How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 684: Frost Queen 3

Within the grand duke's office, a thick silence weighed down the air.

Heaps of paperwork cluttered the expansive desk—army dispatches, logistics paths, beast movement records, and correspondence marked with royal emblems.

The grand duke carefully examined each one in turn, his actions deliberate while his thoughts raced far beyond, already deciding what details to relay to the emperor and which to hold back for the moment.

Right as he placed one sheet to the side—

He sensed it.

A figure approaching.

Even before the entrance swung wide, his red eyes rose from the tabletop.

The guards posted at the door responded a moment behind, snapping to attention as they gripped the latch.

The sturdy doors groaned as they parted, admitting a single individual.

A weathered veteran of endless conflicts.

Scratches marred his plate armor, worn not from disregard but from prolonged service.

He held himself rigidly upright, trained and precise, though fatigue was clearly carved into his face—a weariness stemming from more than just time, but from battles endured time and again.

"Your Grace..."

The man dipped into a profound bow.

"Count Roverick," the grand duke answered, standing gradually from his seat. "You've come back."

"Yes," Roverick confirmed, raising his gaze. "Thankfully, the goddess spared me any ordeals on the journey home."

The remark came off lightly.

Far too lightly.

The grand duke's stare grew a touch keener.

"I understand," he responded evenly. "It seems your time at the academy brought some lucky developments."

In the briefest instant—

The count went rigid.

The shift was faint, barely noticeable, yet his frame tightened and his breathing faltered until composure reasserted itself.

His face evened out, the seasoned fighter regaining full command.

That momentary slip hadn't gone unseen by the grand duke.

Entertaining.

Few elements in this realm could still rattle Count Roverick—not pupils, aristocrats, or school intrigues.

Yet the unexpected arrival of those pair...

It required little deduction to connect the dots on what transpired during the count's trip, particularly with the character of the summons he'd gotten.

The grand duke permitted a subtle, insightful grin.

Looks like my niece is indeed taking after her mother more each day...

The idea hung there, laced with admiration and a hint of concern.

Still, Snow had forever been keen.

Strategic. Watchful beyond measure.

Maybe this sharpness wasn't newly acquired—perhaps it had always been hers.

A hereditary quality, no doubt.

The grand duke motioned smoothly to the chair opposite his desk.

"Take a seat," the grand duke instructed evenly. "You appear to carry a heavy load of news."

"I thank you for the consideration, Your Grace," Count Roverick answered, tone firm, "though I'd rather stand for the time being."

"Very well."

The grand duke let it drop.

To many aristocrats, such a refusal might signal rebellion—a direct challenge to a duke's power.

Yet these two were past youth and folly.

They had faced crimson fields, laid fallen allies to rest, and witnessed empires transform.

No offense lurked here, merely routine and wariness.

Roverick remained in his knight's plating instead of the formal garb he seldom donned.

The steel showed nicks, functional, and broken in where it counted.

It suited a soul braced for combat, ready should another beast surge breach the barriers without warning.

"Your journey must have drained you, Count," the grand duke remarked, facing him squarely. "Relax a bit, please. I promise you—no beast surges will strike today."

"Such matters are never guaranteed, Your Grace," Roverick countered promptly.

A subtle curve touched the duke's mouth.

"I won't force you to shed what brings you comfort," he stated. "But do attempt some respite, if only temporarily. The folk around here depend on you for safety. Spotting you worn—or heaven forbid, diminished—would only heighten their dread."

He halted, eyes piercing but genuine.

"I might hold the rank of mightiest in these territories, but it's your strength they believe in, Count. This domain leans on you far beyond what you know."

Roverick parted his lips to protest—then held back.

The statement landed deeper than anticipated.

With a soft inhale, the count's frame finally relaxed, strain fading from his bearing.

He understood full well that endless strain would erode his determination over time.

And if one person existed whose counsel he could rely on in ordinary or outlandish affairs, it was the grand duke before him.

"...All right," Roverick conceded eventually. "Only for the moment."

The grand duke nodded faintly, content.

Noting the count held no more to say, the grand duke prepared to send him off when—

"Your Grace..."

"Hm?"

"There's... an issue I need to bring up,"

Count Roverick uttered deliberately.

"It isn't tied straight to my academy dealings—but it's something I feel demands a private word, if we can."

While talking, his eyes darted momentarily to the guards inside the chamber.

Grasping at once, the grand duke raised a hand in a discreet signal.

The guards moved without delay.

Silently, they stood tall, inclined their heads, and left the space, the solid doors sealing shut with a muffled boom.

Quiet enveloped the room.

"Well then," the grand duke uttered finally, voice balanced, "what's this vital news you want to disclose?"

Roverick let out a gentle breath, as though measuring his phrasing.

"Her Imperial Highness... Princess Snow, has told me of her plan to handle the beast crisis in the north herself."

"..."

The grand duke held his silence at first.

He was already aware.

"...."

"...."

For an extended stretch, the chamber stayed hushed, the duke's red eyes staring into emptiness as myriad scenarios surged in his thoughts.

"...Understood," he murmured at length.

And that was all.

?????

.....

At the same time—by the initial access to the Frozen Castle Dungeon.

An elderly figure lingered among mounds of twisted meat and iced cadavers, his slender form quivering—not from chill, but from sheer delight.

Botched attempts filled the area.

Deformed bodies, incomplete horrors, trials that had crumbled short of fruition.

Yet on this occasion—

This occasion stood apart.

His wrinkled visage burned crimson as he gazed upon the fruit of his tireless efforts.

The gloom ahead throbbed gently, shape unsteady but compliant, twisting like it drew breath.

A thrill coursed down the old man's back.

"Ah... ahh..." he gasped, swept by ecstasy.

He dropped to his knees gradually, with devotion, like facing a holy shrine.

"Hello," he murmured.

The single term rippled the atmosphere.

A broad, deranged grin spread over his features as he extended a hand to softly stroke the crown of the entity forged purely from darkness.

His handiwork.

No—his offspring.

"My masterpiece," he cooed tenderly. "Won't you come to daddy?"

With his utterance, the shadowy form stirred.

And then—scarcely detectable—it inclined its head.

The old man chuckled quietly, the noise resounding overly joyfully down the icy corridors.

The trial had triumphed.

...

When Riley and Snow at last arrived at the dungeon threshold, they both came to a stop on pure reflex.

A massive gateway rose ahead, its immense span seeming less an opening and more a rift slashed into reality.

They had braced for something grand—given the ice behemoths, wyrms, and enormous beasts that had obstructed their path—but the raw magnitude still stunned.

The arch soared upward into the glacial sky, a churning vortex of light-blue and white energy spinning ceaselessly in its core.

Ice crystals spiked the nearby earth in sharp formations, as though the terrain bore wounds from the gateway's existence.

Each throb of energy it emitted bore an overpowering force, squeezing the torso like an unseen grip.

Not fierce.

Not hostile.

Merely... total.

"...We're here, huh," Riley whispered.

Snow dipped her head silently.

Their trek to this spot had seemed simple on the surface—no side paths, no pauses, only a firm advance. But ease was far from the truth.

With each mile covered, the foes had intensified, become more unified, more unyielding.

And along their route, traces of carnage trailed—snapped restraints, demolished enclosures, congealed crimson flecking the white expanse.

This held no semblance of a chase zone.

It served as a reaping trail.

Snow tightened her hold on her staff just a bit.

She commanded formidable frost sorcery, incantations that had once sufficed amply.

Yet the abrupt surge of elite beasts had compelled her to strain her invocation pace and energy mastery to extremes.

Several times, without Riley's intervention—slashing foes, carving room, pulling threats—she might have failed to complete a cast in time.

"Hoh..." Snow breathed out deliberately, a misty vapor drifting from her mouth.

Riley eyed her. "Feeling the nerves kick in hard now?"

"I'd be dishonest if I claimed otherwise," she confessed straightforwardly, stare locked on the gateway.

"This portal by itself reminds me of facing Rose at full power with her aura unleashed."

Riley huffed lightly. "Rose's aura crushes way harder than this. Denser. More... choking."

"Fufu," Snow laughed softly. "You're right about that."

The strain lightened somewhat.

Snow adjusted her stance, allowing the levity to fade as she collected herself.

Then she pivoted to confront Riley directly, face serene—yet determined.

"So," she stated, "you're just aiding me through the entry level?"

"If it has levels at all,"

Riley shot back.

"Should this be a tiered labyrinth, I can steer you via the initial layer. But if it's an exposed plain straight to the stronghold..."

He broke off.

"I'll manage input only at the threshold."

"I understand..."

She affirmed with a single, solid nod.

"That suffices."

She sought no proxy in this clash.

This marked her ordeal.