with the crackle of open flames.

Children darted between stalls, laughing, their breath forming pale clouds in the frosted air.

Azel blinked, slowing as the scent hit him.

"...Seafood?"

"Yes." Anya’s eyes sparkled as she gestured proudly toward the rows of vendors.

"These are caught from the oceans beyond the walls. The sailors harvest them even in these brutal waters. Most creatures here are strange and dangerous... but the icefish are plentiful. And this is where the men that came with you are working right now."

They stopped at a stall built from silverwood, its frame sturdy against the cold.

Skewers of fish roasted over an open pit, their skin crisping to golden brown.

The aroma was rich, smoky, unlike anything Azel had tasted before.

"Seafood in a land of ice," he mused aloud, watching the oil drip into the fire and hiss. "And these fish... why are they so large?"

"They’re unique to our seas," Anya explained, smiling like a proud hostess.

"The Empire doesn’t have them."

Azel nodded thoughtfully, though he found his curiosity pricking at another thought: if the sea beyond the walls held such things, what else lurked deeper, in the uncharted waters?

Should he search underwater?

The stall’s owner looked up as Anya approached.

He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a muscular frame, though not the wiry sharpness of a Hunter.

His hair was silvery-white, tied loosely at the back, and his eyes — frost-blue lit up when he saw her.

"Morning, Anya," he greeted warmly. "You didn’t go hunting today?"

"I did, just returned," she said with a small smile. "But I wanted to introduce you to someone."

Her head tilted slightly, and the man’s gaze shifted past her.

The moment he saw Azel, he froze.

His expression sobered, and he lowered his head in a respectful bow.

"My Prince... it’s an honor. I’m glad to see you healthy."

Azel blinked at the sudden formality.

Since everybody in the Winter region had silver hair, they usually used the colors of their eyes to know the differences.

Only the members of the Patriarch line had crimson eyes.

"...You don’t need to bow," he said, voice firm but kind.

The man straightened and gave a faint smile.

Anya, however, noticed the glint of mischief that followed as he turned back to her.

"You didn’t tell me that you found your childhood cru—"

She cut him off with a playful punch to the arm, cheeks slightly red.

"Enough."

Azel arched an eyebrow at the scene. "You two are familiar?"

"Of course," the man replied, still grinning. "She’s my little sister."

Azel tilted his head, studying the resemblance.

Their hair matched, their eyes close enough in shade, and the casual affection made sense now.

Still...

"I thought all born of the Winter were Hunters by nature," Azel said. "Yet you run a stall?"

The man’s smile dimmed, though it never vanished.

"Not every body is made strong, even here. Mine... was too frail to walk the Expanse. So I fish instead, and provide in other ways."

Azel gave a curt nod.

He didn’t mock the man for his weakness, though inside, a part of him couldn’t help but find it strange.

How does someone from the Winter region have a frail body?

Well he still looked more fit than an Empire man.

"Brother, give Azel one of your best," Anya said suddenly, breaking the silence. "I want him to taste what we are truly proud of."

The man’s eyes twinkled as he bowed dramatically. "Your wish is my command, little princess."

Anya punched him again, this time harder, cheeks puffed. "Stop that!"

Azel watched the exchange with a faint smirk.

"Should I play like this with Ellie too?" he murmured, half to himself.

The thought lingered strangely warm in his chest.