Chapter 30: Livia von stern

A.S. 1082, June 24th, Early Morning, Saint Elmo’s Point, Gray Mist Cape

The salty sea breeze carried a thick morning fog that spread over the beach of Gray Mist Cape.

The ruins of a shattered fishing village loomed faintly through the mist; charred beams jutted crookedly from the mud, and a few stubborn wisps of black smoke still curled upward.

Friedrich von Stern, Border Count, stood atop a makeshift wooden lookout platform, his brows furrowed as he gazed at the blurry figures of the Norse army through the fog.

The Norse—known in the Imperial tongue as the Northerners—were not from some distant, frozen wasteland but rather “sea nomads” who had entrenched themselves on coastal isles and remote fjords.

Disguised as fishermen in peaceful times, they transformed into ruthless marauders at the slightest opportunity—an affliction that had plagued the region for centuries, never fully eradicated.

“Damnable beasts!”

Friedrich muttered under his breath.

His stern gaze pierced the haze, clearly seeing those pirates dragging captured, barely breathing villagers—especially the ragged, violated young girls—roughly bound to heavy wooden planks like human shields, slowly pushed toward the battle-ready ranks of the Kingdom’s army.

Friedrich clenched his fists tightly.

These cunning sea wolves knew well the Kingdom’s army held the advantage at range and were using these despicable tactics to shackle their own forces.

He glanced toward his own fortress-like position—

Row upon row of infantry clad in chainmail, wielding long pikes like a steel forest; heavy cavalry gleaming in polished plate armor, lances at the ready, silent as statues awaiting the charge; crossbowmen and catapult operators already stationed.

Yet the order to attack stuck in Friedrich’s throat.

The sea raiders were savage and cunning—who knew how many traps they’d laid in these familiar tidal flats?

To sacrifice the Kingdom’s precious elite just to root out these bandits?

He could not afford that price.

His King’s “eyes” were watching him here, and he must not betray His Majesty’s trust.

Mercy cannot command an army!

As the commander, he must make decisive choices swiftly!

“Livia,” Friedrich turned to his daughter, “in this situation, how would you face the enemy?”

Livia von Stern stood silently, her gaze not fixed on the pitiful hostages or the arrogant pirates but piercing through the mist toward the vague horizon where sea met sky.

She wore a custom-fitted silver-white light armor, polished until it gleamed like a mirror, outlining the graceful yet powerful figure of the young woman.

Her long boots hugged slender calves beneath the knees, faintly revealing the white stockings beneath.

Flames.

The pale dawn light illuminated her exquisitely sculpted face, her clear blue eyes burning with an unspoken intensity.

“You would have the archers and catapults fire directly, ignoring the hostages, wouldn’t you?”

Livia’s voice was cold and melodious, carrying a calm that seemed to see through everything.

A flicker of approval crossed Friedrich’s eyes as he nodded.

“Of course. I am no cruel man, but as commander, I am responsible for my soldiers’ lives. To make harsh decisions—that is our duty.”

He paused, then asked, “Do you have a better plan?”

Livia finally withdrew her gaze and turned to her father.

In those blue eyes burned not anger at the atrocity, but the eager determination of a young warrior thirsting to make her mark.

“I will save the hostages,” she said clearly and resolutely, then added in a tone flat yet chilling, “and then kill every last one of them.”

Friedrich knew his daughter well.

She was no delicate beauty trapped in a gilded cage but a warrior who craved battle and pursued justice with near-obsessive fervor.

Had she been a son, she would surely have become a legendary hero.

Friedrich sighed deeply, a mixture of pride and sadness.

“If only your brothers had half your courage.”

“Father, when can I go to battle?”

Livia’s tone lifted slightly, the restrained hunger for combat almost breaking free.

Friedrich shook his head.

“Why use a sledgehammer to crack a nut? The enemy has no Emblem.”

“No, Father,” Livia said decisively, pointing to the thickest fog behind the pirate formation, “they have members of the Crimson Spiral Cult behind them.”

Friedrich frowned.

“How do you know?”

Livia raised a hand toward the remnants of the night sky overhead.

“The Star told me.”

The Star again!

Friedrich felt a familiar headache creeping in.

His daughter, Livia, was brilliant enough to make him proud but strange enough to make him worry.

She always whispered to the “Star” under the night sky—that was the only time she showed the pure, unclouded smile of a girl.

Each time Friedrich saw that, his feelings were mixed.

Livia was his illegitimate daughter.

That status alone determined everything in noble circles.

Friedrich had originally hoped she could grow up quietly in some obscure village under her birth mother’s care, hidden from sight, so he could find a modest noble to marry her off to.

This way, Livia might live an ordinary life—not necessarily happy but at least safe.

Yet when he received a letter penned by King Louis XI himself, he learned that his daughter had inherited the Stern family’s Emblem bloodline, purer than any ancestor before her.

His daughter was a peerless genius Crest User.

Because of her, he had risen from an obscure Border Count to a rising political star coveted by both Empire and Kingdom.

Everyone only saw his dazzling surface, but only he knew he basked in his daughter’s reflected glory.

Livia’s return shattered the family balance.

His wife, born of an Imperial Duke’s family with noble Emblem blood, could not tolerate an illegitimate daughter openly present in the household.

Nor could his sons accept this suddenly appearing “older sister.”

Thus, Livia endured terrible familial cold violence.

Friedrich was aware of his daughter’s suffering but powerless to help.

Within this family, Friedrich was actually the weaker party.

He had married up into an Imperial ducal family.

The Stern family’s Emblem bloodline had long since weakened to little more than commoners, while his wife’s bloodline was strong and pure.

Under Imperial law, only nobles with stable, significant Emblem blood could inherit titles.

Friedrich had only passed the lineage test and inherited his father’s title thanks to his wife’s status.

Without the Duke’s daughter’s support, Friedrich might not have even maintained noble status.

The root of the family conflict was inheritance.

Livia’s bloodline was the pure Stern “Star” Emblem bloodline, meaning Friedrich’s legitimate eldest son ranked below her in succession priority.

The Lady of the Border Count could not accept an illegitimate daughter usurping her son’s inheritance.

To protect the family (or rather, her own position), Friedrich had to remain cold toward Livia, even siding with his wife.

Did Friedrich not love his daughter?

The answer was no.

Compared to his useless scoundrel sons, he loved his pitiful, extraordinary daughter all the more.

Friedrich’s ultimate choice to side with the Kingdom of Lorraine was only because Louis XI was willing to grant his daughter a “legal” identity.

This decision caused a marital crisis, and Friedrich expended enormous effort to salvage his precarious marriage.

As the price for his wife’s compromise, he had to relocate to the Capital, raising the Stern family to prominent Capital nobility.

Moreover, he had to hurry and marry Livia off, transferring inheritance to the legitimate eldest son.

The result was that his remarkable daughter had to be married to the notorious scoundrel Allen de Laval.

Just thinking about it made his heart bleed.

Yet Friedrich truly believed letting the eldest son inherit was not a bad thing.

A daughter married off was like water spilled.

Only the eldest son could truly carry on the Stern family’s honor.

Friedrich owed Livia too much.

He took her from her mother but failed to give her the care she deserved, letting her grow up among cold stares and rejection, cultivating a “quirk” of only communicating with the “Star.”

Every mention of the “Star” pierced his heart like a needle.

To ease his guilt, Friedrich suddenly spoke up.

“By the way, Livia, I have some ‘good news.’”

He forced a smile.

“About your engagement to the Laval family…Madam will probably call it off. The Viscount wrote demanding a dowry of one hundred thousand Livre! It’s outright extortion! Madam will never agree.”

Livia frowned slightly.

“Give it to him.”

“All right, I’ll reject him at once…wait?”

Friedrich’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“You…you want to continue this engagement?”

“Yes.”

Livia replied calmly, her gaze returning to the horizon.

Friedrich was staggered.

One hundred thousand Livre!

That was enough to fund a major campaign!

Her fiancé was a scoundrel!

How could her proud self consent to marry such a bastard?!

Was she in rebellion, planning to give the dowry then break the engagement just to spite him?

“Is one hundred thousand Livre…a lot?”

Livia seemed to notice her father’s shock and asked.

“Very much!”

Friedrich said seriously, “Enough for the Kingdom to fight several hard battles!”

At the mention of war, Livia understood.

She was silent for a moment, blue eyes flashing with thought.

“Father, if you find it difficult, I will earn that money myself.”

Friedrich almost laughed angrily.

“You earn it? Do you know how hard that is?!”

He wondered if his daughter had really entered a rebellious phase.

He thought of his eldest son, who had lately acted the same way—rebelling fiercely, saying: “Livia, Livia! You’re always talking about Livia! Father, you only love my sister, right? No matter how hard I try, can’t I get you to look at me once?”

That statement left Friedrich torn.

His eldest son had decent Emblem talent but nowhere near Livia’s level.

Livia’s genius was so extraordinary Friedrich thought his son would be better off quietly fulfilling his duty as a stud, fathering the next generation of strong bloodline.

Money?

His son might never reach Livia’s Crest level even at eight or nine years old.

Livia usually gave him little trouble, but now she shocked him by saying she wanted to earn the huge dowry herself.

Why were his children all so rebellious?

Was his family education that much of a failure?

“Father,” Livia’s gaze returned to the pirate camp, tinged with eagerness, “how much is one pirate worth?”

“About ten to twenty Livre…”

Friedrich answered reflexively, then caught himself.

“Wait! One hundred thousand Livre! You’d have to kill so many—A…”

“I’m going!”

Livia’s words barely fell before she leapt from the lookout like a white lightning bolt, agilely mounting a magnificent pure white warhorse.

“May the victorious Star shine upon you!”

Friedrich was left dumbfounded.

“Sir, shall we pursue the lady?!” his squire and flag captain quickly asked.

Friedrich, fuming, glared and shouted, “Are you still asking?! Hurry and chase!”

The squire promptly blew the horn.

“First, Second, Third, Fourth Lancer Squadrons! Assemble! Charge with me! Cover the lady!”

Infantry officers waved their flags, directing the infantry phalanx forward.

“Infantry regiment, advance!”

The urgent blast of horns shattered the morning calm as the Kingdom’s war machine roared to life.

The iron hooves of the heavy cavalry shook the earth, the infantry phalanx advancing like a moving steel fortress.

A bloody slaughter had begun!