Exiled Prince: I'm the Unexpected Extra in the Novel-Chapter 122: The Night of Frozen Judgement
The War for the North[10]
Frosthelm Castle’s massive meeting room known as the Glacial Hall, with its ceiling adorned with crystallized icicles and walls built from blue granite stones centuries old, was hosting an unusual crowd this evening.
The area around the long table shaped like a U in the center of the room was filled with the last influential names of the Frosthelm Duchy.
These were local lords, retired generals, and representatives of trade guilds trembling with fear who had somehow managed to survive the destruction brought by the Obsidian Dawn and still commanded a handful of soldiers or strategically important land.
There was a common expression on all their faces: Deep anxiety and an irrepressible unrest.
They had been hastily summoned by Cryomara for a "vitally important" meeting without any explanation.
While the snow beat against the windows outside, the air inside was just as cold and tense.
They had been waiting for half an hour. Neither Duchess Cecilia was around, nor that terrible Mystic Beast who had summoned them.
Lord Borin, sitting on the left wing of the table with his double chin buried in his fur collar and his face flushed red, was impatiently tapping his fingers on the table.
"What a disgrace!" he grumbled, his voice echoing. "They line us up here like children and make us wait. While villages on my borders are burning, did I come here to stare at an empty chair?"
Old General Hareth, who sat opposite him and looked as if he had shrunk inside his armor, shook his head. "Be quiet, Borin. The walls have ears. Also... the Duchess’s condition is well known. Perhaps we will receive bad news. Has the border fallen?"
"The border has already fallen, do you think you do not know?" a young baron interrupted, his voice trembling. "The Obsidian Dawn is at the gates of the Winter Keep. The Duchess must have called us here to discuss terms of surrender. There can be no other explanation. The Empire has abandoned us. Our food stocks are running out. The people... the people will eat us alive!"
"Surrender?" Lord Borin slammed his fist on the table. "I will not give my ancestors’ lands to those cultist perverts! But this uncertainty is killing me. Where is Cryomara? Instead of protecting us, that damned monster is hiding inside the palace!"
"Shh!" someone next to him warned, looking around in terror. "Do not speak her name so loudly. That... that woman is not normal. Have you forgotten? Ten years ago, when the Duchess’s family was slaughtered... have you forgotten what happened that night?"
This reminder cut the grumbling in the room like a knife.
Yes, no one had forgotten. That "Bloody Ice Night." What happened to the traitors in the palace and the disloyal nobles when Duchess Cecilia’s parents were assassinated...
Cryomara had taken human form that night and, showing not a single sign of emotion, had frozen and shattered everyone suspected of treason along with their families.
Rumors still circulated from ear to ear that some of the statues in the castle were actually the people frozen that night.
The air in the room grew heavy. Complaints gave way to fearful whispers. Everyone looked at the door, both wanting someone to come and praying for no one to come.
Just at that moment, the massive doors of the hall opened wide slowly and noiselessly without any human intervention.
The whispers inside ceased instantly. Breaths were held.
On the threshold of the door, the Mystic Beast Cryomara appeared.
She was in human form. She wore a long dress woven of silk and magic, transitioning between ice blue and purple, bearing the colors of the northern lights.
Her silvery hair was nobly gathered as if there were an invisible crown on her head. On her face was an indifferent and cold expression, free from worldly troubles, contrasting completely with the tension in the room.
As if these influential men waiting inside for half an hour, sweating with fear and complaining, did not exist at all; as if the world were not collapsing, she entered the hall with slow and elegant steps.
The tapping of her heels on the marble floor seemed synchronized with every lord’s heartbeat. Clack... Clack... Clack...
No one dared to speak or even breathe. Lord Borin had swallowed his bravado from moments ago and shrunk into his chair.
Cryomara headed towards the high chair at the head of the table.
She smoothed the skirts of her dress as she sat. She lifted her head and slowly roamed those dull, ocean blue eyes over the crowd in the room. Everyone her gaze touched felt a physical coldness.
Immediately after, a servant who appeared silently left a drink in a silver tray in front of Cryomara, which was not steaming but rather had the glass misted over.
Cold coffee.
While a storm raged outside and everyone shivered from the cold inside, the Queen of the North grasped her iced coffee with slender fingers.
She gracefully brought it to her lips and took a small sip. She closed her eyes slightly, savoring it.
The clinking of ice from the glass was the only sound in the room.
Cryomara slowly set the glass on the table. She placed a cheerful smile on her face, as flawless as a doll but just as eerie.
"Today..." said Cryomara, her voice like the chime of a crystal. "The weather is so beautiful, is it not?"
The lords and generals in the room cast shocked and horrified glances at each other.
Was the weather beautiful? You could not see your hand in front of your face outside. The blizzard was hitting as if it wanted to break the windows. Frosthelm was a realm condemned to eternal winter, having not seen the face of the sun for centuries. And the reason for this was the woman sitting right in front of them.
Was this a joke? Or had she lost her sanity? Or was she mocking them?
No one could answer. Only the sounds of swallowing and the creaking of chairs were heard. Lord Borin wanted to wipe his sweat, but his hand felt frozen.
Cryomara watched their uncomfortable, fearful expressions with pleasure.
As the silence dragged on, it increased the pressure on them. This was a show of power. She was saying ’I am here, and I make the rules.’
Finally, she took another sip of her coffee and finished it. She pushed the glass aside. That cheerful expression slowly gave way to a more serious, more knowing, and powerful woman image. She rested her arms on the table and leaned forward.
"You are wondering why I summoned you here, are you not?" she said. Her voice was now deeper and more resonant.
She continued without waiting for an answer.
"I know..." Cryomara began, her voice reaching the furthest corner of the room. "You are all tired. You are afraid. You cannot sleep at night. With every messenger bird coming from our borders, you expect news of a disaster. Hunger, disease, and the shadow of that accursed cult have settled upon you. You feel abandoned, forgotten. You think the Empire has discarded us."
Everyone in the room bowed their heads. Yes, this was exactly what they felt. Despair.
Cryomara paused for a moment. Her eyes shone. She raised her voice like a commander addressing her soldiers.
"BUT!"
This single word cracked like a whip in the room. Everyone looked up.
"But now..." said Cryomara, suppressing every word. "You do not need to fear, retreat, or hide. Those days are over."
These words caused the people in the room to whisper in astonishment. "What does she mean over?" "Has she gone mad?" "Are we surrendering?"
Cryomara smiled. She was expecting this wave of astonishment.
"Fate has now changed the direction of the wind," she said. "All of the North... even beyond the North is ready to fight on our behalf."
She raised her hand into the air and snapped her fingers. Servants began distributing rolled parchments onto the table.
"We are not alone," continued Cryomara. "Mooncrest, Amberfield, Veythral..."
"And the glorious army of the Evershade March, Lord Aldren Stormvale. All... all have agreed to unite under the Frosthelm banner."
Lord Borin’s hands trembled as he opened the parchment in front of him. When he saw the Evershade seal, his eyes looked like they would pop out of their sockets. "This... This is impossible! Aldren is a stubborn one! He never steps out of his borders! How?"
"And from the Empire..." said Cryomara, ignoring Borin’s astonishment. "Thousands of mercenaries are flocking to our lands under the name of the ’War of Liberation.’ Support is coming. The army is coming."
Those in the room could not believe what they were hearing. This was too good to be true.
After years of isolation, such an alliance all of a sudden... Doubt was battling with hope.
"Not only that," Cryomara said, to deal the final blow. "The antidote for that accursed disease that breaks our people and blackens their skin... has been found."
The room instantly fell into chaos. Chairs were overturned, people sprang to their feet.
"Antidote?!" "Really?" "Will my son be saved?" "This is a miracle!"
Some were hugging each other out of happiness, while others looked at Cryomara with doubt and fear. So much good news arriving at the same time felt like a trap to them. Or a dream.
Cryomara sat silently in the middle of that chaos. On her face was that mysterious smile that knew everything and controlled everything.
She was etching everyone’s facial expression in the room into her mind one by one.
Lord Borin’s relieved but still skeptical face... The fire of war appearing in General Hareth’s eyes... And the fear of that "Treasurer" sitting in the corner, who got his hands and feet tangled and started sweating when he heard the news instead of rejoicing...
She could see the panic of those working for the Obsidian Dawn. She was cataloging them one by one: those making escape plans, those thinking about how to get this news to their masters.
"Rejoice, loyal servants of Frosthelm," said Cryomara, rising to her feet. "Tonight is a night of celebration."
Her eyes lingered on those panicking traitors.
A manic smile formed on Cryomara’s face, the same smile she had worn years ago.
"However..."
"First, we must get rid of some traitors among us!"
