CHAPTER 236: THE MOMENT BEFORE THE STORM

’This is bad. I didn’t expect Velra to actually stay put.’

The thought twisted in my head like a knife. I had planned everything—every possible route, every contingency—but Velra wasn’t supposed to be this stubborn.

I ran a hand through my hair, my palms slick with sweat despite the freezing northern air.

’She’s going to confront them head-on...’

That wasn’t bravery. That was arrogance—pure, terrifying arrogance.

And it was about to get a lot of people killed.

The crystal I’d been using to communicate with her had already shattered into glittering dust, leaving me with no way to warn Alice or the Draken forces about Freedman—the parasite in disguise.

I gritted my teeth. The one person who could have turned the tide was now walking willingly into a trap.

And Velra... Velra was treating the entire situation like a game.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, watching from the ridge as Alice raised her sword against the crimson glow of Velra’s mana storm.

The wind whipped against my face, carrying the echo of her voice.

Even from here, I could hear her speech—clear, powerful, and filled with conviction.

She wasn’t just commanding her soldiers.

She was moving them.

’How the hell...’ I thought, momentarily stunned.

The woman who once trembled at the mention of Velra’s name now stood tall, fearless, her eyes blazing like fire against the snow.

That wasn’t the voice of a duke’s daughter.

That was the voice of a leader.

Her words rolled through the army like thunder, and I could feel their morale surging. The sound of swords clashing against shields echoed through the valley, shaking even the cold silence of the North.

For a moment, I forgot to breathe.

’She’s... beautiful.’

Not in the fragile, noble sense—but in that raw, untouchable way that only someone standing on the edge of death could be.

And I—fool that I was—found myself watching instead of acting.

By the time I realized what I was doing, it was already too late.

There was no stopping them now.

No turning back.

The soldiers were already marching forward, their eyes filled with unshakable faith in their commander.

"Given the situation," I muttered quietly, lowering my hood, "I need to change my approach."

The easiest plan—the one where I avoided conflict and waited for a chance to extract Velra safely—was no longer possible.

Not with Alice leading her forces like that.

Not with Velra waiting for them like a predator ready to pounce.

I looked out over the frozen field—the wind howling, banners snapping, the first sparks of magic and steel already lighting the horizon.

One wrong move, and the entire North would be drenched in blood.

"Looks like I’ll have to step in personally," I muttered under my breath, steadying my voice as the howling wind whipped against my cloak.

The battlefield ahead was bathed in crimson light, and Alice’s troops were already preparing for their charge. Yet even as courage filled the air, I could see it—an imbalance. We had heart, yes. But heart alone couldn’t overcome a high-ranking demon.

It was time to implement a new strategy.

"Lady Alice," I said, stepping closer. "I’ll be taking my leave for a moment."

She turned sharply, her silver hair fluttering like a banner of frost. "...What? At a time like this?"

"It won’t take long," I replied, keeping my tone calm. "There’s someone I need to contact—someone who can turn the tide."

Her brows furrowed, curiosity flickering beneath her commanding gaze. "And who might that be?"

"The Earl of Frost."

At that, a few nearby soldiers glanced our way, the name carrying weight even among the common ranks.

The Earl of Frost—one of the most powerful and wealthy houses in the North, marked by the sigil of the white bear. Their influence reached far beyond gold or trade; they controlled resources, routes, and men. If they joined this fight, even Velra would have to take notice.

Alice folded her arms, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. "You’re bold. The Earl doesn’t move without reason. What makes you think they’ll agree to this?"

"We have one," I said simply.

Her eyes narrowed. "Go on."

"The demons appeared not at the border—but within our lands," I explained. "That alone is reason enough. The Earl won’t want to appear indifferent when the heart of the North is threatened. The people will demand action, and he’ll know it."

I allowed a faint smile to show. "Besides, refusing to aid the Draken army in such a moment would stain their name—and lose them favor with the Speda family."

Alice blinked, surprised for just a moment before her expression softened into quiet amusement. "You’ve thought this through."

I gave a modest shrug. "Preparation is everything, my lady. And if we’re to stand against Velra, we’ll need every piece on the board."

She hesitated for a breath, then nodded. "...Alright. Do it. But be quick. I’ll keep the demon occupied as long as I can."

"I’ll return before the snow melts," I promised.

Turning away, I tightened the fur-lined collar of my coat and began descending the icy ridge. The sound of shouting soldiers and clashing steel faded behind me, replaced by the whispering wind of the North.

As I walked, memories resurfaced—specifically, one conversation I’d had months ago.

"Ah, Alice," Amelia had once sighed, swirling a glass of Frostwine. "When will you come to me like that again?"

I had only raised a brow. "You mean when she stormed your training grounds and beat your duel instructor half to death?"

She laughed, that mischievous, melodic laugh of hers. "Exactly that. Passion like hers is rare. Even among nobles, no one else burns like she does."

I had rolled my eyes. "I see now. You’re not impressed by her swordsmanship—you’re lovestruck."

"Lovestruck? Please," she’d said, feigning offense. "Let’s call it admiration. Though, if you must know, it’s her face that caught me first."

I’d sighed. "You’re impossible."

"You’ll thank me one day, demon," she’d said with that half-smile of hers—the one that carried both mischief and conviction. "When you realize that even in war, the heart can be a weapon."

At the time, I didn’t understand what she meant.

Now, as the snow howled outside our camp and the torches flickered in the biting wind, her words felt heavier than I cared to admit.

Alice Draken was a warrior to her core—noble, fierce, and stubborn to the point of madness. But beneath that polished steel exterior was something else... something more dangerous.

She believed in people.

And that, in the North, was rarer than gold.

She turned to me once during one of our long strategy nights, her sword lying beside a stack of parchment and maps. "Julies," she asked, as if suddenly curious, "do you know how much commerce is looked down upon in the North?"

I blinked. "Can’t say I’ve thought about it. I’m... not exactly from around here."

She smiled faintly. "Of course you’re not."

Then she leaned back, gazing toward the frost-covered window. "Up here, everyone values the sword, not the coin. They think strength comes from bloodlines and old titles—buying power with gold is seen as cheap. Dishonorable."

Her voice softened. "But I’ve met merchants who’ve done more good than some nobles with ten generations of pride."

I didn’t say anything, just listened as her voice carried that quiet passion.

"Everything here is about buying positions with money," she continued, "pretending that noble blood means virtue. It’s all fake. But even so..."

She looked back at me and smiled—a small, genuine thing that caught me off guard.

"...Alice treated me without prejudice."

I hadn’t realized I’d spoken her name aloud until that moment in my memory fractured, leaving me standing there—on the edge of the battlefield, surrounded by soldiers who would die for her command.

The endless praise she’d earned from her men didn’t matter right now. The truth behind it did.

This battle wasn’t just about driving a demon back into the shadows.

It was a stage.

A grand, bloody performance where Alice Draken would show the North who she really was—not just the daughter of a duke, but a leader. A symbol.

And for those of us who understood politics and power, the implications were clear.

While every noble’s attention was fixed on her clash with Velra, the common people would be watching too.

A young lady of noble birth, wielding her ancestor’s blade, leading her knights into the mouth of hell itself.

They’d call her a savior.

And when the dust settled, the merchants, the minor houses, and even those cynical lords who whispered behind her back... they’d all want to be on her side.

In commerce, reputation was everything.

And Alice Draken was about to turn blood and fire into gold.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the frost burn my lungs.

"Even in war, the heart can be a weapon..." I murmured, finally understanding what she meant.

Because the moment the people believed in her, she’d already won.

Not just the battle.

But the North itself.