"Grand Duke Folan, you really won’t ask any more questions?"

Adrian felt a prickle of surprise at his decisiveness, like a blade that doesn’t hesitate.

He’d thought he’d need a higher price, maybe a show of force, to sway him. What they were about to discuss would brand them both with betrayal, like hot iron on skin.

"Supporting Your Highness is supporting the royal house. What other reason do I need? As for His Majesty’s little whims… that’s beyond a mere grand duke. But Your Highness, let us see your sincerity."

Folan waved it off with a smile; his knuckles tapped the table like rain on cedar, waiting for Adrian’s reply.

It was also because Adrian was now a prince; otherwise, Folan wouldn’t have listened. If someone tried to blackmail him with the Heart of Ice, they’d be dead wrong. A man this firm stands like rock under winter surf.

Besides, Folan had watched Adrian grow—from a child to an Archmagus and an unstoppable warrior. He sat in this seat because he knew and trusted Adrian, like a captain trusting a north star.

He believed Adrian wouldn’t fail that trust.

Seeing how far things had gone, Eileen sighed and sat, folding her wings like a tired bird.

Adrian himself was surprised by how smooth it went, especially Folan’s stance. His words weren’t just his own retreat path; they gave Adrian’s move a proper banner, like a name carved on stone.

He was overthinking it. Two people close to the core join hands; who dares touch their taboo, but a moth rushing a forge?

"Thank you, Grand Duke. In that case, let me show my sincerity."

A faint flow of Arcane Power moved like a stream under ice. Adrian’s hand tore open space and reached into a spill of silver light. Folan and Eileen watched, hearts pounding like drums.

That silver gleam marked the Void. Adrian slid his hand in, easy as drawing silk. It made one doubt his current level, like staring into a lake and guessing its depth.

It didn’t take long. He pulled out a mass of freezing air. Both of them choked, as if winter pressed a palm to their throats.

"This is… the Heart of Ice?!"

Folan shouted, sparks of heat flickering in snow. The icy mass wasn’t like the Glacier Battleaxe. It didn’t frost the room. Yet the surge from his bloodline rolled like a tide; his bottleneck at Legendary Warrior loosened, ice cracking at dawn.

He’d only seen the Heart of Ice in old chronicles, but when the legacy gear appeared, he knew at once it was real. A force that tugs the blood like the moon pulls the sea—what’s truer than that?

What shocked Folan most, though, was Eileen.

"Cough… Father, Your Highness, something’s wrong with me…"

Ice crept over her hands like frost on glass. Panic bloomed in her eyes, blue as winter ponds. A mighty power spread, and she couldn’t stop it.

Adrian moved first. Arcane Power probed the ice on her hands like warm breath against frost. A heartbeat later, a will like a mountain blasted him back. He severed that strand at once. A sliver of cold condensed from the air, snow spun from breath.

If he hadn’t cut the link, that rime would be on his skin already, like wolves snapping at a trail.

"There’s a powerful will inside. Eileen’s triggered the Northern legacy. Grand Duke, choose now. If you won’t, I will!"

Being checked by that will wasn’t bad; it was fortune, like stumbling on a hidden spring. Adrian had roamed the continent for years; he’d seen it often. When legacies carrying a strong will awaken, the most gifted ignite first, tinder under a spark.

Power runs wild, yet the will guards it, like a mother bear over a cub.

This is when such talent needs the legacy. A strong will doesn’t ask if you’re weak or strong. It pours power in like hot wine ladled straight in. Whether the heir can control it—one strand of will doesn’t care.

Clearly, Eileen couldn’t control it yet. She was only near Legendary Warrior, hadn’t touched her own source. She couldn’t master a greater tide, especially one from the War God of the North. As a descendant, she had no room to resist, grass under storm.

"What’s there to hesitate about!!"

Folan snatched the Heart of Ice and drove it into Eileen’s body, like plunging a star into a lake. Guided by that power, the Heart fused with her without a hitch. The frost crawling over her slowed, dusk cooling to night.

Seeing it, Folan drew Oblivion and the Glacier Battleaxe. He put them in Eileen’s hands. When she gripped all three, an ice-blue phantom shaped behind her, a god waking from snow. It appeared and clashed with Adrian at once, a hard bind of wills.

Scorching flame met bone-biting frost midair and burst like two storms colliding. Thankfully, Adrian’s Arcane Power held it tight, so it didn’t touch Eileen.

"Eileen, use your will. Seize the legacy gear! This is your chance to ascend. Don’t let that will turn you!"

Adrian’s shout rang like a bell. Life returned to Eileen’s eyes, ice-blue but bright. She gritted her silver teeth. She drove her body’s power like oars on a black river and fought that hidden will head-on.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!"

Cold surged with her roar, a blizzard rolling off cliffs. Even Adrian and Folan retreated, step by step, out of the tearoom. The chill still leaked, fog seeping from a cave.

Adrian was ready for this scene. He ripped open scrolls without hesitation. A pile of arcane gems turned to dust, sand through fingers. Guided by his blood, a vast barrier spread over the manor, a clear crystal dome. Not even a breath escaped.

"Hah… good thing I prepared. I just didn’t expect the legacy to choose Eileen, not you, Grand Duke…"

He watched the tearoom glaze with frost and gave Folan a wry smile, moonlight on ice. Folan sighed too. This time, he dropped to one knee without pause. He bowed to Adrian, solemn as stone.

"Your Highness Adrian, I can’t repay this grace in my lifetime!"

"Grand Duke, please—no need."

Adrian moved to lift him. Folan stayed stubborn as a rooted pine and kept speaking.

"To be frank, Your Highness, by Eileen’s generation, the Northern blood is thin as watered wine. Only she’s the rare exception. My other children haven’t even awakened. You brought back our Northern legacy, and you refined her blood this much…"

Folan rose slowly and bowed again, grass bending to wind.

"…Your Highness, I only hope I can hold your reins in the years to come."

Adrian could only smile, helpless and warm, a fire in early spring. In most realms, a grand duke with real power pledging so clearly would make a prince grin crooked. Such nobles are the backbone in a fight for the throne.

But Adrian didn’t want the throne, and no one was fighting him for it.

"Grand Duke, if you help me with the next matter, I’ll be content."

"Give the order."

Adrian breathed deep, lungs filling before a plunge. They headed to a room less touched by frost. He unfurled a map before Folan. The Round Table had given him this file; it outlined the situation well, lines carved on stone.

"Grand Duke, you’ve been to the Holy City. What impression struck you deepest?"

Folan’s brows pinched, a hawk sighting prey.

"Jerusalem’s defenses. The walls are reinforced stone. The gates use southern ironwood, harder than common steel. Holy light threads the masonry, and wards form a shell. Even several legend-tier sorceries would break like waves on a cliff. An outside breach is near to war."

The judgment was sober and right, a compass pointing north. As a military man, one visit was enough to gauge the siege cost.

Adrian nodded. On breaking the Holy City, he shared Folan’s view, two minds like twin lamps.

"So I have to slip inside and strike from within. To be blunt, I’m rescuing that girl, and a companion may be hiding there too. But killing the Holy Son—that part falls to me."

Folan inclined his head, a small tide in a still bay. He knew Adrian and Lilith had stirred the whole city before, rumors like wind through reeds.

"Then, Your Highness, what troops do you want from me?"