Although a peace agreement had been reached between Princess Veronica and the dragons, both parties understood very well that the growing power gap would inevitably lead to a new round of conflict. However, neither side seemed overly concerned about it.
For the silver dragon, Sylon, his plan was simple: if he couldn't hold onto the Moiy Forest, he would simply fly south, to the vast, endless sea, and search for a secluded island to call home.
As for Veronica, her obsession with killing Sylon hadn't wavered, and she had no intentions of seeking help from the Emerald Kingdom. Neither did Vivienne, the golden dragon. Dragons were proud creatures, and Vivienne had never been one to resort to siege tactics. She preferred facing her enemies head-on, showcasing her incredible strength in direct combat.
It was clear the two shared a perfect synergy; both were fiercely competitive, driven by their own ambitions and pride. However, there was a subtle hesitation in Vivienne's heart regarding the decision to kill Sylon. Despite their differences, both dragons shared a kinship that made killing one of their own feel… uncomfortable.
Still, Vivienne's loyalty to Veronica was unquestionable. Even if she felt uneasy about killing Sylon, she would support Veronica's decision, no matter what. However, deep inside, Vivienne hoped there might still be a chance for mercy—a chance for Sylon to join Veronica's cause and become an ally. This would not only strengthen their forces but also grant them access to valuable tin mines—an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.
At one point, Veronica herself had entertained such an idea. But after the battle and the subsequent ambush by Sylon, which left Veronica severely wounded, her attitude towards the silver dragon had shifted dramatically. Especially after Sylon had attacked the camp of the noble alliance, her rage had burned hotter than ever before.
From that moment, Sylon had become a sworn enemy in her heart.
After the treaty was signed, Veronica and Vivienne departed, with the western portion of the Moiy Forest remaining under Sylon's control. The eastern part, however, now belonged to the Golden Duchy.
Meanwhile, within the fortress of Hild, a fierce and heated argument was underway.
Frostwolf Marquis, his face twisted with fury, slammed his palm onto the table in front of him. His usual cold, expressionless demeanor was now contorted with rage, and his eyes were bloodshot, as if they were about to burst into flames. He was seething with anger.
Across from him stood a large group of people—Odysseus, the commander of the Dragon Breath Knights; Count Stephen, an old acquaintance of the Marquis; and even his grandfather, Count Daniel.
"Explain this to me!" Frostwolf Marquis's voice was deafening, filled with irrepressible fury and disappointment. "Why on earth, after half a month of searching, has an army of nearly ten thousand knights—every one of them a fully-fledged knight or higher—failed to locate the western region of the Moiy Forest? Have your damn legs been drained of all strength by those worthless goats, so you can't even walk properly?!"
The Marquis's anger was so intense that his words reverberated through the room like thunder. The oppressive force of his fury practically radiated from him, and his aura surged so violently that even those who dared to argue were immediately silenced. The nobles around him, who had once planned to offer their own defense, now cowered in fear, their bodies trembling as they tried to stifle their panic.
Frostwolf Marquis was barely able to control the power of his beast knight aura. A massive surge of energy exploded from him, like the eruption of a volcano, filling the room with suffocating pressure.
The nobles, who had been preparing to speak, immediately fell silent. The force of the Marquis's presence was overwhelming, and only those with the strength of Sky Knights could hold their ground without succumbing to the pressure.
One noble, the Marquess of Qingyu Grass, had been scolded by the Marquis, but he understood the depth of the anger and shared the same frustration. He spoke up, his voice sharp, "It seems the Duke has been far too lenient with you all. The war is on the horizon, and you dawdle around like this! If the Duke fails because of the delay or errors in your intelligence, you'd better prepare for his wrath. When that happens, no one will be able to save you!"
Some of the nobles turned pale at these words. Beads of sweat formed on their foreheads as they realized they were the very ones responsible for the failure to find Sylon in the western forest.
At first, they had diligently carried out the mission, combing through every corner. However, as time passed, they lost patience and grew distracted. They began to abandon their search in favor of hunting and leisure, convinced that the western part of the forest was unlikely to be where Sylon had taken residence.
Little did they know, fate had other plans. Sylon had indeed appeared in the very area they had neglected. As a result, these nobles, who were supposed to be the elite forces under Veronica's command, had achieved nothing.
It wasn't just a small failure—it was catastrophic. Veronica, the powerful ruler of the Golden Duchy, had been caught off guard by the silver dragon, her forces unprepared for such a surprise attack. Had Sylon intended to wipe out the Duchy's forces, it could have been a massacre, and the situation would have resembled the devastating defeat of the Kingdom's main army.
Now, these nobles found themselves at the center of the blame, their faces pale, their bodies trembling. It was obvious to anyone that they were filled with guilt and fear.
Frostwolf Marquis glared at them coldly, his gaze cutting like ice. His eyes burned with anger as he plotted what he would do when the Duke returned. He would propose stripping these nobles of their titles and estates, reducing their families to lifelong serfs—forced to work until the day they died.
However, before he could proceed with his thoughts, he turned to address another issue. "Now, let's talk about the intelligence department. Where the hell is the head of the intelligence network? Why didn't we have any information on Sylon's movements? Were we just fumbling around in the dark like headless chickens?"
The head of the intelligence department, a portly middle-aged man named Nick, stood up without hesitation at the mention of his name. He bowed deeply, his pale face betraying the fact that he had spent too much time in dimly lit rooms, away from the sun.
"Honorable Frostwolf Marquis and all the distinguished nobles," Nick said with a formal bow, "I am Nick, the head of the intelligence network. I offer my greetings."
Despite his lack of noble status, Nick commanded respect from the nobles in the room. The intelligence department was directly under the Duke's command, and Nick's role was crucial.
Frostwolf Marquis, though clearly angry, kept his composure and didn't let his emotions affect his judgment. He was still sharp, and his mind raced with thoughts.
"Go ahead, Nick. Explain everything."
Nick cleared his throat, then briefly recounted the events leading up to the failure. "Before the war, I had proposed to the Duke that we send out scouts to gather information on Sylon. However, during that time, the Ironflow Kingdom to the north of the Emerald Kingdom began mobilizing its forces, and the King of the Emerald Kingdom had to borrow our scouts to handle the situation. Most of our operatives were sent there, leaving only a skeleton crew behind to maintain our daily operations. Unfortunately, this left us with little manpower to properly gather intelligence on Sylon."
Frostwolf Marquis sighed. It wasn't that he didn't believe Nick, but the truth of the situation made him feel helpless. "I understand," he muttered, "but it doesn't change the fact that the failure is inexcusable."
The more he thought about it, the more Frostwolf Marquis realized that there were deeper issues at play—issues that extended beyond just this failure. Veronica's behavior, her priorities, and the divided loyalty between the Duchy and the Emerald Kingdom were all contributing factors to the mess they were in. The lines between the two realms were becoming increasingly blurred, and the Duke's actions were starting to affect the stability of the entire Golden Duchy.
Frostwolf Marquis suddenly felt a deep sense of unease. As his mind processed everything, his anger began to dissipate, replaced by a deep confusion about the future.