Chapter 15
Translator: True Detective
Chapter 15. Providence of Mother Nature
For Lucia Von Astellia, clothes were always armor.
Silk dresses were camouflage whispering, 'I am a harmless flower.' Modest accessories were shields lying, 'I have no ambition.'
The way to survive in the Imperial Palace was simple.
Do not stand out. Do not become a threat. So Lucia always chose clothes that looked fragile and cute.
But the reflection in the mirror right now was the exact opposite of usual.
"……Is this me?"
The girl in the mirror was unfamiliar.
Pale skin and blonde hair were the same, but the atmosphere was different. Should I say she looked strangely sharp?
Thick wolf fur embroidered with silver thread. A traditional dress slit up to the thigh for mobility. A leather belt so practical it was rugged. And a ceremonial dagger hanging on that belt.
Attire declaring, 'I am strong.'
And the cold, hard sensation resting on top of her head.
A silver circlet.
A rugged ring made solely by beating silver, without a single flashy jewel embedded.
"It’s heavy."
It was the weight of the title, Temporary Leader.
Knock knock.
"Sister, are you ready?"
The door burst open, and red popped in.
Her cousin with short-cut hair.
Freya Grombalt.
Even while wrapped in bandages all over her body, there isn't a speck of shadow on her face.
"What, still in front of the mirror? Is there something delicious inside the mirror?"
"……No."
Is it okay for a loser to laugh like that?
It cannot be understood by the common sense of the Imperial Palace.
In the Imperial Palace, losers die, are exiled, or drink poison.
But here, they cut their hair and appear laughing.
"Then what are you staring at so intently? The mirror will break from embarrassment."
Freya stood side by side next to Lucia.
Two people were reflected side by side in the mirror.
Blonde and Redhead.
Long flowing hair and short-cut hair.
A woman wearing a silver circlet and a woman wrapped in bandages.
"Hmm."
Freya rested her chin on her hand and appreciated it.
"It suits you well, Sister."
"Liar."
"Not a lie. Really."
"It doesn't suit me. Not me."
Lucia shook her head.
"This is the clothes of a warrior. Clothes of the strong. I am……"
"I am?"
"……A coward."
Freya sighed.
And suddenly reached out, grabbing Lucia's cheeks with both hands.
"Ugh…!"
"Stay still."
Freya forcibly turned Lucia's face toward the mirror.
"Open your eyes properly. Look at the mirror."
"……What."
"Do as I say."
Lucia reluctantly looked at the mirror.
Her reflection in the mirror.
Pale face. Anxious eyes. Tightly closed lips.
"What do you see?"
"……A rabbit?"
"Wrong."
Freya spoke firmly.
"Sister survived. In the Imperial Palace. On the night of the rebellion. Survived in the snowfield too. And eventually won at the Axe Festival."
Freya's amber eyes shone seriously.
"Is that something a rabbit can do?"
"That is…… because the Black Knight was there…"
"Even while being scared, Sister eventually came here. To the destination."
"……."
"In the North, we call that courage."
Freya grinned.
"And do you know what we call a courageous person in the North?"
"What do you call them?"
"Wolf."
Lucia was lost for words.
Freya took her hands off Lucia's cheeks.
"Now, is that enough? The protagonist of tonight shouldn't be late. Outside is already vibrating with the smell of roasting meat."
"Protagonist. I didn't really want to become something like that."
"Spread your chest more proudly. Northerners hate hunched postures."
"Okay."
Pushed by Freya's back-shoving force, Lucia forcibly took a step.
The unfamiliar woman in the mirror looked this way with frightened eyes, then disappeared from view.
'Let’s go.'
Lucia Von Astellia took a step forward.
Wearing the clothes of a wolf.
Into the land of wolves.
The arena had already transformed into a banquet hall.
Covering the blood spilled by the losers with snow, and rolling barrels of alcohol over it. Lighting bonfires where the winners stood, and roasting beasts whole.
All that was needed to turn a space of violence into a space of play was fire, meat, and insufficient alcohol.
Crackle, crackle.
The bonfire burning in the center licked the night sky with red tongues. Wild boars and deer were skewered, dripping fat as they cooked.
The beastly smell paralyzing the sense of smell, the smell of burning charcoal, and the smell of strong distilled liquor unique to the North.
"Kuhahaha! Drink, drink! Tonight lasts until dawn!" "Did I tell you about the time I caught a bear last time? How big that bastard was──" "Liar! What you caught was rabbit-sized like you!" "You bastard!"
The heat emitted by thousands of warriors pushed away even the chill of the night air.
Fists flew, laughter burst out, someone sang songs.
In the middle of that chaos, a man in black armor stood.
The Black Knight.
Black armor glistening red reflecting the bonfire light.
He stood with his arms crossed as if he didn't care about the surrounding commotion.
Lucia swallowed dry saliva.
An oppressive feeling that made her skin tingle just by standing next to him.
'To think I made up my mind to use that monster.'
Thinking about it again, it’s crazy.
But she already mounted the tiger's back.
If she gets off, she gets eaten.
Lucia put strength into her trembling legs and stood next to the Black Knight.
Like a rabbit standing next to a black panther, a bizarre and precarious picture was completed.
At that moment, the Black Knight's helmet turned slightly.
Red glint leaking through the slit glared at Lucia.
'……!'
Lucia's shoulders flinched and stiffened.
'Why! What are you looking at. Why are you staring!'
Her shoulders stiffened.
"It suits you well."
A low voice flowed out.
"……Yes?"
Lucia blinked.
What did he say just now? It suits me well?
Is it a compliment? Or does it mean 'looks appetizing'? This man's language is completely impossible to interpret.
'What on earth is that person.'
Lucia still hadn't found the answer to that question.
Scary. That hasn't changed.
It was still true that goosebumps rose on her spine whenever she saw that black armor.
It was also still true that her heart shrank whenever she met eyes with that red glint.
Scary, strange, and a sadistic demon who speaks harshly, but.
Still.
'Thanks to him, I came this far.'
That night chased by wolves. The days wandering the snowfield. After arriving at the Northern Grand Duke's house. Until the final of the Axe Festival.
The Black Knight always stood in front of her.
"Th-Thank you…?"
Nod.
The Black Knight nodded and looked forward again.
Lucia slowly stepped onto the podium.
One step. Two steps. Three steps.
The murmuring subsided.
Thousands of eyes, gazes like blood-starved wolves, stuck to the small Princess on the podium.
'Scary.'
Of course it’s scary.
Those gathered here are all warriors.
Those who lived killing beasts, killing enemies, and sometimes killing their own kind.
She has to give a speech in front of such people. She has to dominate them.
'If I run away here, it’s over.'
Lucia told herself.
'If I’m looked down on, I get eaten.'
Inhale-
Lucia readjusted her inner mask.
She shoved 'Coward Lucia' into a corner for a moment and pulled 'Lucia of Northern Blood' onto the stage.
"I am a Princess of the Empire."
Her voice rang out clearer than expected.
'……I’m trembling less than I thought.'
She surprised herself.
Probably, thanks to the time spent with the hell-jailer-like Black Knight.
"But at the same time, I am one in whom the blood of the North flows."
The warriors scrutinized Lucia as if evaluating her.
"I will speak honestly. I grew up in the silk blankets of the Imperial Palace. I do not know the cold of the North, the hunger, or the weight of an axe."
Honesty is Lucia's weapon.
Because pretending to know awkwardly would only buy ridicule.
"Do you know what the nobles of the Empire call this place, Frostgard?"
A tongue-clicking sound, tsk, was heard from a corner of the spectator seats.
"Barbarians. Beasts. Ruffians who don't know manners."
Murmur murmur.
Unpleasantness spread.
The eyes of some warriors became fierce. Natural reaction.
But Lucia did not back down.
Rather, she took a step forward.
"I grew up hearing those words too."
Lucia, who was ignored for having barbarian blood.
"But watching this Axe Festival, I realized. That they were completely wrong."
Lucia's gaze swept the audience.
"The nobles of the Imperial Palace mix poison while smiling behind your back. They call you friend and stab a knife in your back. In the fights there, there is no honor, no acceptance of defeat. Once you slip, it is the end. No opportunity to stand up again is given."
It was her own story.
The memory of that day she was chased out, ran away, and witnessed death was carried in her voice.
"But Northerners are different. If you don't like it, you raise an axe; if you break, you admit defeat; if you win, you offer a drink."
Smirk, someone burst into laughter.
"Simple, and honest to the point of ignorance. A place where the strong are acknowledged, where one stands up again even after falling, and shares a drink with yesterday's enemy today. If that is 'barbarism'…"
Lucia stopped speaking for a moment and met eyes with Brynjolf below the podium. And looked at Freya standing next to her, and the monster-like Black Knight.
"I like that barbarism much more than the hypocrisy of the Imperial Palace."
Honestly, she doesn't have a sense of belonging to the North yet.
Although it is her mother's hometown, Lucia grew up in the Imperial Palace.
The marble of the Imperial Palace was more familiar than the snow of the North. The tea of the Imperial Palace suited her taste more than the alcohol of the North. The maids of the Imperial Palace were more comfortable than the warriors of the North.
However.
"I am the daughter of my mother Teresia. I stand here today according to the tradition of the North. I will be with you all from now on."
A moment of silence.
And explosion.
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!
Someone started stomping their feet.
"Lucia of Grombalt!" "She is definitely Lady Teresia's daughter!" "She speaks refreshingly!"
Simple people.
People who go wild just for the single fact that she 'took our side', even at words they don't know are compliments or insults.
Guilt pricked her heart.
Because she felt that she, trying to use this naive passion as a blade for revenge, was more like a monster than that Black Knight.
But she cannot stop.
At that moment, a massive shadow came forward.
Winter Boar, Brynjolf.
The massive body wrapped in bandages all over creaked as he kneeled on one knee.
"Following the strong is the law of the North. It was that black guy who defeated me, but since his master is you. I will serve, Leader."
That was the signal.
Following that, Freya kneeled in front of Lucia.
"Until Father returns, Sister. Please take care of the North."
A warrior's eyes, devoid of playfulness.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Thousands of warriors kneeled in unison. Putting their axes to their chests, paying respect to the new Alpha Wolf.
The weight of the silver circlet felt heavier than before.
"Drink! Pour!" "Let’s sing tales of heroism!" "Tonight will be especially long!"
The banquet turned into a mess in an instant.
The solemn time of the oath of allegiance lasted less than 5 minutes.
No, 5 minutes is an exaggeration.
3 minutes.
No, 2 minutes.
The time it took for the warriors who kneeled and swore allegiance to stand up and open the alcohol barrels was merely 120 seconds.
The emotion Lucia felt during those 120 seconds was real.
But the confusion Lucia felt during the 120 minutes after that was also real.
Alcohol barrel lids flew.
Chunks of meat crossed the sky.
Someone's axe hit the target, then missed and smashed someone else's alcohol barrel.
"My alcohol!" "Sorry about that!" "If you're sorry, hand over your alcohol!" "What if I refuse?" "Then, duel!"
Lucia was sitting in the seat of honor with a bewildered expression.
It was on a different dimension from the banquets of the Imperial Palace.
No, comparison itself is blasphemy.
If you collapse drunk, you get stepped on. If you can't grab meat, you starve. If you can't sing, you get ostracized.
If the Imperial Palace's banquet is a place for socialization, the North's banquet was a place for survival.
"Hey, Blackie! Uhaha! It’s the first time I've been hit this hard! It was refreshing! Here, take a drink!"
Brynjolf approached the Black Knight holding a barrel.
Not a glass. A barrel.
A wooden barrel the size of a human head.
Following that, the losers of the Axe Festival flocked.
"Hey outsider! No, Black Knight sir! Accept a drink!" "That technique crumpling the shield last time, what was that? What? Just bare hands? How do you crumple steel with bare hands?" "Brother! Let's arm wrestle just one more time! This time I won't lose!"
Warriors who were beaten up, sent flying, and stepped on by the Black Knight yesterday and today were surrounding the Black Knight and offering alcohol.
Resentment? Hatred? There seemed to be nothing like that.
Desire for revenge?
Even less of that.
Just.
'That guy is really strong.''If I drink with a strong guy, I become strong too.'
Logic derived from such brain muscles dominated them.
The Black Knight accepted the drink handed to him without a word, and downed the contents without even opening the helmet slit.
Gulp gulp gulp gulp gulp.
One barrel in one shot.
'……Where does that go in?'
Lucia was astonished.
Wouldn't the inside of the armor become a sea of alcohol?
But the Black Knight calmly put down the empty barrel.
"……Weak alcohol."
"Kuhhh! As expected of a Great Warrior! Drinking is heroic too!" "Bring another barrel!" "No, two barrels!" "Three barrels!"
The real-time increase in favorability of the Northerners was visible to the eye.
A relationship of communicating with fists and disinfecting with alcohol.
'……Simple.'
Lucia felt complex emotions watching that scene.
'Is it okay to use these simple people?'
They accepted me sincerely.
But she is only thinking about reclaiming the Empire.
'……Still, I have to do it.'
Lucia gritted her teeth.
The faces of the maids who died protecting her in the Imperial Palace brushed past.
Confined father. Dead family members. Blood-stained Imperial Palace.
'There is a duty of a Princess.''Even for those who sacrificed for me.''I must reclaim the Empire.'
She clenched her fist tight.
Tap.
"What are you doing? Sister?"
Freya thrust a wooden cup. A strong smell came from the rippling transparent liquid.
"Sister drink too. You are the protagonist today."
"……I’m not good at drinking."
"Ey, just a little! Sister has Northern blood flowing too, so there's no way you can't drink!"
Lucia squeezed her eyes shut and put the cup to her lips.
Just a little, just a very little.
Gulp.
"Kek, cough…! Ugh……!"
Her esophagus burned.
Lucia's face turned pale then flushed red.
"Hahaha! I told you that expression is really funny!"
"Th-Thought I was dying……."
"You won't die. No one died drinking alcohol in the North."
"Liar……."
"Yeah, lie. Actually, quite a lot die."
"……."
Freya giggled while patting her back.
But a strange warmth remained where the pain passed.
The hot heat spreading from the stomach languidly loosened the muscles stiff with tension.
"Ugh… bitter as expected."
"Isn't it sweeter than life?"
"…That is true."
Lucia smirked. For the first time, laughter came out sincerely.
No complicated Imperial etiquette, no political fights catching each other's words.
Here, just drinking, getting drunk, and singing is enough.
'Not bad.'
If it’s a place like this, staying in the North continuously wouldn't be bad, she thought.
Right.
Until exactly that moment.
"Ahem! Ahem!"
Fake coughing sounds echoed in the banquet hall.
The elder holding the skull staff had climbed onto the podium.
The banquet hall became quiet for a moment at the amplified coughing sound.
"It is a joyous night! But according to the tradition of the North, there is one major matter left to address."
Major matter?
Lucia tilted her head.
What else is left?
The elder's gaze looked alternately at Lucia and the Black Knight.
"How do you intend to proceed with the wedding with the Great Warrior?"
"……Yes?"
Lucia asked back blankly while holding the cup.
What just now? Wedding?
With whom? Who?
"Indeed. According to Northern law, it is customary for the Great Warrior who won the Axe Festival to be united with the master he serves."
"Ah."
Lucia's brain stopped.
"Ah, yes."
Attempted reboot.
"The tribe prospers only when Grombalt's daughter and the strongest warrior combine. It is the very providence of Mother Nature."
"Yes… Eeeeeeh!?"
Failure.
"Of course, since you are from the Empire, we cannot force you to hold the ceremony immediately, but… if you follow tradition, the Northerners will be happier."
"It’s a wedding! Wedding!" "It’s the union of wolves!" "Give birth to strong babies!"
All sorts of cheers and dirty jokes were rampant.
'Marriage?'
With that Black Knight? Me?
"Ah, and one more thing."
The elder, perhaps interpreting Lucia's shock as shyness, threw one more bomb with a benevolent smile.
"Originally in the North, it is a virtue for a strong warrior to have multiple wives. Spreading strong blood widely is advantageous for survival."
"M-Multiple wives, you say?"
"Usually, when a Great Warrior wins the Axe Festival, it is common for all of Grombalt's daughters to marry the Great Warrior. That is the secret that made Grombalt's bloodline strong."
"……All? T-Then even Freya?"
"Isn't sisters serving a strong husband together the romance of Northern women?"
Crash.
The cup slipped from Lucia's hand and fell.
She looked around.
Freya was covering her mouth and giggling.
"Oh my, Sister. Why is your face like that? Surely you didn't know?"
Crazy.
This neighborhood is crazy.
It is certain that their brains froze collectively in the cold.
Crazy barbarians who implemented biological eugenics as tradition!
"Strong men are popular, Sister. I think that Black Knight isn't bad either? He told me to come back in 10 years. Wasn't that a proposal?"
"Freya!?"
"Of course, I don't intend to marry yet. At least until I defeat that bastard. I prefer crushing men to being crushed by them. Marriage is a problem to think about after that."
Freya's brain structure wasn't normal either.
Ah, this is the North.
Where normal is abnormal and abnormal is normal.
A frozen land where common sense has frozen and shattered.
Mumble mumble.
Lucia couldn't say anything and looked around for someone to help.
But looking around, no one thought it was strange.
Rather, gazes saying congratulations. Gazes saying they are envious. Gazes saying it is natural.
'……I’m the only sane person.'
Finally, Lucia slowly turned her head to look at the Black Knight.
He stood silently.
'Please say no. Say you hate it.''Even a threat is fine, just overturn this situation.''You are good at that kind of thing!'
But is it just a feeling?
The red glint in the helmet slit seemed to flash more violently than usual.
"N-No……!"
A faint moan leaked from Lucia's lips.