Edmond did not move immediately. He stood there, the weight of Robert's words still hanging in the air, heavy and sharp. For a moment, it felt like everything was moving too fast, like a decision had already been made before the room had a chance to breathe.
Then he shook his head. "Your Grace," he said, his voice steady but edged with restraint, "that is too sudden. We cannot head into a war without proper planning without proper mobilization."
Robert did not respond at once. His jaw tightened instead, the muscles shifting under his skin as he turned slowly to face Edmond. There was impatience there now. Not hidden. Not softened.
"We have two days before we leave," Robert said. "And three more on the sea before we reach Cliffland."
He stepped closer, his voice lowering slightly, but gaining weight. "That is enough time to plan a war."
But Edmond did not step back.mHe held his ground. "To fight a war," he replied, "we need all the warriors of the seven kingdoms."
For a second, Robert just stared at him. Then he chuckled. It wasn't humor. Not really. "I need all seven kingdoms!" Robert repeated, shaking his head slightly, "to fight Cliffland? A small island?"
His eyes hardened. "The Northern forces alone are enough."
Edmond exhaled quietly, but he did not drop the argument. He stepped closer. "You know they are no longer alone," he said. "Ashford has joined them."
That landed. Not lightly. Robert's fist tightened again, the tension returning to his posture. For a moment, it looked like he might snap back immediately, but instead, he turned away.
He pointed toward the window. "Look around you," he said.
Edmond followed his gesture. Outside, the courtyard was alive with movement. Warriors filled the space, their armor catching light as they moved in disciplined formations. Banners from different lands stood tall among them, their colors cutting through the cold air.
"Iron Valley," Robert continued. His finger shifted slightly. "Green City."
Another shift.."Dragon City." And then, "Even the capital." He turned back to Edmond. "Do you think Cliffland and Ashford will be a match for this?"
The question lingered.
Edmond opened his mouth to respond.nBut Robert did not let him.."Prepare the North," he said, cutting through the moment. "We are heading to battle."
There was no room left for argument. No space to push back.
Robert turned and walked away, his steps sharp, final, each one echoing against the stone as he left the chamber behind.
"I will not be a king," he said over his shoulder, his voice carrying just enough to reach Edmond, "whose bride was stolen under his nose."
Then he was gone. And just like that, the decision became real.
Snowland shifted. It didn't happen slowly. It happened all at once. Orders were barked across the courtyards, voices rising above the clatter of steel and movement. Messengers ran from one end of the castle to the other, carrying commands that spread faster than the wind itself.
Preparation for war. The word did not need to be spoken loudly. It was already understood. At the forges, the fires roared to life..
Sparks burst into the air as smiths worked relentlessly, hammer striking metal in steady, unbroken rhythm. New blades were shaped, sharpened, tested. Old weapons were reforged, repaired, and brought back to life.
There was no pause. No rest. The entire Northern region began to stir.
From distant villages to guarded strongholds, the message carried through every path and every road. "The king has commanded war against Cliffland."
The words traveled fast. "Every warrior must return to Snowland."
Men began to move. From farms. From outposts. From places where they had thought themselves safe from battle, even if only for a while.
They gathered their weapons. They said their quiet farewells. And they started walking.
Inside the war room, the air felt different. Heavier, and focused.
A large map of Cliffland lay stretched across the table, its edges weighed down as generals leaned over it, their eyes scanning every line, every marking. Fingers traced the coastline, the cliffs, the narrow entries that could either serve as opportunity, or trap.
Voices overlapped. Low, and urgent.
"Here."
"No, they would expect that."
"If Ashford holds this point."
"Then we cut them off here."
Strategies began to form, break apart, and form again. Nothing was certain yet, but the direction was clear.
They were going. And they were going to fight. Elsewhere in the castle, the mood was not as controlled.
Helen stood still, the news settling into her like something cold. "There is no way," she said quietly, almost to herself. "Cliffland will not hold against this army."
Her eyes lifted slightly, but she wasn't really looking at anything in front of her anymore. "They will destroy every warrior.".The others around her shifted uneasily.
No one argued. Because they knew. Cynthia stepped forward. "Then we must warn the commander," she said. "We must tell them to leave the land."
Helen let out a short, dry chuckle..Not because it was funny. Because it wasn't. "You know Maria better than that," she said, turning her head slightly toward Cynthia. "She would rather die than run from a battle."
Cynthia hesitated. Then nodded. She did know. "But even so," Cynthia said, quieter now, "we have to warn her."
Helen did not respond immediately. She remained still, her thoughts turning inward, weighing something that had no easy answer.
Finally, she spoke. "That is treason." The word fell softly, but it carried weight.
Heavy, and final.
Hida stepped forward slowly. She reached out and placed her hand gently against Helen's cheek, her touch warm against the cold tension that had settled there.
"This won't be the first time," she said..Helen's eyes shifted toward her. "We did it when we helped her rescue Drexo and Theon," Hida continued.
The memory lingered between them. Unspoken, but clear.
That moment, that choice, had already crossed the line once.
This would just be crossing it again. Helen's resistance cracked. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just enough.
She exhaled sharply, then nodded. "Then I will send her a raven."
She moved quickly after that, as though giving herself time to think might change her mind. A small table was cleared. Ink. Parchment.
Her hand hovered for a second before she began to write. The message was short, and direct.
No wasted words. Every second mattered now. When she finished, she rolled the parchment tightly and secured it. The raven was already waiting, shifting slightly as she approached, its dark eyes watching.
Helen tied the message carefully. Then she paused. Just for a moment. Her fingers lingered against the bird's feathers.
As if she understood what she was sending into motion.
Then she released it. The raven took flight immediately, wings cutting through the cold air as it rose higher and higher, leaving Snowland behind.
Carrying a warning. Or maybe something else. Because once that message reached Maria, nothing would stay the same.