War is Pissing Off the Enemy - 6
The name North Sea Ice Palace conjures up certain instinctive images. A frozen wasteland where blizzards rage twenty-four-seven, three-hundred-sixty-five days a year. Stern-faced Siberian natives with snow-white skin standing guard at the palace gates with grave, dignified expressions. Wary warriors and locals eyeing outsiders suspiciously. Buildings whiter than fresh snow. Something along those lines.
But the North Sea Ice Palace I actually encountered was... well, not just a little different from my expectations. It was vastly different.
"Welcome! The North Sea Ice Palace extends a warm greeting to our honored guests from the south!"
Far from stern and dignified, the gatekeepers greeted us with broad, friendly smiles.
"Who'd have thought I'd live to see folks from the south with my own eyes!"
"No wonder my dreams felt off this morning—it must've been a sign of fine guests arriving!"
Their attitudes were miles away from anything resembling vigilance.
"Ah, care for some tea? We brought it to sip on guard duty, but folks who've crossed that godforsaken steppe deserve it more than we do!"
"Heh, looks like we're getting the royal treatment right off the bat. I won't stand on ceremony—thanks."
"Aigoo, royal treatment? What do you take our North Sea Ice Palace for! Once you're inside, you'll get a proper welcome!"
"Is that so? Now that's something to look forward to!"
Listening to Grandfather banter with the guards, I glanced around. No snow falling, no wind howling. Honestly, if it matched my imagination, it'd be uninhabitable. The North Sea Ice Palace was still a place where people lived, after all. Constant blizzards would drive anyone mad. Painting buildings white was basically declaring, "I'm throwing money away like trash to keep this spotless."
Still, I'd hoped for at least a Winter Duchy or Winter White Kingdom vibe, not quite a full Frozen. This was just a modest town by Lake Baikal.
'A single faction controlling a whole city? That's insane enough on its own.'
Even in the unassailable days of the Central Plains' famed murim sects, they dominated cities from within—not the cities themselves as their estates. In that sense, the North Sea Ice Palace's power was undeniably extraordinary.
Kki-ing.
"Hm?"
"By the heavens! A white deer! And with honored guests, no less!"
As Kki-ing-i, who'd been lounging behind the Imperial Guard, let out a cry, the guards finally noticed and gasped in awe.
"Is this little one yours, honored guests? It didn't just tag along uninvited while crossing the steppe, did it?"
"It's my grandson's. The steppe was a first for it too."
"I see! So it came from the south with you all!"
The guards stared openly at Kki-ing-i, then started scribbling messages on each other's palms. One dashed inside the building.
"Truly, truly sorry, honored guests! Could you wait here just a moment?"
"Hm?"
Grandfather tilted his head at the unexpected request. We'd already cleared entry at the south gate—the largest one encircling the city. We'd clearly stated we came from Great Song's borders, bearing the Emperor's will. We'd come straight here to what seemed the main palace without hindrance. No reason to halt now. Plus, we'd gotten what amounted to an invitation to meet the Palace Lord inside.
Suddenly asking us to wait made the leader look two-faced.
"No misunderstanding, please! We're not blocking or turning you away—we just need a moment for a proper welcome. We beg your understanding!"
"We've come a long way, so a grand reception would please us, but we prefer substance over flashy shells."
"Fear not! On my name as Deputy Palace Lord Seolgang, I promise a welcome you'll all be satisfied with!"
'What.'
An unexpected name had been staked from an unexpected source. Not just a regular guard—a deputy palace lord?
The number two of the North Sea Ice Palace standing gate duty with ordinary guards?
'They're insane.'
I nearly sighed in awe at their work culture. In military terms, it was like a general pulling shifts with privates, or a deputy commander with raw recruits.
What karmic debt did deputy palace lords owe in past lives?
"...If you're staking your name, we'll trust you."
Even Grandfather, peak of eccentricity, was taken aback by this ultra-flat hierarchy.
'The outer murim is different, alright.'
Impressive. Inside the Central Plains' fence, Grandfather was eccentricity's pinnacle. Out here by the distant seas, even he encountered new madness. Good thing it wasn't in his youth—he might've absorbed it and upgraded into something worse. Grandfather visiting the outer murim in old age was the realm's fortune.
The wait wasn't long.
"Where are they! Where be these folk from the south?!"
A booming voice accompanied a door flung wide. The raucous entrance drew eyes from me, Grandfather, and the scattered Imperial Guards.
'Oh.'
I inwardly marveled at the voice's owner. Snow-white hair and brows, eyes tinged mysteriously blue, skin too pale for "yellow race" by any stretch. My prejudices about the North Sea Ice Palace incarnate.
Yes, this was the North Sea Ice Palace. "North Sea" was geographical, fine—but claiming "Ice" demanded that look.
"There they are, Palace Lord!"
"Oh!"
The deputy pointed us out amid the white-haired man's thunderous shout. The Palace Lord—nearly sprinting—hurried over.
"Welcome! The North Sea Ice Palace greets Central Plains honored guests!"
He spread his arms in fervent welcome. Similar to the deputy's, yet subtly, decisively different.
'Our North Sea Ice Palace.'
The deputy had said "our," bold and unadorned, no humility or deference. But the lord said "the," without hesitation.
Yet neither deputy nor guards batted an eye.
'What's going on?'
Uneasy. Self-deprecation in negotiations was green light, but knowing why mattered for peace of mind. Circumstantially, Kki-ing-i had shifted their stance, but without the exact reason, it was frustrating.
The guests from southern Song were no ordinary honored visitors. We'd assumed a routine alliance proposal when they said they bore the Emperor's will. But arriving at the North Sea Ice Palace with a white deer? That changed everything.
'This is gold.'
I desperately quelled my twitching lips. Couldn't show ugliness while escorting guests.
But damn, the situation was too good. Like heaven smiling on our North Sea Ice Palace—how could I not grin?
'The legend comes true.'
The great founding Palace Lord's precept, left upon establishing our palace in this barren plain. Records of him were so scarce, some questioned if he even existed—making it more legend than precept.
"A pure white beast shall ride the warm winds from the south. The North Sea Ice Palace shall shatter thick ice and conquer the harsh cold."
That precept. Impossible for any North Sea Ice Palace member to forget, even knowing it legend—it still stirred the heart.
And it had come true. Amid friendly overtures from the south—not enmity—a pristine white deer appeared.
An undeniable pure white beast. Not just any— a white deer.
'How does it all align like this?'
The white deer was the totem those steppe mongrel bastards revered as their ancestor. The precept allowed dog, horse, or ox—but a deer appeared, spot-on.
We could claim their mongrel symbol—offspring of horse unions—as ours. No, we would. Heaven laid this board, sent these guests to crush the steppe scum—how hold back?
"Please, sit comfortably. It's been ages since we hosted guests."
Suppressing my grin desperately, I ushered them into my office and offered seats. A touch resentful. No visitors meant no fine teas stocked. Serving these precious guests mere ordinary brew and fare—what a lamentable shame.
'I'll repay this rudeness with military merit.'
Yes, repay this discourtesy with feats. Slaughter those steppe whelps rolling in the grass, sever heads for heaven's altar, report triumph proudly to that Central Plains Emperor.
That'd cover the rudeness. Minimum courtesy to guests fulfilling the legend. Reverence to those turning foes' totem ours.
Alliances, let alone joint fronts, don't form easily. Wedging into others' fights takes uncommon resolve.
Yet that common sense shattered here.
"The steppe's star flows in my veins. It whispers to slay those vile Mongols and cleanse the vast plains."
Before we could speak, the Palace Lord spewed Mongol hatred like a madman. Not mere "I hate Mongols too, so no pacts with them"—he burned with zeal to crush them.
Strange. Was the North Sea Ice Palace's grudge against Mongols deeper than expected? Had those bastards thrown a wheel-fest party when occupying here?
'What the hell.'
From arrival, I hadn't a sane moment. The world spun breathless while I stood still.