The icy night wind swept through the valley, cutting across their faces like knives.
Louis led his party onto a trail toward Clearfeather Territory.
The mountain path was narrow, flanked by sheer rock walls, with just enough room to walk single file.
Riding was no longer possible. Everyone had dismounted and pulled hard on the reins, moving forward one after another.
"How... how is there a mountain path here?" Joern panted. He glanced down at the deep ravine beneath his feet, his scalp prickling. "It isn't marked on the map at all."
"It might be an old smuggling route," Louis replied casually, his expression calm. "An old hunter told me about it."
He offered no further explanation and continued leading the way.
Behind him, Bond silently observed the advancing party.
He was a secret envoy sent by the Governor, ostensibly to provide military advice, but in reality to watch for nobles who feigned obedience or betrayed the Empire.
He had been studying this force throughout the journey.
Every soldier carried a spare weapon. Their equipment was not ornate, but it was neat and practical, all designed for actual combat.
Their ranks were orderly, too. Even the supply troops bringing up the rear showed no sign of confusion.
Whenever Louis issued an order, even the soldiers at the very back responded immediately, without needing to be prodded.
They look like a carefully trained army, Bond thought. Not a hastily assembled force, much less those noble troops in the south who do nothing but put on airs.
Of course, what surprised him most was Louis himself.
The boy was young, yet his subordinates respected him from the heart.
He always walked at the head of the party, without attendants surrounding him or unnecessary words. Occasionally, he stopped to check the terrain, his