Chapter 61

The journey from the capital, Revelhorn, to Eisenwald was no small undertaking. With necessary stops for meals and lodging, it stretched across two long weeks. And it wasn’t just the distance—there were the usual hazards to consider: bandit attacks, wild beasts, even the occasional monster.

Thankfully, this trip had been relatively uneventful. Matthias had seen to every detail with his usual precision, from securing the carriage to stocking all essential supplies. He had also mapped out the safest, most dependable route to Eisenwald. Save for the weariness that clung to them like a second skin, there had been no serious trouble.

That is, until they were ambushed just short of their destination.

Assassins struck near the outskirts of Eisenwald. But under harsh interrogation, the truth came loose: a nameless tycoon had paid a fortune to mercenaries, instructing them to find a limping woman. It didn’t take much for Odelliana to put the pieces together. The Duke of Grüsewald was still hunting her—desperately, it seemed.

The attack could have forced them to abandon the road entirely. Fortunately, Matthias handled the threat with swift and terrifying efficiency. Once lauded as the “God of War” and hailed a national hero, the man who had crushed the Probe uprising on his own proved more than a match for the mercenaries. They didn’t stand a chance—and he didn’t suffer so much as a scratch.

“If he’d chosen to be a mercenary instead of a knight,” Malena muttered, “he’d be drowning in gold by now.”

“He might make more money, sure,” came the reply, “but there’s a limit to how far a mercenary can rise.”

“Please,” Malena scoffed, “unless you’re born into nobility, who even thinks about rising? The nobles look down on everyone—even the richest merchants. If you don’t have the blood, all you can do is chase coin.”

She sounded genuinely disappointed that someone as exceptional as Matthias had chosen the knighthood over the lucrative freedom of a mercenary’s life. Odelliana, listening in silence, couldn’t help but share the sentiment.

“In a world like this,” Malena said quietly, “if all you have is skill and no backing, people will try to crush you every step of the way.”

“You really think Matthias is the kind of man who gets crushed?” Odelliana asked.

“No,” Malena replied. “What I worry is that he’ll be the one doing the crushing—without even realizing it. Aside from you, he keeps everyone at arm’s length. I’m not sure a rigid institution like the knighthood will ever truly accept him.”

“You say you dislike Matthias, but you certainly worry about him more than you let on.”

“Personal feelings aside, his abilities are nothing short of terrifying. Even as someone who once lived by the sword, I can’t help but admire him.” Malena’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh—look over there. That must be Eisenwald.”

She pointed out the window, and Odelliana followed her gaze.

“It’s larger than I expected,” she murmured.

“At its height, the population supposedly surpassed twenty thousand. Just going by its scale, it would’ve been considered a major city in its time.”

“And now it’s what—down to six thousand?”

“Roughly. The decline had already begun, but the former lord’s tyranny accelerated it. Drove out the people, strangled trade. It’s a miracle anyone remained.”

“I see.”

To Odelliana, Eisenwald wasn’t just a destination. It was a turning point. The place where she would rebuild everything she had lost. Restoring order to the fief and securing the people’s welfare wasn’t just duty—it was the bedrock of her second chance.

The Tribal Suppression War was set to begin next fall. In her past life, the war had ended swiftly, largely due to Matthias’s almost inhuman military prowess. But this time, the circumstances had changed. She couldn’t count on history repeating itself. The conflict could drag on, grinding down everything in its path.

Eisenwald’s location didn’t help matters. Too close to Anatolia Castle—a known hotspot during the last war. The risk of being caught in the flames of conflict was high. If the region’s fragile economy collapsed under the weight of war, unrest would follow. Rebellion would be inevitable.

“The city’s current state is grim,” she said softly. “But… not beyond saving. If I play this right, the crisis could become an opportunity.”

The Tribal Suppression War was one of the bloodiest chapters in Revelhorn’s history. But wars, for all their devastation, also opened the floodgates to profit. In chaos, there was leverage. In tragedy, the seed of power.

If she moved wisely, Eisenwald wouldn’t just survive the coming storm—it would rise because of it.

Even in times of war, there are always those who profit. Typically, such rewards fall into the hands of the elite—those shrewd enough to read the tides of power and act before the storm breaks. But Odelliana, armed with the foresight of a past life, was uniquely poised to seize something far more valuable than speculation: concrete, measurable gain.

Her immediate priority was clear—secure enough essential supplies to see Eisenwald through the approaching winter. Food, firewood, textiles, and furs were the minimum. But she wasn’t planning for an average winter. They would need to stockpile significantly more than usual to withstand not only the cold but the coming chaos.

Winter provisions needed to emphasize durability: crops that stored well and lasted long. Rare commodities like sugar and salt had to be acquired early, before scarcity drove prices through the roof. Minerals—especially iron and lead—would prove crucial not only for defense but for trade. If purchased now, while still relatively affordable, they could become a key revenue stream when war inflated demand.

But the real obstacle was Blair. Would he quietly go along with any of this?

Timing was everything. To turn a profit, these preparations had to be completed within the first half of the coming year. And that posed a problem—most territories didn’t begin winter stockpiling until after the autumn harvest. By then, it would be too late.

Even among proactive regions, few ever secured more than enough iron to arm their own knightly orders. And Eisenwald’s order was so small and underfunded, Blair would likely see any attempt to purchase surplus as wasteful, even reckless.

To make matters worse, the territory’s fragile budget was already destined to be poured into short-term relief—efforts aimed at quelling the growing unrest before it ignited into open rebellion. In such a tense and narrow financial climate, Odelliana’s ambitious foresight would be difficult to justify.

Even with knowledge of what was to come, shaping the present to serve her vision wouldn’t be easy.

“What on earth is that wall? How can anyone call this a fortress city?”

Odelliana exhaled sharply as Eisenwald’s crumbling fortifications came into view. The stone walls—once carved proudly from the surrounding limestone cliffs—were now chipped, cracked, and teetering on the edge of collapse. Years of complacency had left the city’s defenses in ruin, a monument to neglect in an age that had grown too comfortable with peace.

“Most provincial towns are the same,” Malena said. “If the region hasn’t seen conflict in decades, wall repairs are seen as a waste. Fixing them isn’t cheap—it takes a small army of laborers and more coin than most lords are willing to spare.”

And that kind of thinking, Odelliana thought grimly, was exactly how Anatolia Castle had fallen. Profit could wait. These walls couldn’t. If Eisenwald was to survive what was coming, restoring its defenses had to come first.

They passed through a yawning breach in the outer wall and soon reached the city gates—only to find an even more harrowing sight.

The ground outside was littered with human misery.

Dozens of people lay in the dust and dirt, emaciated and fevered, their bodies barely covered by tattered blankets. Their skin was pallid, their eyes sunken. A sickness had taken hold here—and so had despair. Only a handful of soldiers stood guard at the gates, their faces grim and distant.

“Who are all these people?” Odelliana asked.

“Patients,” came the quiet reply. “With no lord to lead them, the townsfolk cast them out themselves.”

“They drove out the sick?” Her voice sharpened with disbelief. “Why?”

“No one’s certain what the illness is. But they say it could be a serious plague. No one wants to take the risk.”

There had to be a physician within Eisenwald—someone with enough knowledge to offer a diagnosis, at the very least. But it was far more likely no one wanted to waste resources treating the poor. That alone was answer enough.

The carriage slowed to a halt at the checkpoint. Matthias dismounted and approached the guards, handling the inspection with quiet efficiency. A short exchange later, the massive gates groaned open, granting them passage.

And that was when the sick began to stir.

With trembling arms, they reached out toward the carriage, voices hoarse with desperation, begging—pleading—to be taken with them.

But the guards moved with ruthless indifference. Boots shoved bodies aside. Blades pointed to the dirt. The gates were cleared not with care, but cruelty, as though these were not people, but pests.

Forced to watch the merciless scene unfold, Odelliana felt a wave of revulsion rise in her chest—a sickness that clung to her even after the gates shut behind them and the cries of the desperate were left behind.

“We’ve arrived,” Matthias said.

The carriage came to a halt. He opened the door himself and offered his hand. Odelliana took it in silence, stepping down with measured grace as her eyes swept over the city before her.

The fortress loomed—vast, weatherworn, and hollowed by time. Its walls bore the scars of neglect, the stones heavy with the weight of a forgotten past.

She had fled the opulence of the Grüsewald estate, escaping the golden cage that had once bound her. But whatever flicker of hope she’d carried into this journey vanished the moment she laid eyes on Eisenwald. The reality of the city—and the bleak future she knew awaited it—settled over her like a pall.

As she crossed the threshold of the crumbling stronghold, a quiet truth echoed within her: the life that awaited her here might prove even harsher than the captivity she had just escaped.