Chapter 220: No longer Personal Attendant [2]

The Balant Fortress.

A wall of stone and steel, stretching across the border where the northern territories meet the demon tribes’ land—the Drazroth Empire. For centuries it had stood like a clenched fist against the tide, an impregnable bulwark that turned back invasion after invasion.

And now, that was where I was headed.

“Do you understand?” Alice’s voice rang beside me, bright with a pride only a northerner could carry. “The place we’re going to isn’t just a fortress—it’s the pride of the North itself.”

Perhaps it was because the march was long and monotonous, but she seemed unusually talkative. Step by step, wrapped in her words, I began to picture the fortress through her eyes.

“Having your first real battle there… it’s truly an honor, don’t you think?”

I swallowed the truth before it could escape my lips.

’Honor, sure. But freezing my bones off in this damned cold doesn’t feel like much of one.’

The wind bit at us, sharp and merciless, even through the layers of fur-lined cloaks. My breath clouded in the air with every exhale. Still, her eyes sparkled with anticipation, and I couldn’t bring myself to douse that fire.

“Certainly,” I said with a faint smile. “It’s my first time too, so I can’t help but be curious.”

Her lips curved, softening the cool mask she always wore. “Right. It’s rather nice, isn’t it? A master and servant in such harmony. Perhaps it was my father’s intention all along, pairing us together.”

The nobility were raised to veil their feelings in marble composure, and Alice was no exception. But here, on the road to Balant, she allowed herself a rare smile—one that could make the endless cold a little more bearable.

Caught off guard, I found myself staring, almost forgetting the chill.

Then her voice dropped, tinged with amusement. “Still… you have quite a strong heart, to stand before my father like that.”

I let out a small breath, lips curling into a wry smile instead of words.

Yes. That audience in the meeting chamber had been anything but easy. Facing the Duke of the North was like standing before a blizzard that could freeze the marrow of your bones.

And yet here I was, walking beside his daughter.

The march continued, boots crunching against frozen ground.

The soldiers ahead of us moved in tight formation, their armor glinting faintly with frost. Yet despite the steady rhythm of marching feet and the bitter bite of the northern wind, Alice’s mood remained strangely light.

“You didn’t falter, not even once,” she said, glancing at me sidelong. “Most men in the North can’t even look directly into Father’s eyes, let alone answer him without trembling. And yet… you held your ground.”

I forced a laugh. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t still be walking here, would I?”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Confidence suits you, but don’t get careless. The North rewards bravery, but it devours arrogance. Father respects men who know the difference.”

The way she said it—half warning, half compliment—made me study her a little more closely. Her cloak billowed with each gust of wind, her cheeks reddened by the cold, but her eyes… they burned with an intensity only the Draken bloodline could carry.

“You’re proud of him, aren’t you?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Alice blinked, then nodded slowly. “Of course. My father is the shield of the North. Balant Fortress stands because he wills it. I don’t always agree with him, but… no one can deny his strength.” Her lips pressed together in thought before she added, “That’s why his approval is so rare—and so precious.”

Her words carried weight, heavier than the snow-laden clouds above us.

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment, but she didn’t explain further. She only pulled her cloak tighter and faced forward again, leaving me with the uneasy echo of her words.

The silence that followed carried me back—back into that cold, cavernous hall of the Duke’s estate, where shadows clung to the stone walls and the man who ruled the North sat like a monarch carved from ice.

—

Flashback

The Duke of Draken leaned forward on his throne-like chair, eyes sharp as a wolf’s. His presence filled the chamber; the sheer weight of it pressed down like an avalanche.

At length, his voice rumbled, deep and absolute.

“You are no longer just Alice’s personal attendant.”

The words hit harder than the northern wind, sharp enough to make me flinch. My head snapped up before I could stop myself.

“Ah, Father! Just a moment—!”

“Why?” the duke’s tone was calm, but it carried the weight of command. “You’re not trying to take back what you said, are you?”

“Uh…”

Alice opened her mouth to object, but quickly shut it again. The silence said everything. She had trapped herself with her own logic. If she insisted I remain by her side in every matter, then by protocol I had to be included in noble duties as well.

’This… is troublesome.’

A more seasoned noble might have brushed it off, shifted the conversation, or twisted the justification to their favor. That’s the way of the highborn—never flinch, even when their weakness is poked.

But Alice wasn’t that type. Her sense of duty was far too rigid, her shoulders too weighed down by responsibility.

And me? I couldn’t say a word in that moment.

Her face was pale, shadowed, frozen solid.

’So this is how it ends… I tried to take on the burdens of succession disputes for her sake, only to be separated from her because of it.’

The duke’s gaze swept the room like a blade. “Then this meeting is adjourned. Ah, Hans, Alice, and Julies—stay behind.”

The chief servant, Hans, bowed low, but dared to ask, “May I inquire as to your intentions, my lord?”

The duke turned his eyes between Alice and me, measuring us, before answering.

“Isn’t it obvious? He can’t remain only a personal servant. It’s time to assign him a proper place.”

The air shifted. His words weren’t merely about removing me from Alice’s side. No—he wanted to make use of me.

After all, who would simply discard someone who had won the northern martial tournament and even claimed a relic from the Draken vault?

’…Eh.’

As soon as the duke finished, all eyes landed on me. The weight of their stares pressed down, some sharp, some calculating.

The general, who had been butting heads with the treasurer moments ago, now looked me over with the hungry grin of a wolf spotting prey.

“Duke,” he said smoothly, “if you intend to keep that boy as nothing more than a servant, I must say it would be a waste. His martial prowess is more than enough to command the soldiers of the North.”

My spine stiffened. He wasn’t complimenting me. He was laying claim.

But before his words could sink deeper, the duke cut him off with a single command.

“Bardik. I’ll handle it. Step back.”

The general’s jaw tightened, but he bowed. “…As you command.”

He turned away, but I could feel the weight of his gaze lingering, sharp and possessive.

A chill ran through me. Not the kind born of snow and ice, but the kind that came when wolves circled, waiting for their chance to sink their fangs in.

My throat was dry, my tongue heavy.

’So that’s it… they’ve noticed me.’

Up until now, I had been safe in the shadow of Alice’s name. A servant, even one as close as I was, did not attract the sharp eyes of nobles. But the moment I revealed strength—winning the martial tournament, wielding a relic—I had painted a target on my back.

And now the wolves wanted a piece of me.

The general’s grin, the treasurer’s narrowed eyes, even the sly looks from lesser retainers—all of them were measuring me. Not as Julies the servant, but as Julies the asset. A tool to be fought over.

’If I move wrong here, they’ll rip me apart.’

The duke, at least, was different. He didn’t view me as prey. No, his eyes carried the weight of ownership. Like a hunter who had already laid his claim on a prized beast, daring the others to approach.

That, somehow, felt even heavier.

I clenched my fists at my sides to stop the faint trembling in my fingers.

Alice looked stricken, lips pressed into a thin line. She wanted to protest, I could see it in her eyes, but she couldn’t. She was caught in the snare of her own sense of duty. Her silence was both a shield and a confession—she couldn’t save me from this.

’…Damn it. I didn’t want this.’

All I wanted was to stay in Alice’s shadow, close enough to shield her from danger, distant enough to avoid the storm of noble politics. That was my perfect balance. But now the storm had found me, and there was no escape.

The duke’s voice echoed again.

“So, Do you have to say anything?”

’Say anything? I have so much to say, you old man!’

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