On the second day after Louis returned, heavy clouds hung low over Red Tide Castle, as though the entire Northern Frontier were holding its breath.
Louis put on his military robe and bade farewell to his two wives in their room.
Emily gently straightened his collar, but an unspoken worry lingered in her eyes.
Sif said nothing. She merely held his hand for a while, then let go.
But time was short, and tender comforts could not keep him there.
Louis left the room with firm steps.
Every second of delay meant another territory falling, another batch of insect corpses being born.
The meeting hall in the castle of the Red Tide Fief.
They had met here several months ago, but the atmosphere now was utterly different.
Nobles from across the region filled both sides of the long table. Some looked haggard, some had shifting eyes, and more sat with their heads lowered in silence, their faces ashen.
Some had been rescued from the sea of insects by Louis himself. Others had fled desperately to Red Tide before their own fortresses fell.
No one spoke. Only the wind slipped through the gaps in the windows, carrying the late-winter chill of the Red Tide Fief.
Louis stood before the head of the table. There were no pleasantries or greetings. He simply surveyed them with a calm, cold gaze.
The nobles either lowered their heads or stole glances at his expression. All looked grave, as though they already sensed that this would be no mild discussion.
Louis remained silent for a moment, then raised his hand and pointed at the enormous map of the Northern Frontier in the center of the table.
"Gentlemen, you should know what state the Northern Frontier is in."
His voice was not loud, but every word sank