Chapter 30: Successor Trial [2]

For Alice Draken, today had started out perfectly.

Her father had finally given her permission to hunt the monster.

In other words—her Successor Trial had officially begun.

The day she had long waited for. Trained for. Lived for.

But now?

Now, not a trace of that excitement could be seen on her face.

’A true noble of the North slays monsters with their sword alone.’

That was the belief she had grown up with.

That was the principle she lived by.

But how was she supposed to prove anything when an entire army of knights followed at her back like shadows? No monster would dare approach with so much steel and noise in the air.

She clenched her jaw, frustration tightening every muscle in her body.

She was angry—furious, even—at Hans. And yet, deep down, she understood why he had gone against her orders.

But understanding something didn’t mean you had to accept it.

Not when your blood boiled with the need to fight. To prove yourself.

Alice struggled to keep that heat contained, forcing her breathing to stay calm, her expression blank. Emotions—especially strong ones—were seen as weakness in noble circles. And as a Draken, she couldn’t afford to show weakness.

Not here. Not now.

She reminded herself of the truth she had known since childhood:

The strength of a family name doesn’t come from the name itself.

It shines because of the people who bear it.

She wanted to shine.

For House Draken. For the North. For herself.

But still… she couldn’t ignore the quiet warning Hans had given.

She was engaged to the Crown Prince. Her life was no longer just hers to gamble. Every choice she made could echo through the kingdom, for better or worse.

And yet, despite all that…

She still wanted to draw her blade and face that beast alone.

Because that was how a true heir of the North earned their place.

Not by hiding behind guards.

Still, it wasn’t as if she could do anything now.

The knights wouldn’t disobey Hans—not when they had orders from her father himself.

Alice exhaled slowly through her nose, the cold air slicing against her cheeks.

Just as she was about to spur her horse forward, a familiar voice called out from behind.

“My Lady. Please wait.”

Alice paused, the leather reins tightening slightly in her gloved hands. She turned her horse toward the voice, her expression unreadable.

And there he was.

Dressed in an attendant’s uniform that somehow made him look even more out of place than he had yesterday—Julies Evans. The very man who had defeated her in a duel not twenty-four hours ago.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. The memory of that spar still stung. It wasn’t just the loss. It was the way he had done it—calm, composed, clinical.

Unnervingly precise.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice cool and clipped.

Julies stopped a few steps behind her, offering a slight bow—not too deep, but respectful. There was no arrogance in his stance, but also no apology.

“My Lady,” he began, voice steady, “since I’m new here and don’t know much… is the Successor Trial more impressive if you hunt something bigger? Stronger?”

Alice blinked, caught off guard.

’Is that really what he’s asking right now?’

She almost laughed. A quiet chuckle slipped past her lips before she could stop it.

Here she was, stewing over how wrong this whole situation felt—how everything she had trained for was being twisted—and he was asking if stronger monsters made for better trials.

She couldn’t really blame him, though.

He wasn’t from the North. He probably didn’t understand what the Trial truly meant. In most places, noble succession was decided by birth order, not by bloodshed. The idea of proving yourself through combat—through life and death—wasn’t something you grew up with unless you were born into it.

Still… his question stung more than it should have.

Because yes.

Yes, she wanted to fight something stronger. Not because it was impressive, not because it would look good to the court or the people.

But because she needed to prove she was worthy. To herself.

The Trial wasn’t just about survival. It was about legacy.

Alice Draken was the daughter of a highborn house, a warrior noble raised in the bitter cold of the North. She walked the martial path not because it was expected of her, but because it was her. It was her way of protecting her people, her name, her future.

How could someone like her not want to fight? Not want to stand alone and carve her place into history with steel and blood?

She’d been prepared to face monsters, to brave the wild alone, to earn the right to call herself worthy of House Draken.

But now?

Now the knights wouldn’t leave. Hans wouldn’t budge. And she wasn’t even being allowed to face the Trial on her own.

She clenched her jaw.

Then Hans’s words echoed in her mind again:

“Your life doesn’t belong to you alone. Don’t forget your engagement to the Crown Prince. The future of House Draken rests on your shoulders.”

And just like that, the fire in her chest dimmed.

All that anticipation, that hunger for challenge—it flickered out.

Alice stared at Julies, his question still echoing faintly in her mind like the last ring of a struck bell.

He stood there, wearing that same disarming smile—half-innocent, half-infuriating—and for a brief, dangerous second, she thought he might be mocking her.

But his eyes were clear. Curious. He meant it.

And that made it worse.

She turned her horse fully toward him now, cold wind tugging at the edges of her cloak. The snow beneath them crunched faintly with each breath of the wind, but otherwise, the world had fallen still.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “The stronger the monster, the more glory earned. That’s how it works here.”

Julies’ expression didn’t change, but something about the way his fingers twitched at his side told her enough. He was planning something.

Alice continued her words after that short moment, “But still, the Trial isn’t about spectacle,” she said, her voice cold but steady. “It’s about resolve. Discipline. Strength of will. You don’t need to find a bigger beast to make it count.”

“But,” he said, still far too calm for her liking, “if a bigger beast just happens to cross our path…”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I’m just saying,” Julies added quickly, hands raised in mock surrender, “if we’re already out here, and it shows up… why not?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Because she knew exactly what he was trying to do.

And the worst part? It was working.

Because underneath all the rational thought—the politics, the responsibility, the engagement, the damned expectations—there was still a fire.

But she knows reality.

So, she chooses reality.

A bitter one at that.

“Enough. Don’t talk nonsense and just do your work. You are my servent so just do as you are told too.”

Silence followed.

The unintended venom in her words left Alice pondering, and she eventually closed her mouth quietly.

’A fitting reprimand for an insolent attendant.’

Yet, for some reason,

she pondered the notion that not everything had to be bad.

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