Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Hunting Festival in the Blizzard (1)
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Patriarch of the Meursault House, Soleil.
He was replaying the events of the meeting that had just taken place.
"Hah, that kid."
No matter how he thought about it, it was absurd.
'With just fifty soldiers and three days' worth of rations? No need. I'll head up the mountain alone and sever the necks of every last orc.'
What wind could have blown through the head of his good-for-nothing son, who had always been a disappointment, to make him say such a thing?
"Was the sight of his father groveling before some mere vassal that unbearable to him?"
Recalling the heated argument with Administrator Yuda made a sigh escape his lips unbidden.
How much had the patriarch's authority fallen for his son—the shut-in who had holed up in his room prattling on about art—to step forward and make such bold declarations?
'Still, for all his bravado, what he said was surprisingly sound.'
Soleil leaned back in his chair, remembering his son's words.
'For now, as a test, I'll subjugate the orcs stationed along the first ridge. While I'm at it, scouting the layout of their camp will help in devising an overall strategy.'
He must have put some real thought into that statement.
Indeed, if they wanted to gauge the orcs' forces, starting with the first ridge was the most efficient approach.
But Federback was a timid, frail boy at heart.
Not only had he never subjugated orcs on the first ridge—he had never even laid eyes on a real orc.
No, forget Federback; no one could take them down single-handedly.
'Reports put their numbers at over a hundred just on that side. You need fifty cavalry to even consider it. Even a seasoned high knight would require at least a full squad. How could he possibly manage?'
Orc hides were tough; swords barely pierced them.
There was no way he could slice through them with a paintbrush or a violin bow.
But a father was a father, and he couldn't help but feel proud and pleased that his son had taken his side.
Soleil turned to the maid beside him.
"Summon Federback."
"Ah, the young master stepped out briefly. He said he'd be back in about two hours."
"Stepped out? At this late hour? Where to?"
"To the weapons shop."
"Weapons?"
Soleil's eyes widened.
Federback was the boy who always whined about wanting brushes and instruments instead of swords.
Why would he suddenly head to a weapons shop?
"Could it be because of what he said at the meeting? That was enough; today's theatrics are a bit much. Tell him he can drop the act now."
"I'll pass that along."
"But what did he say he was going to buy?"
"A good sword, one cubit long."
"......Hmm."
Soleil stroked his chin at the maid's response.
It was probably just his young son's impulsive playacting.
'Maybe this is the chance for him to get his head on straight and start training with the sword. He is Meursault blood, after all.'
With that, Soleil picked up one of the many swords hanging on the wall.
A blade as white as if covered in snow.
He handed it to the maid.
"I'll give him one of my favorites, so tell him not to waste money on something subpar."
"Yes, sir."
The maid took the sword from Soleil.
Soleil chuckled softly.
"For that boy to go buy a sword instead of artwork. The sun must be rising in the west."
"Patriarch, if I may be so bold... this morning, the young master burned all his artworks."
"What? Burned them? All of them? Weren't those the treasures he cherished so dearly? He used to hate it even if you touched them, saying they'd get smudged."
"As he burned them, he said, 'From now on, only the sword.'"
"Hah—"
Soleil stroked his chin again, unable to believe it.
His youngest son, who had shown no interest in swordsmanship, had suddenly gripped the hilt.
Soleil was utterly dumbfounded by Federback's abrupt change.
'Still, it's a shame. Selling them would have bolstered the coffers nicely.'
That was all Soleil thought of it at the time.
Meanwhile.
"......"
Federback sat lost in thought in his room.
His father's sword, brought by the maid.
It was incomparably superior to anything from the weapons shop.
A double-edged blade with a razor-sharp edge and pointed tip.
...Flash!
The gleaming white blade was cold and chilling, as if carved from a snowball.
But what he liked most was this.
'It's a Father-Son Sword.'
Hidden inside the hilt was a small dagger shaped like an awl.
Federback swung the sword.
It was far lighter than the one he had wielded before regressing.
It suited his current frail, small frame perfectly.
Swish— slash—
Federback executed his swordsmanship.
The very swordsmanship that had fearlessly cut down the Demon King's top executives before his regression.
The one that had snapped a Death Knight's blade, broken a Balrog's horn, pierced a Manticore's heart, severed a Twin-Headed Ogres' two necks in a single stroke, diced a Hydra into pieces, and even cleaved a Demogorgon's soul.
'......Not to mention orcs.'
They would be perfect sacrifices to replace the smell of milk on his body with the stench of blood.
Right then.
...Bang!
The door flew open without warning.
Federback turned his head.
A woman entered his view.
Beautiful, but with a somewhat cold impression.
Silver-white hair framing her face, and a black eyepatch covering her right eye stood out strikingly.
Cardina.
His older sister.
Before his regression, she had fallen early in the fierce war against the Demon King's army, her body never recovered... such a blood relative.
And now, she was alive and well.
"You."
More than alive—she spoke with vibrant energy.
"You're under house arrest for the time being."
"......"
"Don't even think about stepping outside. Got it?"
Her voice was icily cold.
Federback asked,
"Why?"
"......"
Cardina raised her one good eyebrow.
"It's been a while since you asked me something."
"......"
True enough.
Before regressing, Federback had feared his sister.
The sister who despised and belittled him.
The sister admired and respected by all, unlike him.
She was always strong, smart, beautiful, and glamorous.
Standing beside her invited inevitable comparisons, filling him with inferiority.
So Federback had avoided Cardina as much as possible.
Of course, Cardina had no great expectations of him, so she never gave harsh orders.
Her usual command was to stay out of sight and behave quietly somewhere.
But now, Federback had questioned Cardina.
"Sigh—"
Cardina let out a small sigh.
Then she said,
"The weather's turning cold soon. With your weak body, you'll catch a cold for sure. So stay in your room and don't wander around catching chills."
"......"
Federback remained silent.
Cardina hurriedly added,
"Don't get the wrong idea; it's not like I'm worried about you. The territory's finances are bad, and security's worse. We can't afford to summon a doctor from afar anymore, nor spare the men. So take care of yourself to avoid trouble. You're old enough to judge that much on your own."
"Understood."
Federback nodded.
Cardina fell silent for a moment.
She seemed about to say something, then sighed instead.
"You've been sickly since you were little. Especially in winter."
"......"
"Don't cause trouble for others. Times are hard enough as it is. Father especially."
With that, Cardina turned to leave.
At that moment.
"Sister."
Federback called out to Cardina.
"......?"
Cardina turned back.
She looked at Federback with surprise.
"Sister? Not 'big sis'?"
"Yes, Sister. I have one request."
"Uh... sure. What is it?"
Cardina asked.
Federback replied,
"Lend me a shield."
"A shield?"
"Yes."
"What do you need a shield for?"
Cardina pressed, sounding baffled.
Federback held up the sword from Soleil.
"Father gave me this fine sword, but I feel empty without a matching shield. I figured you might have something suitable."
"There are some decorative shields in the warehouse; help yourself."
Federback slowly shook his head.
"Not toys like that—a proper shield. You said everyone's struggling right now. If you lend me one, I'll train in sword and shield techniques during house arrest."
"......With your strength, you couldn't even lift a proper shield."
Cardina clicked her tongue lightly a few times.
Then,
"What good is a top-grade shield if you can't handle it? I'll have a servant send something suitable for training. So stay put in your room. It's just a loan—don't mishandle it."
With that, she left the room.
Soon after, the shield Cardina sent arrived for Federback.
Federback ran his hand over it.
A shield as white as if blanketed in snow.
Made of white iron unique to the Northern Region, it was heavy, sturdy, and cold.
'As expected, the best one.'
By Federback's memory, Cardina's hobby was collecting armaments.
Her collection far surpassed anything from ordinary weapons shops or the estate's armory.
And despite her grumbling, she had sent the finest shield.
'Sword and shield. Preparations complete.'
Armor or boots would be nice, but unnecessary for now.
His still-growing small body wouldn't fit them properly anyway.
Federback layered leather and fur clothes.
Then slung the sword and shield on his back and headed to the window.
...Thud! ...Thud! ...Thud!
If the estate servants saw the noble shut-in young master—who had never properly exercised—scaling down the wall with ease, they would all faint.
But it was late night now.
And a mad blizzard raged, so no one was about.
Crunch— crunch— crunch— crunch—
Federback trudged into the snowy darkness.
"......I hope there are as many orcs as possible."
Toward the snow-covered peaks of the north.