The monsters don't care about your borders, I wanted to scream at them.
But Alma returned before I could, carrying a stack of ledgers, maps, and stamped letters.
"Here," she said, carefully laying them out in order. "Requests from merchants. Updates from the outer outposts. Oh, and the report from Fort Draeven."
"Anything useful?"
She hesitated. "Useful? …No. Urgent? Possibly."
I grunted. Typical.
I sipped my tea—dark, slightly bitter, just the way I liked it. As the warmth traveled down my throat, I allowed myself a brief moment of quiet.
The gentle crackle of the fireplace echoed through the office, blending softly with the rustling of parchment beneath my fingers.
One by one, I skimmed through the morning reports. Ink-stained papers bore the weight of fear, desperation, and cold calculation. I reached for a letter sealed with the crest of the Southern Watchtower.
*"The cold this year is unlike anything we've seen. Even for the North. Resources are dwindling. Monster attacks have tripled. It seems the cold has driven them restless—or hungrier."*
My jaw clenched.
The next scroll was even more dire.
*"Requesting immediate deployment of fifty additional soldiers. Current forces are insufficient to repel nightly attacks. Civilian casualties are increasing. Farms lie frozen and abandoned."*
I exhaled sharply, then slammed the paper down—just loud enough.
Alma, who had just placed my breakfast tray beside the desk, jumped slightly and looked at me with wide, concerned eyes.
"Milady… is something wrong?"
I didn't look up. My voice came out low and controlled.
"The winter is harsher than ever. And the monsters are drawing closer."
Alma blinked, visibly alarmed.
"Does that mean the outer villages are in danger?"
I nodded once.
"More than danger. If we don't send reinforcements soon, some of them won't survive the month."
She lowered her gaze. "But we haven't had any volunteer troops. Not since… the southern trade routes froze."
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes briefly.
"Yes. No one wants to come here. No matter how rich our mines are."
We've always stood alone.
The North saves itself. Or it falls alone.
"Damn it…"
Alma hesitated, biting her lip.
"Maybe… maybe there's…there's another way…by the chance…"
My gaze snapped toward her.
"What do you mean?"
Alma's fingers fidgeted, twisting together with nervous energy. Her eyes darted toward the floor. That alone was enough for Seraphine to notice.
I narrowed my eyes, voice low and sharp.
"I know that look."
I stepped around the desk, slowly approaching.
"You've done something. What is it this time, Alma?"
A pause.
"What reckless decision did you make behind my back?"
"N-no, I didn't—"
"Stop lying." My tone cut through the room like ice.
"Spit it out. Now."
Alma backed up a step, then finally exhaled. Her voice trembled.
"The Duke… of the Central Province… arrived in the North early this morning. He's staying at an inn in the city."
Everything fell silent. I blinked, my entire body stiffened.
"…What did you just say?"