The Villainess is my fiance: But she is gentle towards me-Chapter 228 -: I must hold on.
Everything was calm in the Empire’s camp.
The soldiers trained. The generals laughed around fire pits. The banners stood straight in the cold wind.
But in the north, things were not calm at all.
The Tramplins were uneasy. And their patriarch, the self-declared King of the North, was the most uneasy of all.
Inside the throne room, he walked back and forth on the highest platform.
His boots hit the stone floor again and again. Step. Turn. Step. Turn.
His hand was shaking slightly as he held an unfolded letter.
The paper was crumpled at the edges from how tightly he gripped it.
His face had changed in the past seven years.
Deep lines had formed near his mouth. His eyes had dark circles under them.
His once proud posture was now stiff and tense. He looked older than he should. Tired. Worried.
When the war first began, he had been full of confidence.
The north was always covered in snow. The cold itself was a weapon.
Enemies would freeze before reaching his walls.
His soldiers were raised in ice and wind. They were strong. Loyal. Ruthless.
And then there was Axian.
That mysterious continent from across the sea.
They had sent strange weapons.
Weapons that exploded with terrifying force. Weapons the Empire had never seen before.
He truly believed victory was certain.
His plan was simple.
Let the Empire grow weak from the northern war.
Then strike. Crush them completely.
Take everything.
But things did not go as planned.
After the first wave of attacks, the weapons from Axian slowly stopped being useful.
The Empire adapted.
They found counters. The explosions no longer caused chaos. The strange machines no longer terrified the battlefield.
And then the support stopped improving.
No stronger weapons. No new strategies.
When he demanded answers, the clown from Axian only shrugged.
"That’s all we have."
That sentence echoed in his mind like a curse.
"That’s all we have."
His teeth clenched.
"Damn it!!!" he roared, his voice shaking the empty throne room.
He crushed the letter in his hand.
"At this rate... everything will be over!"
His chest rose and fell heavily. Sweat formed on his forehead even though the hall was freezing cold.
And most importantly there was another big problem beside these.
The problem was himself.
Seven years ago, he had forcefully broken into the Grandmaster Realm.
He remembered that night clearly.
He had pushed his body beyond its limit. Forced his way through the barrier.
He succeeded.
But it was not clean.
He reached the mid stage of Grandmaster... yet he was not a true Grandmaster. He knew it. Everyone at the top knew it.
He could not defeat a real one.
Still, he had been confident.
"I will advance quickly," he had thought. "I will reach the Ascended Stage. I will stand above them all."
Seven years passed.
Nothing.
Not a single breakthrough.
Every time he tried to circulate his energy deeper, it felt blocked. Like a wall. Like chains around his core.
He slammed his fist into the armrest of the throne.
Crack.
The wood split.
"Why?!" he shouted.
His breathing became rough.
He could feel it clearly. His foundation was unstable.
Because he forced the breakthrough, something inside him was damaged. He knew it. But admitting it felt like admitting defeat.
Outside, he was still the mighty King of the North.
Inside, he was stuck.
Stuck at mid stage. Stuck in this war.
Stuck with allies who were useless.
His hand trembled again.
For a moment, fear flashed in his eyes.
"We won’t last at this rate." His throat went dry.
He slowly sat down on the throne.
The hall was silent.
Too silent. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞
Snow blew against the tall windows.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused.
"This was supposed to be my era..." he muttered under his breath.
Instead of rising higher, he felt like the snow beneath his kingdom, cold, heavy, and slowly collapsing under its own weight.
A king who declared himself ruler of the north.
But could not even conquer his own limits.
And that... that frightened him more than the Empire ever could.
Tap.
Tap tap.
Tap tap tap tap.
His fingers struck the armrest again and again, the sound sharp in the silent hall. It was not random. It was restless. Fast. Uneven.
He had been thinking for months.
Thinking of escape.
Thinking of survival.
Every night he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind running in circles. He felt trapped.
The walls of his own kingdom felt closer than before. Even the air in the north felt heavy.
That was why he had reached out to other empires.
If he could not win alone, then he would not fight alone.
He sent letters to every empire that had tension with the Indrath Empire. Old rivals. Old enemies. Powers strong enough to stand on equal ground.
He had expected at least one to respond with interest. He slowly lifted the letter in his hand. This one was from the Kagano Empire.
The seal was already broken. The answer was simple.
They had no intention of engaging with the Indrath Empire at this time.
Therefore, they could not provide aid. His jaw tightened. It was not just Kagano.
Every empire that could challenge Indrath had said the same thing.
No aid.
No support.
No involvement.
"Haa..." Duke Tramplin let out a long breath. It was not anger this time. It was something heavier.
It was not fear of Indrath’s military.
Everyone knew the Indrath army was strong. But armies could be matched. Soldiers could be trained. Generals could be replaced.
The real reason was geography.
And money.
The Indrath Empire was not only a military power.
They were an economic giant.
And that was far more dangerous.
The Indrath Empire and the Arya Empire had formed a powerful alliance twenty years ago.
Together, they controlled the largest land on the continent of Elora. Not only the largest, but the most central.
From their lands, trade routes stretched in every direction.
North.
South.
East.
West.
If you wanted to move goods across Elora, you passed through them.
It was impossible to avoid.
Twenty years ago, when Gray von Indrath inherited the throne, he did something unexpected.
He did not start a war.
He started a system.
First, he formed what he called an "Eternal Friendship Alliance" with the Arya Empire.
Then he slowly included smaller kingdoms. Not random ones. Smart ones. Kingdoms with ports. Kingdoms with key roads.
Kingdoms with bridges, rivers, and mountains that others needed to cross.
Then he proposed a new transaction method. A single currency.
At first, it seemed meaningless. A new coin. So what?
No one cared. But time passed. Trade increased. Merchants realized something.
The Indrath Empire and Arya Empire allowed other kingdoms to move goods through their lands without tax.
No border fees. No heavy trade costs.
But there was one condition.
All transactions had to use their shared currency.
At first, it seemed harmless. Why argue over coins if trade is smooth?
But slowly, the currency spread. More merchants used it. More kingdoms accepted it.
Soon, it became the most stable currency on the continent. And once that happened, something invisible formed.
Dependence.
Now, if an empire declared war on Indrath, trade would freeze. Routes would close.
Merchants would panic. Markets would crash.
The value of their own currency would drop overnight.
Even strong empires feared that kind of chaos. War was no longer just about soldiers.
It was about supply lines. Food. Metal. Medicine. Weapons.
All of it moved through Indrath-controlled lands.
Duke Tramplin leaned back slowly. His tapping stopped. His eyes narrowed.
"They tied the continent with chains made of gold..." he muttered.
And gold chains were stronger than iron ones. That was why no one wanted to help him.
Not because they feared losing a battle.
But because they feared losing their economy.
He laughed softly.
It was not a happy sound.
"Gray von Indrath..."
He had underestimated that man. While others trained soldiers, Gray trained merchants.
While others built walls, Gray built roads.
While others sharpened swords, Gray sharpened influence.
And now the north stood alone. Snow could freeze armies. But it could not freeze trade.
And Duke Tramplin finally understood something that made his stomach turn.
He was not fighting an empire. He was fighting a system.
And systems are much harder to kill than kings.
"Haaa..."
The sigh came out longer this time.
Duke Tramplin rose slowly from the throne. His knees felt stiff. His back ached, though he would never admit it.
He walked toward the tall window and looked out at the endless white land.
Snow covered everything. Cold. Silent. Unforgiving.
"Even Zakir..." he muttered.
The Zakir Empire was technically engaged with the Indrath Empire.
Their banners were raised. Their armies were positioned. Their priests had declared divine support.
But they were not attacking. Not really.
They moved, but carefully. They threatened, but did not strike.
Zakir was different from the other empires.
They were rich in natural resources. Mines filled with iron and rare minerals. Deep forests. Rivers full of trade potential.
But their system was not built on strategy.
It was built on belief.
Their rulers held power through religion. Their holy texts shaped law. Their priests shaped thought.
And the people followed.
Blindly, sometimes.
Duke Tramplin let out a quiet scoff.
"If their high priests told them the sky was green, they would argue it has always been green."
He did not respect them. He saw them as emotional, not rational.
Driven by faith more than calculation.
But even fools could be dangerous if pointed in the right direction.
That was why he had reached out to them.
If Zakir fully attacked Indrath from another side, it would force Indrath to split their forces.
It would create pressure. Create chaos.
Create opportunity. But there had been no reply.
No agreement. No refusal either.
Just silence.
And silence was worse.
He turned from the window and walked back to the center of the hall. His boots echoed loudly now.
The hall felt bigger than before. Emptier.
"They are waiting," he said quietly. Zakir was watching. They were measuring.
They would only move if they saw clear benefit.
No empire truly fought for friendship.
They fought for advantage. He clenched his fists.
"So I must hold on..."
