Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: Sad Misunderstanding (2)
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"Wait..."
"What's wrong?"
"Look at that!"
"The sky... it's splitting open!"
At Winterfall Fortress, the soldiers exchanging blows in the training yard couldn't tear their eyes away from the sudden spectacle unfolding before them.
Darkness had abruptly blanketed the grasslands, and the once-peaceful sky began to crumble. The sinister, grudge-filled aura rivaling that of the black dragon Kalladrak caused some soldiers to drop their swords in shock.
Wagner recognized one of the clashing energies immediately. It was the chill uniquely familiar to him—Serath's. She couldn't possibly be in the middle of the grasslands after heading to the capital, so it had to be Ivar's power. Knowing how the two had once joined forces to subdue Marquis Marcus, Wagner could only guess that Ivar had somehow gained the ability to wield Serath's powers, though he had no idea why.
Snap!
"Argh!"
"Don't get distracted."
Thoughts and actions were separate matters. Wagner swiftly overpowered the opponent standing dumbfounded before him. The knight in black armor toppled backward. As an outsider and guest, he spat curses.
"You sneaky bastard...!"
"Sneaky? Would you say the same if the enemy was right in front of you?"
"I'm saying it now, aren't I? Sigh, fine. My mistake for expecting any knightly honor from you lot."
Knightly honor? A hollow laugh escaped Wagner. Was that how the empire's knight orders usually fought? It had been nearly ten years since he'd followed Serath north, and he'd almost forgotten. Honor—once, Wagner had valued it too. Until he met Ivar.
"Here, even a child who's lost their parents doesn't charge straight at their foe. Unless it's a hidden dagger from the shadows."
"When there's a skill gap with some punk, of course you'd use dirty tricks like that. But your opponents were barbarians, weren't they?"
"......"
"You aren't about to claim you struggled against them because they were too strong, are you? The elite unit defending the north on His Majesty's orders, fallen into such disarray. The Minister of Justice would have your heads if he knew."
What a sharp tongue. If they were brothers, he'd have lopped it off without hesitation in a situation like this. No—what was he thinking?
Wagner reined in his boiling killing intent. Ever since Ivar had acknowledged him and his words had struck a chord, his thoughts occasionally veered in strange directions. Instinctive, straightforward solutions—clean and certain—kept flickering through his mind. Fortunately, before he could raise his axe—no, his sword—someone approached.
It was a woman dressed in a maid outfit that clashed with the northern wilds.
"Calm down, Alex. Our mission isn't to investigate the 9th Legion's state."
"Don't interfere in knightly affairs, Nerisa."
"Then you stop tarnishing the family name. Do you want to see the young lady angry?"
"Hmph. You'd probably be the one egging her on from the side."
The two retainers bickered loudly enough to shake the training yard. No one moved to stop them.
Wagner eyed the one person who could rein them in: the "young lady." She wasn't far off, sitting on the stairs in the corner of the yard, staring up at the sky.
It was Rubia, daughter of the Minister of Justice.
"......"
More eye-catching than her severed bob haircut framing her shoulders were the array of armaments draped across her back, waist, and arms.
Her face was expressionless, like a doll with cut strings. Far from mediating the fight, she mechanically lifted her head only when Alex and Nerisa approached.
"Young lady, the investigation of House Shratma is complete, right? It's cold—let's head back to the capital."
"No, Lady Rubia. There's still one more task from the family."
The sole heir of House Steelore had been dispatched north to investigate two incidents. One was Marquis Marcus's death.
She'd interviewed Serath directly in the capital, come here, and searched the marquis's mansion, but it seemed they hadn't found any clear evidence.
Her eyes, which had been fixed on the split sky, widened slightly. Then, as if recalling something, she muttered fragments of words.
"Ah..."
"Young lady?"
"Lady Rubia?"
"The royal consort."
"Pardon?"
"I was told to meet the royal consort."
It was probably advice she'd received from someone before coming here. But the two clinging to her like flies immediately denied it.
"No, there's no need for that."
"Exactly! A marriage to a barbarian? The family head would never allow it!"
"Really?"
"Of course. With Madam's illness worsening... cough! It was just a passing remark, unrelated to the family's intentions."
"We just need to finish investigating the Magic Tower. New faces will be entering high society soon—we have to return by then, right?"
The Magic Tower. That was the second reason House Steelore, responsible for the empire's justice, had come north.
The imperial court believed some intervention had triggered the black dragon Kalladrak's sudden awakening. The prime suspect was the Black Magic Tower in the north.
Serath had once borrowed their hands to deal with the barbarian... Ivar, but they were generally on bad terms. Unlike other towers, they refused magical fortress inspections and oversight. From the empire's perspective, this was a perfect chance to eliminate them.
"Yeah... let's go."
"Wise decision, young lady."
"Then I'll prepare the knight order's departure."
On the surface, she seemed a frail puppet manipulated by her retainers, but she was not to be underestimated. This petite woman was one of the empire's only three users of unique magical paths.
The price for that power, however, had been greater than expected. Serath hadn't been appointed northern supreme commander for nothing. She had perfect control over her strength. At worst, she'd shatter a glass in anger. Or pathetically try on an old dress from her youth.
"Hey, Wagner, was it?"
"Yes."
"We're requesting your guidance to the Magic Tower."
"......"
"We'll sweep away anything we encounter on the way, so no worries. Barbarians or magical beasts, doesn't matter."
Wagner felt relieved—not because of Alex's assurance that they wouldn't suffer losses.
The Black Magic Tower lay at the eastern end of the mountain range, bordering the grasslands but rarely clashing directly with barbarians.
His relief came from knowing he wouldn't run into Ivar there. If he'd spouted nonsense like that in front of his brother, those words would have been Alex's last.
*
The battle—no, the escape from Olgen—was grueling.
Due to the grassland tribes' habit of not recording events in writing, if Grak were to recount it to the children later with exaggeration and embellishment—like a tale of survival—it would rival escaping a hundred black dragons.
Especially at the end, when she'd hurled the "Spear that Slays Ishkar," and he'd barely deflected it upward using the 151st pattern. A massive hole tore open in the sky, sweeping the grassland clouds clear off the continent.
Fortunately, unlike the black dragon, Olgen had no wings. After a full day of clawing through rock with bare hands in pursuit and evasion, the great boulder mountain was hollowed out in the center.
An incline so steep they had to climb it upside down like insects. She never reached the summit of what was now called Mushroom Rock Mountain. Neither could he fly, but he had Horori. Sensing its master's peril, the beast flapped desperately toward the peak, dragging him along.
Well, half-joking. But his life had truly been in danger from sheer intimidation.
"We survived. Good job, Horori."
"Whiiish—!"
This is why you raise magical beasts. The more he watched, the smarter it seemed.
『———!!』
Olgen's roar echoed from below. It sounded like dragon tongue, but probably just his imagination.
He'd wait a bit for her to turn back, then descend the opposite side. Grak, who had taken refuge on the summit beforehand, approached and asked.
"Satisfied, Ivar?"
"Not bad."
"What's that?"
"Got it from Meb recently."
He pulled a small pouch from the darkness around Karangal's neck. Apparently, an ovulation stimulant made by imperial alchemists. Alhena had freaked out seeing it on the trading company's purchase list, so he'd asked for it. He'd taken half when Meb boldly claimed she wanted to use it herself.
Olgen was troubled like the other wives, unable to bear Harald a child. Half her anger was self-directed. He couldn't bear watching her mope. Useless to him, but vital to her.
Of course, he'd toss it secretly into her tent. With merchants constantly pestering the tribe lately, no one would notice. Hearing this, Grak asked with a disgusted look.
"Why go to such lengths...?"
"What do you mean?"
"Just give it to her directly, and she won't hate you anymore."
"I told you. I'm not trying to rule the grasslands."
Gaze of respect and awe meant nothing to him. What he wanted as a great warrior was this: unfiltered, love-hate bonds with diverse folk.
Climbing higher socially? His own strength would suffice. He'd conquered the great boulder mountain by surviving Olgen, but it wasn't enough yet.
"Ivar, you're one hell of a cool bastard."
"I get that sad misunderstanding sometimes."
Somewhere higher to climb would be nice. But most grassland terrain didn't pierce the heavens.
Then, a sharp spire caught his eye. Thanks to Olgen's spear dispersing the clouds, visibility had cleared.
A black tower near the rugged mountains. He'd known its identity for a while.
"The Black Magic Tower..."
"You want to go there? Enter the Demonic Realm?"
He could, but it was dangerous. Unlike the lairs of grassland lords, survival there was hard in a different way. As Grak said, tribes called the tower's site the Demonic Realm.
Land steeped in corrupting magic. The problem was transportation.
Merchant caravans had spread wagons, but most still rode Karangal. And Karangal were vulnerable to magic.
When the Lord of the Night awoke, Grak's Karangal mutated into a vile beast, forcing Ivar to end it. Even feeding the corpse to Sattpi later, he'd carefully given only magic-free hide.
Thus, warriors entering the Demonic Realm once lost their mounts and died unable to escape. Another way was needed for survival.
Faster than Karangal, tamed to humans, untainted by thick magic—possessing holiness, even...
"Ah."
"What?"
He remembered. No choice. To dispel the grassland ruler misunderstanding, purely for that unfiltered bond.
Just borrow it briefly—from Kara. The sadness and guilt were so profound his lips curled upward involuntarily.