At last, the manager of the 2nd Legion, ’Heit’, returned to Vilkenos. The number of Phantom Dullahans that had moved with him had dwindled considerably, but killing the Second Brother and locating the Northern God was a tremendous achievement.
The location of the Northern God was a top-level secret, and now the most important card they could play to control the kingdom’s army currently in Vilkenos. The kingdom’s forces knew nothing of the geography of the North and the Frost Field, so they had no choice but to rely on the Grand Duke’s instructions.
An emergency meeting was immediately convened in Vilkenos. The attendees were Grand Duke Jin Arscalt, Great General Ganiro, Steward Godric, and one general and one elder whom the Grand Duke trusted most. A total of five people.
Although Simon was the Grand Duke’s prized student, he was still an outsider, so he was barred from attending due to the objections of the high-ranking officials.
"Hello there."
As Simon was resting by a castle window, a woman approached him. It was the first person he had befriended in the Kalos North: Grayson, the milkmaid.
"Ah, hello, Grayson."
"Would you like some milk?" she asked, thrusting a milk jug toward him with a cheerful smile. "You look like you have something on your mind. Reindeer milk is the best for that."
"It’s a panacea, isn’t it?"
"Hohoho! That’s right!"
Not confident he could drink the entire jug by himself, he fetched a couple of cups. They each filled one to the brim and drank, gazing out the window at the snowy northern landscape.
Reindeer milk. The unique, slightly bitter aftertaste did not quite suit Simon’s palate, but faced with Grayson’s infectious smile, he could never bring himself to say he did not like it. He drank diligently.
"You know, I come to this castle every day to deliver milk," she said. "Because of that, I can physically feel the change in the castle’s atmosphere."
"That’s amazing. What’s it like today?"
She closed her eyes for a moment. "There will be a war soon."
"An atmosphere as sharp as a blade. Whenever this feeling flows through the castle, a big battle always follows. We had this same feeling recently, and then came the war with the Three Brothers."
Amid his surprise, Simon noted that Grayson’s expression was incredibly calm as she spoke of ’war’. Was it because, for Northerners, every day was a battle?
"Will you be going to war too, Simon?"
Her sudden question snapped Simon out of his thoughts. He quickly collected himself and answered, "Yes, I think so. I am the Grand Duke’s student, after all."
"I’ll pray for your safe return! Oh, and," she said, a white milk mustache on her upper lip as she grinned, "milk is good before a war. You need strong bones to fight undead!"
She raised her milk cup. Simon chuckled softly and clinked his cup against hers. "Thank you, Grayson."
The emergency meeting ended, and the date for the expedition was set. The Grand Duke had already announced that the decisive battle with the Northern God would take place during Simon’s stay in the North.
The departure was in three days.
Until then, Simon had to improve his capabilities as a Legion Commander in any way he could. Although he did not have the tens of thousands of undead troops the Grand Duke had confidently mentioned in front of her generals, he had to fulfill a role of equal importance.
With the schedule set, Simon did not waste a single moment. He woke up at dawn to run along the roads for physical training, and once inside the castle, he tried his best to follow the Grand Duke’s training routine.
’She’s a monster.’
Of course, it was impossible to perfectly replicate the training regimen the Grand Duke had followed for over a decade. To Simon, her stamina was even more mysterious than her wide-area control abilities.
After physical training came the Legion Commander lessons. With the Three Brothers gone, the Northern God had gathered all its forces in its domain, the ’Abyss’, so the undead invasions had ceased, leaving them with no training targets. The Grand Duke had no choice but to use her own undead for his training.
A friendly training session between the 2nd and 7th Legions.
[Kuhaha! Don’t lose, boy! Wipe out those 2nd Legion bastards!] Pier roared, fired up by the competition.
Simon, drenched in sweat, stretched out his arms. ’Keep advancing!’
His skeletons charged into the enemy lines with a clatter of bones. His force consisted of eleven summon-type undead and thirty legion-type undead. They soon clashed with the Grand Duke’s skeleton unit.
Suddenly, a skeleton rider flanked them from behind and thrust its spear toward Simon’s face. Simon’s eyes flashed as he issued a command to a skeleton in his rear. The skeleton blocked the rider’s spear with its shield and then thrust its own spear into the rider’s chest, shattering it.
’I blocked it!’
"Not bad," the Grand Duke said with a grin, approaching with her arms crossed. "That makes twelve, doesn’t it?"
"Ah, yes!"
Since coming to the North, the maximum number of summon-type undead Simon could control had increased significantly, from nine to twelve.
’At this rate, I can even control a Bone Dragon!’ Simon clenched his fist in delight.
The Grand Duke dismissed her troops and declared a break. The two of them sat on a nearby rock and drank from their waterskins.
Since the victory party, their relationship had remained awkward. At first, Simon found the awkwardness hard to bear, but now he had more or less gotten used to it. He thought it might be because the training was so grueling.
"Insolent one."
For the first time in a while, the Grand Duke spoke first. "I have a question."
A question, no less. Simon’s eyes widened as he looked at her. "Please, ask."
"Your father..." she began, then suddenly averted her gaze. "Your father is...!"
She let out a short sigh, then grabbed the helmet she had set beside her and put it on. Only after hiding her body behind the armor did she seem to regain her composure, a glint of light flashing from within the visor.
[Is your father truly ’Yona’?]
Simon looked at her in silence for a moment, then rose to his feet.
He stepped closer, reached out with both hands, and gently lifted the Grand Duke’s helmet. As the helmet came off, her long hair cascaded down like a waterfall, revealing cheeks tinged with a faint blush.
With a gentle smile, Simon said, "Yes, he is."
Her face flushed an even deeper shade of red.
"And I’ve told you before, haven’t I? Please look me in the eye when we talk."
"I-Insolent!" The Grand Duke snatched her helmet back, flustered, and shifted further away on the rock. Realizing her gaze was instinctively drifting away, she forced herself to look straight at Simon. "Is... Is Yona alive?"
"Yes."
A look of pure joy washed over her face. "Then... is he married?"
"Yes." Simon smiled. He had recently learned from Pier that she knew his father, so he had suspected as much.
’—Richard has been to the North before.’
That was Pier’s answer when Simon had lamented his strained relationship with her. Hearing that, Simon had thought there might be some connection between his father and the Grand Duke. Her earlier question about his father’s identity had been a major clue.
"He married in a small rural estate, and they had me. They’re still living well."
"I see." Her trembling gradually subsided. "Is that so."
The Grand Duke let out a long, slow breath. It was a relief. The suffocating feelings, the burning questions, and all sorts of unnecessary emotions—she felt like she could finally let them go. Her only regret was not asking sooner.
"Did something happen with my father?" Simon asked.
"It was nothing," she said with a relieved smile. "He just ran his mouth and dumped his work on me."
The two of them talked about various things, with Richard as a common topic. They both agreed that he was an eccentric and laughed out loud.
"Oh, absolutely. My mother has to scold him all the time."
The Grand Duke quietly watched Simon, who was now laughing and talking about his family like a boy his age, the image of the Legion Commander intensely focused on command completely gone.
"Is that so."
In the end, the Grand Duke could not bring herself to ask who Yona had married. She simply thought that anyone who could tame the infamous Yona and raise his son—who had inherited so much of his blood—to be a normal person must be no ordinary woman.
"That’s enough chatter. Back to training."
"Yes!"
Still, she thought. Just as Yona had given her a chance, she would give his son a chance to grow even stronger.
In a luxurious mansion in Vilkenos, the Watcher of the North, Count Boldmont, stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out the window. A knock came from outside the room.
"Enter."
The door creaked open, and a woman stepped inside. The Count turned, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"I’ve been waiting."
The woman was none other than the merchant who delivered milk to the Grand Duke’s castle every day.
"Grayson."
It was Grayson, the milkmaid. She approached, her face pale.
"T-To the esteemed... Count Boldmont... I-I greet you."
"Yes." The Count spread his arms. "But your etiquette seems a little lacking. How did I instruct you to greet me?"
When she hesitated, the Count’s eyes twisted strangely. "You wouldn’t want the reindeer farm your ancestors passed down to end with your generation, would you? Ah, and your elderly father is well, I trust?"
She bit her lip hard, trembling. Then, slowly, she prostrated herself on the floor.
"To the esteemed Count Boldmont... I greet you."
The Count’s eyes gleamed with delight. "Yes, yes! That’s it!" He clapped his hands and paced around his room, laughing. "You know, I feel a strange sense of pleasure whenever a Northerner bows their head to me!"
He gripped his own shoulders. "You Northerners are uncontrolled savages, aren’t you? The same Northerners who call me a weakling on sight, who try to pour beer on my head. Before me, before my power, before my wealth, you bow your heads!"
His face flushed with excitement, he strode over and grabbed Grayson’s chin, lifting it. Her face, etched with sorrow, came into view.
"This is how it should be! This is normal! In the South, everyone kneels and bows to those of high status and wealth! It’s the natural order of things, something only you Northerners refuse to do!"
He released Grayson’s chin and began to pace the room.
"My dream is to forge a new North!" he declared, his voice ringing with fervor. "Once the war is over, I will bring culture to the Northerners! To put it crudely... yes, we could even call it ’domestication’!"
"And naturally, I shall have to teach them how to obey their master!" He spun back to Grayson, his eyes gleaming. "Every last Northerner will bow at my feet! You are merely the first!"
Grayson remained silent, her body trembling.
"My loyal Grayson," he cooed, "did you acquire the information?"
Trembling, she held out a single slip of paper. It contained detailed notes from the North’s strategic meeting.
"The more I witness your Innate Ability, the more impressed I become." He ran his tongue over his lips. "The power to control birds... Why can’t these brutes recognize such a precious gift?"
"If it’s not useful in battle, they treat it as worthless. Is that not so? I am the only one who sees your true value!"
He unfolded the note as if it were a royal decree. A slow, cruel smile spread across his face as he read, followed by a low chuckle that soon erupted into a full-blown laugh.
"Hahahahahahahaha!"
Shaking with mirth, he rose from his seat. "Your farm is safe. And your father will soon recover from his illness."
"Th-thank... you..." she whispered, tears of guilt streaming down her face.
The Count’s smile was one of pure satisfaction. "Think nothing of it. Your obedience is only the beginning. I promise you, with my own hands, I will create a North where you will no longer have to feel such guilt. Everyone will become just like you."
He stood and strode from the room.
"Butler."
"Yes, my lord!" The butler, who had been waiting just outside the door, hurried in.
The Count’s smile turned grim. "I must see Commander Romario and Sir Chronos at once."
Early the next morning, the carts of Northern merchants rattled through the streets, their wheels groaning under the weight of vegetables and slabs of meat. Their destination was the encampment of the Kingdom’s army.
"Dammit, why are they making us bring meat, too? What a waste of good food," one merchant grumbled.
"Tell me about it," another agreed.
The merchants cursed under their breath as they walked. Technically, this was a relief force sent by the king himself, and failing to provide basic support would undoubtedly cause trouble down the line. They knew the central nobles would twist any perceived mistreatment into an insult against the crown—or worse, treason.
"It’s a dirty business, but that’s politics for you. We just have to stomach it."
"Don’t even get me started."
The merchants passed through an alley and arrived at the barracks where the Kingdom’s army was stationed.
"Well, I’ll be."
The Kingdom’s soldiers were milling about with dazed, vacant expressions. Nothing had changed. Their eyes were empty, their faces listless, their gait almost zombie-like.
"They don’t even look at you when you’re standing right here."
"Just ignore them," another merchant sighed. "Today’s rations are here! Come and get them!" he shouted, but the soldiers showed no reaction.
"I said, come and get them!"
"Ah, let’s just go. Chronos must’ve put a deafness curse on the lot of them!"
The other merchant said nothing.
Just then, one merchant’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the area. He could see the Kingdom army’s flags fluttering in the biting cold.
"Wait a minute. Something’s not right."
The atmosphere between the two factions was so hostile that an order had been issued to stay away from the Kingdom’s army, but the merchant quickened his pace toward their camp anyway.
"Hey! Get any closer and you’ll—!" a colleague called out, but the merchant shook him off and kept walking.
"Doesn’t it seem strange to you?"
"What does?!"
"The wind. It’s blowing in the wrong direction."
A fierce northwesterly wind was blowing, yet the flags and tents before them were billowing in the opposite direction. As the merchants advanced, the Kingdom’s soldiers stood by blankly, making no move to stop them. The moment they passed the soldiers and reached the camp...
"Huh?"
Like ripples spreading from a stone dropped in a still lake, the very air began to shimmer, and the world around them warped. The merchants trailing behind stared, their eyes wide with disbelief.
"Wh-what in the world?" one stammered.
Something was terribly wrong.
A chilling wind swept through the clearing.
The encampment, where the Kingdom’s army should have been, was completely empty. The barracks were deserted. The soldiers who had been teeming there just a moment ago had vanished like ghosts. The merchants whipped their heads around in a panic.
"The... the Kingdom’s army...!" one of them gasped, his mouth falling open in shock. "The Kingdom’s army is gone!"

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