The thunder of hooves echoed through the castle courtyard as the spectral steeds returned. In the blink of an eye, the entire space was filled with undead.

With a loud clang, the heavy iron door swung open, and the Grand Duke, clad in black armor from head to toe, strode inside. The household staff and warriors bowed their heads in unison.

’Clank— Clank—’

With metallic steps, the Grand Duke ascended the stairs, reaching the second floor where their office was located.

With a clatter, the Grand Duke threw open the office door. [Godrick!]

[What has happened!]

"Gr- Grand Duke!" Godrick stammered, flinching.

By the office desk stood another figure, wearing the exact same pitch-black armor, their back turned.

With the sound of interlocking plates, the knight turned to face the Grand Duke. The two figures in identical armor stared at each other in silence. Then, the knight by the window raised both arms, slowly grasped their helmet, and lifted it.

A cascade of blue hair fell free, revealing the face of a boy, still bearing a hint of youthfulness. His bright smile radiated a gentle goodwill.

"We meet again," Simon said.

[...You.] The light in the Grand Duke’s eyes flashed from within the helmet. [You’re the one from this afternoon.]

"Yes."

The two Legion Commanders of the Dark Alliance faced each other. Godrick, caught in the middle, felt his heart pound in his chest.

[Godrick.]

"Ye- yes! Your Excellency!"

[Leave.]

After a final, anxious glance at Simon, Godrick had no choice but to close the office door and retreat. With a ’thud’, silence descended.

’Clank.’

’Clank.’

The Grand Duke walked to the wall mount where a suit of armor was displayed. This time, it was they who grasped their helmet with both hands and slowly lifted it off.

A cascade of lustrous hair flowed down like a waterfall. From beneath the rough helmet, clear skin and exquisitely beautiful features were revealed.

Simon’s jaw fell slack. What had been hidden was a face so striking it was breathtaking. He saw sharp eyes reminiscent of a bird of prey, and a single beauty mark just beneath one of them.

’The Grand Duke of the North... was a woman?!’

"Do you have a problem with that?" she murmured, her voice like ice.

Simon quickly shook his head. "No, ma’am!"

’Whew—’

She hung the helmet on its stand, then unbuckled the sword at her waist and leaned it against the wall. She strode back to her seat and sat, gesturing for Simon to take the chair opposite her.

"Thank you," Simon said, his face tense as he sat.

She closed her eyes for a moment, as if lost in thought.

’Tap. Tap.’

The fingertips of her metal gauntlet tapped the armrest twice. Soon, she lifted her head.

"Explain," she commanded. "Why did you disguise yourself as me and save that village?"

Her speech was archaic, her voice flawless and beautiful in its tone. Simon began to speak calmly.

"While I was waiting for you in the castle, a messenger informed me that a village called Barnesdale was under attack. Although I had not yet received your permission to engage in combat, as a necromancer of Kizen, I could not simply turn a blind eye." Simon clasped his hands. "However, the number of enemy forces was larger than I expected. They were the size of an army, and I wasn’t confident I could protect all the villagers alone. So, I decided to use my own forces."

"To be precise—" she interjected, resting her chin on her hand, "—your ’legion,’ I presume."

"That’s correct." Nephthys had already hinted that the Grand Duke knew about him and the 7th Legion, so he wasn’t surprised. He had come here for Legion Commander lessons, after all. "The people of the North may not know or care, but the legion I command is under suspicion of the ’Sin of Betrayal.’ I could not use it openly."

"So you disguised yourself as me, a Legion Commander, and defeated the enemy with your legion."

"Yes." Simon bowed his head respectfully. "I apologize for acting so recklessly without permission. If you wish to punish me, I will accept it."

The Grand Duke slowly rose from her seat.

’Clank— Clank—’

Hesitation could be felt in every step. She walked to the office desk, clasped her hands behind her back, and gazed out the window.

"Insolent one."

Simon realized she was addressing him and looked up.

"What kind of Legion Commander do you wish to become?"

They were one of only seven necromancers on the continent who could command ancient undead and lead limitless forces. But like most of their kind, they did not always walk a righteous path. Magnus was a prime example: he had murdered his own master, embroiled civilians in his quest for power, and unhesitatingly waged war against other Legion Commanders.

"I want to use this power I possess correctly, and for the sake of others." Simon recalled the passionate cheers and tears of the villagers he had saved. "Like you, Grand Duke."

She let out a small, dry laugh. "You speak like a Southerner, with a tongue soaked in flattery. Being a hero is not such a fortunate fate."

But her voice was much gentler than when they had first met. She walked over to a bottle on a nearby table, uncorked it, added ice to a cup, and poured. She brought it over and set it down.

"It is not alcohol. Drink without worry." She returned to her own seat and took a sip.

Simon savored the aroma before tasting it. A northern tea? The bitter flavor was exquisite.

"I heard the story from Nephthys," she said, her head tilted. "Although I did cut off the communication midway. Your purpose is to take the Legion Commander lessons, I presume."

"Yes."

"However, what I told you when we first met is the truth."

"—The North is not so peaceful that I have time to coddle a fledgling."

"The North is currently under an unprecedented enemy offensive." The Grand Duke’s expression grew serious as she lifted her glass. "It seems that bastard is getting ready to settle things."

"That bastard’?"

"Do you happen to know this idiom?" she asked, the corners of her lips turning up. "Like the Northern God stirring up a blizzard."

"Ah, yes! Of course." It was an idiom used widely across the continent.

"The Northern God is real. It is one of the oldest undead in the world, and it controls the Frost Field."

’I-It was real?’

The Northern God was a being of legend, a monster so ancient that some archaeologists claimed it had existed since humanity were still apes—a creature that transcended even the category of ’Ancient Undead.’ It had spent millennia accumulating power in the North, becoming an untouchable force. Because their territories were adjacent, the Grand Dukes of Kalos North had fought against it for generations.

Even the current Grand Duke, hailed as the greatest 2nd Legion Commander in history, had fought a long war but couldn’t achieve a decisive victory.

"The Northern God has long focused on solidifying its power by turning wild monsters into undead, but now it is commanding an all-out offensive. The time for the final battle is drawing near."

[Kheheh. Just as she says!] Pier’s voice echoed in Simon’s mind. [The fact that the core of that ’Gourmet’ fellow nearly exploded when we took him into the legion must have been the Northern God’s doing, trying to keep him from being taken by the Grand Duke!]

’You’re right.’

Simon took another sip of his cold tea, lost in thought. In short, the North was at war, and the Grand Duke had no time to spare for him. If that was the case...

"I’d like to propose a deal."

At his words, her expression soured. "A deal, not a request?"

"Yes. An equal deal between Legion Commanders." Simon placed a hand on his chest. "If you will continue to permit my disguise, then for the duration of my dispatch, the 7th Legion and I will fight here in the North alongside its people."

"Hm..."

"I came here to grow stronger. I will fight hard enough to cover your duties as well. In return, please use the time that frees up to guide me."

The Grand Duke, who had been listening quietly, chuckled.

’So he means to earn the time for his own instruction.’

It was an absurd and audacious proposal, but an interesting one.

"You flattering, insolent thing. How long have you been a necromancer?"

"About a year and a half."

"A bit short, isn’t it?" she mused. "You may have the power of a Legion Commander, but are you truly confident you can help in this war while you’re still just a student?"

"My answer to that," Simon began, a slow smile spreading across his lips, "will depend entirely on your teachings, Your Excellency. I am prepared to follow any lesson, no matter how harsh."

"You what?" The Grand Duke let out a sharp, barking laugh. The sheer audacity of it—demanding her time and then telling her to shape him into a weapon if she wanted his help. To think someone existed who could utter such shameless words. This boy was mad in more ways than one.

"You’re insolent, but I like it." She rose from her seat and extended a hand. "Then we have an agreement, youngest Legion Commander."

Simon stood as well, taking her hand in a firm grip. "I look forward to learning from you."

---

And so, a joint front was formed between the 7th and 2nd Legions. Simon had forged several agreements with the Grand Duke. First, whenever he wore the armor, he would act as her proxy, his orders carrying the same weight as her own. The Grand Duke would also assume full responsibility for any problems that arose from this arrangement. Second, he was granted permission to engage in any battle within the North, commanding his own forces as he saw fit.

Any undead and corpses could be claimed by the legion that felled them. Third, for all external purposes, the 7th Legion’s undead would be considered part of the 2nd Legion, a fact the Grand Duke herself would guarantee.

Those were the broad strokes. Simon decided to store the Grand Duke’s armor in his subspace, ready to be called upon when needed. Since they were fresh from battle and the hour was late, they agreed that his lessons would begin the following day. He also remembered to give her the letter from Nephthys.

—Report to the castle tomorrow morning.

The castle was crowded with her undead, making it an unsuitable place for Simon to sleep, so he opted for a room at a nearby inn. After parting with the Grand Duke, he stepped outside. The city thrummed with life. As befitting the most prosperous city in the North, it was teeming with people, even at night. It was a melting pot of various races and ethnicities.

Since the Kalos North was completely cut off from the outside world, it had become a haven for criminals, escaped slaves, and persecuted demi-humans. Here, one’s past and status were meaningless; only strength and skill were valued. As a result, mercenaries and ambitious young nobles often flocked to the North to make a name for themselves.

’Still...’

The local fashion was... aggressive. In particular, the sight of certain warriors strutting about in bizarrely revealing armor, proclaiming that the bitter cold could not break their spirit, was an assault on the eyes. It was hard to tell where the chest hair ended and the armor began.

"In that spirit, I, too, have tried to match the northern style!" chirped Erzebet, popping out of his subspace for some fresh air.

Without a second glance, Simon took off his own robe and wrapped it around her. "...Please, try not to draw any attention."

"Oh my, what a shame." Erzebet, who seemed secretly pleased, snuggled into Simon’s robe and took a deep sniff. "Ah! Since we’re finally out of the academy, would you care for a glass of wine at the inn? I shall pour it for you!"

"...I have to study at dawn."

Ignoring him completely, Erzebet announced she would be right back and darted off to buy wine and snacks. Left with no choice, Simon leaned against a nearby wall to wait. He stood there for a moment, lost in thought, when a gruff voice broke the silence.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the pretty lady again."

A hairy, fierce-looking Northerner swaggered toward him.