Vys Yun County, home to the tallest mountains in Northern Wind Province, saw thunderclouds gather over its peaks every autumn.
It was hard to imagine that atop such soaring peaks—reaching 300 to 400 meters high—stood an ancient castle.
This was the domain of Count Loth Vys, and he was the only noble in the entire province who, despite serving as the governor of Vys Yun County, refused to live in the county seat.
He much preferred residing in his ancient count’s castle. Here, no enemy could possibly reach him.
But the real reason was more than preference—Count Vys held secrets few knew.
At this very moment, he stood atop the mountain, braving the wind and snow, his eyes gazing toward the distant north, filled with wistful remembrance.
"How many years has it been? Who still remembers that the Vys family were the true rulers of these lands?"
Before the Divine Interplanar War, the Northern Wind Province had been part of a kingdom called Northgal—a land where spring reigned all year round.
And the royal family of that long-lost kingdom was none other than the Vys family.
But when the gods went to war across realms, and Northgal aligned itself with the Lord of Dawn, disaster followed. By the end of the war, the kingdom fell into ruin. Its royal bloodline was wiped out.
Then the winds of winter began to blow from the north. Nobles migrated south, and Northgal was battered by the waves of invading armies.
The kingdom collapsed entirely. Even the land now known as the Northern Wind Province was seized by the then–Grand Duke of Northwind.
Loth Vys was no direct descendant of the royal line—merely a distant branch of the family.
But even as a cadet branch, bearing the Vys name earned him noble recognition.
Years ago, when Grand Duke Meyers launched his campaign into the province, Loth Vys saw his opportunity. He was the first to pledge loyalty to the Empire, and with their backing—and their soldiers—he rose to become one of Northern Wind Province’s three counts.
What no one knew, however, was that during his rise to power, Count Vys had crossed the Xiangshan Plains into the far northern reaches and recovered the lost legacy of the Northgal royal family.
The royal legacy contained two treasures.
The first was a crown, within which was embedded a divine spark—the essence left behind after the death of a thunder giant nearly godlike in power, felled in the Divine War.
That battle had cost Northgal over 70% of its army and led to its eventual fall.
The second legacy was the training method for the catfolk assassins once favored by Northgal’s royal court.
During the interplanar divine war, kingdoms on the continent fought each other as much as they fought gods. Assassins became one of the most effective and low-cost tools in that brutal era.
Count Vys was clever—perhaps the first to elevate assassins, usually dismissed as underhanded, into a true military force.
And the results had been dramatic.
"With help from the catfolk assassins, those Black Ram warriors should be able to deal heavy losses to those two bastards... hahahaha!"
Count Vys lifted a glass of red wine—an imperial delicacy said to require a great deal of grain to produce.
"The Empire really does have wonderful things."
A flicker of hesitation passed through Vys’s eyes—but it vanished in an instant, replaced by fierce resolve.
"A count is still just a count. I will become king of the Northern Wind Province."
His eyes burned with fanaticism, and the crown above his head reflected the ambition in his heart.
He planned to engineer a devastating defeat for the province during this year’s orc invasion. Let the orcs ravage the land.
Then, using the connections he had cultivated over the years within the Empire, he would push forward the plan once more.
Many nobles within the Empire already doubted the value of the Northern Wind Province. There had been numerous proposals to partition or abandon it.
Count Vys knew their motivations—they wanted control of the Flying Wing Gorge. As long as the province remained Imperial territory, the gorge was strategically redundant. Some nobles, including Grand Duke Meyers himself, had even suggested garrisoning the gorge’s troops in the Xiangshan Plains.
This was the political tug-of-war over the Empire’s northeastern frontier.
But Grand Duke Meyers lost that struggle.
Yet the other faction didn’t win either. Despite repeated proposals, no plan to divide the province ever passed. Meyers, one of the Empire’s four grand dukes, still had powerful allies.
For Count Vys, this status quo was intolerable.
He wanted to restore his kingdom. He wanted Northern Wind Province to become his kingdom—the Vys Kingdom.
As long as the province remained under Imperial rule, he could never dare make a move.
So the first step was simple: force the Empire to give up the province, to turn it into a no-man’s-land.
When that happened, when the province was devastated, and even the two counts with extraordinary legions were bloodied and broken, how could they stop him?
The thought thrilled Count Vys. Electricity danced faintly across his body.
"Once Northern Wind Province is ruined, the Empire will realize their million-gold annual investment was wasted. And they’ll see that rebuilding would cost three or even five million a year. The great nobles will never agree—and even the royal family will hesitate."
"Once the Empire lets go... this land will be mine. Loth Vys’s."
He burst into laughter. For his dream of a kingdom, even making deals with the orcs—and aiding them with catfolk assassins—was worthwhile.
But he couldn’t shake a sense of unease.
Count Winter’s flying wolf cavalry was one of the Empire’s rarest airborne forces. Flying military units like these were exceedingly scarce—even across the Empire.
"Apia, your catfolk assassins... you won’t disappoint me, will you?"
From the shadows of the mountain forest behind him, a blue-furred catfolk assassin leapt into view.
"My lord Count, when we catfolk assassins lock onto a target, we never fail."
"Never fail?" Vys scoffed.
"You failed last year, didn’t you?"
"Couldn’t even kill a child. And you dare say ’never fail’? If that baron’s son from House Rimehart had died here in the province, would I have needed to make deals with those idiotic orcs?"
"If the boy had died on provincial soil, the Empire would have reevaluated the worth of this place by year’s end—and the Rimehart Count, even the royal family, would’ve been dragged into it."
"Even Grand Duke Meyers would have faced overwhelming pressure and had no choice but to yield."
Apia lowered his head. He didn’t know why the mission had failed—according to the returning assassins, the boy had clearly died.
"Shall we make another attempt, my lord? This time, we guarantee success."
Suddenly, a blast of thunder-infused force struck the frail catfolk, sending him reeling. Count Vys glared down at his feline slave.
"That Rimehart count is already back in the Imperial heartland. You want to drag a powerful noble back into the north just to kill him?"
"You’d better pray your catfolk assassins’ ’extraordinary’ techniques don’t steer this war in a direction I don’t want."
"As you command..." Apia knelt in terror.