Chapter 7
Translator: True Detective
Chapter 7. Frostgard
Often in fantasy novels, the North is depicted as cold, hungry, and barren land.
A cliché where even potato farming fails, so people chew on turnips worrying, 'Can we survive this winter?'
Feasts are merely salted meat and old potato stew. In banquet halls, drums beat loudly, noble ladies wear leather instead of silk dresses, and suitors offer beast fangs instead of flower bouquets.
That is the general perception of the North.
However.
"Ohh."
The scenery of Frostgard unfolding before my eyes was shattering such prejudices.
Food warehouses maintained at low temperatures at all times with ice magic. Inside, they are filled with fresh vegetables and fruits that must have been imported at high prices from the Central Empire. Grapes and peaches, which one would expect to see in the South, were also showing off their luster among ice crystals.
In the street shops, processed leather, bones, and magic stones are piled up like mountains, and merchants are busily counting gold coins. Inside huge glass domes (probably magic greenhouses), green crops are even growing fresh.
Barren? Poverty? Barbarism?
Don't make me laugh. This place is wealthy.
Thinking about it, it's natural. Doesn't the fact that monsters are teeming mean that high-value resources are rolling around enough to be kicked by foot?
Demonic beast leather becomes material for top-grade armor. Bones are traded as magic catalysts. Magic stones themselves hold value equal to jewels.
A military city that accumulated immense wealth by beating up walking gold bars. That was the reality of Frostgard.
'Not bad. They said the North was barren, but it runs quite well. The in-laws' financial status is solid.'
Fortunately, the words that came out of my mouth were praise.
"Gathering and living well like rats, I see."
…That was praise, right? It feels like the nuance is quite different.
"Knight-nim… please…"
Lucia pleaded earnestly.
Okay. Got it. I'll be quiet.
But honestly, shutting my mouth doesn't solve it either.
If I speak, Persuasion or Charm rolls are triggered, but because my Speech stat is F, weird sounds pop out.
If I don't speak? Intimidation or Coercion rolls are triggered. But Intimidation is S, so it becomes a 'silent pressure.'
Hell if I speak. Hell if I don't.
A passing merchant flinched and hid the goods on his stall. Hiding his gold coin pouch deep in his bosom, he ran into an alley with his back hunched.
……I was just standing there with my mouth shut.
Of course, thinking objectively about my appearance, that reaction is understandable.
Black armor. Black iron greatsword. A massive body over 2 meters. Red glint flashing through the helmet slits.
Looking exactly like a marauder.
I merely analyzed the state of the local economy and gave a favorable review, so why is it always like this?
However, a sense of incongruity was hidden within the abundance.
There are too many.
What? Armed personnel.
Northern warriors are originally closer to hunters.
A cycle of patrolling the territory, subjugating monsters, and returning with byproducts. That constant circulation is the very heartbeat of the North.
In other words, it is normal to be out roaming rather than residing in the city.
It was described like that in the original work too.
But now?
Numerous troops are gathered within the castle. Shouts of spirit do not cease in the training grounds, and smithies are forging weapons day and night.
Is it simply a period of grand monster subjugation? Or because the Empire's political situation is unstable?
The curiosity will be solved soon.
Once we meet the master of this castle, Northern Grand Duke Valter Grombalt.
Lucia looked around and spoke to passing servants or knights.
"Excuse me, where is His Highness the Grand Duke? I would like to greet my uncle."
The question was ordinary.
A niece wants to meet her uncle. It is a perfectly natural request.
But the reaction was unfamiliar.
"Ah, that is… Your Highness the Princess, you must have suffered a lot coming here. Please, come inside first."
"No, where is Uncle?"
"More importantly, Your Highness, aren't you hungry? Since you must be exhausted from the journey, please warm your body in warm water first. I will order a meal to be prepared as well."
"Excuse me, can you not hear me?"
"Lady Freya has been waiting anxiously. We will guide you to the main castle."
Blatant evasion.
They dared not meet Lucia's eyes and smiled awkwardly.
There is something. Definitely.
Is the Grand Duke absent? Or illness?
'Don't tell me, rebellion?'
Since the Empire's capital has been overturned, there is no rule saying the North must be fine.
But for that, the warriors' loyalty seems unchanged.
"……Alright. Then I will meet Freya first."
We passed through the heavy main gate of the main castle.
A lobby where a huge stuffed wolf hangs.
An architectural style pursuing sturdiness rather than splendor.
Is this the aesthetics of the North?
But my gaze was stolen by something else.
Portraits hanging in the hallway.
One piece that stood out particularly among them.
A silver-haired woman.
"……Mom."
Lucia stopped for a moment in front of that portrait.
It was her mother who had passed away early.
"I’m back."
I stood half a step behind and looked at her back.
Fortunately, this time I could keep silent.
Truly a relief of reliefs. Because I don't know what weird words would have popped out if I opened my mouth.
'Your daughter is mine now. I will take good care of her.'
If a terrible line like this popped out, Lucia's favorability built up so far would have dropped to minus.
As expected, silence is gold and speech is silver.
Of course, my speech is lead. An effect where the surroundings get lead poisoning if I open my mouth.
It was then.
"Sister!"
The main door opened, and red popped out.
A ponytail with red hair tied up tight. A woman wearing leather armor and pants with good mobility instead of a dress. At her waist, she wore a short sword that looked ready for actual combat.
The Sword Princess of the North. Freya Von Grombalt.
The only daughter of the Northern Grand Duke, and Lucia's cousin.
She ran down the stairs and hugged Lucia tightly.
"You were alive! Do you know how surprised I was when I heard the news? Really, I’m really so glad!"
"Freya…"
Lucia's eyes reddened. She sobbed for a moment in her cousin's arms.
A touching reunion.
A sea of tears reminiscent of a separated family reunion.
I watched that scene with gratification.
"Wait a moment, Freya. Where is Uncle? I want to meet Uncle first."
Lucia asked while wiping her tears.
A perfectly natural request.
Since she arrived at her maternal home after hardship, it is proper to greet the master of the house.
"Father is currently… busy. He went out to inspect the territory. It will take a few days. Rest for now. Wash up, eat, and change your clothes a bit."
"Freya?"
"You walked for days in the snow. You suffered so much. Let’s talk tomorrow. Hm? For now, you must rest well."
Freya evaded the answer just like the others.
"…So. What is that black thing?"
Freya changed the topic. Her intense amber eyes scanned me down.
'Black thing. Your words are a bit harsh. Sister-in-law.'
Wariness. Suspicion. Hostility.
It is a natural reaction.
Since my visual stands out a bit.
"Ah, it’s a bit complicated to explain… For now, he is, um, a benefactor. The person who brought me here."
Lucia fudged it.
Benefactor.
It is a good word. But insufficient.
Wouldn't a more impactful introduction be needed?
There is a comment prepared for times like this.
I heard the people of the North revere strength.
A culture that respects the strong, gives preferential treatment to warriors, and despises the weak.
Then the strategy I must take is clear.
Praising the other party as a warrior.
'Pleasure to meet you, Lady Freya. I am the knight who escorted Her Highness Lucia. I have heard much about the spirit of the North, but I heard that the Lady is especially outstanding among them. As your reputation suggests, you are strong and beautiful. I look forward to your cooperation.'
This is perfect.
Humble yet confident, polite yet dignified.
"Nice to meet you."
"A Northern wench is quite usable."
……
"…What?"
Freya's eyebrow twitched.
My intention was 'capable', 'strong'. A praise that her qualities as a warrior look excellent.
But combined with the context, tone, and the words 'wench' and 'usable', the meaning of the generated sentence is…
Hm.
It is sexual harassment.
And a very bad quality one at that.
"What did you say, just now?"
Freya's hand grasped the hilt of the sword at her waist.
A low voice. The sound of a growling beast.
The guards around us also aimed their spearheads all at once.
"Sister, what on earth is this man? Are you really okay? Isn't it better to just cut off his head right here?"
Freya half-drew her sword.
I tried to explain without panicking.
'No, it is a misunderstanding. I meant that your spirit as a warrior is excellent. It was praise that you look strong, befitting the reputation of the Sword Princess of the North.'
"A wench with strong spirit. There will be a taste in breaking you."
No.
Please stop.
My tongue, please follow the control of my brain.
What is 'taste in breaking'.
Break what. Why break. How break.
Clang-!
The sword was drawn.
"This crazy bastard!"
"W-Wait! Freya! Stop!"
Lucia screamed and blocked Freya's path.
"Move, Sister! A woman of the North does not tolerate insults! Dare to insult the name of Grombalt in Frostgard?"
"No! That person is originally like that!"
"He's originally trash like that? Then we must kill him even more! Let go! I'll cut off his head and hang it on the gate!"
"No, not that! His head is… right, he is a person whose head hurts a bit!"
Lucia shouted urgently.
"It’s because he didn't receive formal education! There is no bad meaning! Probably!"
I am an intellectual who even graduated from university… although I was a humanities major…
"Probably? Sister, did you say 'probably' just now? You aren't sure either?"
"……."
Lucia couldn't answer.
Freya's sword tip stopped in front of my Adam's apple. She glared at me with suspicious eyes.
"He just seems like a perverted psychopath… Sister, you aren't being threatened or something, right? Blink your eyes. If you blink twice, it means 'save me'."
Blink.
"N-No, I said! It’s true! He didn't do anything to me either! Freya, please! I'm so tired! I want to rest for now! Hm? Let's talk tomorrow! Please!"
Lucia's desperate defense.
I am grateful, but is it just my feeling that I'm strangely hurt?
Only my mouth is like that. My actions are gentle.
Freya, still not withdrawing her killing intent, looked alternately at Lucia and me.
"Tch. If Sister says so to that extent."
Click.
She put the sword back in.
But the look in her eyes watching me was still like looking at a bug.
"Guide him for now. Take that… black bastard to the annex. Put thorough surveillance on him."
"Yes, My Lady."
Servants approached me.
"Knight-nim… we will escort you to the annex this way."
Rather than treating a guest, it was closer to isolating a dangerous individual.
I felt wronged. What did I do.
"Then… see you later."
Lucia sent me a signal with her eyes. Silent pressure saying 'Please stay quiet.'
I nodded.
"Understood. You too, don't think of running away."
I just meant rest well and see you tomorrow…
Lucia's shoulders flinched.
"Sister, are you sure you are really okay? His eyes are completely gone?"
"Yeaaah… I’m fine. Once you get used to it… he’s sort of… reliable."
"Reliable? That thing? Since when did your taste change like that? Did you open your eyes to something weird?"
"I said no!"
Seeing Freya trying to put her hand on her sword hilt again, the servants quickly dragged me away.
As expected of the North, the hospitality is quite intense.