Four months.
It had already been four months since Kel Rosenfeld first stepped into Frostbound Coast.
Four months since he inherited what many nobles called a frozen wasteland.
Four months since countless people believed the young Count would spend years merely stabilizing the territory.
Four months.
Yet Frostbound Coast no longer resembled the territory he had inherited.
The forests had become safer.
Trade routes expanded.
Monster attacks decreased dramatically.
The ocean flourished with activity.
Departments operated independently.
Institutes educated future generations.
Outposts rose across the frontier.
The territory was growing.
Rapidly.
Almost frighteningly.
Yet tonight...
Kel sat alone within his office.
A large calendar rested on his desk.
His golden eyes quietly observed it.
Twelve months.
That was all he originally intended to spend here before enrolling into Aetherial Institute.
Four had already passed.
Only eight remained.
Eight months before he returned home.
Eight months before his next journey began.
Eight months.
Not much time.
Not nearly enough.
The northern wind struck against the mansion windows.
Snow danced through the darkness outside.
The frozen city glowed beneath countless lanterns.
A beautiful sight.
Yet Kel's gaze slowly drifted toward the distant roads extending beyond the city.
Toward the endless winter.
Toward the true enemy of Frostbound Coast.
Not monsters.
Not economics.
Not trade.
Winter itself.
A faint sigh escaped him.
Then Seiren's voice echoed within his mind.
"You are planning something."
Kel didn't deny it.
"Always."
The ancient Guardian laughed softly.
"That answer stopped surprising me months ago."
A faint smile appeared.
Then Kel looked toward the countless maps spread across his desk.
Road designs.
Settlement layouts.
Infrastructure plans.
Magical diagrams.
Research reports.
Hundreds of pages.
All related to one goal.
One impossible goal.
One dream.
"I want to defeat winter."
The words escaped quietly.
Almost like a whisper.
Yet the moment they left his mouth—
The room became silent.
Even Seiren stopped speaking.
Several moments passed.
Then—
"...You wish to do what?"
Kel smiled.
Most rulers adapted to winter.
Kel wanted to dominate it.
The next morning.
An emergency meeting was called.
Department heads arrived.
Researchers arrived.
Architects arrived.
Alchemists arrived.
Engineers arrived.
Even several military officers attended.
The conference room became packed.
Everyone appeared confused.
Because nobody knew why they had been summoned.
Then Kel entered.
Silence immediately descended.
The young Count walked toward the center table.
His silver hair reflected the morning sunlight.
Golden eyes calmly observed everyone present.
Then—
He unrolled a massive blueprint.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
One architect blinked.
Then blinked again.
A senior engineer nearly dropped his documents.
An alchemist froze completely.
Nobody spoke.
Because the blueprint was enormous.
Not in size.
In ambition.
Kel pointed toward the map.
"This."
His finger moved.
"Will become Frostbound Coast's future road network."
The room immediately erupted.
"What?!"
"Across the entire territory?!"
"Impossible!"
"The costs alone—"
Kel raised one hand.
Silence returned.
Then he continued.
Every road connected.
Every settlement linked.
Every outpost integrated.
Every city supported.
The entire territory became one massive network.
Like veins carrying life through a body.
The military officers quickly noticed something.
"My Lord..."
Kel looked toward them.
The officer swallowed.
"These roads allow military reinforcement routes."
Kel nodded.
"Correct."
Another officer leaned forward.
"Emergency supply routes."
"Correct."
A third widened his eyes.
"Rapid civilian evacuation."
Kel smiled.
"Correct."
The room slowly realized.
These weren't roads.
They were infrastructure arteries.
The foundation of a future nation.
Then Kel revealed the second blueprint.
And the room nearly suffered collective cardiac arrest.
Magic Street Lights.
One architect stared blankly.
"...Street lights?"
Kel nodded.
"Across every major road."
The silence became profound.
A merchant representative finally spoke.
"My Lord..."
Kel looked toward him.
The man pointed at the design.
"You wish to illuminate roads?"
"Yes."
"At night?"
"Yes."
The merchant appeared confused.
"Why?"
Kel's answer was simple.
"Fear."
The room fell silent.
His finger moved across the map.
"Most people fear traveling at night."
Another point.
"They fear monsters."
Another.
"They fear darkness."
Another.
"They fear becoming lost."
His gaze swept across everyone.
"Remove the darkness."
Silence.
The idea sounded absurd.
Yet strangely logical.
Kel continued.
"Street lights every one hundred meters in populated areas."
Several people nodded.
Reasonable.
Then—
"One kilometer intervals in remote regions."
The room exploded again.
One engineer stood up.
"My Lord!"
Kel calmly looked at him.
"Do you understand how many street lights that requires?"
"Yes."
The answer came instantly.
The engineer sat down.
Somehow that response felt more terrifying.
Then came the third blueprint.
And this time...
Everyone simply gave up trying to predict what was coming.
Glowing Roads.
The alchemists immediately stood.
Their eyes widened.
Because they recognized the material.
Kel pointed toward the design.
"A special tile."
His finger tapped the blueprint.
"Pressure sensitive."
Another point.
"Temperature sensitive."
Another.
"Mana reactive."
The room listened carefully.
"Blue."
Kel pointed.
"Cold temperatures."
Another point.
"Green."
Another.
"Normal conditions."
Then—
"Red."
His gaze sharpened.
"Dangerous environmental conditions."
The entire room froze.
Because they immediately understood.
Travelers could navigate safely.
Merchants could avoid dangerous weather.
Patrols could detect environmental changes.
Lost civilians could follow illuminated paths.
One elderly researcher whispered.
"...Brilliant."
Then came the fourth blueprint.
And this one completely shattered everyone's understanding.
Winter Settlements.
Kel spread another design.
A circular settlement model.
At the center stood a massive energy structure.
Around it grew specially cultivated plants.
Plants researched by his alchemists.
Plants capable of storing heat.
Retaining heat.
Radiating heat.
Several botanists immediately leaned forward.
Their breathing quickened.
Kel calmly explained.
"These plants absorb sunlight during the day."
The room listened.
"They store it."
More silence.
"Then release it gradually throughout the night."
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Because what they were hearing sounded impossible.
Kel continued.
"The settlements will remain warmer than surrounding areas."
Another point.
"Reduce winter mortality."
Another.
"Improve agriculture."
Another.
"Increase civilian comfort."
The room slowly fell into stunned silence.
Then Seiren's voice echoed through his mind.
"This does not exist."
Kel calmly continued his presentation.
"Not yet."
The Guardian became silent.
Because that answer somehow made everything worse.
Hours passed.
The meeting continued.
Blueprint after blueprint.
Innovation after innovation.
Project after project.
By the end—
Everyone sat exhausted.
Mentally overwhelmed.
Emotionally stunned.
One elderly architect finally laughed.
A genuine laugh.
The kind produced by witnessing insanity.
"My Lord."
Kel looked toward him.
The old man smiled.
"You do realize most rulers spend decades trying to solve winter."
Kel nodded.
"Yes."
The architect continued.
"And you wish to solve it within eight months."
Silence followed.
Then—
Kel smiled.
A calm.
Confident.
Dangerous smile.
"If possible."
The room erupted.
Several people laughed.
Others groaned.
One researcher buried his face in his hands.
Another architect whispered.
"He's serious."
The worst part?
Everyone knew he was.
That evening.
The meeting finally ended.
The city remained unaware.
The people continued their daily lives.
The merchants continued trading.
The workers continued building.
The soldiers continued patrolling.
Yet deep beneath all of that—
A new dream had begun.
A dream larger than roads.
Larger than ports.
Larger than trade.
The dream of conquering winter itself.
Far beneath Scarder Lake.
Seiren quietly observed.
Then finally spoke.
"Do you think it will work?"
Kel stood beside the mansion window.
Snow continued falling outside.
The frozen city stretched beneath him.
The future spread beyond the horizon.
His golden eyes reflected countless possibilities.
Then he answered.
"I don't know."
The Guardian blinked.
A rare answer.
Kel continued.
"But if nobody tries..."
The snow danced beneath moonlight.
The city glowed warmly below.
And the young Count smiled.
"...then winter wins forever."
For the first time in centuries...
Someone had decided to challenge an enemy that kingdoms themselves had accepted.
Not a monster.
Not a nation.
Not a god.
Winter.
And Frostbound Coast would become the battlefield.