Noa was riding in the carriage.
His head was lowered, and he remained silent.
Everything seemed to have happened far too quickly.
"Why did my father suddenly strip me of my title and erase me from the family lineage? Or… is it because of my brother?"
Lost in these thoughts, he stayed quiet throughout the journey.
"Prince," said the coachman, glancing back, "I don't believe they're sending you to your death. Your father loved you, didn't he?"
"I am no longer a prince," Noa replied in a low voice. "Call me by my name."
"All right… N… Noa."
"I don't know what happened to my father. For him to become so cold and distant—it isn't natural."
"I feel the same way," said the coachman. "They used to call you the Emperor's favorite. Everyone knew it. The Queen and His Majesty both cherished you deeply. But what happened today… it shocked even me."
"I didn't expect it either," Noa murmured.
Yet for me, he gave the royal carriage…
This carriage flies faster than even a High Dragon can soar. What does my father want? Everything is so unclear…
And so, after seven long days of travel, they finally arrived at the Northern Border Fortress.
At the gates, dragon soldiers clad in black armor stood in disciplined lines.
"Stop! Identify yourselves!" one of the guards barked sharply.
"We are from the Central Palace," replied the coachman. "By royal decree, we have brought the former prince, Noa."
The soldiers approached, lifted the curtain, and stared at Noa.
"So, you're the fallen prince?" one of them said mockingly.
After inspecting the carriage, they gave a curt nod.
"You may enter."
The gate creaked open with a low groan. The carriage rolled slowly inside.
For the first time, Noa lifted his head and beheld the fortress of the North.
The air inside was even colder.
The fortress walls were encrusted with layers of frost, as though carved directly from ice.
From the high towers, black smoke rose into the gray, oppressive sky.
Torches burned in every corner, yet their flames could not drive away the relentless chill.
The courtyard was vast and blanketed in thick snow. The ground was marked with countless hoofprints.
Soldiers trained in precise formations; their shouts reverberated across the entire yard.
Some practiced sword strikes, others hammered at enormous wooden dummies, while a few sharpened their blades against the freezing wind.
Noa watched them in silence.
These dragons were different.
There was no mercy in their eyes, no trace of a smile on their faces.
They lived far from the heart of the Empire — living solely for war.
When the carriage came to a halt, a heavily armored officer approached.
His armor was forged from black iron, with a dragon emblem engraved upon the shoulder plates.
His gaze was cold and oppressive.
"So, you are Noa — the former prince," he said in a harsh tone.
"This place is now your home. Forget the splendor of the palace.
Here, only the strong survive. The weak are buried beneath the snow."
His words carried across the courtyard.
The soldiers paused their training and turned to look at Noa.
In their eyes flickered not only surprise, but open mockery.
"Look, the Emperor's little darling has arrived," someone whispered.
"I wonder how long he'll last in this frozen hell?" another sneered.
Noa said nothing. His heart pounded rapidly, yet he kept his head held high.
The inner halls of the fortress were dark and bitterly cold.
Upon entering the great hall, the ceilings soared high above, and the walls were constructed of icy stone.
Rusty shields and ancient weapons hung from the walls.
Unlit hearths groaned with the sound of the wind.
There were no golden pillars here, no silk curtains like those in the palace.
Only war, blood, and ice held dominion in this place.
Inside, Noa thought:
"So this is my new world. I must learn to live here. If I cannot endure — then I am nothing." Even now, in truth, that is exactly what I am, he added silently to himself.
The deeper he ventured, the more intense the cold became.
Narrow corridors were built of rough stone; drops of ice fell from the ceilings to the floor.
The wind howled through cracks in the windows, carrying a ghostly, piercing chill.
Soldiers stood along both sides of the corridor, their gazes tracking Noa as he passed.
In their eyes burned suspicion and silent contempt.
Walking between them felt like passing through a gauntlet of enemies.
The officer stopped and pushed open a heavy door.
Inside was a small, dimly lit room. Bare stone walls.
On the floor lay an old wool carpet.
In the corner stood an iron bed with a thin, cold blanket.
A wooden table and chair — plain and rough, poorer even than a servant's quarters.
"This will be your room," the officer said coldly.
"Titles mean nothing here — whether prince or heir makes no difference.
From now on, you will eat the same bread as the soldiers and train as they do."
Noa said nothing.
He stepped into the cold room — no luxury, no warmth.
Yet deep within his heart, something continued to burn.
Not pride. Not power.
Only resolve.
He placed his palm on the table.
The wood was ice-cold, but that chill could not break him.
He remembered his mother's seal — the moment he had held it, a gentle warmth had seemed to flow into his heart.
At that moment, a horn sounded outside.
The rhythmic footsteps of soldiers echoed through the courtyard.
The officer's voice rang out:
"All newcomers — training begins at dawn!
In the Northern Border Fortress, only the strong survive!"
Noa looked out through the small window.
Snow was falling, and the wind howled without end.
This place was merciless — as though created solely to test the very soul.
But inside, he whispered:
They want to kill me here… but they will not succeed. I swear it.
Friends, what do you think? Please share your thoughts in the comments. Don't forget to add this novel to your library. Power Stones and Golden Tickets help chapters come out faster and give me great motivation