The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 572: Morning After

There was no sunrise in Tharvaldur.

Instead, the massive chronoclock embedded high in the inner mountain wall shifted its outer ring from deep indigo to pale silver, marking the turn from night to morning. Along the cavern ceiling, rows of mana-lamps adjusted in response, dimming from their warmer festival glow to a steadier, cooler tone that signaled the start of the workday.

The city changed with it.

The drums were gone. The roaring laughter had faded. Steam still curled from vents between the bridges, but now it carried the sharper rhythm of industry rather than celebration. A pair of dwarves rolled empty barrels back toward a warehouse entrance. Someone swept shattered glass into a metal pan. The smell of ale lingered stubbornly in the air.

Balthor walked with measured steps that were just slightly too careful.

He was not staggering. He was not leaning. But his usual stride—broad and grounded—had been reduced to something more deliberate. He pressed his fingers briefly against his temple.

"I am never," he muttered, voice rough, "mixing dark amber with northern stout again."

Noriel walked beside him, posture still disciplined, though his pace matched Balthor’s rather than setting its own. His eyes blinked once, slower than usual.

"You declared that three times last night," Noriel said evenly. "I can provide timestamps if necessary."

"This time I mean it."

"You also meant it the previous two times."

Behind them, Noel walked with far less visible damage. His steps were steady and upright, they weren’t swaying. If there was discomfort, he had already suppressed it. A faint ripple of mana passed through him once.

"You’re both exaggerating," Noel said calmly. "From an objective standpoint, last night was a success."

Noriel glanced at him. "Explain."

"Finally you were able to relax a little, nobody noticed. Nobody.," Noel added lightly, "progress in a matter that has been stalled for months."

Balthor shot him a tired look. "If you call it a strategic maneuver, I’m turning around."

"I wasn’t going to," Noel replied. "But it was effective."

They crossed a narrow steel-reinforced bridge connecting the lower district to the upper approach toward the castle. The mana-lamps reflected softly against the metal, casting long shadows along the stone below.

Two early-shift smiths noticed Balthor and bowed quickly. The king gave them a short nod in return, conserving words.

Empty crates were stacked against a wall. Colored paper from the previous night’s celebration clung to cracks in the stone. Tharvaldur was already resetting itself, discipline reclaiming what revelry had borrowed.

Noriel adjusted his cuffs slightly. "The risk assessment remains unfavorable," he said. "Leaving the castle without formal escort, while intoxicated, reduces response capability."

Balthor gave him a long look. "You’re still talking."

"And you’re still walking," Noriel replied calmly. "Which I consider a success."

They reached the main approach to the castle shortly after.

The white-armored royal guard stationed at the entrance stiffened the moment they recognized the king. At first, they dropped to one knee in perfect synchronization.

Then they looked up.

And froze.

Balthor’s posture was controlled by will alone. His steps were slower. His expression pale beneath the beard.

"Your Majesty!" one of the guards exclaimed, rising immediately. "What happened? Were you attacked?"

Noel couldn’t help it.

He laughed.

"Yes," he said lightly. "We were ambushed."

The captain of the guard stepped forward, hand already moving toward the hilt at his side. "By whom?"

"A woman," Noel answered without hesitation. "And she stole Balthor’s heart."

Noriel let out a quiet, tired laugh.

Balthor shot Noel a weak glare, though the tips of his ears reddened. "You’re enjoying this too much," he muttered, before pausing and swallowing hard.

For a dwarf to look even remotely close to losing control of his stomach was... unusual.

Very unusual.

The captain assessed the situation quickly.

"...Right," he said carefully. "Support His Majesty."

Two guards stepped in immediately, one on each side of Balthor, steadying him without making it obvious. They did it smoothly, preserving dignity.

"I can walk," Balthor insisted.

"Yes, Your Majesty," one of them replied respectfully, adjusting his grip slightly.

Noel stepped aside to let them pass.

"Thank you for taking care of him," Noel said.

The captain gave a short nod. Then his eyes shifted back to Noel and Noriel.

"For security reasons, I must ask. Where did you take His Majesty last night?"

Noel didn’t hesitate. "Lower district. A tavern. Some music. A little nightlife. Like the old days."

The captain blinked once.

"Right."

"It did him good," Noel added calmly. "Very good, in fact."

The captain studied him for a moment longer, then nodded again. "Understood."

The guards continued escorting Balthor inside.

Noriel paused at the entrance, regaining his full composure now that they were within castle walls.

Noel watched them disappear down the corridor.

’They’ll go out again,’ he thought. ’He took the first step. He’ll be fine.’

A faint smile touched his lips.

Then another thought crossed his mind.

’Now that I think about it... should I help Laziel find someone too?’

He tilted his head slightly.

’I think I am a good wingman.’

Several hours passed.

By the time they gathered again, the chronoclock above the city had shifted back into deep indigo. The mana-lamps throughout the upper districts glowed warmer once more, signaling night inside the mountain.

They were seated in a private dining chamber within the castle—stone walls reinforced with carved steel ribs, a long table set more casually than during formal councils. Plates had been cleared halfway through the meal. A bottle of dwarven red sat open between them.

Noel leaned back slightly in his chair.

"You could have invited her to dinner with us," he said calmly. "You two looked good together last night."

Balthor took a slow sip of wine before answering.

"I want to take things slowly," he said. "No pressure. No sudden palace politics crashing into her life." He glanced at Noel, expression steady now. "It’ll go well. And... thank you. For pushing me."

Noel gave a small nod. "It was nothing."

There was a brief pause.

"By the way," Noel continued, "I’ll have to leave soon. My next stop is the Holy Capital."

Noriel’s gaze sharpened immediately. "You intend to ask the Church for support?"

"I intend to ask everyone who can give it," Noel replied. "The Holy Capital is next. And Redna, the headmistress of Luceria Grand Academy, will be there as well. I sent her a letter."

Balthor frowned slightly. "You’ve been busy."

"No choice," Noel said. "I can teleport there whenever I want, so I’m in no rush. I can at least finish dinner."

A quiet sound of chewing came from near the table.

Noir sat on the floor beside Noel’s chair, a plate piled high with sliced meat nearly emptied already. She devoured it with focused intensity.

Inside Noel’s mind, her voice echoed.

’Yes, I was very hungry, Dad. And the meat here is really good. Tell them to pack some for later.’

Noel hid a faint smile.

"Alright," he murmured under his breath.

Noriel noticed but didn’t comment.

He folded his hands lightly on the table. "When you have confirmation from the Holy Capital, inform me. I’ll begin preparing discreet mobilization measures. We cannot afford to be caught unprepared."

Balthor’s expression darkened slightly.

"That’s right," he said, voice lower. "That bastard will pay... What he did to Nicolas... I won’t forget it."

Silence settled between them.

Noel lowered his gaze briefly.

"...Yes," he said quietly. "We’ll have to make him pay..."

The words lingered. Something heavier moved behind them.

For a moment, Noel felt the weight of memory pressing against him—Nicolas on the arena floor, blood staining stone, the fracture in something that once had been simple.

He inhaled slowly.

Then straightened.

"The dinner was excellent," he said, lifting his glass and finishing the remaining wine. "Before I leave, I’ll use the washroom."

He stood, adjusting his coat.

"Thank you. For everything, Balthor."

Balthor waved a hand dismissively.

"Don’t mention it, lad. You’ve done far more for me than I ever did for you."

Noel gave a faint smile in return.

Then he turned and stepped out of the dining chamber, Noir padding quietly after him, leaving the two dwarves seated in the warm glow of lamplight as the mountain hummed beyond the walls.

Noel stepped into the private washroom and closed the heavy stone door behind him, the noise of the castle fading instantly into quiet echoes and distant vibrations from the mountain beyond the walls. Warm mana-lamps reflected softly against polished stone as he exhaled, shoulders relaxing now that the conversations were done.

He reached into his Dimensional Pouch, fingers searching briefly before pulling out the communication device—sleek, rune-lined, faintly glowing with stable mana.

Noir padded in after him, settling near the door, purple eyes watching him expectantly.

Noel smiled faintly as he activated the artifact.

"Time to say goodnight to the girls, don’t you think, Noir?"

Her tail wagged once against the stone floor.

’Obviously,’ she replied inside his mind. ’They’ll want to know if everything is okay, and right now they can’t afford to get stressed, so you know, don’t stress my moms out..’

Noel nodded, thumb brushing across the activation rune as light gathered in his palm.

For a moment, before the connection formed, the weight of distance disappeared.

Home was only a call away.