This year, the winter in the village was especially harsh, and for the Rebels staying here, the situation was just as grim.
They had originally hoped to find a new base before winter arrived, so they could better prepare supplies and plan their actions. However, nature’s mercilessness crushed their plans—mountain roads were blocked by thick snow, making travel nearly impossible.
They had no choice but to remain in the village.
That autumn, the Royal Messenger who had ridden out on the last earth dragon to seek aid from Valivadan, had left at this very time.
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t the dark-skinned youth himself who returned, but only a token belonging to him.
That day, as the snow eased a little, the urgent sound of hooves quickly approached, shattering the quiet of the village.
A blond man led his horse by the reins, dressed in heavy foreign attire that was completely out of place in this land, drawing everyone’s attention.
“I am a Royal Messenger from Valivadan,” he announced loudly, his voice echoing through the cold air, “I bring you the news you’ve been waiting for.”
The Rebels gathered to block his path, and the Captain strode forward, his gaze sharp as he sized up the sudden visitor.
The man took from his breast a badge adorned with the foreign insignia—it was the very token the dark-skinned youth had carried for identification on his journey.
“This was entrusted to me by your Royal Messenger,” the blond man explained. “He fell ill along the way and could not continue the journey. He asked me to deliver this badge and crucial information to you safely.”
The Captain took the badge, examined it closely, and, upon confirming its authenticity, felt his doubts ease a little.
He gestured for the man to dismount and invited him to sit by the fire, ordering his people to prepare food and water.
“The lords of Valivadan have agreed to your request,” the man produced a letter and said, “They are willing to ally with the human Rebels and together resist the oppression of the Blood Clan. Not only that, they have offered to provide some food and winter supplies as initial support, to help you survive this season.”
This news was like a warm current, melting the chill in everyone’s hearts. After all their efforts and perseverance, at last, they saw a ray of hope.
The Captain clenched his fists tightly, his eyes shining with excitement.
“This is wonderful!” he exclaimed, “This is the turning point we’ve long awaited. Please tell me—do the mages of Valivadan require anything from us in return?”
The blond man smiled faintly and shook his head.
“They said now is the time to unite against a common foe; no return is necessary. When the snow melts, you must depart for the plains on the other side of the valley. Our contacts will be waiting for you in the town.”
The Captain, upon hearing this, was filled with gratitude and respect. He rose and gave the blond man a deep bow.
“Thank you for bringing this news. You’ve traveled far; please rest here for a while.”
The blond man was about to remount and continue his journey, but upon hearing the Captain’s words, he agreed to stay.
Other members chimed in as well: “Yes, stay with us. Our food may not compare to yours, but please try some anyway.”
Barley and oats were the staple crops in this region, and every household had their own homemade sour brew. To welcome the honored guest, the villagers mixed the best batch into his cup, pouring round after round.
After drinking, the man did not refuse and soon became tipsy. Eventually, the blond man was settled in the room beside the kitchen to rest.
The man’s cloak had been badly worn on his journey, and when the Captain noticed, he asked Phil to help mend it.
Phil took the cloak, and with deft hands, her needle threaded swiftly through the fabric, soon repairing the tear until it was nearly invisible.
That man seemed truly exhausted; after tasting the villagers’ homemade brew, he lay down and soon fell into a deep sleep.
Phil quietly entered the room to return the cloak, trying not to make a sound so as not to disturb him.
At that moment, she noticed a book spread out on the bed, its pages fluttering lightly in the wind, and a slip of paper fell to the floor.
Phil bent down to pick it up. She remembered—it was the same letter the blond man had read upon his arrival.
The contents of the letter matched what he’d said, but the writing on it made her frown in suspicion.
In the village, almost none of the Rebels could read, so they wouldn’t understand the letter. But Phil was different—having been trained as a royal maid at the academy, she recognized the script at a glance.
It wasn’t the language of Valivadan at all, but the Anselsian script she had often seen in the Capital.
Her heart suddenly clenched, a nameless premonition welling up within her. She shot a wary glance at the blond man.
Luckily, he was still fast asleep, snoring loudly.
“This man isn’t from Valivadan!”
A voice shouted in Phil’s heart.
“He lied. He’s deceived everyone! This man is from Ansels!”
Phil stepped back, pressing against the door with a dull thud, cold sweat streaming down her face.
The token belonging to the Royal Messenger had fallen into the hands of someone from Ansels. Then, this Anselsian had impersonated a messenger from Valivadan and returned to the Rebels’ location.
What had happened in between was all too clear.
The dark-skinned Royal Messenger they’d sent out had likely already met a grim fate, probably caught by the soldiers of Ansels on the way.
In order to capture the entire Rebel group, the Count hadn’t launched a frontal assault, but had instead used this method to quietly get close. When his cavalry finished surrounding the village, he would wipe them out in one strike.
And now, only Phil had noticed the truth.
What should she do?
Phil didn’t want to see that blond man again. She flung open the door and ran out, her feet stamping the edge of the snowy ground, heart pounding wildly in her chest.
Her mind was awash with stormy waves, impossible to calm. She knew this was no simple choice—it concerned both her own safety and the fate of the Rebels.
If she chose to tell the Captain about this, her identity as a member of the Blood Clan might be exposed.
That past was something she’d always tried so hard to conceal. She feared that, if the secret came to light, her teammates would hate her for having once spared the Blood Clan, and might even go so far as to take revenge on her at any cost.
She had woken up countless nights in fear, terrified her secret would be discovered, and she would lose the hard-won shelter and friendship she’d found here.
Yet if she chose silence and fled quietly, the Rebels would face disaster.
The blond man’s true identity was likely linked to the Ansels military—this was surely a fatal blow for the Rebels.
She couldn’t just stand by and watch those who had accepted her fall into ruin because of her silence.
Phil closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her restless heart.
“Ah… this is so troublesome. Why am I thinking of her again at a time like this?” She looked down at her trembling hands and forced a smile, “If it were her, she definitely wouldn’t hesitate like me.”
Still, even so, she wanted to be a little closer to that silver-haired girl.
So, Phil’s steps turned toward the Captain’s quarters.