Chapter 72

After the harvest season ended and the first signs of winter crept in, the days grew shorter, and even the midday wind carried a biting chill. In response, Eisenwald moved swiftly to brace for the cold ahead.

Crops purchased at low prices from regions battered by the rainy season were transported in bulk by hired mercenaries. The deliveries arrived on schedule, filling the granaries to the brim. Perishable goods were sorted and dried without delay, while relief supplies were neatly categorized and stacked, leaving every storage facility fully stocked.

The most urgent food shortages were swiftly addressed. Ample reserves of firewood and animal pelts had also been secured, ensuring the city would not be caught unprepared when the bitter cold took hold.

With the donations and relief goods exceeding expectations, the immediate crisis has been averted. I can finally breathe a little easier, Odelliana thought, releasing a quiet sigh of relief.

When winter preparations fall short, mortality rates rise and the threat of disease spreads quickly. Every resident of the territory represented a vital part of the labor force, and minimizing peasant casualties during the winter months was always the lord’s highest priority.

This year, winter preparations had been Blair and Odelliana’s greatest concern. But thanks to the influx of generous donations following the Vanagand incident—and the steadfast support of Duke Schaller, their liege—their burden had eased far more quickly than expected.

…Just like Matthias said, she recalled.

The emergence of the monstrous beast Vanagand had been a nightmare, a calamity that could have devastated the city. Yet paradoxically, it brought with it an unexpected revival. Eisenwald, once stagnant and forgotten, began to stir with new life.

Travelers arrived in droves. Mercenary companies from across the continent flooded in, drawn by the chance to hunt the high-grade magical beast. Behind them came merchants, their wagons loaded with wares, eager to profit from the sudden surge in demand. Many ended up settling in the city alongside the warriors. Contrary to Odelliana’s fears, few residents had chosen to flee the territory.

Once winter fully took hold, the castle began distributing food daily to each district. For commoners without fireplaces or insulated homes, emergency tents and braziers were set up in public squares, offering warmth and shelter. Winter goods were handed out generously, transforming the open spaces into communal havens against the cold.

Throughout the bitter winter, Blair tirelessly toured every corner of Eisenwald, personally checking on the people’s welfare. Meanwhile, Odelliana spent each day at the poorhouses without rest, assisting with food distribution and care.

Thanks to how smoothly the operations unfolded, Eisenwald survived what should have been its harshest winter with barely a scratch. Where dozens of winter casualties were once the norm, this season’s death toll had fallen into the single digits—a remarkable achievement by any measure.

When spring finally arrived, Lord Blair began receiving widespread praise for his hands-on leadership. Public support for the young, foreign-born lord soared. His decision to distribute food generously and provide free supplies to the poor had won him not only gratitude but loyalty.

The long months had taken a toll on him. Blair had grown noticeably thinner, and his face was worn with fatigue, but the weight of hardship was eased by the knowledge that they had made it through safely.

“Everyone has worked so hard,” Blair said one morning, standing before his gathered staff. His voice was quiet but steady. “We faced a major crisis, but thanks to your unity and dedication, we overcame the worst of it. I especially regret not being able to care for those of you within the castle. Still… thank you for holding the line in silence.”

With the worst behind them, Blair hosted a modest celebration in the castle, inviting all the staff he hadn’t been able to properly attend to during the brutal season. It was a gesture of apology, and perhaps a bit of relief.

Aside from the young maid Odelliana had brought from the poorhouse, most of the attendees were well into their years, and every one of them looked upon Blair with pride, like an adopted son.

The evening began with lighthearted laughter and the warmth of shared success. Champagne was popped. A whole roast pig was brought out, its scent filling the hall. They toasted, feasted, and exchanged stories with the ease of a family reunited after a long absence.

It was happiness.

Odelliana felt it settle into her bones—the warmth, the comfort, the quiet joy of belonging. The people in this castle had become precious to her. They treated her not with pity or distance, but with kinship.

And yet, the deeper she sank into that happiness, the more her chest tightened with a growing unease.

There’s really less than half a year left now.

War had a weight all its own—one she knew all too well. She had stood on the frontlines before, had seen horror face-to-face. But this time felt different. More terrifying. Maybe because now she stood in the place of the “weak.” Or maybe because all she could do was watch from the sidelines.

As the time of the Tribal Suppression War drew near, the nightmares grew more frequent.

This peaceful haven—this place she had helped build with such care—would soon be reduced to rubble again. If the war reached this far, if it dragged Eisenwald into its maw, even those inside these castle walls, Marco, who had treated her like family, might not survive it.

And all of Blair’s tireless efforts, his sleepless nights, his unwavering hope, would be buried with them.

Joy and fear warred inside her as she sipped her wine, the two emotions intertwining like smoke. Though laughter echoed from the banquet hall behind her, Odelliana couldn’t fully relax. The weight of what lay ahead pressed in too closely.

It was then that Malena, who had stepped out of the castle briefly, approached her with a rare seriousness in her expression.

“Miss,” she said quietly, “may I have a word?”

Odelliana nodded and followed her out onto the balcony, where the cool night air bit at their skin.

“What is it?” she asked, setting down her glass.

“You asked me to keep an eye on the barbarians’ movements,” Malena began.

Odelliana nodded again. Malena’s background as a former mercenary made her uniquely suited for intelligence work—her wide web of contacts across mercenary bands and border towns had proven useful more than once.

“I just got word from my people in Revelhorn,” Malena continued. “Something’s off.”

Odelliana’s brow furrowed. “Off how?”

“You remember Köbeck? In Anatolia? The place where they took Sir Matthias?”

“Yes,” she replied slowly. “It was a slum, right?”

“It was. It burned down last year—completely leveled. The residents scattered, the area was sealed off. Nobody goes near it anymore. Or so we thought.”

Odelliana stilled.

Malena leaned in slightly, her tone lowering. “Recently, people have started gathering near that place again.”

“Barbarians?”

“Yes. More precisely, groups of barbarian men have been moving into the mountain range connected to Köbeck. And not just locals—men from all over the country are converging there.”

That many outsiders gathering in one place, in secret, was no coincidence. Not with war on the horizon.

Odelliana’s mind raced. They must be building something. Hiding in the mountains, setting up supply routes, organizing camps—getting ready to lay siege to Anatolia Castle.

“Thank you for the report,” she murmured.

Malena hesitated, then asked, “Their movements are definitely suspicious… but can I ask? Why are you so fixated on tracking the barbarians?”

Odelliana paused before answering, her voice quiet but firm.

“I’ve heard rumors… that they’re forming an army. Preparing to ignite a civil war.”

“…A civil war?”

Malena didn’t react with shock. Instead, she gave a short, disbelieving laugh—dry, edged with skepticism.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

Odelliana didn’t flinch. “The barbarians have been oppressed by Reveln for generations. They’ve never been recognized as citizens—only treated as vagrants and vermin. If they did start a civil war, would it really be so surprising?”

Malena crossed her arms, frowning. “They don’t have the numbers for that. Even if they tried, they’d be crushed before they made it past the first town.”

It was a perfectly reasonable assessment—on the surface, at least.

Malena had no way of knowing that the barbarians weren’t acting alone. That they’d been receiving covert support from the neighboring kingdoms of Leroschel and Ervaden.

Even if Odelliana told her outright, Malena would probably laugh it off as a conspiracy theory. After all, what powerful kingdom would bother backing a band of scattered nomads? No, she’d dismiss it without hesitation.

Blair likely would too.

Still, it was time to speak. They couldn’t afford to delay any longer.

The war wouldn’t start tomorrow, but by the next harvest season, the first sparks would fly. And when it did, Eisenwald needed to be ready—not just for battle, but for siege. For survival.

They needed to be prepared to hold out for three years.

Odelliana turned to Malena, her voice calm but certain. “Malena, you need to understand what an incredible job you’ve done.”

Malena blinked, caught off guard. “…Excuse me?”

“You brought back golden information,” Odelliana said with a small smile. “Now it’s time I speak seriously with my brother.”

Without wasting another moment, she turned and left the balcony.

I wonder how Blair will take the intelligence Malena uncovered.

She headed straight for his study, where Marco greeted her with a respectful bow and ushered her inside. A fresh tray of tea and light refreshments awaited on the side table.

“Where’s the lord?” she asked.

“He’s bathing,” Marco replied. “He just returned from inspecting the outer wall repairs—he was covered head to toe in dust.”

“How are the repairs coming along?”

“Smoothly,” Marco said with a hint of pride. “At this rate, we’ll finish before winter sets in.”

“That’s faster than I expected.”

“We’ve been lucky,” he admitted. “There are plenty of mercenaries stationed nearby, so finding labor hasn’t been a problem. And with the lord personally inspecting the site each day, no one dares to slack off.”

Odelliana gave a quiet chuckle. “I doubt anyone would relax in front of Blair.”

Marco smiled. “No one matches the lord’s diligence. Thanks to him, the men groan and grumble every day—but the work gets done. And that’s what matters.”

It wasn’t a task that could be completed on a shoestring budget or minimal effort. The scale required leadership, persistence, and constant oversight.

Blair had fulfilled all of those duties without complaint.

Odelliana’s chest warmed with something that almost felt like pride.

In the wreckage of the life she’d been dealt, Blair had become something rare.

Her first true ally.

And for that, she was deeply, quietly grateful.

“Did I keep you waiting long?”

The voice came from behind. Odelliana turned to see Blair approaching, still towel-drying his damp hair, a robe loosely tied around his waist.

“What brings you here?” he asked, his tone casual, his expression relaxed—fresh from a bath and clearly unaware of the storm that was about to be handed to him.

But the moment she spoke, the ease in his face vanished like steam in the wind.

“I came to talk seriously,” Odelliana said quietly. “About a war that might break out soon.”