The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 111: The Request

The cold in the room felt different now.

Not the simple bite of winter air—but something deeper.

Noel stood straight on the crimson carpet, his gaze steady, knowing that every word mattered here. Lady Vaelora von Iskandar regarded him from her throne of beast bones, one hand resting lazily near the massive axe at her side. Selene stood silent to her right, her posture rigid, her gaze downcast.

Noel inhaled slowly, voice calm.

"I need access to Frostspire Peak. I hope you will grant it, Lady Vaelora von Iskandar—Mistress of the North."

For a brief moment, only the crackle of torches answered him.

Then, a low chuckle escaped Vaelora’s throat. Her eyes gleamed like shards of ice.

"Oh, you have a way with words, don’t you, boy of the Thorne bloodline?" Her voice was sharp, each word wrapped in a thin layer of disdain. "My daughter told me you’d come... and that you had something important to discuss." She leaned forward slightly, her presence growing heavier. "But you do know, I trust, that access to that mountain is a privilege reserved for the Iskandar family alone."

Noel met her gaze without flinching.

"I appreciate your honesty," he said evenly. "But this matter is of great importance." freewebnøvel.coɱ

Vaelora’s expression cooled further.

"You know..." she said slowly, fingers tapping once against the armrest, "I have little patience for those who waste my precious time. Speak plainly. Why have you truly come?"

Noel took a breath, his voice firm this time.

"I need Frostpetals."

A beat.

Then Vaelora laughed—a short, harsh sound that echoed through the chamber.

"Ah. Now this gets interesting."

Noel didn’t relax.

"You are aware of the disease spreading across the northern counties of Valor, are you not?" he pressed. "It’s moving faster than anyone expected... and its primary victims are the territories of Iskandar and Estermont."

Vaelora tilted her head slightly, a faint sneer curling her lips.

"I have heard whispers of it," she said with casual indifference. "But why should I care about the weak? The weak are unworthy of my respect... and I couldn’t care less what happens to them."

Noel’s jaw tensed.

’Exactly what I used to think until not long ago.’

"I see," he said quietly.

Vaelora’s eyes narrowed.

"Tell me, then," she asked softly, voice sharpening again. "How do you know about the existence of Frostpetals?"

The question cut through the air like a blade.

Noel froze.

His mind raced—he had prepared for many angles, many objections... but not for this.

Selene was one thing; lying to Vaelora von Iskandar, a seasoned Ascendant warrior, was another entirely. Her eyes bore down on him now, sharp and cold, as if peeling back the layers of his intent.

For a beat, his throat felt dry.

’Careful... too careful now and it will look like a lie. Too fast, and she’ll know I’m hiding something.’

But before he could open his mouth—

"I told him."

The voice was quiet but clear.

Selene.

Noel’s head snapped slightly toward her. She stood straighter now, eyes forward, voice steady despite the faint tremor beneath.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Vaelora’s gaze turned slowly toward her daughter.

"Oh?" The ice in her tone deepened. "Has my precious daughter been given permission to speak?"

Selene’s voice barely escaped her lips.

"No..."

Vaelora’s smile was razor-thin.

"I see. So not only do you interrupt my conversation with young Thorne... you also hand over a family secret in the process."

The words struck like a whip.

Noel straightened, speaking quickly now, tone low but direct.

"She didn’t tell me willingly. I forced it out of her."

He held Vaelora’s gaze. "I needed something and described it. She murmured something under her breath... and I pressed until she said the name."

Vaelora’s fingers tapped once more against the armrest—faster now.

"So." Her voice dropped. "You come here seeking access to something forbidden, and you force my daughter to betray her family’s trust."

The air in the room grew colder.

Noel’s heart beat steadily in his chest, but he could feel the weight behind her gaze now—an ancient, merciless authority that would not be swayed by pleasantries alone.

He stood his ground.

"Selene. Go to your room," Vaelora said coldly. "And you already know what awaits you."

Selene swallowed hard.

Her legs moved before her mind could catch up. She bowed her head slightly—barely a nod—and turned.

’Looks like I really messed this up...’

She didn’t dare look at her mother again. The woman seated on that throne wasn’t a mother. Not to her. Not now, not ever.

’I don’t even know why I helped Noel... maybe because I wanted him to help the others. Maybe because... someone has to.’

Her footsteps echoed faintly on the stone as she crossed the vast hall. The cold pressed deeper with each step.

She reached the door.

And as she pushed it open, a flicker of movement caught her eye.

Noel.

Standing tall, gaze calm—but his head turned just slightly toward her. His lips moved, silent.

"Thank you."

The words didn’t reach her ears, but she caught them clearly.

Her throat tightened. She forced herself not to stop, not to react.

The door closed behind her with a dull thud.

Darkness.

She stood in the corridor for a moment, eyes stinging. Then her feet moved again, carrying her through the familiar, empty halls.

No one spoke to her. No one met her gaze.

When she reached her room, her hand trembled as she opened the door.

There was only a narrow bed with thin white sheets, a small wooden table, and no windows—no warmth anywhere.

She lit a small candle from the stub that remained on the table. The faint glow flickered against the stone walls.

Selene sat down on the bed. Her body folded in on itself as her arms wrapped around her knees.

Her chest felt tight. Her eyes burned.

’Why was I born this way...’

Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind again—sharp, disdainful, unyielding.

A mage born into a family of warriors, a mistake in their eyes.

The tears came slow at first, then faster, blurring the edges of the room.

She curled into the thin blankets, hugging them to her chest as if they could somehow shield her from the emptiness.

"Why was I born this way..." she whispered into the dark.

The door closed with a hollow sound, leaving the vast hall colder, emptier.

Lady Vaelora shifted slightly in her throne, one hand still resting near the axe. Her eyes returned to Noel, sharp and appraising.

"Now that my daughter is gone," she said, voice lower, more deliberate, "let us begin the real conversation."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop further. A faint chill crawled across Noel’s skin despite the thick coat he wore.

A shiver threatened to creep up his spine, but he forced his body still. He met her gaze evenly.

"You don’t think," he began carefully, "that it would serve your house to further raise its name across all of Valor?"

Vaelora’s eyes narrowed.

"I know well how much you fought, how hard you worked to bring House Iskandar to its current heights."

Noel’s mind flicked fast. ’Not sure if she’ll buy this... but it’s worth a try.’

He pressed on.

"A name that once belonged to a small warrior family now stands among the great powers of the continent. That is your doing, Lady Vaelora. And now there is a unique opportunity to take it even further."

A pause.

Then—an amused snort.

"So... my deeds have reached even the south of the continent?" There was a flicker of genuine interest beneath the steel.

’It worked? Guess I’ll keep going.’

Noel allowed a faint nod.

"Yes. Stories of House Iskandar’s rise are known even beyond your lands. This—this is a chance to strengthen that legacy."

Vaelora leaned back slightly, fingers drumming once against the bone armrest.

"It is a tempting proposition," she admitted. "But granting you access to Frostspire Peak is one thing. Returning alive with a Frostpetal is another." Her gaze hardened. "You do understand, boy, that if something were to happen to you, it could spark problems with House Thorne. Your father is a dangerous man. In a duel... I’m not certain who would emerge alive."

Noel’s lips curved faintly.

"You needn’t worry about that, Lady. My family considers me a disgrace. I doubt they would raise a finger on my behalf."

Vaelora studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable.

"Very well," she said finally. "Then tell me—what is your plan?"

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