A Sunless Dawn's Harsh Reality
Even before the sun rose, in what they called reality, Isaac was alone in the training grounds, swinging his sword as always. This routine, now firmly ingrained in his daily life, cleared the fog from his sleep-addled mind.
Scouting party.
The night before, at Silberna's request, Isaac had volunteered for the scouting party. It was a dangerous venture beyond the wall, but he hadn't refused.
With my skills, I'll just be a liability, won't I?
Martial prowess isn't the top priority for a scouting party. We're not going to fight—we're going to gather intel and make judgments, literally.
In that sense, Isaac, I highly value your eyes and judgment. It's not a strange proposal at all.
Isaac figured it would be a chance for mutual aid. Like the other nobles, he lacked real combat experience. Joining the scouting party would help him attune to the atmosphere and flow of actual battle.
Hoo... the sword still falls short to the end.
He slowly lowered his blade. It was a standard-issue supply sword, given even to regular soldiers. The greatsword back in Helmont was too much for him, so this was what he'd received upon arrival.
As Isaac let out a bitter breath, white mist briefly clouded his vision. At that moment, a massive figure emerged from the edge of the training grounds. Even in the pre-dawn darkness, his presence and bulk made his identity unmistakable.
Uldiran Kaldias. The Warden of the North approached Isaac.
He lightly acknowledged Isaac's polite bow with a wave and stood before him.
"Anna told me you come out earliest every dawn for training. So it's true."
"I'm still sorely lacking, so I strive endlessly just to keep up with others."
"You'll come to realize that when that effort accumulates, it's not something you can dismiss so easily."
Isaac smiled faintly at Uldiran's praise. From the Warden's position—called the guardian deity of the North—he didn't carry himself with undue gravity. It made sense, considering he was the root of Silberna's easy camaraderie with common soldiers.
"Truth be told, I came here to see you."
"Me, sir?"
"I've heard you've been talking with Silberna lately. She visits the nobles' quarters quite often, they say."
"......"
Embarrassed, Isaac shut his mouth. What parent would approve of their daughter sneaking into some married outsider's room every night?
"At first, I meant to give you a sound thrashing. One of my honey chestnuts usually knocks folks out cold."
He raised a thick fist. But his tone was warm.
"However, after seeing Silberna training at night yesterday, I changed my mind."
"......"
"She's improved tremendously. To the point even her old man can't recognize her."
A glint appeared in Uldiran's eyes, laced with complex emotions.
"You helped her, didn't you? I could tell at a glance."
"May I ask how you knew?"
"It was like the Helmonts."
Uldiran grinned, his expression carrying a childlike mischief.
"Not imitating their swordsmanship, mind you. Just that a special one became even more special. That's why I said it reminded me of the Helmonts."
In his previous life and now, a few hints or words of advice from her led to explosive growth. She was the type whose actions outpaced her thoughts.
"The Kaldias tradition of spears for all men was holding her back. The moment she swung her spear by instinct, she must've thought it wasn't true Kaldias spearwork."
"......"
"Progress isn't about discarding, but continuing, as they say? She came to me beaming, bragging about what you told her."
A gentle smile played on Uldiran's lips. His affable warmth put Isaac at ease despite himself.
"I'm in your debt for my daughter. Thank you."
"I'm learning much from Silberna as well."
At Isaac's reply, Uldiran slowly turned his gaze, pointing toward his mansion.
"Warriors of the North don't just pay lip service."
"Pardon?"
"Come with me. My storeroom's full of useless but valuable things—"
He jerked his chin at Isaac's sword with a grin.
"Looks like you need something better than that."
"......!"
Uldiran had spotted Isaac's dissatisfaction with his current sword just from watching a brief training session.
"A true swordsman shouldn't be picky about blades, they say—but you know there's nothing as finicky about swords as the Helmonts."
"How could I refuse?"
"Haha! Once, that bastard Arandel and I were about to spar—"
In the early morning after sunrise, a satisfied smile graced Isaac's lips in the training grounds. Gifts from Silberna and Anna: yeti-fur hat and gloves. Boots that gripped the snow without slipping. And at his waist hung a broad-bladed longsword named Perlsen.
"You're practically a Northerner now?"
Isaac shrugged at Silberna's words. The Perlsen especially was a high-quality sword from Uldiran. Not his ideal shape, but far superior to the supply blade.
His ongoing work, Isaac's Sword, envisioned a single-edged blade—and Perlsen fit perfectly.
"Yaaawn, so sleepy."
Then came twin-tailed Sharen Helmont, trudging into the training grounds. Sleep-disrupted by her changed quarters, she yawned repeatedly as she approached the pair.
Sharen was part of Silberna's scouting party lineup—chosen purely for skill, ignoring her house.
"You two eat breakfast?"
"Not yet. Planning to grab positions first, then eat."
"I ate snacks."
At Silberna and Sharen's replies, Isaac pulled out sandwich fixings he'd grabbed from the mess hall. He spread his cloak on the ground, sat, and assembled them.
"Better fill your stomachs a bit before heading out. Who knows what'll happen beyond the wall."
Silberna hesitated but took the sandwich at Isaac's words.
"You're right. Guess I'm tense, thinking I'm leading this scouting party."
"What about me?"
Sharen asked if she'd been forgotten. Isaac glanced at her, made a simple one, and handed it over.
"Eh, made by Isaac, so not expecting much—huh!? This is delicious!"
Sharen's attitude flipped; she devoured it like a demon possessed.
"It was a lunch staple when I worked as a conman. The key is the jam ratio."
The result of his efforts to make even simple sandwiches tasty.
"So this is how you reeled in big sis."
Sharen mumbled through jam-smeared cheeks. Isaac started to retort but nodded in resignation.
"Yeah, this is how I reeled her in."
Honestly, back then, it was exactly that. Desperate to make things work with this woman, he'd flung every line he could think of. Black history.
"You're giving me the same sandwiches you used to woo Lianna?"
Silberna stared at her bitten sandwich and muttered. Isaac hurriedly explained.
"Don't read into it. Just making sure we have full stomachs at minimum."
"Yeah, I know."
Even as she said it, Silberna ate her sandwich with curious caution.
Lianna's morning came later than expected.
Haa.
Restless dreams were the cause—she often had nightmares.
A slightly late start for her. But it didn't matter. Disguised as a maid, she wasn't really one, so sleeping in posed no issue. Sharing a room with other maids was a novel experience, though.
Lianna checked under her bed—a simple wooden crate with no cushions. Her greatsword, tightly wrapped in bandages, waited forlornly for its master.
Ragnabel. Lianna's greatsword.
Confirming it safe, she washed up simply and stepped out, shrouded just as tightly as yesterday.
Closest to the quarters: bustling Mallidan Wall soldiers. Farther: nobles training in the grounds. Even farther: the steadfast Mallidan Wall under the rising sun.
Cold.
Chilly weather. With nothing to do for the first time, boredom crept in—until her hands chilled in the northern air, stirring old memories.
Before their marriage.
"We've talked about the North, right?"
A blue river as backdrop. The water unusually calm that day, they spent time on a ferry. Facing each other on the single boat, digesting shared sandwiches, their idle chat was so sweet no tea or snacks were needed.
Love makes everything look good.
Isaac said it smiling. Was it true? Was that why everything about him looked good to her now?
Lianna swallowed her inner thoughts and replied differently.
What nonsense.
"It's true. They don't call love magic for nothing."
Think realistically.
"I'm being plenty realistic. With the one you love, everything feels good, everywhere you go."
Lianna, lacking experience, could only deny it.
Soon, on the drifting boat, they traded questions like a Q&A.
The North? Brutally cold.
"Then we'll hold hands."
The East's humid weather? Just being together would annoy you.
"I'll mix you a cool drink. We'll sit in the shade together."
Rainy season, it'll pour.
"One umbrella. My shoulder can get wet."
......Did you practice this somewhere?
"What can I say—power of love?"
Isaac laughed bashfully, finding himself ridiculous. It was so cute, Lianna nearly laughed too—but.
A conman of common birth, Isaac. Lianna Helmont of a prestigious noble house.
The gap stabbed her mind again, darkening her face.
"What's wr—"
Helmont.
Lianna met Isaac's worried eyes squarely.
What about Helmont?
The North's cold. The East's heat. Nothing compared to that grueling place.
Lianna was certain Isaac couldn't answer this time, bitterness rising—yet.
Gently. Taking her hand, Isaac smiled.
"You'll be there."
......!
Lianna bit her lip hard and bowed her head. Falling hair hid her face; Isaac spared her further embarrassment.
Her face burned with shame.
Such a memory.
"Good thing I'm wearing a mask."
Back to reality, Lianna muttered awkwardly to herself. Cooling her flushed face with northern wind, she spotted three people squatting in the training ground corner, eating sandwiches.
Isaac and Silberna?
Her sister was there too, but Lianna paid it no mind. She crept closer silently, footsteps muffled. No need to get too near—Helmont bodies had keen hearing too.
Sharen started.
"Gimme another. So good."
"Make your own."
"Cheat! I'll make it tastier!"
"Simple ingredients, but delicious. Thought all sandwiches were the same."
Lianna flinched at Silberna's final words.
Sandwiches?
Isaac's sandwiches?
Those we ate on the ferry during our kind-of date. He even made them for breakfast on our fourth anniversary.
"......"
A strange emotion welled in her chest. Lianna knew what it was but wouldn't name it.
Even on the wall, getting close with the Kaldias lady.
Her wilted mood perked as conversation continued in her ears.
"Strictly speaking, the taste differs from the original. Different ingredients, preparation matters."
"Oh? Got some pride in it?"
"Naturally."
Chomp chomp.
Sharen's munching muffled it, but tension eased from Lianna's shoulders.
Right, exactly.
The ferry sandwiches were special. Not something easily found here.
"What, the taste of love or something?"
Jam-smeared Sharen asked. At 17, she seemed curiously invested in romance.
Well, you could say that.
Not now, but back then, definitely—Lianna nodded mentally.
"Grow up. Love my ass. It's tasty 'cause the jam and meat are good."
"......"
......She froze mid-nod.
Lianna whipped her head toward Isaac.
"No such thing as love's power! Don't get suckered by romantic crap!"
"Okay, okay! Stop! You're scaring me with how serious you are! Don't shove your face in!"
"It's reality! Marriage is!"