Chapter 107: The King's Hunt
The Hall of Governance was quiet.
Stacks of reports covered the desk.
Trade reports.
Construction reports.
Frontier reports.
The kingdom had already returned to normal.
Frost Station Seven was being rebuilt.
Frost Station Nine was expanding its defenses.
Frost Station Twelve had already received additional troops.
The factories worked day and night.
The railways operated without interruption.
Winter's Heaven moved forward.
Just as it always had.
Jon sat behind his desk, reading another report.
Then he placed it aside.
Finished.
The work for today was done.
Slowly, he leaned back in his chair.
His eyes drifted toward the northern map hanging on the wall.
The frontier.
The stations.
The frozen wilderness beyond.
For several moments, he simply stared.
Then he laughed quietly.
A short laugh.
Cold.
Almost amused.
Years ago, he would have charged north immediately.
Years ago, he would have acted on emotion.
Years ago, he would have abandoned responsibility for revenge.
Not anymore.
He was a king now.
He understood consequences.
He understood responsibility.
That was why he had remained in Winter's Heaven when the stations called for help.
That was why he had allowed his commanders to fight.
That was why he had trusted the kingdom to stand on its own.
And it had.
The stations survived.
The army won.
The dead retreated.
Everything had gone exactly as it should have.
Yet...
A soldier was still dead.
Then another.
Then another.
The names from the memorial appeared briefly in his mind.
Jon closed his eyes.
The guilt remained.
It probably always would.
But guilt was no longer what drove him.
The White Walkers had crossed a line.
They had attacked Winter's Heaven.
They had killed his people.
And now they would pay.
Not because they threatened the kingdom.
The kingdom could defend itself.
Not because they threatened him.
They never had.
But because he wanted them dead.
The realization was strangely calming.
For the first time in days, the storm inside him settled.
His path had become clear.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Enter."
A clerk stepped inside carrying several documents.
"My King, these require your signature."
Jon accepted them.
Reviewed them quickly.
Signed each one.
The clerk bowed and departed.
Several minutes later another official arrived.
Then another.
Then another.
By midnight, every matter requiring the king's attention had been completed.
No delays.
No unfinished business.
Nothing left behind.
Exactly as he intended.
Finally, Jon stood.
The office was empty once more.
Moonlight spilled through the windows.
The kingdom slept.
His gaze shifted toward the center of the room.
Wood Style.
The wooden floor cracked softly.
Roots emerged.
Branches twisted together.
A figure slowly formed.
Identical.
Perfect.
A Wood Clone opened its eyes.
Jon looked at it.
The clone looked back.
Both already understood.
The clone walked toward the desk and sat down.
Without hesitation it picked up a report and began reading.
Exactly as Jon would.
Exactly as the king should.
Jon nodded.
That was enough.
If an emergency occurred, the clone would handle it.
If the council called a meeting, the clone would attend.
If the kingdom needed its king, the clone would be there.
Winter's Heaven would never notice his absence.
He turned and walked toward the balcony.
Cold air greeted him immediately.
Far below, the city stretched across the darkness.
Roads illuminated by electric lights.
Train stations standing silent.
Homes filled with sleeping families.
A peaceful kingdom.
The sight brought no dramatic emotions.
No hesitation.
No second thoughts.
Only certainty.
The kingdom was ready.
And now he could finally do something he had wanted to do since the battle ended.
He stepped forward.
The Light-Weight Rock Technique activated.
His body rose silently into the air.
The balcony disappeared beneath him.
Then the tower.
Then the city.
Jon continued climbing.
Higher.
The cold wind grew stronger.
Clouds drifted below.
The lights of Winter's Heaven became distant stars against the darkness.
From this height, the kingdom looked almost unreal.
A civilization carved from wilderness.
A dream that should never have existed.
Yet it did.
And someone had dared attack it.
Jon's eyes turned north.
The frontier lay far beyond the horizon.
Beyond the stations.
Beyond the patrol routes.
Beyond the territories claimed by Winter's Heaven.
The Lands of Always Winter waited there.
The home of the dead.
The home of the White Walkers.
A faint smile appeared on Jon's face.
Not a warm smile.
Not a happy one.
The smile of a hunter.
For years, the White Walkers had hunted humanity.
Now the roles were changing.
The thought pleased him.
Then Jon accelerated.
The sky exploded behind him.
Clouds parted.
The air screamed.
His figure shot northward like a meteor crossing the night.
No army followed.
No giant marched beside him.
No direwolves ran beneath him.
No banners flew.
No horns sounded.
There would be no warning.
No declaration of war.
No negotiations.
Only judgment.
And somewhere deep within the frozen darkness...
The White Walkers remained unaware.
Unaware that the king of Winter's Heaven had entered their territory.
Unaware that the most powerful being in the kingdom was coming.
Unaware that, for the first time in their existence, they had become the prey.
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