Several hours later, I close the journal, thoughts racing.

I have to wonder if anyone in Victory has taken the time to read this work. I doubt it. This is not a bed of scholars. There is also the problem that the work is not in Common, the language used in the kingdom, but is written in one of the ancient languages. Thankfully, one known to the imp in my lap who has served as my translator.

From my short conversation with the duke upon our first meeting, the understanding of the inhabitants of Victory is that my ancestor, who unfortunately doesn’t name themselves but I can at least guess they are an older man, failed. The war continued, the knights constantly venturing into the north to beat back the monsters that would overwhelm them if left alone for so much as a year.

It’s offensive how far this is from the truth. According to this journal, there are two factions in the north. The monsters led by the Lords of the Peaks, who are powerful manabeasts that have made their lairs at the top of the looming mountains. They are the threat who once overran Victory and marched armies into the kingdom, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

The other faction is the Lords of Winter. From my ancestor’s description of them, intelligent beings who live deep in the north. Civilized beings who live at the base of another mountain referred to as the Heart of Ice in buildings built of compacted snow, simple dwellings that hide the true civilization under the earth.

To my annoyance, my ancestor doesn’t describe the Lords of Winter. He does ponder about their origins, wondering if they could be from another realm because of their strangeness, but apparently didn’t have the guts to make real inquiries. To be fair, he was under the pressure of war. People were dying in droves from the assault of the Lords of the Peaks. He didn’t have time to indulge in curiosity.

However, he did prove successful in his task. The Lords of Winter wanted nothing to do with the war and, more importantly, they didn’t want humanity in the north. My ancestor convinced them that if they did not intervene, humanity would come in droves. They would use all means available and the Lords of Winter would be lumped into the conflict.

It was enough. Somehow, the Lords of Winter convinced the Lords of the Peaks to withdraw their armies and both parties swore an oath. The monstrous hordes of the north would stay beyond the Bleak Peaks and the humans would before it. So long as both kept to their end of the bargain, there would be peace.

My ancestor also swore a personal oath that our family would not unleash some flesh-eating rabid monstrosity that would decimate both sides. It wasn’t that my ancestor left in disgrace. The commander of the northern forces at the time offered him a permanent position but he left to keep his end of the bargain.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

His last act was to warn them that while a bargain had been struck, there would be the few manabeasts that were too simple or too accustomed to blood to obey the will of the Lords of the Peaks. One of his last entries in the journal speaks about the plans to build a fort to block the largest path through the mountains, where the monsters had poured out of before. Winterwall. The original name of Victory, before its commander was given the noble title of James and governance of its surrounding territory.

This…has a lot of implications.

First, damn this kingdom to the Abyss. My family stopped a full-out war with the Lords, a war the kingdom was losing, and we still were beaten and thrust into obscurity. What does it take to earn a little respect? What is the point of stupid things like honor and debts of gratitude? Is there any meaning in service? In reputation? Why bother doing great deeds if they are buried in two or three generations? It’s sickening.

My emotions aside, the second and more important implication is I almost screwed over the entirety of Harvest. If this journal is right, establishing an outpost in the north will re-ignite the war between the Lords of the Peaks and Harvest. If the Lords of Winter think humanity has gone back on their oath and plan to unleash monstrosities from a thousand realms, they’ll likely get involved. The journal makes no mention of their strength but if they are strong enough to convince the Lords of the Peaks, their abilities can’t be simple. Meaning, it would be worse than the war that prompted the ceasefire. The kingdom is not the predator it was in those days, grown fat and lazy from peace. It would be a slaughter.

What a mess.

“Bell?”

“Coo~”

“What are my chances of convincing Victory to stop their assaults on the north?”

“Cooo.” [Impossible, Master Lou. The entirety of their culture and their economy is centered around their war with the north. They will say that the journal is one, uncollaborated source. There is no way to know if it is the truth. You will do nothing but make enemies.]

“About what I expected.” I slump in my chair with a heavy sigh. “They don’t have to change though? They just need to keep doing what they’re doing. Go in, kill some manabeasts, get out.”

“Coo coo!” [They fight for victory. While it would be no different from the status quo, they would first have to concede any possibility of winning.]

“I’d be better off asking them to throw themselves on their swords.” I sigh again before standing. Carefully, I place the journal back into its box and close it. Scooping Bell into my arms, I walk back to Alana’s room.

I have a lot of questions about what I’ve just read and the north in general but two things are clear. One, I’m going to have to scrap my plans. That’s a lot of gold and effort out the window. Alana isn’t going to be happy, hearing that her family has been leading the charge to Harvest’s destruction for generations. I wonder if she’ll even believe me. No, she has no choice. I have to convince her because the plan has to change.

Which brings me to the second thing I’m sure of. I have to find the Lords of Winter. Not to bring back one of their skulls for Kierra to mount on our wall but on a mission of peace. I need proof that what the journal says is true. That’s the only way I’ll ever convince the duke and his knightly orders. There’s no telling if they’ll be willing to listen but that is a road to cross once I reach it.