The Demon of The North-Chapter 143 - 142. The Daughter is Back

To speed up their journey than travelling by their usual war-beasts, Leonhart deployed the gryphons, creatures bred specifically for the beastman’s faster military transport when urgency demanded it. Their wings cut through the sky faster. Because the ancient forest lay under the protection of the Luthens, the high beings of the spirit world, the army was able to fly straight through without fear of any monster attack.

Thus, Leonhart and his forces arrived in Rothschild territory far sooner than expected, reuniting with Mara, who had remained hidden with her unit, waiting in silence. When Leonhart demanded to know why they had not intervened, her answer was simple.

"The empress’s words." And Leonhart didn’t question anything else.

Leonhart frowned at that, but it was Liselotte who steadied him. She had forced her way into this journey despite his initial refusal. He had hesitated until she said quietly, "They are still my family. At least let me see how it ends." That had been the only argument strong enough to make him relent.

She had been tucked securely against his chest throughout the flight, wrapped in his coat and shielded by his thick fur. Even with the biting wind high above the clouds, she remained warm. When they landed and Liselotte finally revealed herself, Mara froze for a brief moment before stepping forward and bowing.

"Greetings, Lady Rothschild," she said respectfully. Liselotte is still recognized as the former empress consort of the previous era, and being respectful toward her is the only noble thing they can do.

Liselotte offered no reply. Her gaze was fixed on the port. That harbor had once been a place she despised. The place where her father had first met Vivianne’s mother. Where he had sheltered the omega he loved but could never publicly claim. A place soaked in betrayal and resentment.

However, now, that beautiful place has turned into a nightmare. Flames spread unchecked across the docks. Smoke curled into the sky. Screams pierced the air, raw and desperate. The sound of bonds being forcibly torn apart echoed like a collective wound ripping open.

Her chest ached. "What did my brother do?" Liselotte muttered, her voice barely audible.

She turned to Mara, eyes still fixed on the destruction. "What did my sister say?"

Mara inclined her head slightly, her voice calm but heavy with meaning. "Valdemar de Rothschild must face consequences for what he did."

Liselotte’s fingers curled against the fabric of Leonhart’s coat. "What did he do?" she asked again, her tone sharper now, no longer sheltered by disbelief.

Mara lifted her hand and pointed toward the harbor below. "He ignored the emperor’s decree," she said quietly. "The order was clear—no one was to intervene with the foreign vessels until Her Majesty decided it was safe. Lord Rothschild didn’t misunderstand it. He chose to defy it."

Below them, the port burned. Gray-skinned orcs prowled through the docks like carrion beasts, their massive frames moving with brutal confidence. Crates were smashed open, warehouses torn apart, and screaming figures were dragged across the stone.

"He sent a signal," Mara continued, her gaze never leaving the scene. "Magic flares. An invitation. As if he were calling merchants, not monsters. He brought them here willingly."

Liselotte’s eyes followed Mara’s gesture, landing on a group of orcs hauling away struggling figures—omega and beta women, bound and silenced. Her breath caught painfully in her chest.

"And that," Mara said, her voice tightening for the first time, "is the result."

Liselotte closed her eyes briefly, then opened them with resolve. "Please take me to the Rothschild estate," she said. "As the emperor’s envoy."

Mara nodded without hesitation. Liselotte then turned to Leonhart, her voice soft but deliberate. "Will you come with me?"

He grinned at her, a gentleness in his expression that few had ever witnessed. "Of course." His voice was so tender it almost hurt.

Mara watched them, stunned. She had known Leonhart only as a warrior, brutal, unyielding, forged from strength and command. But here, holding Liselotte as though she were something precious and fragile, she saw another side of her cousin entirely.

"Oh, I didn’t expect that," Mara said, one brow lifting as a faint, teasing smile tugged at her lips while she glanced sideways at Leonhart.

"Shut up," Leonhart snapped, already swinging himself back onto the gryphon’s saddle. The beast beat its massive wings impatiently, talons scraping stone. He shot Mara a sideways look, smug despite the tension. "Can your horse even keep up?"

Mara didn’t bother answering. She just turned, gave a short whistle, and mounted her warhorse in one smooth motion. The other knights followed her and started to move to the Rothschild’s estate.

The answer came moments later.

Leonhart urged the gryphon forward, launching into the air with a powerful thrust, the wind roaring past them as they cut straight toward Rothschild’s estate. He barely had time to register the iron gates of the estate rushing toward him before something thundered behind.

The gates exploded outward, metal twisting and stone cracking as Mara’s massive warhorse and her knights burst through without slowing, hooves striking the ground like siege hammers. The beast snorted, muscles rippling beneath its armor, eyes glowing with feral intelligence as it skidded to a halt beside the gryphon with contemptuous ease.

Leonhart stared. "...Huh."

Mara reined in her mount calmly, patting its neck as if it hadn’t just violated several architectural laws. "Told you," she said lightly. "He doesn’t like being underestimated."

Leonhart clicked his tongue, hiding his surprise and amused expression as he dismounted from his gryphon. Liselotte slid down after him, cloak drawn tight around her shoulders, her gaze already fixed on the estate ahead. The silence here felt wrong, too clean, too deliberate.

Mara walked closer to Liselotte, her expression sobering as she took in the damage. "He ran," she said quietly. "Left the port to burn while he hid behind these walls."

"I’m not surprised," Liselotte replied, her voice steady as she walked toward her childhood home.

Inside the mansion, Genevieve and Valdemar were still arguing, their voices sharp with panic and accusation. Around them, the vassal families crowded together, openly voicing their complaints about Valdemar’s leadership, while the elders sat apart, their faces cold and distant, unwilling to involve themselves any further.

The noise came to an abrupt halt when the butler hurried in, pale and breathless, to announce that Liselotte had returned. They rushed to the windows.

It’s true. Liselotte de Rothschild is currently standing on the estate’s ground, and she isn’t coming alone. A full battalion stood behind her, poised and ready for war, beastmen mounted on gryphons, their wings casting vast shadows across the estate grounds, and the elite knights of Borgia, armored and unmoving like an executioner’s wall.

The beastmen were enormous, some as large as the orcs Valdemar had seen tearing through the port. Others were closer to human size, belonging to less massive carnivore lines, but none of them looked harmless. Every face, every posture, radiated lethal intent.

Before anyone could stop him, Valdemar broke into a grin and hurried outside to greet her. "I told you!" he called out, forcing confidence into his voice as he ran forward. "I’ve got it under control!"