The rebels were forced to fall back when word reached them that the duchy's troops would soon be reinforced by the Crown Prince of Atlanta. But just as they turned to flee, Stellan's forces arrived, cutting off their escape. The prince ordered the attack and dismounted to fight on foot, carving his way through the enemy lines. He needed to push this body — to rebuild the strength and reflexes he'd had in his previous life. Complacency wasn't an option if he planned to keep his position as heir to the throne.
Stellan dealt killing blows without hesitation. There was no need to take prisoners today. His troops had the advantage — the rebels had been fighting for hours and were running on fumes. In the end, only a handful escaped, and Stellan ordered his men not to pursue. Splitting up wasn't wise when the enemy might have a trap waiting.
"Your Highness." A white-haired man reined in his horse near the prince and dismounted. "Greetings. I am Duke Von Kleist. Welcome to my territory."
"Duke, I heard what was happening and came personally to assist. I'm grateful you held the line until my arrival," Stellan replied.
"The honor is mine, Your Highness. It's my duty to protect this land," the Duke assured him.
The Duke led Stellan back to his camp and spread a map on the table. He pointed to a spot deep in the mountains.
"Few people know this, but there's a network of caves in this area. I've come to believe the rebels are using them as a hideout."
"That tracks. My own scouts haven't been able to locate them anywhere to the south." Stellan indicated the terrain around his own camp.
"If you'll allow it, I'll send my best scouts to investigate. The moment they find anything, you'll be the first to know."
"Then I'll leave it in your hands, Duke. I trust you." Stellan accepted the offer.
According to the story he knew, Duke Von Kleist had been the imperial family's most reliable ally for years. That loyalty had earned him a seat on the court and a role as one of the Emperor's most trusted advisors.
The Von Kleists weren't just politically important — they were a family of powerful mages, their bloodline carrying the legacy of an ancestor who'd been a demon. Every descendant was born with gray eyes and white hair, proof that their progenitor had been demon royalty. Stellan understood the value of keeping the Duke on his side — something the original Stellan had forgotten, all because he'd gotten obsessed with a plain, graceless girl.
Well, that's how protagonists work — adorable and stupid. Men must be truly desperate to fight over a woman like that. He made a face of disgust.
That night, Stellan and his troops rested at the Duke's camp. Miles away, at the Von Kleist mansion, a beautiful young woman with white hair and gray eyes stood at her window. Darkness blanketed the grounds, the only lights coming from guards making their rounds before returning to their posts. They were securing everything they could — the wind was picking up, turning cold and fierce. A storm was coming.
A soft knock came at her door. At her permission, a maid with black hair and dark eyes stepped inside.
"My lady, all doors and windows have been secured. Don't forget to close yours and draw the curtains," the maid said.
"I will, Amelia. Any news of my father?"
"He's still in the north. The rebels have pushed into the duchy's territory, and with this storm, it'll likely cause complications," Amelia replied.
"Then we need to prepare. If the storm hits hard, Father will need fresh supplies and materials to restore the camp."
"I'll have everything ready at first light. We'll leave as soon as the storm passes," Amelia assured her.
The young woman nodded. After closing the window, she stood in silence, watching the sky darken as the wind grew more violent. It was going to be a restless night.
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