The capital of House Valcroix did not resemble the frozen frontier.

Its towers stood tall and elegant beneath enchanted lights while noble banners fluttered proudly above white stone walls untouched by war or winter hardship. Warm mana lanterns illuminated the streets every evening, and servants moved constantly through marble corridors carrying wine, documents, and political secrets between nobles who smiled too much and trusted too little.

Beautiful.

Controlled.

Rotting quietly beneath the surface.

Inside one of the upper audience chambers overlooking the city, Cassian Valcroix sat beside the fireplace with a crystal glass resting loosely between his fingers while several reports remained scattered across the table before him.

Unread.

Mostly because the contents irritated him.

A noble servant stood nearby nervously.

"My Lord... the northern trade reports arrived this morning."

Cassian did not answer immediately.

The fire crackled softly beside him while snow drifted outside the tower windows far beyond the capital walls.

Finally—

"Read them."

The servant swallowed slightly before opening the document carefully.

"Trade activity surrounding the northern frontier has increased over the last month."

Cassian’s expression remained calm.

"Continue."

"Merchant caravans report unusual industrial smoke near the abandoned western mountain territories."

A pause.

"Several caravans also mentioned hearing explosions."

Cassian’s fingers stopped moving against the crystal glass.

The servant hesitated briefly.

"And..."

"Speak."

"...rumors of a golden dragon."

Silence.

The servant immediately lowered his head further.

The fire continued burning softly.

Cassian slowly leaned backward in his chair afterward before letting out a quiet breath through his nose.

Then—

He laughed.

Not loudly.

Not pleasantly.

Just enough to make the servant visibly uncomfortable.

"A dragon."

Cassian swirled the wine inside his glass slowly.

"The northern peasants truly become creative during winter."

The servant nodded quickly.

"Y-Yes, my Lord."

Still—

Cassian’s eyes narrowed slightly toward the trade reports afterward.

Explosions.

Industrial smoke.

In the north.

Near Lucien’s exile territory.

Annoying.

Because none of that aligned with reality.

Lucien should have died months ago.

Even surviving the assassination attempt had already been irritating enough.

But this?

No.

Something was wrong.

Cassian stood slowly before walking toward the massive window overlooking the illuminated capital beneath the night sky.

His reflection stared back faintly against the glass.

Tall.

Well-dressed.

Perfectly composed.

The ideal noble heir.

Everything Lucien was not supposed to threaten anymore.

And yet—

The irritation remained.

Because Lucien continued surviving.

That alone felt offensive.

A knock echoed from the chamber entrance.

Cassian turned calmly.

"Enter."

The doors opened moments later revealing a middle-aged man dressed in dark royal investigator robes embroidered with silver insignia across the collar.

Sharp eyes.

Controlled posture.

Dangerous intelligence.

Royal Investigator Seraphin Vale.

Cassian’s expression shifted slightly into polite nobility immediately.

"Investigator Vale."

The man stepped forward calmly.

"Lord Cassian."

No bow.

Royal investigators answered directly to the crown.

Even high nobles treated them carefully.

Seraphin glanced toward the documents scattered across the table briefly before returning his gaze toward Cassian.

"I apologize for the late visit."

Cassian smiled faintly.

"I assume this concerns my brother."

Straightforward.

Better that way.

The investigator remained silent for several seconds afterward.

Then—

"Yes."

Of course.

Cassian moved back toward the fireplace while gesturing politely toward the seating area.

"Please."

Seraphin sat calmly across from him.

The investigator’s face revealed very little emotionally, though his eyes constantly observed everything within the room carefully.

Cassian noticed.

People like this were troublesome.

Too intelligent.

Too patient.

Seraphin finally spoke again.

"The royal family remains interested in the poisoning incident surrounding Lucien Valcroix."

Cassian maintained perfect calm.

"As does House Valcroix."

"Mm."

The investigator folded his hands together slowly.

"Unfortunately, several details remain unresolved."

Cassian sipped wine casually.

"For example?"

"The poison itself."

Another pause.

"It was sophisticated."

Cassian said nothing.

Seraphin continued calmly.

"Layered mana suppression toxins administered gradually over time."

The investigator’s gaze remained steady.

"Not something ordinary servants could prepare."

Interesting.

The royal investigation had progressed further than expected.

Cassian hid his thoughts carefully.

"Then perhaps the culprit possessed outside support."

"Perhaps."

The investigator leaned slightly backward afterward.

"Yet strangely, the assassination attempt during Lucien’s exile transfer also appears connected."

Cassian looked toward him calmly.

"Bandits exist in the frontier."

"Professional mana suppressors are not bandits."

Silence.

A dangerous silence.

The fire crackled quietly between them.

Seraphin’s eyes never moved away from Cassian’s face.

Watching.

Measuring.

Cassian understood the game immediately.

The investigator suspected internal involvement already.

Perhaps even suspected him directly.

But suspicion meant nothing without proof.

And Cassian had survived noble politics long enough to understand one simple truth:

Power protected itself.

He smiled faintly afterward.

"You speak carefully, Investigator."

Seraphin returned the expression slightly.

"I prefer accuracy."

Another pause.

"Especially when noble succession becomes involved."

There it was.

Not accusation.

Pressure.

Subtle pressure.

Cassian remained completely composed externally while his thoughts moved rapidly beneath the surface.

The royal family was intervening personally because Lucien’s poisoning threatened noble stability itself.

If a ducal heir could be quietly destroyed internally—

Then every royal succession became vulnerable.

The crown could not ignore that.

Annoying.

Very annoying.

Seraphin suddenly shifted topics.

"There is another matter."

Cassian looked toward him.

"The north."

Interesting.

The investigator continued calmly.

"Merchant reports mention unusual activity near Lucien’s territory."

Cassian allowed slight amusement into his expression.

"Ah yes. The dragon."

To his surprise—

Seraphin did not smile.

Instead the investigator slowly placed another document onto the table between them.

"Three merchant groups reported identical descriptions."

Cassian’s fingers paused slightly against his glass.

Golden scales.

Massive wings.

Mountain-sized mana pressure.

The details continued.

And disturbingly—

The reports aligned too well.

Cassian’s expression finally changed slightly.

Not much.

But enough.

Seraphin noticed immediately.

"Interesting reaction."

Cassian recovered calmly.

"Surely you do not believe frontier rumors."

"No."

The investigator’s eyes sharpened slightly.

"I believe consistent patterns."

Another silence followed afterward.

Cassian’s irritation deepened slowly.

Because whether the dragon existed or not—

Something was happening in the north.

Smoke.

Explosions.

Merchant movement.

Now dragon rumors.

Lucien was doing something.

The realization settled heavily in his mind.

And he hated it.

Meanwhile far away in the frozen northern frontier—

The fires of Elarion continued burning beneath the mountains while steel, gunpowder, and industry slowly transformed the exile territory into something entirely new.

Something dangerous.

Something growing.

Seraphin finally stood afterward.

"I will likely travel north soon."

Cassian’s gaze sharpened immediately.

"Personally?"

"Yes."

The investigator adjusted his gloves calmly.

"Too many strange reports are originating from one territory."

That—

That was bad.

Because unlike assassins or manipulated servants, royal investigators operated independently.

If Seraphin reached the north and discovered industrial development—

Complications would multiply rapidly.

Cassian hid his concern carefully behind noble composure.

"I hope you enjoy the weather."

Seraphin almost smiled.

"I rarely enjoy anything, Lord Cassian."

Then the investigator turned and walked toward the chamber doors.

Before leaving—

He paused briefly.

"One final thing."

Cassian remained silent.

Seraphin glanced sideways slightly.

"If Lucien Valcroix truly survived everything thrown at him..."

A faint pause followed.

"...then perhaps he was never as weak as everyone believed."

The doors closed softly afterward.

Leaving Cassian alone beside the fire.

Silent.

Thinking.

Outside the capital towers, snow continued falling peacefully across the noble city while far to the north, black industrial smoke rose endlessly into the winter skies beyond the mountains.

And for the first time in many months—

Cassian felt something unfamiliar.

Unease.

End of Chapter 35