Snowkeep trembled.
Stone groaned, frost cracked, and the pitch-black night flashed with a pale crimson hue as the walls surged upward, growing, stretching, thickening.
The Theodosian miracle had begun.
*** Enemy Camp ***
"—My lord! The walls—!"
A young crusader ran through the snow like a madman, slipping as he reached Ilmund’s tent. His armor still glowed faintly from the holy blessing, yet his face was pale with fear.
Ilmund stepped out, Raven supported on his arm. The divine fire around him dimmed to faint embers, the ceasefire binding his power’s expression.
"What is it?" he snapped.
The soldier pointed, trembling.
"My lord... look!"
Ilmund turned.
And froze.
Snowkeep, that stubborn fortress lodged into the mountainside, had suddenly become... something else entirely. The once modest curtain wall now towered like a bastion of ancient empires. A second layer grew beneath it like the ribs of a colossal beast. A third section hummed with magic.
Triple walls.
Layered, reinforced, growing.
"Impossible..." Raven croaked, barely conscious. "Walls... don’t change shape..."
"They do not," Ilmund whispered.
His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword.
"But an arcanist can."
The surrounding crusaders murmured, dozens dropping to their knees in fear and awe. If Arethrus had shown them divine fire... then Snowkeep was showing them something far more blasphemous.
"Have Arethrus and Mithral decided to go to war?"
Ilmund whispered; it was the only likely answer.
Rumours had already gone around about Snowkeep’s divine construction, an act that could only be created with the support of the god of labor himself, Mithral.
And now...? It seemed like the same thing was happening now.
But why? For all the crusaders and priests on their side knew, the gods were always allied with each other, together in one pantheon, opposing the forces of evil.
So why...? Why would Arethrus bless the opposing force with his fiery strength while Mithral gifted the others with his miracle construction?
It never seemed to add up, one that planted small doubts within the crusaders’ minds, but for now, they chose to ignore it. There has to be an explanation after they win.
*** Snowkeep ***
The rumbling sent citizens scrambling for stable ground. Some thought another divine attack had begun. Others feared an earthquake.
Fenrix stood on a rooftop, cloak billowing from the upward wind of the suddenly rising walls that slowly covered the city.
"Gods above..." he muttered as he watched the walls grow before his eyes. "Is this what an arcanist looks like...?"
Behind him, guards and knights ran through the streets shouting:
"Remain calm! Duke Justinian is fortifying the city!"
"The Duke is performing a miracle!"
"You are safe, stay inside!"
The words repeated like a mantra until fear warped into awe.
Prestige rose like a tidal wave.
Exactly as Justinian had planned.
*** Justinian’s Room ***
Justinian stood over the glowing map, eyes flicking to each expanding blueprint.
Prestige numbers soared as he worked.
[Prestige: 63,912][Prestige: 64,004][Prestige: 64,127]
’Good... I’m gaining more than I’m losing, just a bit more, and I can make a city as fortified as Constantinople.’
The entire process went smoothly for a few days, Justinian not only expanding defenses but also infrastructure; he was remodelling his city through this new power.
But as more days passed, the more his prestige began to slow down, and the awe from the start of his miracles slowly faded as people got used to it.
[Prestige: 34,252]
Abandoned and decrepit buildings were enhanced, and existing ones upgraded; it was a total makeover, one that benefited every single one of his citizens, temporarily distracting them from the upcoming battle.
He needed to gain as much morale as possible while the ceasefire was still in effect.
All the while, Lucan and the other captains were positioning their men at the new walls, stationing each one to the new kill holes Justinian had placed.
It ensured they were able to fight the enemy without worrying about their flames... a simple spear would be enough to take them out while they were covered by a thick layer of stone.
"Do nobles usually get architectural lessons?"
Cassia, sitting beside him on the bed, asked, curious at how Justinian was so skilled at wall and infrastructure designs.
It wasn’t really common knowledge taught in most top academies.
"No, to my knowledge at least."
"So I have to scratch this off as more of your... eccentric talents?"
"Unfortunately so."
Justinian chuckled, continuing his work as he checked his own version of the Theodisian walls, ensuring it was functional.
"You know, I sometimes feel that you’re distant."
Justinian’s hand froze at her remark, words that were so familiar to him, something so personal and deep that went across to when he was still in his original world.
"Why so?"
"It sometimes feels like I’m always in your shadow as you work... forced to watch as you solve everything yourself... and yes, I know that you let us help, but it feels more like merely obeying commands than contributing personally."
Cassia sighed, playing with the curls of her white hair, her red eyes subtly flashing.
"I’m supposed to be one of the greatest fighters in the south, one to protect you as your second, but I only got to watch as you fought both Besmund and Raven."
Justinian lowered his hands, took a deep breath, and completely understood what she meant.
He felt that way in the past, and even worse, he made someone else feel like that as well, something he would never wish upon anyone.
It’s as if your very purpose in life was being taken away from you, forced to always be a shadow.
[Special Quest: The White Flower’s Awakening]
[Condition: ???]
[Rewards: God’s Gift (The White Death)]
Justinian saw the panel appearing, the mere description of the white death making him forget how to breathe.
It was a special gift Cassia had obtained in later parts of the novel, the moment where she finally stopped being a generic love interest for Julius and actually equaling him.
It was a swordsmanship ability beyond compare.