The wind howled beyond the thick glass windows of the lord's mansion.
It was not the gentle wind of fertile plains nor the refreshing breeze of southern forests.
It was the voice of Frostbound Coast itself.
Cold.
Ancient.
Relentless.
Snowflakes drifted through the gray skies beyond the city walls, swirling like wandering spirits searching for a place to rest. Beneath those skies stretched the capital of Frostbound Coast—a city built from dark stone and stubborn determination.
From the highest floor of the mansion, Kel Rosenfeld quietly watched it all.
The office assigned to him was spacious but aged.
A massive desk crafted from Frostwood occupied the center of the room. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, packed with old books and forgotten ledgers whose pages had yellowed from decades of neglect.
A large fireplace crackled nearby.
Orange flames danced against black stone.
The warmth it produced fought desperately against the northern cold creeping through the walls.
Kel sat behind the desk.
His silver hair reflected the firelight.
His dark coat hung neatly over his shoulders, embroidered with subtle silver patterns resembling frost-covered branches. The clothing was elegant but practical.
A frontier lord had little use for excessive luxury.
His golden eyes remained fixed on the city below.
Countless thoughts moved behind them.
A knock echoed through the room.
"Enter."
The door opened.
Head Maid Eleanor stepped inside.
Her black-and-white uniform was immaculate despite the long journey. Her silver-rimmed glasses reflected the light of the fireplace while her posture remained perfectly straight.
She bowed.
"My lord."
Kel turned his gaze toward her.
"Eleanor."
The head maid immediately straightened.
"Yes, my lord."
Kel folded his hands atop the desk.
His voice remained calm.
"Bring me every important record available."
Eleanor blinked once.
"What records does my lord require specifically?"
Kel answered without hesitation.
"I want records regarding monster attacks."
His fingers tapped lightly against the desk.
"How often they occur."
"Where they occur."
"What species are responsible."
"Which regions contain the highest concentrations."
Eleanor nodded.
Kel continued.
"I also want reports regarding beneficial locations."
"Natural resources."
"Ancient ruins."
"Mana-rich zones."
"Special herbs."
"Anything that may improve the future value of this territory."
"Understood."
Kel leaned back slightly.
His gaze became thoughtful.
"Additionally."
"I want information regarding every guild, merchant organization, research institute, academic branch, and adventurer association currently established within Frostbound Coast."
"Population reports as well."
"Current economic conditions."
"Food production."
"Trade routes."
"Most importantly..."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"What problems do ordinary civilians face every day?"
Silence filled the room.
Eleanor stared at him.
Most nobles asked about taxes.
Military strength.
Profits.
Few ever asked about civilians.
Even fewer made it their highest priority.
A strange light appeared behind her glasses.
"As expected of Lord Kel."
Kel simply raised an eyebrow.
Eleanor immediately bowed.
"I shall prepare everything."
"Good."
The head maid turned and left.
The office became silent once more.
Outside, snow continued falling.
Minutes later.
The mansion became unusually busy.
Servants moved throughout hallways carrying stacks of documents.
Old archives were opened.
Storage rooms were unlocked.
Dust-covered records untouched for years were brought into the light.
Nearly an hour later.
Knock.
"Enter."
The door opened again.
Several servants entered while carrying towering piles of documents.
Books.
Ledgers.
Maps.
Military reports.
Population records.
Merchant registries.
Guild applications.
Monster attack logs.
The mountains of paper gradually covered Kel's desk.
Then spread to nearby tables.
Then onto additional chairs.
By the end, the office resembled a small archive.
One servant swallowed nervously.
"My lord... this is only the most important portion."
Kel looked at the countless records.
Then nodded.
"Leave them."
The servants quickly departed.
The door closed.
Silence returned.
Kel stared at the mountain before him.
Then calmly picked up the first report.
The room became still.
Hours passed.
Only the turning of pages disturbed the silence.
His eyes moved rapidly.
Reading.
Analyzing.
Calculating.
Comparing.
Every piece of information entered his mind and settled into place.
Like countless puzzle pieces slowly assembling a complete picture.
The first reports concerned monster attacks.
Kel's expression gradually darkened.
"Three hundred and eighty-seven attacks last year."
Page.
"Two hundred and fourteen near settlements."
Page.
"Sixty-seven civilian deaths."
Page.
"One hundred and forty-three injured."
Page.
"Trade caravans attacked on average every six days."
His fingers lightly tapped the desk.
The situation was worse than expected.
Monster attacks were not random.
Patterns existed.
Several regions experienced repeated incidents.
Certain mountain ranges appeared particularly active.
Several forests were practically breeding grounds for monsters.
Kel unfolded a large map.
Pins marked locations.
His eyes moved across it.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Then he stopped.
The same locations appeared repeatedly.
Again.
And again.
And again.
A faint smile appeared.
Not because the situation was good.
Because patterns existed.
And patterns could be exploited.
"Interesting."
A cold voice suddenly echoed inside his mind.
"You discovered it quickly."
Kel didn't react.
His eyes remained on the map.
"Seiren."
Far away.
Beyond countless kilometers.
Beyond mountains.
Beyond rivers.
At the bottom of Scarder Lake.
The ancient guardian opened her eyes.
The dark waters surrounding her stirred.
"The attacks are unnaturally concentrated."
Kel flipped another page.
"Exactly."
The guardian's voice carried its usual ancient calm.
"Wild monsters spread naturally."
"These records suggest something is drawing them together."
Kel's gaze sharpened.
"An external influence?"
"Perhaps."
"Or perhaps something sleeping beneath the territory."
The room became silent.
Kel continued reading.
His expression remained unchanged.
Yet his thoughts deepened considerably.
Something sleeping beneath Frostbound Coast.
If Seiren suspected such a possibility...
The matter could not be ignored.
He moved on.
The next records concerned resources.
Several discoveries immediately caught his attention.
Mana Crystal deposits.
Frost Iron veins.
Rare medicinal herbs.
Ancient ruins.
Abandoned watchtowers.
Natural hot springs.
His eyebrows slowly rose.
Then rose again.
Then rose even further.
"This territory is absurd."
Most nobles considered Frostbound Coast worthless.
The records suggested the opposite.
The region possessed extraordinary resources.
The problem was accessibility.
Dangerous monsters prevented proper development.
Harsh weather limited expansion.
Poor infrastructure isolated settlements.
Kel closed the report.
A faint smile appeared.
Others saw obstacles.
He saw opportunities.
The next stack concerned guilds.
His expression gradually became strange.
"One Adventurer Guild branch."
Page.
"One Merchant Guild branch."
Page.
"One Hunter Association."
Page.
"Two research institutes."
Page.
"One Alchemist Society outpost."
Page.
"...That's all?"
The capital city of an entire frontier territory possessed fewer organizations than a medium-sized town in the Empire's center.
Kel sighed.
The situation was honestly impressive.
Not in a positive way.
A territory this large should have attracted dozens of organizations.
Instead, most avoided it.
Fear.
Distance.
Poor profits.
Monster attacks.
All combined to create isolation.
Yet isolation also meant low competition.
The next reports concerned population.
Kel opened the ledger.
Then immediately frowned.
"One hundred and twenty-eight thousand."
The number was alarmingly low.
For a territory this size, it should have possessed several times that population.
Kel continued reading.
Population decline.
Migration toward southern regions.
Low birth rates.
Frequent casualties.
Harsh winters.
Food shortages.
Everything pointed toward gradual deterioration.
The territory wasn't growing.
It was slowly shrinking.
He closed the ledger.
The fire crackled quietly.
Outside, snow struck the windows.
For several moments, Kel remained silent.
Then he opened the final reports.
Civilian complaints.
Daily issues.
Practical problems.
This was the section he had wanted most.
The reports were extensive.
Poor heating.
Limited food variety.
Road maintenance.
Medical shortages.
Lack of skilled craftsmen.
Monster threats.
Trade difficulties.
Expensive imports.
Communication delays.
Kel read every line.
Every complaint.
Every request.
Every report submitted by local officials.
As the hours passed, a complete image gradually formed.
The territory's greatest problem was not monsters.
Nor weather.
Nor economics.
It was confidence.
The people had stopped believing things could improve.
For decades they had endured hardship.
Generation after generation.
Whenever progress appeared.
A disaster followed.
Whenever prosperity seemed possible.
Monsters arrived.
The people survived.
But they no longer hoped.
That realization lingered heavily in the room.
Kel slowly closed the final report.
The office fell silent.
The fire burned lower now.
Night had arrived without him noticing.
Darkness stretched beyond the windows.
The city below glowed faintly beneath scattered lanterns.
Snow continued falling.
Unchanging.
Eternal.
Kel rose from his chair.
His coat shifted softly.
He walked toward the window.
The frozen city stretched beneath him.
Thousands of lights.
Thousands of lives.
Thousands of people struggling to survive another winter.
His golden eyes reflected the city.
For a long moment, he simply watched.
Then Seiren's voice echoed once more.
"What do you think?"
Kel's gaze never left the city.
His answer came calmly.
"The situation is better than expected."
A brief silence followed.
Even Seiren seemed surprised.
"Better?"
Kel nodded slightly.
A faint smile appeared.
"The resources exist."
"The land exists."
"The people exist."
"The problems are identifiable."
His eyes shone faintly beneath the moonlight.
"That means they can be solved."
Deep beneath Scarder Lake, the ancient guardian became silent.
For a moment.
She remembered countless rulers she had observed throughout history.
Kings.
Emperors.
Saints.
Tyrants.
Most would have looked upon Frostbound Coast and seen burdens.
Kel saw possibilities.
Eventually Seiren spoke.
Her voice carried a trace of amusement.
"You truly are unusual."
Kel chuckled softly.
His gaze remained fixed upon the frozen city.
"No."
The words escaped his lips quietly.
Almost like a promise.
"I simply refuse to abandon a kingdom before it has the chance to be born."
Outside.
The storm continued.
The ancient frontier slept beneath snow and darkness.
Unaware.
Unaware that within the lord's mansion, a young count had already begun planning a future that would one day shake the entire continent.
And Frostbound Coast—
The forgotten land at the edge of the Empire—
Had just taken its first step toward destiny.