Chapter 617: The Rose of Coldwind Ridge

Back in her room, Iffy quietly listened as Tilly finished recounting the establishment of the Bloodfang Association and Hedy Morgan's true intentions. When she heard that Annie had been handed over to the nobles by Tianyan, she felt something tighten in her heart.

"Hedy... where is she?"

"She has received her due punishment," Ashes replied, standing behind Tilly. "Also, during the capture, Tianyan attempted to resist and followed the same path as Hedy."

"I see... thank you," Iffy whispered.

The fist she had clenched unconsciously loosened, and she suddenly felt a sense of loss.

Although the culprit behind it all had paid the price, she didn't feel much relief. Instead, she felt a sense of emptiness for losing her target for revenge. And as the only one who hadn't been punished, her guilt was even heavier.

"I hope you can help Sleeping Island get back on the right track," Tilly said after a pause. "The remaining members of the Bloodfang Association, like you, were deceived and framed by Hedy. They shouldn't be implicated or discriminated against. The bullying of auxiliary witches by combat witches is certainly wrong, but the reverse wouldn't be any better."

Without much hesitation, Iffy nodded and said, "I'm willing to help you."

Perhaps not expecting her to agree so quickly, Tilly seemed a little surprised. "It's great that you agreed."

"What should I do?"

"Just talk to the other members of the Bloodfang Association about your story with Annie. I will reveal Hedy's crimes to everyone," Tilly said. "After completely eradicating the church, I will send people to Wolfheart to search for the witches imprisoned by the nobles. If they are still alive, His Majesty Roland will be responsible for rescuing them."

"I understand."

If there was any way to alleviate this guilt, she would do her best to do it.

"Are you... okay?" Tilly suddenly bent down and reached out to wipe Iffy's cheek. The latter immediately felt a warmth spread across her face.

"It's okay," she blinked her eyes. "I'm just a little... sleepy."

The Fifth Princess silently gazed at her for a long time. "Don't be too sad. Get some rest."

It wasn't until their footsteps faded away that Iffy helplessly lay back on the bed.

She didn't cry.

This was just a natural physical reaction, she told herself.

Nothing to do with sadness, nor weakness.

But proof of her missing Annie.

The tears flowed even faster.

*******************

Roland sat at his desk, flipping through the evacuation statistics report from the General Staff. The flickering candlelight in front of him made him dizzy—he hadn't tried working late by candlelight in a long time, and now he was a little unaccustomed to it. He had thought he had pulled civilization into the modern era ahead of time, but upon arriving in Hollow Ridge Town, everything was thrown back to its original state.

No showers, no soap, no electric lights... It wasn't much better here than when he first arrived in Border Town. The beginning of industrialization was only showing its tip in the Western Region. He still had a lot of work to do if he wanted to fill the whole country with chimneys and boilers.

Roland put down the report and was about to rub his eyes when a pair of soft, invisible hands reached his forehead and gently massaged it.

«Thank you,» he mouthed, turning his head slightly and continued reading the report.

In the days when Barov was away, Sir Silte had done a good job as an office assistant. At least in counting numbers and compiling reports, he did a very good job, not inferior to those young men in the City Hall who had received special training.

"How many people here are willing to go to the Western Region?"

"At least seventy percent, Your Majesty," the knight replied. "Coldwind Ridge is not a suitable place to live. I asked the Duke, and if it weren't for monitoring the church's movements, there wouldn't be a town here at all. The remaining thirty percent mostly have their own land or property in the Northern Lands."

"Very good. You can start making plans now. Try not to let the ships return empty. Take a batch of people each time and bring these people back to the Western Region as soon as possible."

"But, Duke Calvin..."

"I'll explain it to him," Roland took a sip of tea. "Anyway, after the war, win or lose, we don't need to station people on Coldwind Ridge... um—"

"What's wrong, Your Majesty?" Silte asked, puzzled.

"No... nothing," just as he had said "win or lose," Nightingale suddenly gently covered his mouth, making him swallow his words back. "Anyway, just do as I say."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Just as the old knight was about to leave, the guard Shawn pushed the door open and walked in.

"His Majesty Roland, there is a woman outside the castle who wants to see you, but she was stopped by the guards. However, she is kneeling on the ground, saying that she will never leave unless she sees you."

"Now?" He subconsciously glanced out the window. The entire town had fallen into the quiet night.

"Yes, she seems to have deliberately waited until this time to come. I saw her twice in the castle area during the day, and..." Shawn hesitated. "She calls herself Mrs. Wimbledon."

Hearing this answer, Roland almost choked on his saliva. This was impossible! As far as he knew, the Fourth Prince had never been to the Northern Lands, so how could a "qingren" appear out of nowhere! But words were useless, he considered for a while and decided to summon her in to ask. Firstly, he could dispel Nightingale's doubts, and secondly, he was really curious—if the other party was a noble, it could be said that she was pursuing a romantic love affair, but if she was just a commoner, such a lie would be a serious crime.

When the woman walked into the room, Roland immediately felt his eyes light up.

Her appearance wasn't particularly outstanding, but her features had a unique charm. Her short and thin figure had a strange sense of stability and gentleness. In layman's terms, she seemed small, but she seemed to have maxed out her homemaking skills. The dirty mud on her long skirt perfectly complemented this weakness and strength.

"Your Majesty," the woman curtsied. "Livia of Coldwind Ridge sends her greetings."

"I want to know, what is this about you calling yourself Mrs. Wimbledon?" Roland got straight to the point. "The guard told me that you deliberately waited until late at night to come to the castle? If you want to commit fraud under this name, you should know the consequences, right?"

"Please forgive me, Your Majesty, if I didn't say that, you wouldn't see me at all," she bit her lip. "I can't be considered your brother's real wife, but we were truly in love."

So she was just a liar... wait... Roland suddenly froze. What did she say? My brother?

"Tifeico?"

She shook her head.

"Grolon?"

Livia blushed and knelt directly on the ground. "I know Grolon used to have ambitions for the throne, but he's dead now... Your Majesty, can you help me for his sake? I beg you!"