Chapter 70
Chapter 70
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: Declaration of War (4)
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Furosange's territory sprawled across a frozen wasteland.
Jagged mountains of eternal snow stood tall in silence and cold, as if breathing.
Beneath them lay the North Sea, frozen in waves.
A place forsaken by time.
Nothing flowed there.
Where the coastline once was, mounds of sand and ice clumped together like a dam.
"......"
Federback ventured deep into Furosange's lands.
A hilly region dominated by dense conifers.
Faint animal tracks lingered in the forest.
A massive sturgeon lay half-eaten, sprawled about, as if dragged there by some hunter.
Soon, Federback reined in his horse.
"This is the place."
The site of the raid.
Broken weapons littered the ground everywhere.
Trees were snapped and charred, rock surfaces scarred with clear blade marks.
Federback stared at a chunk of frozen flesh impaled on a jagged branch.
Then.
"I have no idea what happened here. This isn't even our patrol zone."
Serubret, patriarch of Furosange House, spoke up.
Federback gripped the leash around his son Pinyn's neck even tighter.
"Are you lying, or just incompetent?"
"Mind your words. I'm the patriarch of Furosange House—and far older than you."
"I'm here on behalf of Meursault House's patriarch. Answer the question. Are you a sneaky liar pretending not to know after raiding us, or an idiot who doesn't even notice what's happening in his own territory?"
"......"
Serubret trembled silently for a while.
Then he spat out his words like vomit.
"I truly didn't know."
"So you're admitting you're an idiot?"
"......Making me out to be an idiot—what does Meursault gain from that? Go ahead and inspect the scene."
"I'm not trying to make you an idiot for some gain. Why bother proving what you already are?"
"......"
Serubret had no reply.
Federback handed Pinyn's leash to Hundred beside him.
"If he tries anything, cut his head off."
"Yes, sir. I'll make it hurt real good with a serrated blade."
The Meursault knights glared at Furosange's rangers and chorused their response.
Federback descended to the base of the hills.
Retracing the path of battle.
'It started here.'
Federback moved along the frozen shoreline.
Beyond the thick snow on the sand lay a crust of briny ice.
A stretch of what was once sea, frozen solid for years into a sheet of ice.
Brushing away snow and ice shards revealed clear hoofprints.
Beside them lay half-burned timber and cloth.
'Cavalry came and hurled oil jars. Then fired incendiary arrows?'
Well-prepared foes.
Definitely not your average bandits.
'They came from all sides, and fresh bloodstains appeared mid-movement—they loosed arrows. Matches the survivors' testimony perfectly.'
Federback examined the bark of a half-burned tree.
Ash, charcoal dust, and snow made it look like filthy bark and nothing more.
Federback peeled off the bark with his fingers.
Rip—
Stripping away the grimy outer layer revealed clear blade marks on the inner wood.
The raiders must have thought the fire erased their traces, but malice carved deep into the world by one person against another doesn't fade easily.
'These cuts on the tree's heartwood are unmistakably from Furosange dagger techniques.'
Federback meticulously cross-checked the survivors' accounts with the scene.
And after a few hours.
'No surprises. The culprits are Furosange rangers.'
The conclusion was firm.
Checking just in case had only made the obvious even clearer.
The hypothesis that Furosange raided Meursault was now proven true.
Federback brushed away traces of campfire and blood with his hand.
'Now, what to do next?'
After sorting his thoughts for a few minutes, Federback started walking.
Meanwhile, outside the forest, Serubret and Hundred were locked in a tense standoff.
Serubret ground his teeth.
"Release my son right now. Hurry!"
"Didn't you hear the young master's proxy? Any funny business, and off with his head. Serrated blade, nice and painful."
"That serrated blade nonsense is your invention! How dare you treat Furosange's heir like this!? You think you'll get away with it!?"
"Is that a threat? We were this close to clearing up the misunderstanding, and now it's tangling again."
Hundred, who wouldn't back down even from Yeti or Sasquatch raids.
Even as Furosange's own patriarch openly exuded killing intent, Hundred and the Meursault knights didn't yield an inch.
Right then.
"Enough."
Federback emerged from the forest, dispersing the tension between them.
He turned to Serubret.
"The investigation's over."
"......And? With all that snow, you couldn't have seen much."
"Looked like bandits."
Federback replied calmly.
Serubret pressed urgently.
"If it's bandits, we're in the clear!"
"Never said you weren't."
"Then why cut off my son's arm and hold him hostage? You've been stirring up bad vibes this whole time!"
Tension crackled between Meursault and Furosange.
Like scouts from warring armies meeting at the border.
Hard to believe these were lord and vassal houses.
But Federback's response was as nonchalant as ever.
"What are you talking about? Hostage? I'm just disciplining a bratty kid. Didn't he shoot arrows at me on sight?"
"W-We apologized for that! Explained it was a bandit mix-up! You just saw their traces in the woods!"
"I nearly died. What if Meursault's proxy got killed by your heir's reckless arrow?"
"Well......"
Serubret sighed deeply.
After a long silence, he spoke.
"Your blade took my son's right wrist. And seven of his lifelong guard rangers lost their heads. Isn't that penance enough?"
"No, it's plenty. Discipline's done anyway, so I'll release this rat."
Federback took the iron chain from Hundred.
Pinyn, at the leash's end, glared at Federback.
Then their eyes met.
Red eyes gleaming through snow-white bangs.
Like staring at a monster lurking beyond a blizzard.
"......... ......... ......"
Pinyn bowed his head, sweat pouring coldly.
Even the pain from his severed wrist faded in that moment.
Soon, Federback spoke.
"But here's the thing that's worrying me."
"What?"
Serubret looked pained, bracing for more words.
Federback continued calmly.
"If I let this rat go, you might shoot arrows at us again."
"Have you lost your mind? How could we target our lord Meursault!?"
"Since when have you cared about lords and vassals?"
"You think we're trash!?"
"Don't appeal to emotions without proof. If you're not trash, show it."
"......?"
Serubret tilted his head.
Federback tugged Pinyn's leash.
"Simple. I want to leave. You want him back. So I go my way, you go yours."
"We'll do exactly that if you release my son! Why complicate it!?"
"Hard to trust. What if you follow me instead? Call reinforcements with fireworks or beacons—that'd be a hassle. So here's a proposal."
Federback went on.
"We've got thirty-four total. How many you?"
"We had eighty. Seven rangers dead by your blade makes seventy-three. Seventy-two without Pinyn."
"Right. Subtract thirty-four from seventy-two."
"?"
Serubret tilted his head again.
Federback explained.
"Kill thirty-eight of your horses."
"What? Why!?"
"Why? So you won't chase us. If you do, at least match numbers."
Federback's intent was clear.
A demand to prevent all these mounted knights and rangers from pursuing.
And confidence that even numbers meant victory without losses.
"......... ......... ......"
Furosange's patriarch Serubret clenched his teeth.
Federback said.
"Not killing rangers—just horses. That too hard?"
"......No."
"Hesitating because you hate sacrificing horses for your son? Or bummed you can't chase and take my head right now?"
"Neither. We'll do as you say."
Serubret ground his teeth and drew his sword.
Soon, the knights' horses stained the white snow red.
Fine steeds, key to Furosange's forces, met pointless ends.
Federback nodded at the sight.
"Take your rat."
Hundred stepped forward, slashed Pinyn's leash with his sword, then kicked his rear.
Thud!
Pinyn sprawled face-first into the snow, undignified.
Serubret rushed to his trembling son.
"Son! You okay!?"
"F-Father...... C-C-Cold...... so c-cold......"
A tearful father-son reunion.
But Federback showed no interest.
"We've seen enough. Let's go."
Federback spurred his horse out of the forest.
The Meursault knights followed suit.
"Diving into the heart of enemy turf and stirring it up like that."
"Furosange's patriarch is no pushover, but he was helpless before the young master."
"Young Master Federback's got guts ten times anyone else's. Man, what balls."
They chattered, watching Federback ride ahead.
Soon, Hundred caught up beside him.
"Impressive, young master. Straight back to Meursault Castle to prep for war?"
"To the castle? What're you talking about?"
Federback continued calmly.
"The war's already started."
"Pardon?"
"We're not returning to Meursault Castle. We're setting an ambush."
"!?"
Hundred and all the knights gaped.
Storming Furosange's home base solo and escaping was miracle enough—now war here?
With just thirty-four men?
But Federback wasn't joking.
"Facing Furosange's patriarch and masses of rangers head-on, especially in the woods—that's too risky. We'd take heavy losses. But ambushing from hiding? Different story."
Serubret and Furosange's vengeful ghosts hadn't left the conifer woods yet.
They'd escort heir Pinyn to the fortress first, then launch a massive pursuit.
"Thought they'd send thirty-four rangers right away...... Poor judgment."
For Serubret to succeed in revenge, that was his best shot odds-wise.
But he showed no sign.
Probably worried detaching thirty-four now would endanger their return force.
"That call was fatal. Furosange has zero chance now."
Federback calculated the time.
Furosange would head to their castle first.
Treat Pinyn, light beacons, send pursuers.
Rangers from the main force tailing, others forming encirclement ahead via beacons.
Federback planned to wipe them all out at once.
With just thirty-three knights.