The Grand Duke's Son Is A Heretic-Chapter 121:The Northen Commander

"So what’s your name?"

"Albert Frost!"The man replied.

"I see."

Albert Frost didn’t waste time with pleasantries. His cold eyes skimmed over the group, dismissing them without a word. It was as if they didn’t even exist.

"Kael. Follow me," he said, already turning toward the fortress interior.

Everyone froze and looked at Kael in shock because he didn’t call him Lord.

Vic’s eyes twitched in irritation. "Tch. Who the hell does this guy think he is?" he muttered under his breath.

Kael didn’t even look back. He just smirked. "Relax, Vic. He’s just got a stick up his ass. Let’s see where this leads."

The halls of Black Fortress were worse than the battlefield outside. The floor was slick with dried blood, and the torches barely kept the shadows at bay. The walls bore deep gashes from past fights, some areas crumbling but still holding strong.

Albert led them deeper inside, his footsteps steady and confident. He acted like he owned the place, like nothing could shake him.

"The Grand Commander of the North wants to see you," Albert said, his tone flat.

Kael chuckled. "Well, aren’t I popular? Did he send a welcome party too?"

Albert ignored the comment. "Keep your mouth shut when you’re in his presence. He doesn’t tolerate foolishness."

Kael’s grin widened. "Oh? Sounds like my kind of guy."

They reached a heavy iron door guarded by two knights in black armor. Without a word, they stepped aside, opening the door to reveal a massive chamber.

Inside, a long table was set with maps, reports, and scattered weapons. The air was thick with the smell of ink, steel, and blood. And at the far end of the room sat the man himself—Grand Commander Robert Frost.

Kael’s grin faltered for just a moment before returning, sharper than before.

"Well, well... This just got interesting."

...

The air inside the war room grew heavy as Robert Frost’s sharp gaze bore into Kael, his presence like a blade pressing against the throat of the room. His very posture radiated command, each movement deliberate, his expression devoid of warmth. There was no patience for wit, no tolerance for anything less than absolute efficiency.

Kael strolled in like a man without a care in the world, his hands buried in his pockets, his steps slow, deliberate—mocking. His sharp grin never wavered as he surveyed the room, but his eyes gleamed with curiosity. "So, this fortress is still standing, huh?" His voice carried amusement, but there was a keen edge beneath it.

Robert did not blink. "Why? Did you expect it to fall?" His words were clipped, carrying the weight of stone, his tone colder than the ice beyond the fortress walls.

Kael tilted his head slightly, his smirk widening. "Of course not. But you have to admit, from the outside, it looked grim."

"The monster tide fell back six days ago. Their attacks have weakened." Robert spoke as if reciting a report, his voice devoid of emotion.

Kael’s smirk didn’t fade. "And yet, you didn’t send word. Letting your own allies believe you were finished—risky move."

Robert’s gaze sharpened, his eyes like twin spears. "If an army panics over rumors, then they are unworthy of the battlefield."

Kael chuckled, amused. "Clever. Keeping your enemies guessing while testing the loyalty of your own people. But that kind of gamble could have cost you. If the wrong people assumed the worst, Black Fortress might have truly been abandoned."

Robert met his gaze without flinching. "A leader who needs reassurance of his own survival has already lost."

Kael let out a low whistle. "That’s some serious faith in your walls. Or in yourself."

Robert did not respond immediately. Instead, he picked up a dagger from the table and tapped it lightly against the wood. "You speak of reinforcements. But tell me, Kael, how many of your men survived?"

Kael’s smirk twitched ever so slightly.

’I see.This man had already been informed about our battles.’

"Enough."

"Enough for what?" Robert’s voice was steady, but the weight behind his words was like a guillotine poised to drop.

Kael exhaled, shaking his head as if humoring a stubborn old man. "Enough to fight. Enough to win. Enough to bury the dead and keep moving forward." His voice lost its usual playfulness for a moment. "That’s all that ever matters, isn’t it?"

Robert finally set the dagger down, his fingers resting on the hilt. "Your losses were acceptable, then?"

Kael’s grin thinned. "I don’t ’accept’ losses, Sir Frost. I just don’t have the luxury of pretending they don’t happen."

A brief silence filled the room, thick and pressing.

Then, Robert moved.

A force surged from him, unseen yet crushing, like a storm confined within the walls. The atmosphere shifted instantly, the very air pressing down, suffocating. The war table groaned under an invisible pressure, and the iron sconces lining the walls flickered, their flames quivering as though cowering before an unseen predator. The weight of his power was like gravity itself bending to his will.

Every man in the room stiffened instinctively, breath catching, the temperature dropping as if the cold itself bowed to Robert’s will. A lesser man would have staggered.

Kael did not.

His grin didn’t waver, his stance remained relaxed, as if the crushing pressure were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. His crimson eyes gleamed, sharp and knowing.

Robert studied him, his gaze piercing. "If you are not afraid, you are either a fool or something worse."

Kael exhaled, his breath visible in the sudden chill. "Fear is a funny thing. It only works if you let it."

The room felt like it would crack under the pressure. Papers lifted from the table before fluttering to the ground, the weight of the very air thickening. The soldiers and officers standing nearby struggled to breathe, their bodies instinctively tensing under the sheer force of Robert’s presence.

And yet, Kael merely tilted his head, amused. "You trying to test me? Or just showing off?"

Robert’s cold eyes narrowed. Then, just as suddenly, the pressure vanished. The air returned to normal, the torches steadied, and the weight lifted, as if it had never been there at all.

Robert’s voice remained steady. "This battle isn’t over."

Kael rolled his shoulders as if shaking off a mild discomfort. "It never is."

Robert continued, his tone unchanged. "The retreating monster tide is not a victory. It is a shift. Something forced them back, and I intend to find out what."

Kael’s smirk remained, but his gaze sharpened. "You think someone’s pulling the strings?"

"Not controlling. Directing," Robert corrected. "Their movements were too calculated for mindless beasts. They attacked at full force, then withdrew all at once. That is not natural behavior."

Kael rubbed his chin, feigning deep thought. "So, you want me to dig around and find out who’s behind this?"

Robert’s expression didn’t change. "I want you to do what you came here to do. Fight."

Kael let out a short, low laugh. "I like your style Sir.You don’t even bother with pleasantries."

Robert met his gaze, his eyes as unyielding as steel. "This war has no place for pleasantries."

Kael leaned forward slightly, his grin sharp as a blade. "Then tell me, Commander, what’s your real play? You didn’t just hold this fortress to prove a point. You’re planning something, aren’t you?"

Robert studied him in silence before answering. "We will push forward."

Kael blinked, then his grin widened. "So that’s it. You’re not just defending. You’re taking the fight to them."

Robert didn’t confirm or deny it. He simply picked up the dagger again, the sharp edge catching the dim light. "If you’re not willing to move forward, you’re already dead."

Kael chuckled darkly. "That’s the smartest thing anyone’s said all day."

Robert finally looked away from him, addressing the others in the room. "Rest while you can. When the time comes, you will march."

Kael turned on his heel, heading for the door, his grin never fading. "Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be ready."

As he stepped out of the room, the air behind him still carried the lingering chill of Robert Frost’s presence.