The northern road was miserable.

Frozen winds swept endlessly across the mountain paths while snow buried old trade routes beneath thick white layers that forced caravans to move slowly through the frontier passes. Even experienced merchants avoided traveling this far north during deep winter unless profit outweighed survival instincts.

For Royal Investigator Seraphin Vale—

The weather merely counted as another inconvenience.

The carriage wheels crunched heavily across frozen ground while armed escorts rode alongside beneath silver-lined cloaks bearing the insignia of the royal crown. Mana lanterns glowed faintly against the early evening darkness, illuminating snow drifting endlessly beyond the road.

Inside the carriage, warmth from an enchanted crystal heater barely softened the cold.

Seraphin sat calmly beside a stack of reports while another investigator across from him looked significantly less composed.

"You could have refused this assignment."

Seraphin didn’t look up from the documents.

"No."

The younger investigator sighed heavily afterward before pulling his cloak tighter.

"I still believe this is excessive."

That finally earned attention.

Seraphin lowered the report slightly.

"Explain."

The younger man rubbed his forehead tiredly.

"We are traveling into a frozen frontier wasteland because merchants claimed they saw a dragon."

"Among other things."

"Yes, among other ridiculous things."

The younger investigator leaned backward against the carriage seat.

"Smoke in the mountains. Explosions. Strange trade movement."

Another pause.

"None of that justifies direct royal involvement."

Seraphin studied him silently for several seconds afterward.

Young.

Capable.

But still inexperienced enough to misunderstand how kingdoms collapsed.

"The poisoning of a ducal heir does."

Silence returned briefly.

The younger investigator exhaled quietly.

"...You truly think House Valcroix was involved internally?"

Seraphin turned toward the carriage window afterward while snowy forests passed slowly outside beneath the fading light.

"I think noble houses protect themselves first."

A simple answer.

Because it was true.

The younger investigator frowned slightly.

"Even against their own blood?"

Especially then.

Seraphin had spent too many years watching noble politics to romanticize family loyalty.

Succession transformed affection into weakness.

Power into obsession.

And heirs—

Heirs often became enemies long before they became adults.

He finally answered calmly.

"A noble house can survive many things."

His gaze remained fixed beyond the glass.

"Instability is not one of them."

The younger investigator fell quiet afterward.

Outside, the escort knights adjusted formation as the road narrowed between rising cliffs covered in thick snow and black pine forests.

The north felt different from the capital.

Less civilized.

Less controlled.

Like the kingdom’s authority weakened with every kilometer traveled.

Seraphin preferred places like this.

People revealed themselves more honestly near danger.

The younger investigator eventually spoke again.

"You met Cassian Valcroix personally."

"Yes."

"And?"

Seraphin remained silent briefly.

Then—

"He is intelligent."

"That sounds careful."

"It is."

The younger investigator leaned forward slightly afterward.

"You suspect him."

"I suspect everyone."

Another pause.

"However..."

Seraphin’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"...Cassian reacts too strongly whenever Lucien’s survival is mentioned."

Interesting detail.

Not proof.

But interesting.

The younger investigator considered that quietly.

"I reviewed Lucien Valcroix’s records before departure."

Seraphin waited.

"Most accounts describe him as weak. Passive. Untalented."

The younger investigator frowned.

"Yet every report after the poisoning attempt contradicts that image."

Exactly.

That contradiction bothered Seraphin more than anything else.

Because people rarely changed completely overnight.

Either Lucien had hidden himself before exile—

Or something happened after it.

The investigator’s thoughts returned toward the northern reports again.

Industrial smoke.

Explosions.

Missing dwarves purchased from Blackstone markets.

Unusual merchant activity.

And the dragon rumors.

That part still irritated him.

Not because dragons were impossible.

Because they were catastrophic.

True dragons were ancient beings capable of leveling cities.

Even royal armies treated them carefully.

The younger investigator suddenly spoke again.

"You don’t actually believe the dragon reports."

Seraphin answered honestly.

"I believe witnesses fear something."

Another pause.

"The question is whether they misunderstood what they saw."

The carriage shifted heavily while traveling over uneven stone paths.

One escort knight knocked against the carriage exterior moments later.

"My Lords, we approach Frostwall checkpoint."

Seraphin nodded once.

"Understood."

The checkpoint itself resembled more fortress than outpost.

Massive wooden walls reinforced with stone overlooked the mountain pass while armored frontier soldiers watched carefully from torch-lit towers above.

Snow covered nearly everything except the banners snapping sharply beneath freezing winds.

The royal carriage eventually stopped before the gates.

Several guards approached cautiously.

Then immediately stiffened after noticing the royal insignia.

The checkpoint commander himself hurried forward moments later.

A broad man with scarred features and tired eyes.

"Royal investigators?"

Seraphin stepped from the carriage calmly.

"Yes."

The commander bowed quickly.

"Apologies, my Lord. We weren’t informed of royal passage."

"That is intentional."

The commander straightened afterward before studying the escort group carefully.

"You’re heading further north?"

"Yes."

The commander hesitated slightly afterward.

Then—

"With respect..."

Seraphin waited.

"...you should avoid the western routes after nightfall."

Interesting.

"Why?"

The commander glanced briefly toward the dark mountain ranges barely visible beneath the evening snowstorms.

"Strange things have been moving through the forests recently."

The younger investigator beside Seraphin sighed quietly.

"Let me guess."

He sounded deeply tired already.

"Dragon rumors."

The commander looked uncomfortable immediately.

"You heard too?"

Seraphin’s expression remained unreadable.

"What exactly did your men witness?"

The commander swallowed slightly.

"Not directly."

Another pause.

"But three patrol groups reported seeing golden light moving above the mountains."

The wind howled sharply across the checkpoint walls.

"One patrol also found burned trees afterward."

Silence followed.

Because unlike merchants—

Frontier patrols were trained observers.

Seraphin finally asked another question.

"What lies beyond the western mountains?"

The commander answered immediately.

"Old ruins."

Another pause.

"And abandoned territory."

Then more quietly—

"Lucien Valcroix’s exile lands."

There it was again.

Everything kept returning to the same place.

Seraphin looked toward the dark northern horizon silently afterward while snow continued falling around the checkpoint torches.

Something was happening in the exile territory.

Something large enough for rumors to spread across frontier trade routes.

And soon—

He intended to see it personally.

Far away beyond the mountains, hidden beneath ancient ruins and rising industrial smoke, the fires of Elarion continued burning deep into the winter night.

Waiting.

End of Chapter 36