The morning sun had barely risen above the snowy horizon.
Yet Frostbound Coast was already awake.
Not because of merchants.
Not because of workers.
Not because of soldiers.
No.
Today the city had awakened because of something far more terrifying.
Competition.
The news had spread throughout the territory like wildfire.
Count Kel Rosenfeld was finally accepting visitors.
The invisible Count.
The impossible Count.
The genius lord everyone wanted to meet.
The noble nobody could find.
The young ruler whose achievements were currently being discussed throughout the Empire.
And today...
People had a chance to meet him.
Naturally.
Everyone lost their minds.
POV: Merchant Guild Representative Darius Voss
Darius woke before dawn.
A lifetime of trade had taught him one thing.
The early bird got the contract.
The late bird got bankruptcy.
The experienced merchant sat upright in bed.
A determined expression appeared on his face.
Today.
Victory would be his.
"I refuse to lose to nobles."
He declared proudly.
His assistant looked concerned.
"Sir."
"Yes?"
"There are over three hundred representatives."
Darius smiled confidently.
"Then there are three hundred people I must defeat."
The assistant immediately regretted asking.
Half an hour later.
The merchant's carriage departed.
Everything appeared perfect.
Everything appeared smooth.
Everything appeared under control.
Then disaster struck.
The left wheel suddenly became trapped.
Darius blinked.
The coachman blinked.
The horse blinked.
Fishing nets.
Hundreds of fishing nets.
The merchant stared blankly.
"...Why?"
The coachman slowly pointed toward another carriage rapidly passing them.
The banner belonged to a competing trade organization.
Darius slowly stood.
Snow fell around him.
The northern wind howled dramatically.
The merchant's eye twitched.
"That little rat."
The race had begun.
POV: Baron Cedric Valmont
Unlike merchants.
Cedric possessed noble dignity.
Grace.
Refinement.
Class.
Or so he believed.
The Baron emerged from his guest residence wearing an elegant black winter cloak.
His horse stood nearby.
Prepared.
Majestic.
Perfect.
Then he froze.
The horse was gone.
In its place stood four donkeys.
The donkeys stared at him.
He stared at the donkeys.
The donkeys continued staring.
Silence.
"..."
"..."
One donkey brayed.
Cedric nearly suffered spiritual damage.
His butler approached carefully.
"My Lord."
The noble pointed.
Wordlessly.
The butler looked.
Then immediately looked away.
"My Lord."
"Yes."
"...I believe someone stole the horses."
Cedric's eye twitched.
"Thank you."
The butler nodded.
"I try to be helpful."
The Baron spent the next ten minutes questioning his life choices.
POV: Imperial Scholar Helena Mordrin
Helena trusted nobody.
This decision saved her.
The scholar left her hotel at midnight.
Not dawn.
Midnight.
Several other scholars stared.
"Why are you leaving now?"
Helena adjusted her glasses.
"Because I have met merchants before."
The others laughed.
They stopped laughing six hours later.
When Helena was already halfway to the Administrative Building.
Meanwhile they were trapped behind three different construction projects.
The scholar smiled.
A rare occurrence.
Intelligence was a wonderful thing.
Unfortunately.
Halfway through her journey.
She encountered an elderly woman carrying ten baskets.
The old woman smiled kindly.
"Young lady."
Helena immediately knew.
It was a trap.
Some representative had hired her.
The scholar narrowed her eyes.
The old woman smiled wider.
The battle began.
POV: Duke Roland Blackthorne
The Duke of a neighboring territory had decided personally attending would be wise.
After all.
Meeting the famous Count might prove beneficial.
What could possibly go wrong?
Everything.
Everything went wrong.
The Duke's carriage became trapped behind:
Three merchant caravans.
Two research teams.
One noble delegation.
Four engineers.
A group of students.
And somehow—
A traveling goat.
The Duke stared.
The goat stared back.
The animal appeared surprisingly confident.
The Duke slowly rubbed his forehead.
"Why is there a goat?"
Nobody knew.
Not even the goat.
POV: Royal Envoy Marcus Aurelius
The royal envoy had planned perfectly.
Every route studied.
Every possibility considered.
Every obstacle anticipated.
Or so he thought.
Then he reached an intersection.
And discovered four different noble houses arguing.
Not fighting.
Not dueling.
Arguing.
Very loudly.
Apparently everyone claimed priority.
The argument had already lasted thirty minutes.
Marcus looked left.
Then right.
Then left again.
"...Are they serious?"
One noble immediately pointed.
"Royal Envoy!"
Marcus instantly regretted existing.
Because now he had become part of the argument.
POV: Frostbound Coast Citizens
The local citizens enjoyed every second.
Every.
Single.
Second.
A bakery owner sold twice as many pastries.
Because exhausted representatives continuously stopped for food.
An innkeeper earned enough money to renovate his building.
Because delayed nobles kept extending their stays.
A fish merchant sat outside watching events unfold.
Two nobles sprinted past.
Then three merchants.
Then one scholar.
Then another noble.
The fish merchant slowly ate a pastry.
"...Best entertainment this year."
His wife nodded.
"Better than the summer festival."
Neither felt guilty.
Not even slightly.
POV: Gareth Thornwall
The veteran knight stood near the Administrative Building.
Watching.
Observing.
Judging.
Several younger knights stood beside him.
One eventually asked.
"Captain."
"Yes?"
"...Are they racing?"
Gareth nodded.
"They're racing."
Another knight blinked.
"Why?"
The veteran looked toward the crowd.
Toward the merchants.
Toward the nobles.
Toward the scholars.
Toward the royal envoys.
Then toward the Administrative Building.
"Because everyone wants five minutes with Lord Kel."
The younger knight looked confused.
"Five minutes?"
Gareth laughed.
"They'd kill for five minutes."
Silence followed.
Then one knight carefully asked.
"Metaphorically?"
Gareth thought.
Then looked toward two merchants attempting to sabotage each other's carriage.
"...Probably."
POV: Seiren
Far beneath the ancient waters of Scarder Lake.
The Guardian watched everything.
The arguments.
The races.
The sabotage.
The panic.
The chaos.
Then she laughed.
And continued laughing.
For several minutes.
Because she had witnessed kingdoms rise.
Empires fall.
Heroes die.
Gods disappear.
Yet somehow...
Watching nobles sprint through snow trying to meet a fifteen-year-old Count was among the most ridiculous things she had ever seen.
Eventually she contacted Kel.
"You have caused social collapse."
Kel looked up from his documents.
"What?"
"Three merchants are currently racing through the city."
Kel blinked.
"Why?"
"To meet you."
Silence.
Then—
"That seems unnecessary."
The Guardian laughed harder.
POV: The First Representative
After overcoming obstacles.
After surviving sabotage.
After navigating madness.
After sacrificing dignity.
One representative finally reached the Administrative Building first.
The man entered triumphantly.
Victorious.
Proud.
Exhausted.
He had won.
The receptionist smiled.
"Congratulations."
The representative grinned.
"Thank you."
The receptionist continued.
"You are first."
His grin widened.
Then—
"There are only two hundred and ninety-eight people ahead of you."
Silence.
The representative stared.
"...What?"
The receptionist smiled politely.
"Those appointments were scheduled yesterday."
His soul immediately left his body.
Outside.
The race continued.
The chaos continued.
The city laughed.
The nobles suffered.
The merchants cried.
The scholars questioned humanity.
And at the center of it all...
Kel Rosenfeld sat peacefully inside his office.
Completely unaware that meeting him had become Frostbound Coast's most competitive sport.
A sport significantly more dangerous than monster hunting.
And considerably more humiliating.