The Grand Duke's Son Is A Heretic-Chapter 195

The crystalline throne room was silent save for the soft hum of the mana crystals embedded in the walls. The cold air carried the faint scent of pine and frost, untouched by blood or ash. Queen Alvera sat on her frozen throne, one leg crossed over the other, her chin resting gently on the back of her gloved hand, which lay upon the armrest like a sculpted ornament.

Her gaze was distant, contemplative — the kind of calm that only came after a storm.

The heavy doors creaked open.

An Ice Elf guard stepped in, his armor rimmed with frost and faint traces of soot still clinging to the edges. He walked briskly, stopping just short of the steps leading to her throne, bowing deeply.

"You summoned me, Your Highness?"

Alvera's voice floated down, smooth and sharp like a shard of polished ice. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

"Is it over?"

The guard looked up, his silver eyes meeting hers. "Yes, Your Highness… It's over. They have been taken care of thoroughly. No survivors..

Her chin rested lightly on the back of her hand, fingers adorned with crystalline rings. Her gaze, cold and unreadable, fixed itself on the Ice Elf guard kneeling below.

"Speak," she commanded, her voice laced with calm precision. "How did it end?"

The guard straightened, face drawn and serious. "It was Lord Kael, Your Highness… He was the one who ended it."

Alvera's brow lifted slightly.

"He killed them all. Brutally," the guard continued. "Not a trace of hesitation. He tore through their ranks like a storm, cutting them into pieces. It wasn't a battle — it was an execution."

Alvera's fingers stilled. "And the Nightstar commander?"

"They fought," he said, voice tightening with awe. "He didn't back down, not even once. Blow for blow — steel, frost, and fire. She was strong, but so was he."

She leaned forward slightly, eyes glinting. "However?"

The guard hesitated, then spoke gravely. "He was blasted, Your Highness. The commander struck him with a fireburst spell. It should have killed him — he burned. His body was scorched."

Alvera's lips parted slightly in intrigue.

"But… then something happened. He stood again. Healed. Whole. As if death itself rejected him. After that, none of the commander's attacks worked. Not even her soul-piercing blade could touch him."

A long silence followed.

Queen Alvera's frown deepened, her mind racing. Possibilities flickered in her gaze like lightning behind storm clouds. She sat in silence, calculating, shifting through ideas too dangerous to speak aloud.

At last, she exhaled softly, composed once more. "Have the scene cleared," she ordered, tone sharp.

"Yes, Your Highness. It's done. Every trace removed — though we left a few misleading signs… just enough to send them chasing shadows."

"Good," Alvera said.

"There's one more thing," the guard added, glancing around warily before stepping a little closer. "Reported by Iris… it seems Lord Kael used a forbidden spell. Something that drained lifespan — though we're not sure whose."

Queen Alvera's gaze turned icy. "Keep that to yourself. Tell no one — not even the other captains."

The guard bowed deeply. "As you command."

She leaned back, the frost throne groaning softly beneath her shifting weight. "Summon the Grand Chancellor. Tell him I'll grant him an audience shortly."

"At once, Your Highness."

The guard turned, footsteps silent over the frost-covered floor, disappearing into the mist at the edge of the hall.

Alvera sat still for a moment longer, eyes locked on nothing, her breath curling like smoke in the cold. Whatever Kael had done… It was only the beginning.

.....

In the grand icy hall of Frostwyn Citadel, the chill air carried a heavy silence. Ice Queen Alvera sat on her crystal throne, a thick scroll open in her pale hands. Her eyes were calm, but beneath the surface, a storm brewed. The report detailed the utter annihilation of the reconnaissance squad she had sent out — not a single trace left behind.

A faint flicker of light shimmered by the side of the throne, and with a gust of frosted wind, an old man in layered robes appeared. His white hair flowed down his back, and the staff he held tapped gently against the frozen floor.

"Your Highness," he began with a low sigh, his voice worn but still carrying weight, "was there truly a need to go that far?"

Alvera didn't speak immediately. Her slender fingers traced the last lines of the scroll. Then she looked up, her ice-blue eyes meeting the Chancellor's with quiet intensity. "It is."

The Chancellor raised an eyebrow. "May I ask why?"

Alvera closed the scroll and set it aside. Her voice was low, but steady. "The Night Star's movements are becoming bolder. It unsettles me. If we don't prepare now, we may be the first to fall when the storm begins."

The Chancellor's expression tightened. "What did you find?"

Alvera stood up, walking to the edge of the hall where the frost-covered windows looked out at the snow plains. "They're using mass weapons. Not spells. Machines. Guns. Mobile turrets. Mechanical beasts. Warfare is no longer limited to bloodlines and mana."

The Chancellor frowned. "They may be clever tools… but they hold little weight when true awakeners clash. Our divine archers would pierce through steel and smoke alike."

Alvera turned to face him, her tone sharper now. "That's where you're wrong, Elder. We can't afford to overlook this. May Be right now it seems insignificant. But those weapons add a layer of unpredictability to the battlefield."

She paced slowly, her breath curling in the air like mist. "They may look frail, but a well-aimed bullet can kill an F, E, maybe even a D-rank awakened — all without magic. And the one pulling the trigger isn't even awakened. That is the danger."

The old man's lips pressed together as he listened. He saw it now — not just caution in her words, but conviction. "You truly believe we've grown soft," he murmured.

"We've lived too quietly. Too peacefully. It's made us slow, Elder. Blind. While we meditated over ice and polished our art, others turned their forges and labs into weapons of war." Her fists clenched. "We scoffed at technology. And soon, it may bury us."

There was a moment of stillness. Then the Chancellor looked at her again — not as a young Queen barely past a century, but as a leader who had tasted the weight of consequence.

In her eyes, a fire burned — not hot like flame, but cold and sharp like ice that never melts.

"What do you plan to do, Alvera?" he asked quietly.

She smiled, the corner of her lips curling just slightly. It was not a smile of joy, but of decision.

"Deal," she said softly. "We start negotiating. We gather intel. And if needed… we build."