Chương 87: A Confrontation Beneath the Ruins of Watchsea Point

Night wind swept down from the snow-capped peaks, blowing through the crumbling stone pillars of Watchsea Point, carrying flurries of white snow tumbling through the air. From nearly two thousand meters up, the entire valley of Broken Wind Ravine lay hidden beneath a drifting silver mist under the full moon. Eleanor stood leaning against a chipped section of marble railing. She'd taken off her knight's helmet, letting her golden hair fly free in the cold wind.

Moonlight fell across her fine features, catching a rare glint of mischief in her blue eyes. Three steps away, Lucian stood hunched inside his ash-grey cloak, hands buried deep in his pockets, breathing out clouds of white mist.

"Princess, you dragged me up this windy mountaintop at one in the morning just to watch snow fall? The armored carriage at the base of the mountain has heating ten times better than up here." Eleanor turned around. She walked slowly across the ice-covered stone, closing the distance toward him.

"Lucian. You always say you do everything for money, for dodging taxes, for economic efficiency." She stopped exactly half a step away, looking up straight into his ten-year-old face.

"So when you jumped into that swamp to save thirty students sinking in mud, did you calculate a single coin of profit from any of them?" Lucian didn't step back, answering with perfect composure.

"Of course. All thirty of those kids were children of major earls and bankers. If they died in that dungeon, their families would've collectively sued the Academy, the capital's financial markets would've panicked, and shares in three uniform manufacturers my family invested in would've hit the floor for three straight sessions. I saved them to protect my portfolio's value." Eleanor burst out laughing. She took another step, close enough that Lucian had to tip his face up to meet her eyes.

The scent of white rose caught in the cold air between them. Eleanor tilted her head slightly, gazing deep into his widened dark eyes, and whispered.

"You are the worst liar I've ever met in my life." Ting! A dim black Unified System v2. 0 notification flashed erratically before Lucian's eyes. [NEW THREAT LEVEL WARNING!] This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Threat type: Emotional & abnormal heart-rate fluctuation. Host heart rate: 142 bpm (equivalent to sprint speed when Mother Valeria chases you with a broom). Risk assessment: Cannot be calculated using standard accounting methods!

[SYSTEM RECOMMENDATION: IMMEDIATELY CHANGE SUBJECT TO IRON ORE PRICES OR CORPORATE TAX!] Lucian froze completely. Eleanor raised a white silk-gloved hand toward the collar of his cloak, her voice light with teasing.

"Lucian... if I told you I no longer like the Nameless Knight from the storybook, and instead I'm starting to like a stingy, money-grubbing merchant who complains about laundry fees... what rate would you charge me a month?" Lucian stood frozen for a full three seconds. He swallowed hard, immediately stepping back half a pace, pulling the front of his cloak tight over his chest.

"Per my financial risk-forecasting model: the probability of increased survival rate for a merchant entangled romantically with a member of the Royal Family is negative forty percent. Political risk is too high, profit margin doesn't cover assassination overhead. I decline to quote a rate." Eleanor glared at him, cheeks flushing red with irritation, hissing through her teeth.

"You block of wood!" She reached up to her armored chest and unpinned a platinum snow-rose brooch — the personal, supreme heirloom of the First Princess. Eleanor stepped forward decisively, not giving him a chance to dodge, and pinned the rose brooch straight onto the lapel of his tattered ash-grey traveling cloak. Click. The platinum pin locked into the rough wool, the jade at the rose's center glowing a warm blue light, spreading across Lucian's chest.

According to the founding legend of the Solaris Empire, Watchsea Point was where the first Emperor gave this rose brooch to a trusted companion before their shared campaign. At the base of the mountain, two royal guards watching through magical spyglasses stared up at the summit, jaws dropping in unison. One guard hurriedly scribbled a note in his ledger.

'Confidential report: Her Highness the Princess just presented a snow-rose royal research credential to Young Master Vance beneath the moonlight atop Watchsea Point!' Lucian looked down at the intricate, glowing rose pin now attached to his torn coat. His Read the Fine Print skill analyzed it: the pin carried a royal locator matrix so palace guards could identify its bearer, plus a documented research credential for supervised requests to designated palace and archive collections.

Restricted materials still required archive protocol and royal approval; the credential did not imply absolute trust or unconditional access. The purely pragmatic wall Lucian had spent ten years painstakingly building suddenly showed a soft, quiet crack. He looked at the snowflakes melting on Eleanor's shoulders and found himself unable to come up with a single joke.

Eleanor turned and walked away, her white cloak billowing in the snowy wind, moving at an unhurried pace toward the stone stairs leading down the mountain. She paused at the top of the path, glanced back at him, the corner of her mouth curling into a bright smile beneath the moonlight.

"Come on down, 'strategic partner.' I'm hungry. Go back to the tent and make me a bowl of Earth instant noodles." Her regal silhouette faded away behind the snow-covered pines. Lucian stood alone atop the windswept ruins of Watchsea Point. He reached up, fingertips brushing the cool metal surface of the rose brooch on his chest, looked up at the perfectly round moon hanging in the night sky, and let out a long, freezing breath. The ten-year-old's mouth slowly curled into a helpless smile.

"This is going to be trouble..." He tucked both hands back into his pockets and started down the mountain path.

"This emotional debt... the interest's going to compound on itself."