*
The Karandal Camp, located in the middle of a vast grassland centered around Hazart Palan, was a watchtower guarding the eastern border of Hazart Palan.
Hazart Palan was a territory with relatively safe maritime areas and extensive grasslands. Due to its abundant basic resources, the warriors of the territory were numerous and of high quality. The warriors at the Karandal Camp were neither too hot-blooded nor too old—just strong men in their prime.
Aeren sat at the end of the hastily prepared banquet hall in the camp, looking down at the warriors awaiting her orders. The true strength of the territory lay with them. And their future rested in her hands. It might have been an excessive burden for a young woman, but her eyes still burned with fierceness.
“Southern stranger. I must thank you once again. If it weren’t for your efforts, we wouldn’t have survived.”
“I consider it a mutually beneficial exchange.”
Fernandez wiped his hands after tearing into some meat and looked at Aeren. Her eyes shone like ice from the tundra, and her hair, like a lion’s mane, gleamed like faded gold. She looked exactly like the Archangel he remembered.
-Too much of a coincidence.
‘Indeed. It’s as if the angels were waiting for us wherever we went.’
The encounters in the Great Wilderness, and now here in the north. It wasn’t something he had anticipated or discovered through his own tracking. It was as if fate had intervened, leading him to meet and save them.
As if it were the most natural thing. But how many people could possibly live in this northern region? And how many clans were there, and what were the odds that one of those clans would have an angel?
-Is it too far-fetched to think there’s divine intervention?
‘Not yet. And this situation makes sense in its own way.’
Meeting Pieranel, the Archangel of Wisdom and Truth in the wilderness, was the result of chasing Guimerin’s prophecy. While the encounter itself was coincidental, he had at least predicted that one of the Archangels would be in the Great Wilderness.
And now this situation. Among the few northern clans resisting Sadarkelisa, it’s only logical that a survivor would be an Archangel. A human born with the nature of an Archangel would never join hands with demons.
Fernandez frowned. Whether someone had intervened, or if fate truly existed, or if all of this was just a natural meeting—there were too few factors to make a judgment.
“I was too distracted to ask earlier. You said you could help us, didn’t you?”
Aeren asked as she swallowed some mead. She looked down at Fernandez with cold eyes. Her calm exterior was her natural demeanor, but she still couldn’t calm her racing heart.
The demons that had fallen to that man’s blade. Each one was a monster summoned into this world after devouring dozens of human lives. She had heard from prisoners who escaped Hazart Kazal’s altar how they were created.
The horrifying rituals where bl**d and flesh were offered to ‘forge’ demons from beyond this world. Just witnessing such scenes would drive ordinary people to madness and lose their sanity.
‘Erik…’
Aeren sighed softly and rubbed her forehead. She couldn’t show weakness, but she was already reaching her limit. The clans supporting her were dwindling, and her own clan lacked the strength to restore the lost capital.
But if word got out that the offensive had failed, Kazaldar’s arrogant young lord would immediately march with his full force. There weren’t many clans in the north that could stand against Kazaldar alone.
The situation was dire. Should she gather all the troops stationed at the border to prepare for a decisive battle? Or should she submit to Erik and disarm?
And what did this young warrior from the south want? If he needed something from her clan, she would have to give it to him, no matter how important it was.
“Exactly what kind of help can you offer? Unless Lord Botan sends the Einherjar warriors himself, we don’t have the strength to stop Erik.”
At her words, the warriors began to murmur. Some of the more hot-blooded ones gritted their teeth and shouted. Fernandez quietly spoke up amidst the tense atmosphere.
“I’d like to hear a more precise situation.”
“We’ve lost our capital. We haven’t been defeated in the war yet, but we had no way to counter the sudden ambush.”
The capital of the northern clans isn’t a frontline base. The most seasoned warriors are all stationed near the borders, and they’re only summoned to the center during the summer raiding season or when war breaks out.
Otherwise, the capital serves as a hub for logistics and administration. In other words, during peacetime, the capital is populated by civilians, young warriors, and men too old to fight.
That’s why the winter ambush was so devastating. Under normal circumstances, such a dishonorable attack would be brought before the Great Clan Council, but now the council is under Erik’s control.
“Even if we were caught off guard, does it make sense that there were no sentries at the port city?”
“Yes. But the fog rolled in, and the ambush began right after. We couldn’t do anything. Demons appeared in the fog, and by the time we managed to calm the panicking civilians, the enemy had already arrived.”
In such a situation, escaping with the civilians was nothing short of a miracle. Fernandez highly regarded Aeren’s leadership in protecting the people with a handful of troops.
‘So the fog wasn’t natural after all.’
-Is it possible to sustain such a large-scale magic without leaving traces of mana? That’s…
‘Yes. Only divine power could do that.’
-Weather
