Chapter 63: The Winterhart Envoy (1)
The Rolls Royce pulled through Celestial Peak’s gates at nine in the morning, and the mood grew colder with its arrival.
Nathan watched from the courtyard as the vehicle stopped near the koi pond. It was sleek and silver-blue, its enchantments leaving faint trails of frost in the air that evaporated slowly in the morning sun. The Winterhart crest was embossed on the doors: a snowflake caught in a diamond.
The driver emerged first: a stoic man in silver-grey armor, his face unreadable and his movements economical. A Frost Wolf materialised beside him, its fur white as snow, its breath misting in the warm air. The creature’s pale blue eyes swept the courtyard as if it was searching for threats.
Two attendants followed, young women in crisp grey uniforms who took up positions on either side of the vehicle’s rear door.
The rear door opened, and Lady Maris Winterhart stepped into the morning light.
She was tall, like all Winterharts. Elegant, like all Winterharts. Her silver hair was swept back in an elaborate arrangement that must have taken an hour to construct and looked effortless. Her dress was pale blue-grey, the color of winter sky, and it moved like water when she walked. Her features were sharper than Elise’s: more refined, or perhaps just more practiced. The face of a woman who had spent decades navigating high society’s treacherous currents.
Her smile was coldly pleasant. It didn’t reach her eyes.
Elise stood at the courtyard’s center but her posture was rigid, her hands clasped behind her back.
"Aunt Maris."
"Elise, darling." Maris glided forward and embraced her niece with the formal precision of a ritual. Two air kisses. A brief clasp of hands. No warmth whatsoever.
"You’ve been difficult to reach. Your mother is concerned. The elders are... curious about your extended absence."
"I’ve been... climbing."
"Yes, I’ve heard." Maris’s gaze swept the courtyard: the converted observatory with its domed roof, the gardens with their flowering vines, the training yards where a few early-rising Climbers were already running drills. "This is... quaint. I can see why you’ve been hiding here."
Elise’s voice was ice. "I haven’t been hiding, Aunt Maris."
Maris’s smile didn’t waver. "We have much to discuss. Is there somewhere private we can talk?"
---
Valerie’s office was, by unspoken agreement, the most intimidating room in the guild hall.
The Tower maps. The ancient artifacts. The compass that pointed in three directions at once. Boris the Yeti curled in the corner in his small form, his glacier-blue eyes tracking every movement in the room. The TUFF GRANNY mug steaming on the desk.
Valerie herself sat behind her cluttered desk, her posture casual but her eyes sharp. She’d agreed to host the meeting without hesitation. "Family drama," she’d said when Nathan asked. "Every Climber with Elise’s type of background has it. Mine tried to marry me off too, back in the day. I told them I’d rather wrestle a Frost Wyrm. Still not sure which would’ve been more pleasant."
The party attended at Elise’s request. Nathan sat to her left, Moonlight stored in his inventory but his posture alert. Garrett was on her right, Dillon leaned against the wall near the door, his katana sheathed, his expression unusually serious. Mirko and Kuro were in their small forms on Nathan’s shoulders—green and black, silent and watchful.
Maris settled into the chair opposite Valerie with the fluid grace of someone accustomed to holding court. Her attendants remained outside. The Frost Wolf guard stood near the door, his summon padding silently to his side. "This... Is not what I meant by private"
"Tea?" Valerie offered, lifting her mug.
"No, thank you. This won’t take long." Maris folded her hands in her lap. "Elise, darling, let’s not pretend this is a negotiation. The family has made arrangements for your future. A marriage to Lord Aldric Calmfield, son of Sir Calmfield From Dominion Country. You know the name. The Calmfields control three major trade Enterprises and have significant influence in the Dominion’s Tower regulation councils. The union would strengthen Winterhart political position globally, secure new trade agreements, and provide stability for your future."
She paused, as if expecting Elise to express gratitude.
"The contract has been negotiated," Maris continued. "The dowry is set. The wedding is scheduled for the end of the year. Your mother has already begun the preparations. You should be pleased, Elise. Lord Calmfield is young, handsome, from an impeccable family. Many women would consider this a dream match."
"I’m sure they would." Elise’s voice was perfectly level. The kind of level that came from immense effort. "But I am not many women. I am a Climber. I am a member of Celestial Peak Guild. And I will not be married to a man I’ve never met for the sake of political convenience."
Maris’s smile didn’t waver. "This isn’t a request, Elise. This is your duty. The Winterhart name carries obligations that extend beyond personal preference. Your mother understands this. Your cousins understands this. Every Winterhart for six generations has understood this. If you had a brother or sister, I’m sure they would’ve understood this too."
"Then I will be the first who doesn’t."
The temperature in the room dropped.
It was subtle at first—a slight chill in the air, a faint mist forming on the window behind Valerie’s desk. Maris’s expression flickered, just for a moment, before her polished composure returned.
"Elise." Her voice was softer now. More dangerous. "Don’t be naive. You’ve had your adventure. You’ve climbed your Towers. You’ve proven whatever you needed to prove. But this fantasy of being a Climber—it’s not a life. It’s a phase. Your mother went through it. I went through it. We climbed, we explored, and then we came home and did our duty. That’s how it works."
"This isn’t a phase." Elise’s voice didn’t rise. "This is my life. I am a Climber. I’ve cleared a High Class Tower. I’ve fought beside people I trust with my life. I’ve found something worth more than political convenience, and I will not give it up."
"Trust." Maris’s gaze flicked to Nathan, to the bunnies on his shoulders, to Garrett and Dillon. "You trust these people? A failed party leader with an F-Grade aptitude? A mid-tier Climber who can barely hold his own summon together? A second son who’s about to be cut off by his own family?"
Garrett flinched. Dillon’s jaw tightened. Nathan didn’t move.
"This is a guild of misfits and rejects," Maris continued, her voice still pleasant, still conversational. "They’ve been kind to you, I’m sure. They’ve made you feel important. But they’re not your future, Elise. They’re a distraction. And the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can come home."
"Don’t..." Elise’s voice cut through the room. "Don’t talk about them like that."
"I’m simply being honest."
"No. You’re being cruel. And you’re wrong." Elise stood. The frost on the window thickened, spiderwebbing across the glass. "You came here to pressure me into a marriage I didn’t choose, to a man I’ve never met, for the sake of political alliances that have nothing to do with me. You came here to tell me my life is a phase. That my friends are distractions. That my choices don’t matter."
Her voice was steady, but Nathan could hear the emotion beneath it... years of expectation, years of pressure, years of being told who she was supposed to be.
"I respect the Winterhart name," Elise said. "I respect the sacrifices my ancestors made. The first Winterhart Climber, two hundred years ago, climbed Towers when no one knew what they were. She didn’t do it for political convenience. She did it because she wanted to see what was at the top. I am a Climber like she was. I have fought beside people I trust with my life. I have found something worth more than politics and trade routes and arranged marriages. And I will not give it up."
