Chapter 133
Chapter 133
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 133
Chapter Title: Do You Know It's the Dead of Winter?
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133―――――
“Do you know it's the dead of winter?”
“Um, Master.”
“You're worried?”
“...Yes.”
Wondering what Rishida could be so worried about, Sion opened his mouth.
“I've already explained everything to Lily, gave Trisha just the right mix of threats and bribes, and I remember the rest of the group all nodding along.
With the condition that I'd be back within a week.”
“Ah.
That's not what I'm worried about...”
It was only then that Sion realized what Rishida was fretting over.
Right now, she and he had left all the other escorts back at Igior's ger and were riding several hours away to the main camp of the Karta tribe.
“You're worried those northern tribes called Karta might cause trouble?”
“...Yes.”
“If I went as the kingdom's final decision-maker, maybe, but right now that scary big sis up ahead called us ‘ordinary guests.’
Even savages wouldn't be so hopeless as to lay hands on a guest.”
“...She's the woman who held a knife to your throat, Master.”
Rishida's voice must have been a bit loud.
Jan, riding ahead, flinched and glanced back before turning her head forward again.
Then she spurred her horse, ready to charge off once more.
‘Ah, damn it. Still not used to riding.’
Sion Claussen's body remembered it, so he could ride to some extent.
But casually trotting along was worlds apart from charging like these mad northern savage warriors—his ass felt like it was splitting, his back ached, and nausea was building.
“That woman is probably quietly stressing over it too.
After all, she showed attack intent to an unarmed opponent in the middle of a greeting, so she stained her own honor.”
“Which is exactly why I'm worried she'll pull something like that again.”
“Well, if it happens, Rishi, you can just save me, right?
I trust you—that's why I only brought you along.”
“O-Of course!
Even if it costs my life, I'll protect you, Master...”
“I told you not to talk about dying.”
Sion poked Rishi's cheek and lightly kicked his horse's flank to pick up speed.
He knew full-speed riding would wear him out before the horse, but showing weakness now wouldn't do.
‘Grit my teeth and endure.
These dumb savage warriors hate nothing more than seeing weakness.’
But even gritting his teeth had its limits.
Unlike these northern savages whose daily life was mounting and dismounting horses and doing everything atop them short of biological functions, Sion was just a noble kid who could ride decently.
After an hour straight, he'd reached the point of barely holding back a scream of ‘Fuck! Can't go anymore! Just kill me and drag the body!’
‘Crazy bastards!
How can they ride full tilt without stopping once!’
Even in battle, they didn't ride this recklessly.
You had to save the horse's strength for when fighting might break out.
But these guys just charged like maniacs.
“Master.
The horse looks tired.”
“R-Really?
Good.
Rishi, tell that warrior next to us ‘clearly’ what's happening.”
“Understood.”
Rishida turned her horse's head slightly and shouted at a savage warrior like she was barking orders.
The frowning warrior sped up to the lead rider, Jan, and relayed Rishida's words exactly.
“...”
Jan glanced at Sion, who was falling behind, then raised her hand in a signal.
At that moment, the riders charging like mad yanked their reins, stopping in perfect unison as if they'd practiced it hundreds of thousands of times.
Thanks to that, Sion barely escaped total collapse.
Clop, clop—
Jan rode up beside Sion, her eyes fixed on his kingdom horse, and spoke.
“Kingdom horses aren't that sturdy for their size.
Tiring already.”
“...Isn't it obvious after riding flat out for an hour?”
“Our northern horses don't tire that easily.”
“They're far from home, so it's straining them.”
“How can you call that a warhorse if it's so weak.”
“Warhorses aren't about running like maniacs nonstop.
Running well when needed and saving their rider's life in a pinch—that's plenty.”
“...”
The savage warriors gathered around marveled at Sion's back-and-forth with Jan.
To dare speak so boldly to the north's greatest warrior, ‘Temuchin,’ whom they wouldn't even address.
Unthinkable for them.
To warriors who only answered ‘Yes’ or ‘No,’ it was a fresh sight.
“You keep whining weakly.”
“It's not whining—it's about responding to the situation.
Charging like idiots and failing when it counts makes it worthless as a horse, let alone a warhorse.
And Temuchin?
If you're treating me as a guest, act like it.
You've been subtly treating me like a subordinate—northern warriors sure talk out both sides of their mouths.”
“...”
Jan bit her lip slightly at Sion's fair criticism and stared at him a moment.
Then she sighed and turned her horse to head back to the lead—
“Temuchin.
The advance group.”
A band of riders was charging toward them like the wind.
Spotting Jan, they halted in unison, dismounted, and dropped to one knee.
“Temuchin.
As ordered, we've finished moving and are setting up gers on suitable flat ground.
Twenty minutes' ride from here.”
“...I see.
Faster than expected.”
“No.
You're later than usual, Temuchin.
Doesn't look like you went full speed, but at your normal pace with your warriors, you'd have arrived ages ago.”
Sion could only mutter, ‘Crazy fuckers?’
His ass and back throbbed like hell, and they said this wasn't even full speed?
While he stood there stunned and chuckling bitterly, he felt something cold touch the back of his hand.
Looking up, white pretty trash was fluttering down from the sky.
“...It's about to pour.”
“Temuchin, if we don't hurry to the gers, the snow might make us lose our way.”
“Let's make haste.
And, Sion Claussen.”
Calling to Sion, Jan kept her eyes forward and continued.
“Once snow starts in the north, it blankets everything white—easy to lose direction.
Don't lag and get lost, so keep up diligently.”
It was her way of showing respect.
Sion nodded at Jan's positive shift, caught his breath, and lightly tapped his horse's flank.
It hurt like hell, but he had no desire to wander lost in the snowfields.
After another twenty minutes' ride, they finally reached the northern tribe folk hard at work setting up their main camp.
True to their insular life, most spotted the strangers and went on alert, making Rishida frown and open her mouth to call it rude.
“Rishi, I'm a guest here.
Don't stand out too much.”
“Yes, Master.”
At Sion's restraint, she obediently fell back.
Meanwhile, the snow showed no sign of letting up.
A blizzard hitting just as they were relocating and staking camp.
The chosen ground would be buried soon.
Even Jan looked a bit urgent, darting here and there.
“Tribal heads, check your assigned plots and clear the snow first.
Especially the horse areas—clear every bit!
Light fires; if it gets muddy from damp, the horses suffer!”
Mid-orders to her tribesfolk, she spotted Sion and Rishida standing there taking snow and clicked her tongue.
Unwelcome kingdom folk or not, she'd invited them as Karta guests now, so letting them stand in the snow shamed her as host.
Jan strode over, grabbed the reins, and swiftly snatched Sion's hand as he stood scanning around.
“Wh-You!
What are you doing!”
“Follow me.”
Rishida flailed in excitement, but Jan marched ahead.
Reaching one of the few finished tents, she released Sion's hand and spoke.
“Wait here till the snow eases.”
“These are where your tribesfolk stay?”
“Why.
Shocked at the harsh land?
That's why I brought you as a guest.
See the reality here—how it's not some cushy kingdom paradise.”
Someone clueless about snow might scoff, ‘This flurry? Big deal,’ and get corn-husked by Jan.
But Sion knew well, watching the dumping flakes, just how vicious it was, how it could upend everything.
‘Yeah, couldn't even recon—every drop zone was a shitshow.’
Seeing Sion get it, Jan seemed flustered, cleared her throat loudly with a ‘Khm!’, mentioned the temporary stable next door for the horse, and headed back to the site.
“...”
Sion watched her go, then led his horse to the stable.
A tent structure like the others, but cozier than the people's quarters.
Horses were as precious as life to northern warriors—natural.
Stepping toward the tent entrance, Sion eyed the savages everywhere clutching tools, sweeping snow every which way.
Strong as hell—one cleared as much as two grown men.
But with tribes mixed, no coordinated ‘snap!’ effort.
Just individuals shoveling away solo.
‘Always insisting on solo play, making even simple jobs a pain.’
At this rate, more snow fell than they cleared.
Better hustle and rest.
Like competing who clears most, the savages waged personal battles furiously.
Sighing as he looked around, Sion spotted a warrior hugging a bundle of snow tools.
He bolted over and snatched a shovel.
“What?
You, what the hell!”
“Let's hurry and rest.
Want to lounge without eyes on!
Rishi!”
“Yes, Master.”
“Take this.
Hold it like me and stand beside.”
“Yes!”
Sion handling the shovel looked utterly natural.
The savage gaped at this ‘guest’ grabbing a tool and crouching like for a race—what the?
“What're you doing.”
“Huh?”
“You too—grab one and stand by me.
Hey, you there!
You too!
Hey!
Don't go solo—join up!
Fuck, you wanna do this all night?
Clear fast and rest!”
Warriors who'd normally ignore a stranger—hell, growl at the outsider butting in.
But the dire situation, plus ‘clear fast and rest!’ tugged their feet unconsciously.
With Rishi and him, seven or so gathered; Sion aligned them and spoke.
“Stand shoulder to shoulder.
On signal, push forward all at once.
Not like other warriors scooping— just plow ahead.
Got it?”
“...We get it, but don't wanna push into other tribes' zones.”
“Why push snow onto our plot?”
“Plowing doesn't let you brag about cleared snow.”
“...”
What, local drama over shoveling snow?
No unity, yet dreaming of war?
These fuckers.
Sion spat inner rage, forcing calm.
“Like mounting up, forming ranks, advancing in line.
No black sheep can't handle this simple shit—can't be ‘non-warriors’ worse than a guest, right?”
“...”
Horse tactics plus pride sting—they shut up.
On Sion's signal, they plowed snow ahead, securing tent space.
“Match pace.
No bonus for speed!
No competing!”
Mixed tribes or not, no unity in daily chores like this.
Sion wondered if Jan and Eos endured hellish reigns.
“Urk!”
One warrior clutched his gut and dropped out.
Normals might pause, worry.
These filled the gap effortlessly, no look back.
‘Knew it!
Fuck, always plow double-speed, hit a rock—‘oh, this hurts!’ Duh.
Fucking warriors—can't trust ‘em outside fighting!’
Guest here, yet shoveling snow.
Cursing the sky-trash amid drop-zone nightmares, Sion toiled.
―――――――Author's Note―――――――
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