Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Encounter (1)
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"Can't I just go to her directly?"
"What?"
A truly outstanding warrior knows how to make full use of the weapons at their disposal. It might not be visible to the eye, but the Prince Consort Candidate was now a blade in my arsenal.
A very sharp one, at that. Political marriages were a dime a dozen in romance novels, tripping over them like loose gravel on the road, but this was far more than a simple contract—it offered real gains.
The moment I suggested escorting her to the capital and interviewing candidates one by one, Serath's eyes lit up with twin flames of fury.
"Listen up, you with those ridiculously oversized ears. Ivar."
"I'm listening."
"Even if you begged for marriage, a woman who truly likes you? You'd have to comb through the entire Empire, down to the deepest backwater valleys in the northern fringes, and maybe—just maybe—find one."
It sounded similar to what I'd heard before the social party, but somehow different. Was my memory playing tricks?
"Still haven't figured it out after seeing Marquis Marcus? Politics is about dragging your opponent into a deep swamp where they can't wriggle free. That way, you get what you want without giving up a thing."
"......"
"Even if you went to the capital a hundred times over, it's the nobles' playground. Hyenas you've never even heard of will swarm you the moment you let your guard down and pick you apart like a feast."
"That's why I'm going with you."
"I'm someone who has to rebuild from scratch too. In the middle of all this chaos, I can't fend off every scheming girl gunning for you one by one."
She swallowed some cryptic afterthought, muttering that her drink wouldn't last anyway.
"If you really want to come, I'll send a separate invitation. Show up later."
I see. No need to tire myself out when she'd come to me if I just waited. I nodded.
Serath slipped her uniform back on. Before leaving, her expression tinged with reluctance, she asked me,
"Ivar."
"Yeah?"
"You've already become a Great Warrior. With the war against the Empire over, what more do you need?"
"Plenty. The most urgent is trade."
"Trade?"
Right from the start, calling the war "over" felt off. The Empire hadn't started it. Every winter, when our food ran out, we attacked their castles.
Even with the Imperial Edict of Isolation lifted, the steppes remained barren. Driving out the Night Lord had improved things a bit, but self-sufficiency in food was still a pipe dream.
Trade was one solution. I didn't know much about mines or underground resources, but the north teemed with magic beasts. Dismantling them yielded byproducts that were prime materials for horse gear.
Not many would risk the perils of the north for that alone, but I was here. The Great Warrior of the steppes, Prince Consort Candidate, and the slayer of the Black Dragon Caladrak.
The first to recognize this shining gem would come knocking.
The encounter came sooner than expected. From a very chance happening.
I was the Great Warrior of the steppes, basking in everyone's admiration, but exceptions existed. Specifically, there was a shady faction that hated my guts.
The gathering of young warriors who despised Ivar. In barbarian shorthand, the "Steppe Alliance."
Members included Vigo, who harbored a fierce rivalry with me; Kara, who burst into tears whenever she saw a Karangal peacefully grazing—for reasons unknown; and Helga, who actually admired me but got dragged along by her two nagging friends.
I learned of the Steppe Alliance's existence one late afternoon. Following Harald to the Naftha Tribe, home to his eighth wife, I met a truly magnificent creature there.
Gleaming feathers dried stiff with blood, wings like a dragon's in pairs. Eyes that pinpointed prey from the skies. And between them, a red gem on its forehead sensing mana.
Perched on a torch stand, bathed in sunset glow, the bird was a rare magic beast from the canyon once home to Crawling Fires. Nameless, it was all the more desirable.
"Yawn... oh, Harald's here. Huh? Ivar too?"
"Long time no see, Kara. Doing well?"
"Well? My heart's barely healed from Satchpi's betrayal."
It reminded me of hunting with Serath. She'd been singing about wanting one ever since, never dreaming I'd stumble on it like this.
Alone, no owner in sight. A leash on its leg and name tag, but a casual axe swing sent them flying on a convenient gust.
"What's that bird? Looks unusual."
"Oh, that? My second rune-tamed magic beast."
"Not raising it to eat?"
"Of course! You have no idea how hard it was dragging it from Frost Scale Canyon!"
While Harald chatted with someone from a nearby tent, our eyes met. In that brief instant, we felt a powerful pull.
"Not letting you steal it this time. Horori only obeys me. Its blood runs hot, so it loves chewing ice, but summers on the steppes make it scarce—I've been trekking back and forth to the canyon, killing my back... but worth every ache!"
"Let's go, Horori."
"Whiii—!"
"Huh?"
That day, Kara's world crumbled.
"You! Ba! Star! D!"
And the Naftha Tribe gained its first female warrior with three runes.
I felt bad for Kara. Even I couldn't have known she was Horori's owner.
Thanks to Serath's teachings, I could conjure small ice anytime, making us a perfect match. If it endured the boiling blood side effect, Horori could track prey near the speed of sound.
Anyway, at this rate, her Steppe Alliance would murder me. So the next day, I asked Harald a small favor.
"Help Kara catch a new magic beast?"
"Found just the thing. Horn of Purity, they say. Appears in that lake where I pickled the Crawling Serpent."
Info from the earth shamans staying with the Naftha Tribe. A holy, powerful magic beast opposite the shadow-bearing Karangal. Horn on forehead, spares pure maidens—eerily familiar traits...
'Romance novel logic.'
Maybe inspired by references. Imitation is the mother of creation, right? Perfect for unmarried Kara anyway, so I leaked the info about the Horn of Purity in the canyon via Helga.
A few days later, as planned, Kara headed there with Vigo and Helga. Harald and I tailed them secretly.
"Brother."
"What?"
"Why skulk like rats? What's the reason?"
They'd puff up their pride if they knew I set it up. If they failed, I'd "coincidentally" help.
Who else is this thoughtful a senior? Compared to tribal traditions of shoving kids off cliffs at coming-of-age rites, this was coddling.
I hoped Kara would one day surpass me as a Great Warrior. Then maybe even the steppes' other "Lords" would fall into my grasp...
"Drooling."
"Whoops."
"Sometimes I think the real terror for those mice beyond the walls isn't your strength, brother, but what's inside your head."
"No idea what you mean. Let's go."
Frost Scale Canyon stretched north-south around a massive central lake, linking even to the Empire. Raggedfoot Brothers' Bailish Tribe territory—I'd gotten permission to enter before.
But the three snuck in via a hidden entrance they'd used before, slipping inside like pros. Following, we found vibrant vegetation unseen on the steppes.
Steep cliffs flanked the river, magic beasts lurking everywhere. Tension etched the warriors' faces.
Hunting Crawling Fire was with two runes—my strength carried it, so three minimum for safety.
Of course, Harald now had five, so it felt like a stroll in a beginner zone.
"All smeared, Kara?"
"Eyes front! Buncha dark-skinned brutes..."
"Skinny as rails, no interest. Move if done."
They crossed quietly, caked in creek mud beforehand. Ground shaman powder hid their runes, dimming presence—a steppe warrior trick to dodge pointless fights.
We hadn't prepped. Raids worsened at night, not much better by day. Harald asked,
"What's the plan, brother?"
"I'll handle it."
Beasts in the shadows eyed us hungrily. I waited till the three vanished from sight, then activated my second rune on my palm.
Whoosh! Sudden flames startled the salivating lurkers into flight. They sensed the aura of the apex predator once ruling this canyon—the serpent that coiled burning prey to death.
"All part of the scheme. Impressive."
"Slowly now. Destination's the lake anyway."
We trailed at a distance. Occasional bold beasts lunged, most felled by a single punch.
As dusk fell, the Steppe Alliance reached the lake and set camp. Chatter drifted from their fire.
"Horn of Purity appears in the lake on full moon nights. Tonight or tomorrow."
"Helga, info solid?"
"Obviously. From the g... great shamans. Certain."
Lucky she covered. After dinner from provisions, the fire died, darkness blanketing the canyon.
Under starflow, Kara sighed complaints.
"Damn irritating Ivar, making us suffer like this. Like a kid stealing toys—bored, drops by, swipes my beast..."
"I don't like him either."
"Why, Vigo?"
"Heard he had an honorable duel with one of the wall rats lately. When I went, he said nap time and refused."
"For real!?"
"Even blood-brothered him."
"Hmph. Kinda jealous."
Nice how bashing me bonded them. That unity grew daily.
No Horn tonight. As they settled to sleep, something stirred their way.
"Harald."
"Saw it."
Quite a group. At least seven. Bailish warriors? No, too conspicuous in their home turf. Look closer—belts and backs laden with gear.
Familiar garb. Adventurers. The three sensed them too, quietly arming. As they neared, all three sprang up.
"Die!"
"Uh...?"
"Huh? W-wait! Don't attack!"
Battle imminent, a thin voice cried out.
"We're an imperial delegation! Here to trade with you folks!"