Chapter 55

They rested at an inn that evening. Both Lightning and Carissa managing a good night's sleep. Being away from home made her unusually alert. She rose before dawn, washed up, and covered her face with a black cloth before continuing on her journey.

The journey was naturally arduous, made worse by the biting cold that even the cloth couldn't shield from, roughening her skin considerably.

The previous night at the inn, she had looked into a mirror. Her once smooth skin was now red and almost cracking. She applied camellia oil to prevent it from worsening-it wasn't about beauty, but avoiding pain.

On the fifth morning of travel, she arrived at the Southern Frontier. The absence of supply convoys on the road along the way troubled her. It meant that the Hell Monarch thought victory was assured, and didn't need to constantly obtain provisions.

However, there was still a fierce battle ahead.

Upon reaching the Southern Frontier, she inquired and learned that only two cities, llyrian and Simonton, remained unrecovered.

The Hell Monarch had led his troops like a war god and reclaimed 90% of the lost Southern Frontier territory. Only these two cities remained, explaining the absence of supply convoys.

Now, all the Hell Monarch's forces were focused on llyrian. Once the city was recaptured, they could drive the Sandorian forces back to Simonton. There, they would continue the assault and reclaim the entire Southern Frontier for Starhaven,

the final push. She pushed Lightning harder,

city itself remained unconquered. The devastation she witnessed

there was no time for

the camp, brandishing her Rose Spear high

the Duke of Northwatch! I seek an audience with the commander of the

her, but Lightning burst through their ranks like a thunderbolt, like a

Sinclair, daughter of Hector Sinclair! I have urgent military intelligence for the Hell

loudly, her hoarse

to life. Soldiers emerged with weapons drawn at the sound of her voice. Upon hearing her words that she was Hector's daughter, they hesitated and held their ground. She dismounted swiftly, letting her spear hang low, and faced the

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Hector Sinclair, the Duke of Northwatch.

the hostility

tense standoff, a black steed thundered towards them from the front. It

armor sat upon the steed, and looked down from his elevated position. His face was smudged and his beard covered half of it, leaving only a pair of bright eyes

His voice was grave and laced with

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