Chapter 282: On the Border
The lands of Cecil had once again been attacked by monsters from the ruins of Gondor—and on that very day, the invaders were successfully wiped out. This news spread faster and wider than any other during this bitter winter. The rapid dissemination wasn’t just thanks to scouts, merchants, and mercenaries; it was also heavily influenced by King Gawain himself, who tacitly approved and even subtly encouraged the spread.
In Gawain’s own words, “Those complacent southern nobles and the people of the capital must be made aware of the threat.”
This cold winter was destined to make many restless and uneasy.
Eastern Border of Ansu, Longwind Fortress.
As the chief guardian of the eastern realm, Duke Selas Loren had long maintained a personal presence at this fortress. At this moment, he stood on the top terrace of the castle at the fortress’s heart, gazing out over the layered walls and beyond them, the vast snow-covered plains stretching endlessly.
Completed just ten years ago, Longwind Fortress was the pride of the Loren family in the East. It had been the labor of three generations—immense financial, material, and human resources, even the blood of family members had been poured into its construction. This stronghold stood firm on the land that bordered the Typhon Empire, facing off against the Winterwolf Fortress and its satellite forts on the enemy side. It was both a shield and a deterrent.
The fortress’s creation was born from the rapid deterioration of relations between Ansu and Typhon.
A century ago, during the Mistmoon Civil War, the Loren family of the East was the most intact among the four ducal houses. From the start, they recognized that the Typhon Empire—always a rival to Ansu—posed a grave threat. So throughout the brutal and chaotic war for the throne, the Loren family kept their core forces out of the internal strife, focusing instead on maintaining their position within the kingdom and guarding the eastern border. History proved that Duke Loren’s prudence and dedication had protected the entire realm.
After the civil war ended and the kingdom stabilized under the Second Dynasty and the iron hand of the northern Wilde family, the Lorens began building a series of defensive structures along the border. Longwind Fortress was the largest, longest in construction, and most heavily garrisoned among them.
More than a mere military fort, it was a fortress-city, equipped with all the facilities needed for self-sufficiency and operation. The Loren warriors were both soldiers and residents, and the fortress’s purpose was clear: to stand unyielding on this borderland, no matter what.
When Ansu had weakened from civil war and Typhon grew stronger and more ambitious, it was this barrier that kept Typhon’s ambitions in check.
In fact, the four great houses of Ansu played very different roles during the Mistmoon Civil War: the Franklins of the West maintained diplomatic and trade ties with the Augure tribes, preserving the kingdom’s economic lifeline and laying the foundation for post-war reconstruction; the Wildes of the North, under a bastard son’s banner, crushed the rebellion with overwhelming force, stabilizing the kingdom before it spiraled out of control; and the Lorens of the East acted as a shield, holding the border against hostile forces from beyond.
Though each had their own agendas and were nearly at odds during the war, in the end, they all preserved the kingdom.
In stark contrast was the southern Cecil family, founded by the first of the four founding dukes, whose six centuries of glory had come to nothing during the war.
Now that the Cecil patriarch had returned to life, no one dared openly question the family’s honor. Instead, they said the family was simply unlucky, having encountered the worst possible heir at the most critical moment, nearly losing their ancestral legacy.
Historians loved to debate what caused the four houses to behave so differently during the war, but Duke Loren thought such discussions pointless. To him, the main reason was simple: Gawain Cecil had died too young—killed in battle at thirty-five. His premature death meant his glory and honor were never passed down properly, and the Cecil line faltered under Gruman Cecil’s generation.
Perhaps this very resurrection of Duke Cecil was meant to teach his descendants a lesson.
Selas Loren stood quietly on the terrace, pondering these questions of history and legacy. Many saw him as a mere warrior of legendary skill, but he knew that was a shallow view. He was a deep thinker, though his battlefield prowess far outshone his philosophical musings, which is why people only noticed his strength.
A familiar presence approached. Selas turned from the distant view to see a young man with short brown hair, clad in armor, ascending the terrace. The young knight, noble and imposing, bowed slightly.
“Father, the intelligence has arrived.”
“Present your report properly!” Selas said sternly. “Berk, you are reporting military intelligence now!”
“Yes, sir!” The young man straightened and gave a crisp knight’s salute. “General, here is the latest information.”
Selas nodded. “Go on.”
“It’s been confirmed that the Typhon Winterwolf Fortress’s garrison fought a battle several days ago—not with us, but against an unknown ‘monster.’ The garrison won; the fortress was not breached, but the outer walls suffered moderate damage. Casualties among the defenders are unclear but likely significant.”
Selas nodded slightly but withheld judgment. Berk, his eldest son, couldn’t help but speak up.
“Father, this is our chance to weaken the enemy!”
Selas met his son’s gaze without expression. “Do you really think so?”
“The enemy’s fatigue is our advantage,” Berk said, meeting his father’s eyes with confidence. “Their walls are damaged, and winter makes repairs difficult. Winterwolf’s defenses will be vulnerable for a time. They’ve just been attacked by monsters, so panic will weaken their fighting spirit. Their soldiers are wounded. This is the perfect moment to strike.”
“Fool.”
Berk stood tall, unshaken.
“Do you know Winterwolf Fortress isn’t a lone stronghold, but part of a network of forts? Do you know it’s winter, and there’s a vast frozen wasteland between us and Winterwolf? Do you know how many reserve troops the Typhons have stationed behind their fortresses, ready to replace any weakened units?
“This damage is nothing to them. In fact, it will prompt them to double their defenses around Winterwolf and nearby forts. Many troops will be shifted forward to cover the breaches. We’d have to cross the frozen wasteland to attack, which would sap our strength. You say their fatigue is our advantage? By the time you reach Winterwolf’s gates, it will be you who’s exhausted! And most importantly—attacking means full-scale war. Did I say we should start a war with Typhon now?”
Berk lowered his head awkwardly but couldn’t resist adding, “The war with Typhon… is already at our doorstep.”
Selas looked at his young son, sensing the courage and hunger for victory and glory he had worked so hard to instill. Still, he shook his head.
“Don’t expect this war. Don’t expect it at all.”
“Father?”
“A warrior should crave victory on the battlefield, but never war itself—especially not a war with Typhon,” Selas said slowly, sighing softly. “Have you heard any other news?”
“Other news?” Berk frowned, unsure what his father meant. “What news?”
“A group of merchants came from the southwest, carrying an alchemical potion,” the duke said calmly. “They reported that the new Cecil lands in the southwest were also attacked by monsters—mutated creatures from the ruins of Gondor. Your intelligence was too slow. Even news from Cecil’s lands arrived here with the merchants before you figured out what happened at Winterwolf.”
Berk felt ashamed, though he knew it wasn’t entirely his fault. Merchants traveled safely within the kingdom, while he had to scout hostile, heavily guarded enemy fortresses beyond the border. The difficulty and efficiency were incomparable. Still, he hadn’t done his best.
He accepted his father’s criticism silently and sensed a troubling feeling from the news.
“Those monsters… are they the same ones Duke Gawain Cecil warned the nobles about in the capital?”
“Exactly,” Selas nodded. “When he first warned us, few believed him. Even I didn’t take it seriously. But now… I fear I was wrong.”
Berk stared at his father in surprise. It was rare to see him admit a mistake.
“The monsters are real, and they threaten human lands,” Selas said, almost to himself. “They attack Typhon and us alike. To those creatures, there is no Typhon or Ansu—only prey. This sudden new threat… may change everything.”
(End of chapter)