The war room descended into a flurry of hushed, incredulous whispers. Princess Celestia? The youngest royal was here, in the frozen hell of Winterguard?
Princess Rumina’s perfectly composed expression cracked for a fraction of a second, giving way to a look of genuine, sharp intrigue. The youngest princess was indeed part of the royal convoy, though her presence had been classified as an absolute state secret. Celestia, possessing a terrifying innate talent for magic but lacking any real-world combat experience, had relentlessly begged her older sister to let her see the true frontlines. Rumina, perhaps out of a twisted sense of indulgence or a calculated desire to expose the sheltered prodigy to reality, had secretly smuggled her into the fortress.
"Since the secret is already out," Rumina said, her voice smooth but laced with a dangerous edge, "there is no need to try and press it down. Celestia will assist in anchoring the spell."
Rumina leaned forward, resting her chin on her intertwined fingers. Her piercing eyes locked onto the cadet across the table.
"However, Cadet Lucien... I am intensely curious. How exactly did you manage to spot a royal who has not stepped foot outside my heavily warded carriage since we left the Capital?"
Lucien felt a sudden, violent chill run down his spine. His Sixth Sense flared, warning him of the predatory interest he had just awakened in the Eldest Princess. He quickly averted his gaze, keeping his expression neutral while cold sweat ford on his neck. If there was anyone in the Empire harboring complicated, calculating intentions, she was definitely at the top of the list.
With Celestia in the picture, a new tactical plan was rapidly forged. But a fatal flaw remained: a joint glacial spell of that imnse magnitude required ti. A lot of it. For at least thirty minutes, the two royal mages would be completely exposed, forced to stand near the base of the compromised wall to channel their mana into the earth.
"I will hold the line until the spell is complete," Lucien had declared flatly before the eting adjourned, leaving the veteran commanders staring at him in disbelief.
*****
Later that night, the howling wind outside seed to mock the fragile stone of Winterguard.
Commander Viktor sat heavily at his desk in the commandeered officer’s quarters, engulfed in thought over the engineering report he had just received. After hearing Lucien’s grim hypothesis during the eting, Viktor had imdiately ordered his best sappers to conduct a specialized inspection of the eastern flank.
It was exactly as the boy had said.
The right barrier was a disaster waiting to happen. The micro-fractures in the foundation were far worse than initially anticipated. Looking at the detailed structural analysis, it was a miracle the wall was surprisingly holding up at all. The structural integrity was so compromised that the entire weight of the eastern defense was precariously balanced on a single, failing archway.
To maintain this fragile barrier until the royal sisters could erect their glacial wall, the garrison had to prevent the monsters from so much as touching the stone.
Even with Princess Celestia providing her monstrous mana capacity to help create the ice wall, magic on such a massive scale could not simply be conjured in an instant. It required extensive preparation, geotric casting, and unbroken concentration. What would happen until then?
Lucien had boldly claid he would fend off the vanguard on his own to buy them those thirty minutes. But Viktor, a seasoned veteran of countless wars, found it incredibly hard to believe him.
"How can a seventeen-year-old student fend off the monsters outside all by himself?" Viktor muttered to the empty room, rubbing his exhausted eyes.
Knock-knock.
Soone tapped on the heavy oak door, pulling Viktor from his grim thoughts.
"It’s Whitmore. May I co in?"
The voice belonged to Commander Arthur. Viktor was sowhat surprised by the late visit from the local lord, but he quickly stood up and opened the door.
"Lord Whitmore. What brings you here at this hour?"
"Ha, what indeed. I was just bored and decided to drop by," Arthur said. But the deep lines of exhaustion and worry etched into his scarred face made it abundantly clear this wasn’t just a casual visit.
As Viktor stood in silence, unsure of how to respond to the grim pleasantry, Arthur grinned faintly and raised his right hand. He was holding an expensive bottle of northern liquor and two thick glasses.
Sotis, veteran commanders just needed a drink to open up a difficult conversation. Viktor bowed his head slightly and stepped aside.
As Arthur entered, Viktor pulled up a heavy wooden chair to make space. They sat opposite each other. Arthur took a brief look around the room, noting the subtle shifts in the furniture.
"Oh, the arrangent has changed, hasn’t it?" Arthur noted.
"Yes. I hoped to make the surroundings as similar as possible to my old quarters," Viktor replied. He had rearranged the interior of the office to closely resemble the traditional layout used by the Ashen Knights. Of course, the local furniture itself was entirely different, but just shifting the spatial arrangent made Viktor feel a comforting sense of familiarity in this frozen hell.
Arthur popped the cork on the liquor bottle. Viktor reached out to pour it for him, out of respect for the fortress’s true lord, but Arthur waved his hand off. He poured a generous asure of the amber liquid into his own glass, then filled Viktor’s.
The two seasoned warriors slowly enjoyed their drinks. The harsh burn of the liquor provided a light, much-needed warmth in the freezing room, and the imnse tension in their minds eased just a fraction.
"Haha, you must find this desolate place incredibly uncomfortable," Arthur chuckled, swirling his glass. "Especially for a man leading the Ashen Knights. It is an order with such a proud history and rigid tradition."
"...Or perhaps it is just old and outdated," Viktor murmured.
Viktor’s words were far from humble. His bitter tone and the way he squinted his eyes at his glass spoke volus of a deeply rooted, painful sincerity.
Arthur paused, his glass hovering in the air. "What do you an by that? Wasn’t your order the one that practically ruled the continent’s military in the past? You must know that the Ashen Knights played a monuntal role in dividing the land between humanity and the Wilderness centuries ago. Surely, you understand how glorious that achievent was."
"Of course, it was glorious back then," Viktor sighed, taking another sip. "Every mber of the Ashen Order took imnse pride in themselves and their duty. I did too, once upon a ti."
"...And now you don’t?"
Viktor squinted his slightly tipsy eyes at Arthur’s question, the heavy, invisible burden of command weighing down his broad shoulders.
The freezing wind battered against the frosted glass of the office window, but inside, the burning amber liquor provided a fleeting sense of comfort.
Viktor stared down into his glass, watching the liquid swirl.
"Centuries ago, the early Emperors recognized the great deeds of the Ashen Order," Viktor began, his voice heavy with the weight of history. "They called us back from the frontiers to the central region, providing the order with unprecedented benefits, funding, and protection. At the ti, our predecessors thought it was a well-deserved reward for our bleeding. We pledged our absolute loyalty to the Capital."
He took a slow sip, the burn doing nothing to ease the bitterness in his chest.
"However... too much ti has passed since then. The ancestors who bled for those honors have long since turned to dust, and the central politicians have grown comfortable."
For decades, the Ashen Knights had remained stationed in the lush, prosperous heartland of the Aurelian Empire.
"Now, this order is busy hiding behind the high walls of the Capital, playing politics and acting as ceremonial guards at noble banquets," Viktor continued, his grip on the glass tightening. "The terrifying glory that once intimidated even the greatest monsters of the Wilderness has long since faded."
To the ordinary citizens who didn’t understand the internal decay of military structures, it seed like the Ashen Knights had simply stepped back from the frontlines to serve as the Emperor’s ultimate shield. They were still widely believed to be the pinnacle of power.
But in Viktor’s eyes, as their Commander, the Ashen Order was nothing but a beautifully polished, empty shell of its forr self.
Arthur listened quietly, his scarred face sympathetic. "People naturally grow slack when there is prolonged peace, Viktor. It’s not just the Ashen Knights; the sa goes for the central army and the southern rcenaries. But they will rise again when the ti cos. Even the greatest tigers need ti to rest."
"Tigers..." Viktor smiled wryly. "I used to be called that in my youth. I miss it."
Arthur felt a pang of regret at those words.
"The present Ashen Knights are no tigers," Viktor stated bluntly. "We are really no more than well-grood watchdogs."
"...Sir Viktor, you judge your n too harshly."
User Comments
0 comments from readers