Chapter 44 - A Harsh Winter Began (1)

*Tap, tap. * After pecking at the window with its beak, the bird hopped back.

It was a gesture as if asking me to open the window.

Though I felt uneasy, I opened it.

Because I had an idea who had sent that bizarre bird.

As soon as the window opened, the bird fluttered inside.

Perched on the corner of a chair, the bird stared at me, then opened its beak.

[Did you like the gift I sent you?]

The fresh voice burrowing into my head belonged, as expected, to someone familiar.

The bird was a messenger sent by that foul-tempered Elder High Elf.

"A gift?"

Sigrun's messenger turned its head.

At the end of its gaze was the Orc banner I had taken as a trophy.

Only then did I understand what gift she meant, and I frowned.

"So it was your doing."

[I merely hoped Your Highness would face an opponent more suited to your stature.]

How detestable it was, the way she could drive a hundred savage Orcs onto the battlefield and babble as if that were a kindness.

[I do hope Your Highness will also be pleased by these feelings of mine.]

Her voice was like the whining of a child hoping for praise.

Nowhere in it was there any mourning or apology for the dozens of Rangers who had died because of her.

This is why I hate elves.

Because I know better than anyone what form their goodwill takes.

But there was another reason the attention of elves was even more horrifying.

[A poem of hatred directed at the entire greenskin race. I found it quite impressive.]

It was because they were severe voyeurs.

Sigrun, too, must have been watching me from somewhere.

Perhaps she had borrowed the bird's eyes, as she was doing now, or perhaps she had borrowed the eyes of some other beast.

Or perhaps she had watched me with her own eyes.

Whichever it was, I did not welcome it.

The thought of a thousand-year-old mad elf hiding somewhere and watching me was horrifying.

"Hoo."

My head throbbed.

Rubbing my pulsing temple, I thought.

There was nothing more foolish than getting angry at an elf.

They were a race that would never understand or sympathize with another's anger; if I raged, I would only make myself more upset.

"Stop with the useless chatter and tell me what you came for."

[How cold you are.]

Watching the bird droop its head as if dejected made my face feel stiff.

[That coldness wounds me terribly, but what can I do? Unrequited love is a hardship by nature, so all I can do is eagerly await the day Your Highness opens your heart to me.]

She could wait forever.

As if that day would ever come.

"Hmph."

When I snorted, the bird stared at me for a moment, then spoke.

[Deep inside the mountain range, there is something Your Highness needs.]

I did not answer.

Because I did not want to be swayed by her words.

But that resolve lasted only a moment.

[A very ancient being sleeps within that mountain range.]

At her next words, my ears pricked up despite myself.

[If you were to write him into verse, I guarantee it would become a truly wonderful poem.]

When I showed interest, the bird chirped as if delighted.

As it sang, the bird's form began to crumble little by little.

[It seems the time allotted to this lovely child has come to an end.]

The chirping bird's beak split apart.

Blood streamed from the tip of its beak, and its eyes bulged as if they would burst.

[Then, until we meet again...]

The bird's body swelled rapidly until, at last, it burst with a pop.

Feathers scattered throughout the room.

I reached out.

I tightly grasped one of the drifting feathers.

I saw the remains of what had been a beautiful bird moments ago, now reduced to hideous scraps of meat.

"A wonderful poem..."

A being as lofty as an Elder High Elf would not call some trifling poem wonderful.

That meant the being deep within the mountain range she spoke of possessed at least [Heroic Grade].

"A Heroic Poem..."

I already knew why she was giving me this information.

She must be hoping to savor a deeper flavor through me three years from now.

The higher the grade of my poems rose, the richer the flavor would become.

Her intentions were obvious.

They could sing, but they could not create new songs.

They could recite, but they could not compose new poems.

Elves were an audience and reciters, a race that could never be speakers.

What Elder High Elf Sigrun wanted from me must also be a new song.

"I'll play along this time."

Just this once, I decided to gladly play along with her tune.

* * *

As always, Adelia came to my room as soon as day broke.

"Your Highness?"

Seeing me sitting blankly on the sofa, she tilted her head.

Then she noticed the pure white feathers strewn all over the place and her eyes widened.

Her gaze, sweeping over the room, fixed on one corner.

Her eyes gradually grew wider, and her face turned pale.

There lay the bird's remains, dried stiff overnight.

"Could you clean that up?"

At my words, she picked up the feathers one by one and gathered them in one place.

After hesitating for a long while, she wrapped the bird's corpse in cloth.

I quietly watched her.

I felt as if I had once again confirmed what became of something that received an elf's attention.

"Hoo."

With Adelia's help, I washed my face and got dressed.

I put a fur over it and left the room.

I headed to the barracks to find Vincent.

In the lodgings where the Rangers stayed, Vincent was there.

"Your Highness."

Finding me, Vincent bowed his head lightly.

The courtesy was simpler than when we had first met, but if anything, it was closer to a sincere greeting.

It seemed that, since we had fought together as comrades-in-arms, he at least intended to treat me like a person.

"Inside the mountain range, you mean?"

To that Vincent, I asked about the monsters that lived deep inside the mountains.

Orcs, Goblins, Gnolls, Kobolds... the names of all sorts of monsters came up.

But among them, the name I sought was not there.

Because what I was looking for was a creature worthy enough to become the words of a Heroic Poem.

"Farther inside, you mean?"

When I asked about the monsters inhabiting deeper in than that, Vincent's face hardened.

"Though Rangers come and go through the mountains as if they were their own home, that is only the outer region."

"Of those who have gone deep inside the mountains, none have returned alive."

At most, they could only guess that there must be creatures inside far beyond the likes of Orcs, Vincent said.

"Really no one?"

"No one."

"Even the finest Rangers do not enter the inner mountain range."

"Our mission is to stop the monsters coming down from the mountains, not to explore the mountains."

At Vincent's words, I checked once more.

"So no one has ever gone in there, and no one knows what is there?"

"That is correct."

Though I confirmed it several times like that, Vincent's answer remained the same.

The interior of the mountain range was a complete unknown.

"I thought none were left, but at least one seems to have survived."

Because of the knights who had once scoured the entire world in pursuit of Transcendence, the mysteries and wonders of this world had been drained dry.

Powerful beings of other species had been exterminated, and forbidden places that had not permitted the tread of humans had been conquered.

And yet here, one of those forbidden places remained.

Coming to Ballorhard truly seemed to have been an excellent choice.

"I say this just in case."

Lost in thought, I was pulled back by a sharp voice.

"Do not, under any circumstances, think of entering the mountain range."

Vincent warned me.

"Yeah, I won't go in."

Not yet.

* * *

After that, there were a couple more subjugation operations.

But I did not take part.

Because small monsters were outside my interest.

All my attention was fixed on the depths of that mountain range.

Just what sort of creature was in there?

My heart pounded from imagining it alone.

Perhaps it was the king of the Orcs whose line had ended four hundred years ago, or perhaps it was something entirely new.

Whichever it was, it would surely be quite an enjoyable meeting.

I suppressed the urge to rush into the mountain range at once.

Because I was not ready yet.

I needed more battles, more victories.

So that I could wholly make mine the Extraordinary Grade I had only barely touched with my fingertips.

Fortunately, Ballorhard overflowed with what I wanted.

BWOOOOO.

A horn sounded.

A Ranger who had been lazily sprawled beneath the sun, napping, sprang up and grabbed his bow, and the soldier who had been spouting nonsense while holding onto his comrades snapped his jaw shut.

BWOOOOOOO.

At the sound of the horn ringing out once more, the soldiers who had been frozen stiff abruptly began to move busily.

Rangers poured out of the barracks and ran up the stairs to the walls.

Soldiers holding swords and spears gathered before the gate and formed ranks.

"All archers, stand by at your positions!"

"Call in the forces outside the castle!"

The commanders raised a commotion, and in response, whistling arrows flew in every direction with sharp cries.

"We need more arrows here!"

"Which bastard moved the pile of stones for throwing?"

"Move, move!"

On the walls, soldiers and commanders shouted at the top of their lungs.

"Get the oil boiling first!"

The air in the castle was heaving.

"Your Highness!"

Arwen called me.

She said my maternal uncle was calling for me.

"He is on the wall!"

I flew up the stairs.

I saw countless Rangers pressed close against the wall.

Each gripping a crossbow or bow, they stared beyond the walls without moving an inch.

And among them was my maternal uncle.

"Uncle."

"You have come."

My maternal uncle, standing on the wall directly above the gate, pointed somewhere.

Somewhere beyond that plain, I narrowed my eyes.

"Ah..."

I saw a dozen or so Rangers running across the pure white snowfield.

With armor torn and ripped away, and broken swords and shields, the elites of Winter Castle were fleeing, battered and bloodied, from something.

FWEEEEEE, POP!

At that moment, a signal flare burst in the sky.

That was the beginning.

From various places in the mountain range, signal flares shot up.

BWOO, BWOOOOOOOOO.

The sound of horns rang out.

The breathing of the Rangers atop the wall grew faster and faster.

Impatience surfaced in their eyes as they watched their comrades running across the distant snowfield.

"Come on, you bastards!"

"Run! Hurry!"

Some of them shouted.

Perhaps hearing those words, the battered Rangers quickened their pace.

At that very moment, beyond the ridge they had just passed, enormous wolves appeared.

"It's Wolf Riders!"

And atop the wolves were dark green riders.

"Just a little farther!"

The Rangers drew their bowstrings.

But they were still out of range.

Awoooooo.

The wolves howled.

Before anyone knew it, they had caught up right behind the Rangers.

"Ah..."

A few Rangers at the rear turned around.

As if to buy even a little time for their comrades to escape, they drew their weapons and faced the Wolf Riders.

But the Wolf Riders trampled them down all too easily.

Blood sprayed across the snowfield, and the Rangers collapsed.

The survivors ran and ran.

But soon, they stopped in their tracks.

They had realized they could not shake off the Wolf Riders' pursuit.

"No! You fucking idiots!"

"Get here! Just get a little farther!"

The Rangers atop the wall shouted.

The battered Rangers looked this way for a moment, then turned around.

Clutching broken swords and dented shields, they charged toward the Wolf Riders.

Crimson flowers bloomed over the snowfield.

"Ah..."

The Rangers atop the wall let the strings they had drawn taut go slack and lowered their bows.

THUD.

At that moment, the castle gate closed.