### Chapter 41: Next Steps
The city walls loomed high, shadows dancing in the dim night. As flickering flames began to light up across the battlements, they cast eerie outlines against the dark backdrop, accompanied by the distant tolling of tower bells.
The once howling wind had settled into a strange calm, cool breezes teasing the guards of the Northern Army who peeked nervously over the parapets. Shadows swayed among the crenellations as one guard excitedly raised a torch, trying to peer into the murky distance: “What’s happening outside…”
“Did the fight finish?”
“Looks like it’s over.”
“Well, there isn’t much noise at least…”
The air was tinged with the scent of something charred. In the distance, patches of snow had turned to blackened earth as burnt trees collapsed amid the haze, flames leaping and scattering light, briefly illuminating a shadowy figure standing on the scorched soil, not far from what looked suspiciously like a blackened corpse.
“Who won…?”
A soldier squinted, craning his neck, his voice laced with anxiety.
For them, the earlier scuffle had been utterly bewildering. From the moment the fighting started, bizarre bursts of lightning and wind made it nearly impossible for the ordinary Northern soldiers to show their faces. The rapid flashes of lightning made the entire battlefield feel like a chaotic carnival, often preventing them from even staring straight at it.
Only when a figure bearing a striking resemblance to the little princess of Shanter Castle appeared did the tension of battle seem to ease, and yet by then, the combat had drifted far from the walls—at least two to three hundred meters away. The soldiers, still dazed by the shrouded night, could only catch glimpses of blinding flashes and golden light until now, when they noticed the lack of any illumination in the distance; that’s when it slowly dawned on them—the fight seemed to have wrapped up.
But the question lurked: who had emerged victorious? The little princess was nowhere in sight, leaving the Northern soldiers feeling uneasy.
One man, trembling, finally asked the pressing question.
He was promptly rewarded with a hefty punch from his commanding officer: “What a ridiculous question you ask.”
The officer brushed off the dust from his uniform, a smirk on his face. He had previously set fire arrows alight and was now strolling back to the parapet. Glancing into the vast night, he muttered, “Our little princess is here—there’s no way we could lose!”
As if on cue, a resounding “BOOM!” echoed from farther away, shaking the very walls of the castle, startling everyone. The officer instinctively withdrew his neck, while chaos erupted on the battlements.
Then they saw it—rising from the darkness, a shimmering, icy mountain range piercing the sky; the shortest peaks were dozens of meters tall, while the tallest surpassed a hundred! This jagged, cold range spread out from the western side of the snowy expanse, stretching nearly a kilometer eastward—it was a true “divine miracle.”
The sight had all the Northern warriors, including the commander, completely dumbfounded.
Moments later, the realization hit them like a blizzard: only the little princess from Shanter Castle could create such a thunderous spectacle.
A long sigh of relief escaped from their lips.
“Ha! See? What did I tell you?” After a brief moment of shock, the commander puffed up with pride. “Just a bunch of lowly church folks—they had you all tense!”
One would think he personally handled the enemy himself.
He assumed the threat had been completely neutralized—how could anyone have survived such outrageous attacks? To an extent, he wasn’t far off the mark. Just then, he heard the sound of galloping hooves approaching from the west and gestured the nearby soldiers: “Come, let’s go welcome Lord Count Firebird.”
……
When Firebird Annie arrived with her hunting party, they found nothing but chaos. The smiling commander dismounted from the wall and immediately approached her with a bow. “Lord Count, the enemy’s been taken care of by Her Highness’s attendants—the corpse is over there,” he said, pointing to the charred ground not far away.
Annie dismounted her beast, her eyes landing on the mangled, blackened remains of Emily, lying lonely on the scorched earth. Nearby, a few Northern soldiers with torches seemed to be discussing how to deal with the remains.
“Attendant?”
The female warrior from Erin Castle furrowed her brow.
She had only just returned from the royal palace and still carried a hint of wine on her breath, having hoped to enjoy a nice night’s rest—clearly, that wasn’t happening now.
“Yeah. A small girl swordsman, I didn’t catch her name, but you must know her, Lord Count… Wait? She was just here! Where did she go?”
That petite swordswoman seemed to have slipped away without a trace.
Firebird Annie nodded, instantly realizing who the commander was referring to—during the recent banquet, Skarlij had inquired about her; she was said to be exceptionally skilled with a high talent for lightning-based combat, having returned with Peilo, and she even saved the life of the emperor back in Windward Town. Firebird had indeed seen her before, especially when they met in the southern valley.
But if Peilo’s clues were correct, it seemed like she was a reclusive sort who didn’t enjoy mingling. Annie had wanted to forge some connection, but opportunities were scarce. All she knew was that her nickname seemed to be “Sword Demon”—the actual name was still unclear.
In any case, she was a trusted ally.
“Just one person?”
Annie asked, shifting her gaze to the myriad icy spires standing against the night. “What’s going on over there?”
“Oh, definitely not just this one.”
The commander replied, “There’s another one who nearly soiled himself trying to flee. The little princess gave chase; he’s probably in for a rough time. I was just about to send some men to check it out.”
The little princess?
Wasn’t she already drunk and sleeping back at the palace?
With a hint of confusion, Annie continued, “Who are these people?”
“They can use divine miracles.”
“… Oh, church folks.”
Firebird nodded gently, her face beginning to sour.
“I’ll go.”
She didn’t bother getting closer to inspect the corpse, turning back to remount her beast. She instructed the commander, “You keep a close watch on the battlements, keep an eye out all around. Send someone to inform the canyon guards; no one goes out for the time being. This battle has already caught the attention of Skarlij and Queen Elizabeth. We can’t let our guard down tonight—not a moment.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The commander received his orders and headed back to the walls, as Firebird Annie began relaying her search commands to her hunting party, her directives streaming out. Once she felt everything was in order, she led a few trusted aides from Erin Castle, preparing to gallop toward the towering ice peaks.
……
Upon reaching the base of the towering icy spires, Firebird Annie spotted Peilo.
The “little princess” bore none of the drunken demeanor Annie had envisioned; she was sober and orchestrating the Northern soldiers as they dragged a dazed man onto a beast. Spotting Annie, she casually nodded in greeting: “Sister Annie.”
Firebird Annie had her companions wait to the side and approached, “Is this the other intruder? From the church?”
She didn’t ask why the girl was there; it was clear she had heard the commotion. Had Peilo learned how to feign drunkenness? When did the little girl become so clever to dodge the awkward atmosphere of the banquet?
Since when did she have such a tolerance for alcohol?
Perhaps from all those moonlit drinking sessions with Queen Elizabeth back in the royal city?
When they got tipsy, they could do some embarrassing things together…
Oh no, bad thoughts!
Firebird suddenly felt a bit dazed just as Peilo’s voice snapped her back: “It’s from the Choir of Saints—not like those black-robed guys from the Fourth Knights. This one should be a top-tier leader from the choir… hey? Sister Annie, why’s your face all red?”
“Ah?”
Annie realized she couldn’t possibly face that girl’s devastatingly charming face anymore, hastily diverting her gaze: “Oh, my face is red? Must be because the effects of the wine haven’t worn off…”
Her attempt to cover her embarrassment was painfully obvious—what could she say? The banquet had hit her hard; she’d be metaphorically digesting it for days to come.
Luckily, the girl didn’t dwell on it: “Well, Sister Annie should rest. I’ll take care of this guy; if all goes well, we’ve only got two enemies.”
Firebird watched as two soldiers hefted the man onto the beast, the ice shards from his cloak falling off with a soft rustle, the soldiers’ hands turning red from the cold as they huffed warm air into their palms.
“Are you planning to interrogate him?”
Annie asked, noticing the girl nod seriously: “Yeah, I have some questions for him.”
Without elaborating on the specifics, she jumped onto her beast, gripping the reins, and made a calculated turn as she picked up speed. The horned horse neighed in response, and the girl balanced effortlessly on her saddle—her riding skills clearly polished now.
Gone were the days when she was too timid to even climb onto a beast.
“I’ll bring him to Aunt Bella; this guy can’t be trusted around regular hunters. Please, Sister Annie, let someone message the palace that I’m fine; I’m worried if my mother wakes up tomorrow and doesn’t see me, she might freak out.”
“… Sure.”
Firebird nodded in reply.
The girl flashed her a dazzling smile and, with a “Haha,” surged forward into the night, leaving behind a mix of awe, longing, and respect from those watching.
……
“It seems to be over.”
Skarlij stood by the window of the emperor’s audience chamber, gazing out at the pitch-dark night sky. The numerous buildings below vanished into darkness, the dim long street weaving through them—at its end, the high walls of the royal city loomed without the sounds of battle and flashes of light, abruptly falling silent.
“Peilo has gone.”
Inside the room, candlelight flickered softly under warm yellow tones. Near a desk stacked with books, Queen Elizabeth sat tall and poised in her flowing red dress, her golden hair elegantly pinned up.
Opposite her, the Pope Knight, a figure much graver than before, seemed a few sizes larger in the dim light.
Both gazed at Skarlij’s strong profile by the window. The previous comments had come from Her Majesty, and as Skarlij turned, a smile broke across his face: “Hey, that girl…”
He shook his head, somewhat resigned, and retook his seat in front of them.
“The way she pretended to be drunk—it was convincing enough to fool even me! Your Majesty, I bet you’ve taught her quite a bit about drinking in the royal city?”
Skarlij casually inquired, his tone playful as if conversing with a friend. Before Victoria could respond, he continued, “But of course! What kind of kid from Shanter Castle doesn’t know how to drink? She simply refuses to drink with me, her father, and isn’t willing to join her two brothers either; she always says that alcohol is bitter and spicy, the worst drink in the world. But look at her now—seems she’s really practice-chugging with you… that’s quite intriguing.”
“It wasn’t me teaching her to drink.”
Victoria shook her head in denial: “I’ve only drunk with her twice; back then, she’d get tipsy with just a sip.”
But Skarlij was clearly unconvinced.
The light-hearted banter subsided as the man looked at Tarlasya and then back at Queen Elizabeth, his smile slowly fading: “So, what are the next steps of Mr. Saint George?”
