Chapter 22 : The story of the Immortal Siblings (1)

Wolfgang’s story, drawn from the brutal depths of the Winter War, was powerful enough to even subdue the fierce orcs.

But Saint Jeanne was not one to simply back down.

As a central figure in the Kingdom’s power structure, Jeanne found it easy to exploit her opponent’s weaknesses.

But Wolfgang, too, held her ground.

It was a clash of spear and shield, a balanced struggle where neither side yielded.

The ones growing weary were the orcs seated around them, struggling to follow the discussion.

Jeanne, one of the Kingdom’s most influential figures, and Wolfgang, though not a fan of politics, wasn’t entirely inexperienced.

But the orcs were different.

As a race more familiar with fists than words, it was natural for them to struggle to keep up.

“What should we do about this?”

“Hmm, especially with the Warchief absent…”

“It seems a bit strange for us to make a decision alone…”

Even in their primitive political system, they understood the concept of responsibility.

With the Warchief absent, anyone who made a decision would be held accountable.

Even orcs who worshiped brute force didn’t wish to be held accountable.

But letting the humans control the conversation was equally unappealing, as that would only expose their ignorance.

They had only one option left.

“Enough, enough of this.”

“With the Warchief absent, let’s postpone this discussion.”

“Come back another time. This matter is too critical to rush a decision.”

Their solution was to end the session for now.

Simple but effective. It allowed them to avoid responsibility, and with the excuse of the Warchief’s defeat, Wolfgang didn’t object.

‘Our original goal was achieved. In that sense, this is a win.’

It had been a fight she’d entered at a disadvantage. Jeanne, the Kingdom’s saint, had already been here, laying the groundwork. Had she had more time, she might have secured the alliance.

The Kingdom wouldn’t simply give up.

This was only a temporary solution. Still, Wolfgang had managed to undo all of Jeanne’s preparations, a significant victory.

Moreover, though it hadn’t been her intention, defeating the Warchief with a single blow had proven the strength of the Empire. Wolfgang felt she’d done enough.

‘Greed only spoils things.’

The best outcome would have been an alliance between the Blood Pact and the Empire, but that was unlikely.

Orcs generally looked down on and rejected other races.

And who was it that defeated the Warchief? Wolfgang herself. Any more pressure would likely cause resentment.

Even in the Empire, the Emperor’s followers would be outraged if he were humiliated.

Although they had skirted around it, Wolfgang had still used undead.

“This time, it seems our loss, Sir Leonhardt.”

Despite unfavorable conditions, Jeanne gracefully admitted her defeat.

Her golden eyes, shining radiantly, turned to Wolfgang.

“Is it alright to call you Saint?”

“Just call me Jeanne. My title holds significance only in the Kingdom.”

“How humble.”

Wolfgang offered a polite compliment as she observed Jeanne.

A woman with a similar appearance to herself, Jeanne smiled beautifully and bowed her head.

“I’ve heard much of your reputation. It’s an honor to meet you, hero of the Empire.”

Holding the ends of her dress, Jeanne offered a refined bow, embodying elegance and nobility.

Wolfgang nodded in acknowledgment.

“I was pleased to meet you too, Saint Jeanne.”

“Will you be leaving right away?”

“Well, same as you, I’ve done what I came to do, so it’s time to return.”

As mentioned, Wolfgang disliked political maneuvering.

Although she disliked work in general, physical tasks were more suited to her strengths.

Now she’d been forced into a defensive stance in an unfavorable situation, countering Jeanne’s assault.

Naturally, Wolfgang’s exhaustion reached its peak.

Forced into work she detested, she felt drained to her core.

To make matters worse, the one responsible for her fatigue was now standing before her, offering pleasantries.

‘Time to escape—any longer, and she might corner me again.’

Wolfgang gave a quick farewell and departed, leaving Jeanne to confirm her suspicions. At first, she had only a vague feeling, based on appearance and demeanor.

But after their discussion and recovering from her initial shock at being unable to read Wolfgang’s desires, Jeanne had finally reached a conclusion.

‘Lana Frost… she’s returned.’

Lana Frost, the second daughter of House Frost and once the fiancée of Crown Prince Jaiha.

The unfinished grudge from ten years ago had returned, now stronger than ever.

Wolfgang Leonhardt.

Jeanne was well aware of her. The commander of the Eastern Defense Army, the hero of the Winter War, and the leader of the Vendetta Corps.

‘I need to hurry back and prepare countermeasures. If not, the Kingdom could fall.’

Now, it all made sense why Jeanne couldn’t read Wolfgang’s desires. She had masked her emotions entirely, even while standing before the person she despised.

‘She’s come back, a monster who can suppress her hatred and fury.’

There was the possibility she’d lost her memories, but Jeanne dismissed it. How could one with amnesia become a war hero and lead the Empire to victory?

Even if she retained some skills and knowledge from her life in the Kingdom, it would be a miracle.

Unlikely, yet not impossible. But as a precaution, Jeanne chose to assume the former and prepare accordingly.

‘I’m starving. What’s for dinner tonight?’

Wolfgang, meanwhile, was utterly unconcerned with Jeanne.

Both the Empire and Kingdom withdrew from the Blood Pact.

Originally, they’d planned to stay for a few more days, but Jeanne had insisted on departing that very night.

With the Kingdom pulling out, the Empire had no reason to remain.

Thanks to their undead horses, the darkness posed no obstacle.

The only light on the lonely, dark night came from the moon, shining on the gray-haired girl by the carriage window.

Galina and Wolfgang had already fallen asleep.

The only ones awake in the carriage were Natasha and her brother, Dena. They had no need for sleep, being almost undead themselves.

“Brother, are you awake?”

“Of course.”

“How did the meeting go?”

“I understand… Undead… are abominations.”

“Everyone feels the same way, huh?”

Undead beings are rejected from the cycle of life and death.

Though they cling to life, they are closer to death than anything. It’s only natural that people feel uneasy around them.

Undead are beings returned from death.

The ominous sense and fear they emit lead to rejection. And Natasha, as a necromancer who commands the dead, was even more stigmatized.

There were probably few who would accept her, a woman who turned her friends and family into undead servants. Perhaps only one person on the continent.

“I once thought I’d give my life for her.”

“And yet, she always protects us till the very end.”

It wasn’t a joke or a test. Natasha was genuinely willing to sacrifice herself for her sister, her lord.

Even if that meant eternal silence.

[“Do you know why they left those words? Because the Wendigo’s main food source is humans.”]

[“Do you know why we did it? Because to lose meant to lose everything.”]

[“Do not belittle our determination to win in that horrid and unforgiving war.”]

“Today… hearing her talk, I couldn’t help but remember the old days.”

Seven years ago, during the height of the Empire’s Winter War.

To most Imperials, the greatest fears were winter and the Wendigos. But for Natasha and Dena, it was different.

What Natasha feared most was humans.

Those beasts in human skin who had tried to take her only family, her brother, and violate her.

Perhaps it was her sister’s mention of the Winter War that had stirred these memories.

Memories of when they had come to despise the living.

And of when they’d first come to genuinely love their sister.