Chapter 169: Duke and Player
One week later.
Stravburg, Residence of the Duke of Bosk.
Leo Bosk, Duke, was furiously running his fingers through his beard, his face etched with anxiety. He had not been this unsettled in years. The string of disasters that had struck recently had even shaken the composure of a man who had long prided himself on unwavering calm.
Within a single day, the Duchy of Norton had been obliterated by the Kingdom of Ashen. Not a single distress signal had been sent—its fall was swift and total.
And to the north, the land trembled once more. A strange Horn had sounded, stirring ancient fears. The legendary Frost Disaster was stirring again. Evidence of Frost Giant advance had been spotted near the Wahala Glacier.
“Lord Duke! Lord Duke!” The Adjutant burst into the chamber, breathless, bringing fresh news.
“Our scouts in the north have found traces of a Frost Giant rapid march! The long-sealed roads are littered with the remains of beasts—half-eaten, torn apart. Massive footprints press deep into the snow, and the ground is still covered in frost.”
Duke Leo’s face darkened instantly, a shadow of grim dread settling over his features.
“Just as the records describe.”
“That… is indeed a Frost Disaster.”
The Duke turned sharply to the Adjutant, voice urgent. “What is their direction of movement? Where will these Frost Giants strike?”
The Adjutant replied without hesitation: “Storm Ridge. Based on our current intelligence, they’re advancing southward from Storm Ridge, crossing through Tiriel Valley, and into the Northern Regions.”
He added cautiously: “But Storm Ridge lies within the territory of the Kingdom of Ashen. Though their defensive focus has shifted to the former Duchy of Lakanman, the area remains under the control of the Red Dragon’s Favored. Our intelligence is extremely limited—what we have, the scouts risked their lives to gather.”
The Adjutant unrolled a map—a worn, scarred parchment, thick with scratches and stains. Crimson markings traced the paths where Frost Giant footprints had been found.
Duke Leo studied it closely, his expression shifting between thought, unease, and a flicker of cautious hope.
He paced the hall, muttering under his breath.
“This doesn’t match the historical accounts. The Frost Disasters of sixty years ago… the one from one hundred and seventy years past… those were different. Frost Giants would swarm in from multiple directions, marching at terrifying speed, destroying everything in their path. A mere dozen could level a city.”
“Scholars here believe their primary goal was raiding supplies—stripping the land bare, weakening our strength. That’s why they were so indiscriminately destructive.”
“But this time… they seem to have a purpose.”
“And the force they’ve united behind… that purpose is clearly the Kingdom of Ashen.”
His gaze lingered on the map, eyes glinting with something new—calculating, sharp.
Hearing this, the Adjutant’s face lit up with sudden excitement.
“Lord Duke… does this mean we’re in luck?”
“The Kingdom of Ashen is shielding us from the north. The Frost Giants and the Red Dragon are locked in battle—too distracted to turn south. We could—”
“—strike at the Kingdom of Ashen,” Duke Leo finished for him.
The Adjutant bowed deeply. “Your wisdom is unmatched, my lord. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
A faint smile touched the Duke’s lips. “But you’re wrong about one thing—not ‘seizing the opportunity,’ but waiting for it.”
“The Red Dragon in Ashen? We still don’t know his true strength. And the Frost Giants… they haven’t appeared in recorded history for over sixty years. Their clash is still uncertain.”
“So we wait. We watch. We wait for a moment when the situation becomes clear.”
“If the Frost Giants prevail—nearly crushing the Kingdom of Ashen—then we step in. We aid Ashen, weaken the Frost Giants, and let them bleed themselves dry. Once the threat retreats, we settle accounts with Ashen.”
“But if Ashen prevails… then, while they’re exhausted from fighting the Frost Giants, we strike without warning.”
The Adjutant nodded vigorously, feigning sudden enlightenment. “Lord Duke, your brilliance… I could never hope to match it.”
Duke Leo didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on the map, lost in thought.
“A rare opportunity,” he murmured. “And luck… is part of strength. The initiative is back in my hands. So, Player… how will you play this game?”
He whispered the name again—slow, deliberate, the long, foreign syllables rolling off his tongue like a spell.
Kai Xiusu Claudew Noirikexius.
The name that had haunted him for days. But now, the weight was different. Not dread—but anticipation.
---
Kingdom of Ashen, Northwind Keep.
“Ah, isn’t this Stuffed Bun?”
“Back out patrolling again? You’re a true worker, sir.”
A warm, respectful greeting echoed from passing citizens—though beneath the cheer was a deep, unshakable reverence.
“Hmph. Serving the citizens of Emberfall is my duty,” Stuffed Bun declared with stern dignity.
He still wore his Marshal Uniform, patrolling the streets of the southwestern district. But with the Dictatorial Edict in effect, actual Player crimes had become exceedingly rare. Now, the real targets were the native residents.
Like the infamous “Black Beer” gang—once a powerful force in the district. Stuffed Bun had taken them down alone, single-handedly. That one mission had netted him over seven thousand Faction Contribution points.
Since then, the area had grown unnaturally quiet. No major crimes. No drama. And Stuffed Bun, now bored out of his mind, leaned back on his dragon’s saddle.
“Why is it so peaceful?” he grumbled. “Can’t you give me a real case? A hidden guild? Something juicy to make some real money?”
“Why doesn’t Northwind Keep have a secret faction I can crush and loot?”
Just then, a smug, mocking voice cut through his thoughts.
“Well, well. Look who’s dressed up like a proper officer.”
Stuffed Bun didn’t even turn. He raised a hand, voice sharp with authority. “Citizen! Watch your tone. Do not provoke a Peacekeeper!”
The voice didn’t flinch. If anything, it grew louder. “You? A mere Level 2 Peacekeeper? What’s the point of flexing?”
“I’m Nocturne Division’s Head now. I’m two levels above you. I can speak directly to the Dragon Lord. You’re just a cabbage—what are you even?”
“Say it, then. Call me Sir.”
It was Langli BaiTiao—smug, arrogant, tail held high like a banner of victory.
The moment the name Nocturne left his lips, the surrounding townsfolk scattered like leaves in a storm. Doors slammed shut. Windows locked. No one wanted to be near him.
Nocturne Unit—the name alone was enough to silence children’s cries at night. Rumors said they’d assassinated dozens of would-be rebels, erasing them from history.
And now, the man stood there, grinning, utterly unbothered.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
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