CHAPTER 237: A CALL TO FROST

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.

I yanked the reins, turning my horse sharply toward the Frost Territory. Snow whipped at my face as the wind howled past, sharp enough to sting.

From my coat, I pulled out another crystal orb—one of the few relics I hadn’t already burned through.

’Originally,’ I thought with a bitter smile, ’it’s a virtue to collect as many artifacts and treasures as you can.’

I never imagined I’d be wasting them like this—on emergency calls and desperate plans.

Still, there was no choice.

"Lady Amelia, can you hear me?" I said, channeling mana into the crystal.

The orb pulsed faintly, and after a moment, a familiar voice filtered through—irritated and tired.

—What is it this time? If you’re contacting me first, it must be something troublesome.

Her tone was sharp, almost cutting. Typical.

Even through the crystal, I could picture her—Amelia Frost, the famed noble of the Frost family, half-buried under paperwork, surrounded by stacks of reports and steaming tea she never got to finish.

"I’m aware you’re busy, Lady Amelia," I said, forcing a polite tone. "But this is urgent."

—Busy is an understatement, she snapped. The demons that had gone silent for months suddenly decided to make noise again. I’ve been stuck checking supplies, signing requisitions, managing workers—and listening to generals complain about the cold. I don’t exactly have time for your theatrics, Julies.

A sigh escaped me. "That’s unfortunate. I had created another opportunity to get closer to Lady Alice, but if you’re too busy, I’ll handle it alone."

Silence.

Then, a sharp click as her tone changed completely.

—...But! I can make some time. After all, it’s a request from my fiancé. Go on, tell me.

I couldn’t help but smile. Hopelessly devoted, as always.

It didn’t matter how sharp her tongue was—say "Alice" and Amelia Frost turned into a lovestruck knight.

"Good," I said, trying to sound casual. "It’s a simple matter. I need immediate support—troops, supplies, whatever you can muster—sent to the coordinates I’m transmitting."

There was a pause.

Then her voice came through again, hesitant.

—Supporting the military comes with risks, but yes... this situation does have its advantages.

Her tone softened, businesslike now.

I nodded to myself. "Then—send them right away. Time’s running short."

Another silence followed. Then, unexpectedly—

—That’s... impossible.

I froze. "What?"

—I mean it, Julies. I’d love to help. But sending troops isn’t something I can just decide. I don’t have the authority.

Her voice was steady but firm, and I could tell she meant it.

"Don’t you understand? This isn’t just about Bathory! If things go wrong, Lady Alice could also—"

—I know!

Her sudden shout made the orb tremble.

There was raw frustration in her tone now.

—I’d give anything to go myself, to stand beside her again. But military deployment? That’s out of my hands. I’m still just a noble lady—not a commander.

She sounded bitter when she said it, like the truth stung more than she wanted to admit.

—Only someone like Alice can do that, she added quietly. A noble who can act without waiting for permission.

The words lingered in the cold air.

"I see," I said finally, exhaling a puff of frost.

She was useless in this regard—but I couldn’t blame her.

Even a Frost couldn’t move armies without the right seal.

The storm was getting worse, and Alice was already on the move.

If Amelia couldn’t help, then I’d just have to improvise.

Again.

"Useless," I muttered under my breath.

The word slipped out harsher than I intended, carried on the cold air like a blade.

But even as I said it, guilt followed close behind—quiet, unwelcome, and persistent.

She had tried.

And in this frozen land ruled by bloodlines, pride, and unbending hierarchy... sometimes trying was all anyone could do.

I rubbed a hand over my face, staring at the dim glow of the communication orb on the table. Its surface shimmered faintly, reflecting my own tired eyes.

"I have to think of something else..." I murmured, reaching to shut it off.

—"Wait! Don’t hang up!"

Her voice—urgent, a little breathless—stopped my hand midair.

I exhaled through my nose, my patience thinning. "What is it, Amelia?"

I didn’t bother to hide the edge in my tone. Every passing second mattered, and I didn’t have the luxury to waste it on false hope.

—"There’s another way," she said quickly.

I hesitated. "Another way?"

Her tone carried an uncharacteristic steadiness, the kind she used when she was about to propose something reckless. I frowned, but I didn’t cut her off.

"...Go on."

—"If I don’t have the authority," she said, "then we just need to ask someone who does."

I blinked. "And who might that be?"

There was a brief pause, as if she knew exactly how I’d react.

—"You’re my fiancé, aren’t you? That gives you every right to request a meeting."

"...A meeting with who?"

—"Earl Frost."

I froze.

"Your father?"

—"Yes. Earl Frost. He’ll listen to you if you bring it up officially."

I leaned back in my chair, fingers tapping against the orb. "You really think the Earl will help us?"

Amelia’s tone softened, but there was conviction beneath it. —"He’s not unreasonable. And if we appeal to his sense of duty—or profit—he’ll consider it. He’s not like the others."

Her faith in him was almost touching. Almost.

Earl Frost—head of the Frost Trading Company, the wealthiest enterprise in the North.

He wasn’t just a noble; he was the economy. A man whose influence reached from the snowy peaks of Velcrest to the southern harbors, whose coffers could buy armies—or kingdoms, if he wished.

And yet, for all his wealth and status, he was still a mystery. A man who smiled at court but never showed his cards.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "The Earl of Frost... the man who owns half the North’s trade routes and probably a third of its soldiers."

—"He’s my father," she said softly, almost defensively.

"I know," I replied. "That’s exactly what worries me."

There was silence for a moment, just the faint hum of the orb between us.

Finally, I spoke again. "Alright. I’ll request the meeting."

Amelia’s relief was audible. —"Thank you, Julies. Truly."

I didn’t answer right away. My gaze drifted toward the snow outside, where the moonlight turned the frost silver.

Earl Frost. A man of power, wealth, and ambition.

If there was anyone in the North who could shift the tide of war—or twist it to his advantage—it was him.

And for better or worse...

I was walking straight into his domain.

This is all for Alice after all.

Little bit for Velra too.

I have faced Duke, Earl is nothing.

With bravado loaded in one shot, I spurred my horse on.

---

The Frost manor rose from the snow like a fortress carved from ice and silver. Its spires shimmered under the pale light, each window glowing faintly with warmth that didn’t quite reach the world outside.

As my horse trudged through the knee-deep snow of the courtyard, I couldn’t help but mutter, "The Frost family really knows how to flaunt their wealth."

The guards at the entrance stood still as statues, their silver-plated armor gleaming, the family crest—an azure wolf—etched across their pauldrons. Even their spears looked polished enough to serve dinner with.

I dismounted, brushing frost off my coat, and one of the guards immediately stepped forward.

"Sir Julies Evans, expected guest," I said before he could speak.

He gave a curt nod, tapping the hilt of his weapon twice—a silent signal—and the massive doors creaked open.

Inside, the warmth hit me like a wave. Firelight flickered from crystal lamps, reflecting off marble floors veined with blue. The air smelled faintly of pine and old parchment—a scent that somehow screamed money.

A butler approached, bowing just low enough to be polite, not deferential. "Lord Julies. The Earl will see you shortly."

"Of course he will," I murmured.

As I followed, I caught glimpses of Frost family portraits lining the corridor—generations of pale-eyed nobles with expressions cold enough to freeze rivers. But in the center of them all was one recent painting: Amelia Frost, standing beside her father, smiling faintly, holding a letter in her hands.

It was a strange feeling, looking at her likeness while hearing her voice echo in my mind.

"You’re my fiancé, aren’t you? That gives you every right."

Right.

If only rights came with less weight.

I was just fiancé in the name after all.

But hey, the name has it’s own benefits.

...And I was going to use that benifit now.

---

Author Note:

Thank you for reading the Chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.

It’s my second novel so if there’s any kind of mistakes you find in the novel related to grammar please tell me and I’ll edit it as soon as possible.