⚔️Serberia Auto-translated

I think that if we don't approach her right away, she'll give us a hard time for showing disrespect.

Upon arriving in Myrkoria, Anselm offered his candidacy for an audience with the Countess, in case his companions didn't want to visit her all together. He also suggested that a couple of other people accompany him to form a small delegation. (without animals)
I hope they won't make us kiss her feet...

(without animals)

Then there will be no one to follow.

/I was going to suggest going with Arom, considering that the etiquette stat is now 11, but I read the Countess's name and now I'm not so sure, hehe.../

you can take the top most beautiful and well-mannered ones, or whatever stats the Illian oligarchs prefer.

No need to send Gulveig there.

Gülveig instructs Anselm before his supplicatory journey: -- Countess Hecate is a very brave and straightforward person. In Marion, it so happened that the king insulted her husband... "I would like to say it was unintentional, but perhaps it was deliberate." -- And as a result, King Gaheris received a reprimand from her. That is, if anything, she won't let it slide, so keep that in mind. Her husband is Rutger Rivelstein, and the conflict was due to his... delicate condition. Sir Rutger himself is also a very honest man, an old friend of teacher Vergil. I hope you will use the information wisely, Anselm," the girl said, looking at him sternly.

Gülveig, you don't need to go there.

"Not sure" in this case was a mild form of "absolutely not."

If we choose the most beautiful ones, we'll get a retinue consisting of Alessia and Ilva... But what if they misunderstand...?

- Yes, yes, I understand. A friend of Vergil and an honest man, - replied Anselm, spinning around in an attempt to get the parrot to sit on his shoulder and calm down. When he finally managed to do so, he turned to the girl and added, - Don't worry, everything will be fine, - the guy approached Gulveig almost closely, stared at her and said, - Can you watch him while I'm gone? - Anselm handed the parrot to her.
although he would rather give it to someone else, just in case it gets crushed or eaten...

If you take the most beautiful ones, you'll get a retinue of Alessia and Ilva... But what if they misunderstand...

it's strange that Imelda is letting me go...

“Fat, fat!” commented the parrot.

— Fat, fat! — the parrot commented.

— Don't use such language! — Anselm threatened the parrot with his finger. — I'm trying to teach him not to use rude words, but his upbringing is quite a complex and lengthy process.

Perhaps, a personal connection with the author was formed, but Yan Dere's unique writing style was perceived with interest and was very easy to understand, which helped Eyre devour the long-awaited book in one sitting. Perhaps, if it weren't for the journey to Mirkor, it would have continued to gather dust in her travel bag, but not reading it in the current situation would have been simply foolish. Finishing the book, she felt a certain guilt towards Virgil, considering their long-standing acquaintance, but in her mind, she ranked her sympathy towards the characters in the story as follows: Rutger > Yan > Theo > Virgil, and she most likely decided not to put her mentor in first place out of spite and in defiance of his narcissistic nature.

How about we go play Heroes with some other players, if Lock doesn't mind?

Go.

***

After the lecture on Valkyries and the evaluation of essays, Ilva left the church in a much better mood than when she arrived: Almandina's praise and the distraction of creative work had a significant positive effect, allowing her to forget, at least for a short time, about the "adventures" of the day. On her way home, the girl wanted to visit a cafe and talk to Claudia, but then she dismissed the idea, deciding not to bother her friend, who was probably engrossed in studying the Elheim cookbook.
Back home, Ilva gratefully collapsed on the couch and closed her eyes: in the ensuing darkness, various events flashed through her mind, which she still needed to properly process and organize. Soon, Renold returned. Instead of the usual bruises and scrapes from daily training, the guy's gear didn't look worn this time; however, the same couldn't be said about his gloomy face. Sitting down next to his sister, Ren stretched his legs tiredly and put his arms behind his head, staring blankly ahead. Each of them wanted to tell the other a lot, but neither dared to speak first.
—Well, what happened with the baron? —Ilva finally asked, looking at her brother with concern.
—Oh, I hope he's okay. —Ren sighed. —Too bad I didn't make it to training; I was running around the city all day.
—Really? It's strange that we didn't run into each other... Why?
—I was questioning the others about our travels, just like we discussed this morning. At Emilia's request. —he added, anticipating his sister's question.
—...And what did they say?
—Well, basically the same as we did. No one refused, not even Alessia.
—Hmm. —Ilva pursed her lips, feeling a slight pang of envy as she thought about her still unattainable sister in terms of appearance. —Well, that's understandable. We're all young, adventurous fools who don't know when to stop.
—That's exactly it. —Renold continued to look at the wall opposite him, decorated with paintings. —You should have seen Emilia's eyes... I stupidly promised her that I would take care of all of us, idiot. I can barely take care of myself, let alone you. —the guy instinctively slapped his knee with his fist.
—What's wrong with that? You did everything honestly and correctly. —Ilva shrugged.
—Yeah. But if something happens to any of us, how will I look her in the eye? And even if I suffer myself, but...
At these words, Ilva forcefully slapped her brother on the shoulder.
—Yes, you really are an idiot. —she said angrily. —Tampahan and Elheim are already behind us, and you're still trying to play the hero. Are you some kind of Valkyrie?
—Il, what are you...
—Our guys can perfectly take care of themselves. Emilia and Gunngir know this very well. Stop inventing extra responsibilities for yourself; that's what Veserod is for.
—But I...
—No one expects impossible feats from you, and you shouldn't demand them from yourself. And if you're ever ready to protect all your loved ones, you'll understand that perfectly.
Renold didn't know what to say and froze, the words remaining on his lips.
—Yes, after Thrakia, you haven't stopped surprising me, sister. —he finally said with a smile.
—What, I didn't surprise you before? —Ilva smirked, replacing her anger with kindness.
—No, I... uh, how was your day?
The girl briefly told her brother about her adventures with the captain.
—You're saying, a search and interrogation? —Ren repeated in amazement. —B-but, maybe it's just another joke?
—No, unfortunately. —Ilva shook her head. —But don't worry, I think I managed to resolve everything peacefully. After all, we're not bandits or soldiers, and we're not planning anything... yet. —she added with some uncertainty.
—No, the baron will never turn us into a gang of thugs. —Ren murmured, lacking his usual confidence. —At least, I don't see any particular progress.
—I hope so...
—But in general, we need to tell everyone about this "investigation" immediately, maybe even Gunngir!
—Do you think the old man doesn't know himself?
—Maybe not. But the guys definitely do; who knows what they're hiding, they might start thinking about something bad.
—I think we're safe for now. But do as you see fit. Just don't mention me. —Ilva said with a chill.
—Why? —Ren didn't understand.
—I don't want them to know that I went to inspect their homes. If you want, tell them that you conducted this "tour" yourself.
—Okay, okay, I understand... But you're so smart! —Renold hugged his sister tightly and kissed her on the forehead.
—I know, I know. —Ilva mumbled with a shy smile.
They were silent for a while.
—Oh, by the way. —Renold rummaged through the pockets of his travel cloak and handed his sister a sparkling amulet. —Emilia gave it to me; it protects against misfortune. Please, take it.
Ilva looked at the jewelry for a few seconds, then took her brother's hand and gently placed his fingers on her open palm, with the amulet lying on top. —I already have a protective amulet; I don't need another one.
—What are you... uh... —Renold blushed slightly and looked away. —...Well, then at least take the sword, as you asked; the baron gave it to you.
—Really? Wow! —Ilva said with unexpected delight, running her hand along the back of the "rose" blade, stood up, and made a few imaginary strikes. A barely noticeable wave of cold seemed to envelop the blade. —Is it, uh, good? —she asked her brother.
—It's one of the best swords I've ever seen. —Ren answered honestly. —It's as if it was forged specifically for you.
—That's great! Thank you, Ren! And thank Buve too. And the old man, well, he probably knows his stuff.
After chatting for a while, the brother and sister decided to visit the new furniture store to decorate their home with new decor.

***