Leor's Lightning March South
Only the soldiers who could mobilize immediately without question were the elite forces led by Leor Reward. Even when the northern nomads came charging in for an attack, they'd start slinking away the moment they spotted Leor's cavalry. That was the fearsome reputation of the Reward family's 150 handpicked riders. Of course, efforts to disband private armies had shrunk their numbers considerably, but the Reward cavalry still struck terror into hearts. This was our chance to formally integrate the Reward family's elite into the northern forces as official troops.
In the current situation, no one could deploy faster than the Reward riders. Leor arrived at Winter Castle the instant he was summoned.
"Y-Your Highness."
"We need to move out right now. I'll write a letter for the Bart family—you head straight there."
"T-To the B-Bart territory?"
I hurriedly scribbled the letter in my office and handed it to him. I nodded at Leor's question. Clad in full armor, he snatched it up and bolted out of the room. If they left now, they'd barely make it by tomorrow.
"Your Grace, Director Dorgon is waiting outside."
"Have him meet me in the Hall of Winter immediately."
Winter Castle sprang into complex motion. The moment the meeting ended, Hexon vanished with a stack of documents. Alfredo did the same, buried under paperwork. As the ones keeping internal affairs running, they couldn't afford to worry about external matters.
In the Hall of Winter, Dorgon knelt on one knee.
"So, what's the palace's stance?"
"Fresh intelligence just came in, Your Grace. Lord Roy de Wintergard has been thrown into the underground dungeons."
"Hm, what, torture or something...?"
"I doubt they'd have the guts for that. If anything, he might've gone a bit overboard."
"Why? Did he actually kill someone?"
"Not quite."
Dorgon began recounting the imperial incident in measured detail.
The de Wintergard family never hesitated to risk their lives for loyalty. In the imperial chamber, Roy was the first to stride in wielding an axe—to force through his liege's will, my will. Holding the axe in one hand, he sat ramrod straight in the center of the room, chin high. No one could stand against him.
'Summon the Emperor back and make him clarify. Or drag me out if you must.'
Roy's voice boomed through the chamber, freezing the guards in place. Even as plate-armored escorts pressed forward, they cowered before that southerner's axe—like children facing a beast. Jackson standing beside him raised his voice too.
'Where are the ministers defying imperial law? Make them drop the stonewalling!'
As the shouting escalated, the chief minister finally responded. But he underestimated Roy badly—screeching about how no one brings an axe into the palace, imperial decorum be damned. In the end, the guards rushed to seize the axe. This time, though, they drew swords instead of just grappling.
No matter how tough Roy was, he couldn't hold out forever against half-armored soldiers...
"Taking down a few guards was fine, but he got too heated, unfortunately."
Dorgon continued.
To face the guards drawing blades in the imperial chamber, Roy rose slowly from his seat. The axe's blade was small but razor-sharp; its poll ended in a blunt hammer. As the guards thrust their swords skyward, Roy swung the hammer first. Slower blades met nothing—the hammer smashed into a helmet first. The perfectly weighted blow crumpled it inward.
"That should've killed him, right?"
"The plate armor saved him. Without it, he might've been done for."
Armed, Roy feared nothing. The northern nomad hordes he'd faced were scarier than these kids playing soldier. Another guard lunged with a stab; Roy met it head-on. He twisted just enough to deflect the blade into his coat, caught it with his elbow, and hammered the guard's shoulder. The plate buckled on impact.
"He's no man. Maybe Lord Roy's a bear in disguise."
"Indeed, Your Grace."
"So that's why they locked him up?"
"The guards survived, but many were badly hurt. They dragged him straight to the dungeons once they subdued him."
Roy had held off the initial guards and reinforcements alone for nearly an hour. Jackson kept shouting from the sidelines the whole time—though even if he'd grabbed a sword, it wouldn't have helped. In the end, they hauled Roy away first, leaving the chief minister to face Jackson.
"W-What do you want, exactly?"
"Just the compensation due under imperial law. Is that so intolerable?"
Eventually, they let Jackson back into the chamber. The ministers still wanted to drag their feet.
"Now we'll get a proper answer. Leor's already en route to Bart territory."
"The Reward family's troops, Your Grace?"
"Yes. Of course, they'll turn back the moment we reach agreement—but this should make them react for sure..."
They had no choice.
"Wh-Who goes there!"
Leor's army kicked into high gear. They blasted through roads fit for horses but burned time crossing the mountains. Anxiety gnawed at Leor—he couldn't meet the Grand Duke's timeline.
"Open the gates! Can't you see the banners!"
His bellow shook the air. The gate guards spotted the flags and scrambled to obey. He sent vanguard scouts ahead to clear obstacles if needed, ensuring the fastest path to Bart territory stayed open.
"General, aren't we going too fast?"
"Faster!"
"Has war broken out in the south?"
"Seems like the Grand Duke thinks so. No full battle, but we need to apply some pressure."
The adjutant nodded and ordered the standard-bearer to hoist the flag higher. But the frantic pace was wearing the horses down; their speed faltered. They'd picked the optimal mountain route—better than before—but ignored the mounts' exhaustion.
"No choice. Split the troops—vanguard and rearguard!"
From the 150 riders, excluding the lead scouts, they divided into advance and follow-up groups, thundering toward Bart territory. It was at least a full day's ride. Leor's elites pushed to their limits, horses stumbling on the verge of collapse. They reached Bart territory the next afternoon—five hours ahead of schedule.
The Bart guards tried to halt them, but even exhausted, the Grand Duke's banner flew high.
"Open the gates! The North has come!"
Few of the 150 arrived intact, but the Grand Duke's emblem wielded immense power. The gatekeepers flung the doors wide. The banner entered Bart territory.
Marquis Roland von Bart rushed to the castle gates to greet the northern soldiers. He'd only just sent his letter to the palace— this response was lightning-fast.
"I-Is the Grand Duke here himself?"
"No, my lord. But they're soldiers in armor."
"Soldiers?"
Figures in jet-black armor filed slowly through the walls. When the Grand Duke's banner finally reached Marquis Roland's castle, Leor led the van.
"Marquis Roland. A letter from the Grand Duke."
Leor handed it over and nearly collapsed on the spot. His adjutant caught him—he was that drained.
Marquis Roland ordered the banner raised on the flagpole, then tore open the letter right there. It was brutally concise.
To Marquis Roland von Bart,
I respect the pact between the Bart family and the North, and send a portion of the troops you requested in advance.
These soldiers who have just arrived are the North's elite, tasked with repelling northern nomads—men who pledge their lives solely to the North's peace.
They serve under the North's supreme commander and legitimate authority, Wintergard; direct command by southern expeditionary forces under imperial law is impossible.
However, command through a proxy is permitted, so Leor Reward will lead them as deputy to the North's supreme commander.
Be advised: should Leor Reward deem the southern situation critically urgent, all military actions are pre-authorized in the name of the North's supreme commander.
These men prioritize North's orders above all; all others come from Marquis Roland von Bart.
— Theodore von Ardorno Iphera Wintergard
Like an official order, the letter bore his name and a seal pressed into wax. These were official troops—and a weapon in Marquis Roland von Bart's arsenal.