The Shadowteron Broker's Urgent Message
The moment before departure.
As the carriage began to rumble forward, urgent footsteps suddenly swept past from behind, brushing against the wind.
The coachman turned his head and reined the horses to a halt.
“……?”
“Just a moment! Just a moment!”
From the carriage, Arteon asked.
“What is the matter?”
The coachman scanned the surroundings and spoke in a low voice.
“Someone… has suddenly arrived. Please wait a moment. I will investigate.”
In the carriage sat Kairon, who glanced out the window in concern.
At that moment, a man in a black overcoat rushed over urgently. Once he caught his breath, he stopped in front of the carriage.
“Hah… hah… Thank you for waiting.”
“……Who are you?”
The coachman asked warily.
The man bowed respectfully in greeting.
“I am Keiton, the vice master of the Shadowteron Merchant Guild.”
He presented the insignia identifying him as a representative of the Shadowteron Merchant Guild.
“Is… Arteon-nim in this carriage?”
Creak.
At that instant, Arteon stepped down from the carriage.
Keiton was startled when he saw Arteon and exclaimed.
“Ah, Arteon-nim!”
His face flushed bright red, and unable to contain his joy, he shouted loudly.
“……Keiton, what brings you here?”
“I came because someone very much wanted to see Arteon-nim. Of course, I came because I missed you too.”
Upon hearing Keiton’s words, Arteon’s gaze naturally turned behind him.
“Arteon-nim! Arteon-nim!”
A woman was sprinting toward them, calling out at the top of her lungs from afar.
Having discarded all dignity tied to her position, she ran straight to Arteon, unable to hide her excitement.
It was Lisiven.
She reached them in an instant and stood before Arteon, her eyes sparkling with barely caught breath.
“……?”
“……Who is that woman?”
The coachman and Kairon simply stared blankly at the scene.
But…
“……Hah.”
With so many eyes upon them, Arteon let out a small sigh.
His head already throbbed.
“Let’s move to a different spot.”
Arteon took Lisiven and walked into the alley.
Eventually, they entered a small shop, and Arteon faced Lisiven across from her.
“……How did you know I was here?”
“I heard you were heading to Preldior. Since you were staying in Perel, I assumed you would pass through here.”
“Hah… You knew everything.”
“I only kept watch because you told me not to look for you. But… I always knew exactly where you were. After all, even with the information I receive, it’s across the entire empire.”
“……I see.”
The short reply carried the weight of long-standing trust.
The Shadowteron Merchant Guild had grown into one of the empire’s finest merchant houses.
Of course, Arteon’s guidance had been the absolute foundation, but even executing that guidance flawlessly was remarkable.
“Are you really heading to Preldior?”
Lisiven asked, forcing her expression to remain steady.
“It’s… too dangerous there.”
“That is exactly where I must go.”
Her firm reply silenced her. She closed her eyes for a moment, then slowly drew a small box from beneath her robes.
Inside lay a single silver brooch.
“Then… please accept this.”
Arteon tilted his head.
Desperation shone at the tips of Lisiven’s fingers.
“If… if anything should happen to you, this will be of great help. Please… keep it with you at all times.”
Without a word, he fastened the brooch to his left breast.
“I understand. I will.”
Lisiven’s shoulders eased a fraction.
“It truly is wonderful to see you even for a short time… I’m glad. I’ll contact you often from now on.”
Lisiven rose from her seat.
She knew she had already taken far too much of his time.
Even this brief meeting was a blessing.
“Always be careful.”
“……”
Arteon silently touched the brooch on his left chest in response to Lisiven’s words.
She had been the reason so many of the tasks he wanted to achieve had become possible.
Arteon nodded slightly, speaking with sincerity.
“I am always grateful. I look forward to your continued support.”
At those words, Lisiven’s eyes grew teary.
“I hope the same for you, Arteon-nim—may safety and glory walk beside you on your path.”
Lisiven stepped back gradually, then turned and headed for the carriage.
Kairon asked the moment they reentered.
“Is the talk over? But… who was that?”
“An acquaintance.”
Only one word.
Yet the coachman’s eyes flickered faintly.
At the mention of the vice master of the Shadowteron Merchant Guild, he had not failed to recognize the implication.
The Shadowteron Merchant Guild…
But at that instant.
Swoosh.
Arteon gave the coachman a light shake of his head.
The silent command was clear: play along and act as if nothing had happened.
The coachman nodded and climbed back into the carriage.
“We… shall depart.”
Eventually, the carriage carrying the two men set out for Preldior, leaving Lampleor behind.
***
Among the fifty thousand troops gathered on the Preldior front, forty thousand had already completed their war preparations.
The vast encampment stretched like a vast wave, its soldiers’ breathing and the clinking of armor maintenance blending into a heavy, solemn rhythm.
“Hah…”
A small breath escaped, turning to white mist that scattered on the wind.
Velkein stepped out of his tent and surveyed the units with an indifferent gaze.
The training status of the soldiers, the supply situation, the positioning of the camp, and the vigilance around the perimeter—he recorded every detail with meticulous care.
Then, from afar, a scouting party entered the camp.
The nearby threats had already been scouted, but the hills beyond the ridges and the mountainous regions remained unknown.
Preldior’s distinctive terrain could swallow any gap and turn into a deadly trap.
“We must expand the scouting party and probe deeper into the unknown.”
“Understood.”
Claw, standing beside him, nodded.
He knew Velkein’s mindset better than anyone regarding the war preparations.
“What is the prince’s travel route?”
“He is expected to arrive in five days. The remaining ten thousand troops will arrive with him.”
“Complete all front scouting by then and prepare for a full advance. Once the prince arrives, we will strike immediately.”
“It will be a tight schedule.”
Five days was indeed cutting it close.
Velkein replied.
“Only to the extent that it is possible. We cannot afford to lose soldiers to haste from the very beginning.”
“I will remember.”
There was no wavering in Velkein’s gaze.
He knew a colossal and perilous war awaited them, but when had the northern front ever been easy?
Recalling the Bitter Bloodplain, it had been no different—bloody, cruel, filled with despair.
Yet they had overcome it.
That single experience was more than enough to banish the fear that now haunted him.
All that mattered was that every step forward would carve his name into the empire’s history.
Velkein turned to Claw.
“Lieutenant Colonel Isaac?”
“He reports he is ready to deploy at any moment.”
“Good.”
One of Velkein’s sharpest blades.
A thousand-man independent unit led by Isaac possessed terrifying destructive power.
He had seen the ruthless daily training for himself.
“Send out additional scouts. Narrow the gaps in case of any contingency and fully distribute the upgraded signal flares.”
“Yes, understood.”
Claw quickly withdrew.
Velkein stood alone, drew a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.
With each passing day of the advance, the weight on his shoulders grew heavier.
But…
“Finally…”
Having endured the crouched years of the past, the time to rise to the northern front had at last arrived.
Even the mere fact ignited a burning flame deep in his heart.
Eventually, Velkein’s gaze shifted toward the hills.
Before the war began, a cold wind roared, foretelling the horrific future of Preldior.
***
The column heading toward Preldior cut across the winter earth, leaving clear tracks where carriage wheels had passed.
Light snowflakes brushed against the wind, and the wheels left their marks in the snow.
Far-off hills.
Under the pale winter sun, they revealed only their sharp contours, radiating the desolate vastness unique to the north.
Inside the carriage, Sedrian opened the window.
As the icy wind swept across his face, he narrowed his eyes and asked.
“How much farther to Preldior?”
“Three days more.”
Lieutenant Colonel Yarakron, commander of the ten thousand troops accompanying Svein, answered.
Sedrian rested his hand on the window frame and turned slightly to look back.
Within the wintry light, soldiers marched in step, their breaths forming a silent rhythm as they exhaled.
“Are the soldiers all right?”
“They have been issued winter gear. Their movement speed is steady, and their overall condition is at its peak.”
At those words, Sedrian nodded lightly.
Three years of preparation for this war—every choice, every effort by every person—was now bearing fruit.
Though a slight tremor remained, fear did not.
The conviction that this path was correct and the resolve to carry it through to the end anchored his heart firmly.
Slowly clenching his fist, Sedrian suddenly recalled someone.
Looking at Svein, he spoke.
“What became of him?”
Svein bowed his head and reported.
“We received a transfer order and a letter confirming he left immediately. He should arrive on schedule.”
“The changed appearance of the man… I look forward to seeing it.”
If he reached the northern front and was deployed to the battlefield… what changes would come?
Sedrian narrowed his eyes and gazed far north.
Across Preldior, the sky lay locked in a cold blue light, carrying the scent of the long line of the front.
He studied the landscape for a moment, offered a faint smile, and closed the window.
And shortly after.
“It seems we will reach our destination soon.”
“Ugh… I’m tired. Just sitting in a carriage isn’t easy.”
“Then why don’t we run around outside?”
“……That’s a joke.”
Kairon grumbled, and Arteon slightly cracked the window to look outside.
He had never set foot here in his past life…
“So much… has changed.”
Yet it did not matter.
No matter what had changed, the task before him remained the same.
Eventually, Arteon’s gaze shot far ahead, locking onto Preldior.