Snowkeep had gone quiet.

Not the quiet of peace, but the tense, breathless quiet of a fortress waiting to be tested again.

Wind scraped across the new triple walls, whistling through the kill holes and crenellations Justinian had carved into existence. Torches flickered along the battlements, casting long shadows over soldiers who studied them with pride and a hint of disbelief.

Snowkeep no longer looked like a frontier duchy's capital.

It looked like a citadel utopia, both a hub for trade, life, and defense.

And all of it came from a crumbling duchy.

*** Justinian's Room ***

Justinian was fast asleep, all his energy spent from thinking about how to expand his capital with his new ability.

The entire capital was quiet, with only the sounds of the clanking of metal plate armor ringing around the walls. Even with the ceasefire, Lucan didn't trust that their opponent wouldn't try something dishonorable.

Cassia took a glance at Justinian.

Remembering when they first met.

Their duel, the first name agreement they had, and even him cooking for her.

At that point, Cassia still felt like she was useful, a powerful knight in the service of Justinian, helping him with gaining legitimacy and convincing people.

But now? She felt more like a generic soldier; everyone in Justinian's army was quite literally near equal to her at this point.

"I'll be back."

Cassia whispered, leaving the room and roaming the palace walls, briefly spotting the soldiers training in the barracks, their sword strikes refined and precise.

Even now, they were still preparing for the upcoming battle.

"I know I hated being seen as different... but it's entirely different being seen as average in a skill you have trained your entire life for."

Cassia clenched her fists.

The strongest warrior in the south, but that title no longer felt right, even just two of Justinian's soldiers could likely beat her.

Everything had improved.

Except her.

A pair of young soldiers sparred nearby. Their movements were sharp, disciplined, almost mechanical as they switched between shield bashes and thrusts. Cassia recognized the form—Justinian's own, one he had taught months ago.

They executed it better than she ever had.

"…Tch."

Cassia turned away.

It stung more than any wound she'd taken in battle.

She wandered through the outer corridor of the palace, where the cold bit harder and the torches did little to warm the air. Snow fell gently, almost mocking in its softness.

Her reflection shimmered in a frozen window, white hair, crimson eyes, and a tired expression that didn't suit her.

"I've become stagnant," she whispered.

It wasn't jealousy. It wasn't vanity.

It was fear.

Fear of being left behind by someone she swore to stand beside.

Fear that Justinian would continue climbing toward the impossible… while she remained exactly where she was.

A silent blade in the shadows of a growing legend.

Cassia exhaled sharply, forcing the emotion down.

crunch.

A sound behind her.

She turned.

A figure stood in the courtyard, Fenrix, cloak wrapped around him, his breath misting in the air. He had been watching her quietly, leaning against a column with arms folded.

"…You heard everything, didn't you?" Cassia muttered.

Fenrix didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked toward her, boots tapping lightly against stone.

"You're loud when you think you're being quiet," he finally said.

Cassia glared. "If you're here to mock—"

"I'm not." Fenrix cut her off. His expression was unusually serious. "I came because I felt something shift."

Cassia frowned. "Shift?"

Fenrix pointed at her chest, not physically, but vaguely.

"In you."

Cassia's breath caught.

For a moment, it felt like Fenrix was seeing straight through her, into the fear she tried to keep hidden.

"You think strength is measured by where you stand compared to him."

Fenrix's voice softened, a rare tone. "But Lord Justinian never asked you to keep up. He merely asked you to stand with him."

Cassia looked away. "That's easy for you to say. You're an assassin. Working in the shadows, growing more powerful every second. Mine… mine is steel. Mine is training. Mine is blood."

Fenrix clicked his tongue. "And you think you've reached the end of that?"

Cassia said nothing.

Fenrix hesitated… then reached into his cloak.

He pulled out a scroll.

Older than anything she had seen in the duchy. Bound in silver thread, sealed with a symbol she didn't recognize: a pristine flower surrounded by a ring of frost.

The moment her eyes landed on it.

The air trembled.

A cold wind swept across the courtyard, spiraling around her feet.

Cassia's heartbeat spiked.

"What is…?"

Fenrix held the scroll out.

"This appeared in the palace library a while ago," he said quietly. "Matthias asked me to investigate where it came from... apparently, this scroll just appeared without being marked in the records."

"What's special about that? It could have been an honest mistake."

"Matthias personally handles the library. Do you honestly think a fanatical steward like him would make that mistake?"

Fenrix countered, a small, amused grin on his face.

"No... he wouldn't." Cassia sighed, then shook her head. "But what does that have to do with me?"

"I don't know," Fenrix replied bluntly. "But I feel like something's forcing me to hand it to you... I swear this city is giving me the creeps, all this divine and spiritual stuff going on."

Fenrix cringed at the thought, tossing the scroll to Cassia.

"Do me a favour and have a look at it, you wanted to contribute instead of staying as a shadow, did you not?"

Fenrix chuckled, departing, his steps barely even leaving any prints on the snow as he moved; he was truly terrifying.

Cassia gave a glance at the scroll, her eyes narrowing as she tried to see if it was familiar, but nothing came close.

"Guess it doesn't hurt to take a look."

She opened the scroll, and the moment she did, a weird sight awaited her.

Winterfang, the mythical sword of frost, rumoured to have been buried by the late Uriel Thirell, a figure of legend that was the first of the Thirell line to be granted the title of duke, and that title was passed down until it reached Justinian.

A sword rumoured to have been coated with the late duke's blood, turning the sword into an artifact equal to the king's scepter.

And now... it seemed to call to her.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.