Chapter 144 — Exceptional Talents
Months ago, the first letter arrived.
It bore a wartime seal.
Black wax. Royal insignia pressed deep enough to crack the parchment beneath.
Baron Edrien Valmor had read it in the dim light of his study.
A Demon King Army detachment had crossed the eastern border of a friendly nation.
Relief forces dispatched.
Outcome unfavorable.
All nobles to prepare levies and auxiliaries upon royal decree.
He had not panicked.
He had not raged.
He had folded the letter once and summoned his stewards.
War was not new.
War was arithmetic.
But this—
This letter was different.
It arrived without trumpet.
Without herald.
Crimson wax.
His own crest pressed into it.
Delivered at dawn.
He broke the seal alone.
Read it once.
Then again.
Then a third time.
The words were simple.
The Republic capital has fallen.
Order to reinforce borders at Margrave domains.
All capable adventurers within the domain are hereby summoned to reinforce the border.
Demon King forces confirmed.
Participation is not optional.
His fingers tightened slightly.
Then he saw the final line.
Exceptional talents are to be prioritized.
The candle beside him flickered.
He already knew.
Silver Ward.
The Collapse
The Republic had fought well.
Too well.
They had held the line for months.
Their capital endured siege, famine, fire.
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When allied forces scattered, their representative remained.
A final stand.
To buy time.
To let civilians flee.
Refugees now flowed like a slow bleeding river across borders.
Some reached Margrave territory.
Some passed through his domain.
Starved.
Silent.
Eyes too old for their age.
There were rumors.
Not just a detachment.
Not just scattered forces.
One of the Eight Generals of the Demon King.
That explained the pattern.
Countries did not collapse immediately.
They held.
They resisted.
Then they fell.
Not broken.
Overwhelmed.
And now—
It was their turn.
Preparation
Edrien had prepared.
Stockpiles of weapons.
Rations sealed in tarred crates.
Caravans prearranged to transport supplies westward.
Mercenary contracts drafted but unsigned.
Lists.
So many lists.
Lightning Whip.
Silent Edge.
Iron Flash.
Steel Tusk.
Iron Crush.
Stone Hold.
Four Bastion.
Grim Vulture.
Meteor Fall.
Dragon Piercer.
And finally—
Silver Ward.
He closed the ledger slowly.
He had watched the reports.
The girl who turned a frontier town into an economic spectacle.
The girl who moved like a veteran and fought like a miracle.
The girl three men dressed like she was their entire world.
Exceptional talents are to be prioritized.
War did not care about fathers.
He signed the dispatch orders.
Runners were sent across every city under his domain.
Emergency postings prepared.
Rewards promised.
Compensation guaranteed for families of the fallen.
It was all necessary.
None of it felt sufficient.
Frontier Town
That morning, the sky felt wrong.
No storm clouds.
No wind.
Just… heavy.
Brannic stood at the western gate during his morning shift.
His armor was polished.
His expression wasn’t.
“…Why do I feel like this?” he muttered.
A younger guard tilted his head.
“What’s wrong, Bro Brannic?”
“I don’t know.”
He scanned the horizon.
“Feels like something’s coming.”
And then—
It appeared.
A rider on a lathered horse.
Bearing the Key and Road insignia.
Baron Valmor’s messenger.
Brannic’s chest tightened.
“That’s noble colors.”
“Open the gate! Noble messenger incoming!”
The gates groaned open.
The horse did not slow.
It thundered past.
Straight toward the town lord’s manor.
Brannic watched until the rider disappeared behind stone walls.
“…No way,” he whispered.
His instinct was rarely wrong.
The Announcement
The news did not spread immediately.
First, it moved through offices.
Through sealed rooms.
Through quiet conversations behind closed doors.
Then—
The bell rang.
Not the market bell.
Not the noon bell.
The assembly bell.
People gathered in the square.
Merchants. Adventurers. Guards. Laborers.
The governor stood on the platform.
His face pale.
The proclamation was read aloud.
Clear.
Without embellishment.
The Republic capital has fallen.
Order to reinforce borders at Margrave domains.
All capable adventurers within the domain are hereby summoned to reinforce the border.
Demon King forces confirmed.
Participation is not optional.
Silence.
Then uproar.
“What do you mean not optional?!”
“How far are they?!”
“Is it confirmed?!”
“Which general?!”
Posters were nailed to boards.
Marked on the Adventurer Guild board.
Mercenary Guild.
Merchant Guild.
Church.
Alchemy Guild.
Magic Guild.
Participation is not optional.
The words cut deeper than “Demon King.”
Because monsters could be fought.
But this—
This was obligation.
Adventurer Guild – Main Hall
Mireya read the posted notice three times.
Her tail did not puff.
It froze.
Garrick stood beside her.
His jaw tight.
“…So it’s here,” he said quietly.
Brannic arrived shortly after.
“Recruitment’s already begun at the guard post,” he reported.
“Volunteers?”
“Some.”
“And the rest?”
“They’re still reading.”
No one mentioned her name.
But everyone thought it.
Exceptional talents are to be prioritized.
Meanwhile
At the edge of town, in a modest home cluttered with fabric and folded dreams—
Ivaline lay on her side, Seraphine curled against her.
Morning light filtered through the window.
Warm.
Quiet.
Seraphine traced idle patterns along her sleeve.
“Which one will you wear today?” she murmured.
Ivaline smiled sleepily.
“Maybe the nurse one.”
Outside, a bell rang.
Not near enough to alarm.
Not loud enough to disturb.
Seraphine shifted closer.
Ivaline tightened her hold.
Neither of them knew.
That the stable rhythm of their days—
Had just ended.
War does not knock loudly.
It posts a notice.
And waits.
