How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 673: Frozen North 5

Long before his arrival at the academy, Count Roverick had caught wind of the rumors, spread by traders and warriors alike—yet now, standing in this spot, he understood that not one of those tales had captured even a fraction of the truth.

The aura emanating from this youth surpassed every overblown story he had brushed off as nonsense.

"Since we’re set for a truly rewarding discussion," Snow stated with composure, "shall we shift to a more secluded spot?"

Her suggestion pulled Roverick from his whirlwind of reflections—blending intrigue with a subtle, gut-level dread aimed at Riley.

"Y-Yes, certainly..." he answered promptly.

Soon enough, the party settled onto the balcony on the second floor, gazing down at the lavish hall underneath.

Though positioned beyond the mansion’s core chambers, the atmosphere up here seemed cut off from everything else.

This assembly drew the finest from business circles and aristocratic ranks, and the safeguards matched that prestige.

Enchantments were inscribed along the balustrades, concealed in the stonework, and integrated into the very ground below.

Even Klaus, a battle-hardened knight with scant talent for sorcery, picked up on the subtle hum.

Nothing audible leaked from this area. No outsider could pierce its veil.

It was obvious—no eavesdroppers would catch a whisper here.

Roverick arrived at the identical insight.

Spotting the momentary confusion crossing their faces, Snow curved her lips into a subtle grin.

"Fufu... what a marvel of magic, right? Relax, please. This kind of safeguard covers the whole estate, should doubts linger."

Grasping the gentle assurance in her tone, Roverick inclined his head.

"Pardon our lack of knowledge, Your Highness," he uttered with deference. "Such advanced magic... it’s uncommon up North."

"No worries," Snow answered casually. "At times, not knowing is a mercy. Trust me—the layers of concealed embarrassments, deceptions, and covert transactions hidden in this place right now probably outnumber the horrors unfolding outside."

She released a light laugh.

Roverick dipped his head in concurrence.

Impressive though it was, the spellwork quietly highlighted the ethics of the heartlands—where might and discretion intertwined seamlessly.

"While I’d love to chat about ventures in the core territories," Snow murmured gently, "I doubt that’s what you came for tonight."

She advanced, halting close to the balcony’s rim.

Lunar light bathed her form, lending an ethereal, dreamlike shimmer.

Afterward, she pivoted to face him again.

"Count Roverick," she went on, "before diving in... might you share the real state of affairs in the North at present?"

As she spun around, a dense aura filled the atmosphere.

It lacked brute force or crushing might—just the gravity of the figure before him.

When Snow’s bright, sapphire eyes locked with Roverick’s, accompanied by a soft smile, the veteran noble gulped unwittingly.

He had encountered the princess once, ages back on a seldom trip to the capital.

Yet the girl from his memory had vanished.

Standing there now was a figure far more poised... and far more perilous in her unique manner.

Roverick steadied himself silently and looked aside, his gaze shifting from Klaus to Riley.

Putting Riley out of mind, a doubt nagged at him—was it fitting to let his attendant overhear this exchange?

Klaus grasped much of the circumstances already, yet he fretted that the princess might view it as rude for a lowly retainer of his standing to linger.

"Klaus, step outsi—"

"If it’s about your attendant, he’s welcome to remain."

Snow cut in, offering another mild smile, as though she had scanned his intentions.

"He probably knows the full picture already. Sending him off now would just heighten the oddity of this secretive gathering."

Roverick halted, then agreed with a nod.

"Got it. Sorry for my oversight."

Snow voiced no criticism—merely a serene, comforting smile as the talk at last shifted to the North.

Catching the signal, Roverick drew in a deep breath and organized his mind, pondering the ideal starting point.

The instant he began speaking, the details flowed without pause.

He described the initial warnings—tiny hamlets falling quiet, scouting teams vanishing.

Next arrived the surges. Early on, they proved containable.

Then fiercer beasts started showing up, not solo, but blended into the swarms.

Accounts morphed into desperate calls, and those calls faded into nothingness.

When he wrapped up, about fifteen minutes had ticked by.

"I see..."

Snow propped her chin on her palm, her forefinger grazing her face as she absorbed all the details. Moments later, she nodded faintly.

"So, things are much more dire than the dispatches indicated..."

"The updates we forwarded were truthful," Roverick responded softly. "But ink on scrolls can’t capture the chaos unfolding in the field."

Snow’s eyes narrowed a touch.

"So you’re still holding back the surges?"

"Indeed. We’ve turned away each assault until now." He gripped his hand tightly. "However, if clusters of S-rank beasts—or something worse—keep emerging, my knights and forces alone won’t maintain order in the North, Your Highness."

He faltered, then lowered his head a bit.

"Pardon my boldness... but we require the Grand Duke’s intervention. Just having him there isn’t cutting it anymore."

Snow observed the elder noble wordlessly.

No hype colored his words—only weariness and control.

From his tale, the crisis in the North dwarfed any formal bulletin.

Whole settlements near the edges had been wiped out.

Fleeing crowds streamed southward in their own tides, and fatalities climbed daily.

The North’s folk were tough—forged by frost, combat, and trials.

But everyone reached a breaking point eventually.

Regardless of their sword mastery or tactical precision, a beast surge remained a relentless deluge—myriads of fiends charging ahead, fearless, tireless, ruthless.

And eventually... even the mightiest barriers would fracture.

"I grasp your worries," Snow stated evenly, her tone firm and collected, "yet the Grand Duke’s actions lie outside my control. He heeds solely my father—His Majesty’s explicit commands. You must realize by now that he’s been sent on a task apart from the support you anticipated."

"I–I understand... so it was indeed that way..." Roverick whispered, a hint of resentment creeping in before he quelled it.

Snow pressed on, heading off any budding hopelessness.

"But don’t worry. I’ve learned that his directives encompass securing the North too. Though the Grand Duke leads no private troops, I expect his knight order to head there shortly. They’ll safeguard a broader expanse than he could handle solo."

Roverick’s eyes grew wide.

"Is... is that really true, Your Highness?"

"Yes."

That lone reply sufficed.

A rush of optimism flooded the aged count, vivid and unshakable.

For the first time in Lumen, he sensed his journey hadn’t been pointless.

One major flaw they battled wasn’t insufficient might—but inadequate reach.

The North stretched endlessly, its frontiers vast and vulnerable.

With the Grand Duke there, threats could still slip past and hit other areas.

But the Grand Duke’s knight order—

Warriors honed by the continent’s top blade master.

Their mere arrival would ward off numerous dangers.

Dispersed along the lines, they could bolster frail spots, guard escape paths, and grant weary outposts a chance to recover.

Roverick stood taller, ready to incline and express profound thanks.

Then a realization hit.

What of the origin?

What of the dungeon breach—the core rift spewing these endless beast floods into reality?

And the rival noble clans? Those with riches, forces, and sway, able to provide relief?

As Snow’s words sank in, a troubling notion took shape.

Even the Grand Duke’s knights... were set for defense.

If not the duke... who would halt the surges for good?

The query seared through Roverick’s thoughts.

Regardless of embarrassment, he prepared to voice it once more—willing to push boundaries if needed—

Snow’s words sliced through before he uttered a sound.

"I’m certain you wonder about the other noble families who could aid you," she noted steadily. "Set those ideas aside. I’ve turned down and blocked every proposal of assistance from them myself."

The statement struck like a blow.

A hush descended.

"I... what did you say?" Roverick managed eventually.

Blocked them?

When?

For what reason?

Wouldn’t resolving it swiftly make the most sense?

The prolonged breach meant mounting casualties. Her logic escaped him completely.

"Yes," Snow proceeded, unfazed by his shock. "I get that you’re concerned. But rest easy, Count. The North’s issue will be addressed... by me directly."

"..."

"Pardon?" he uttered at length.

A gentle giggle slipped from her.

"Fufu. Together with Riley, I’ll handle the dungeon breach—the root of it all—personally."

Her tone stayed mild.

"So feel free to relax when we head north shortly~"

Its implications were anything but.

Before Roverick could react, Snow moved ahead, already facing away as though the topic was resolved.

She sought no consent.

She awaited no clarity.

By the moment the count comprehended, Riley—who had lingered quietly at her side throughout—had vanished too.

"My lord..." Klaus’s anxious tone drifted to him, soft and remote.

"......"

"......."

"Uhm Lord....?"

"......"

Roverick offered no reply.

A single idea looped endlessly in his head, declining to fade.

The princess... plans to tackle the dungeon herself?

Didn’t this... spawn a whole fresh set of troubles all around?

Though the brief exchange seemed to grant his wishes, the burden felt even weightier now.