Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: 14. Ode to the Large and Beautiful Green Mass (1)
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"The fortress at the kingdom's northernmost edge."
"The kingdom's shield blocking the southward advance of monsters dwelling in the Blade Mountains."
"A key stronghold where half of House Ballerhard's forces are permanently stationed."
"The base of the renowned Ballerhard Rangers—mountain infantry famed across the kingdom—and the headquarters of the 3rd Legion."
"A fortress existing solely to hold back monsters."
This was Winter Castle, as described by military experts.
"A frontline bastion where daily life means brawling with ferocious monsters."
"A hellish post: freezing cold, harsh conditions, high danger, low survival rate."
"A bizarre place inhabited only by green recruits and battle-hardened veterans."
This was Winter Castle, in the words of the common soldiers.
"The reason House Ballerhard was granted near-unlimited recruitment rights and countless other privileges."
"The reason House Ballerhard can grow no further."
"House Ballerhard's greatest weapon—and its greatest weakness."
And this was Winter Castle, as gossiped by the nobility at large.
Some dismissed it as a frigid, barren wasteland. Others saw it as the easiest place to procure monster byproducts.
But to the men born and bred in House Ballerhard, Winter Castle meant something far different.
It was a lifelong duty and source of pride, defended with their ancestors' lives—and one they too must uphold.
To Vincent Ballerhard, eldest son of House Ballerhard and a promising Triple Chain knight, Winter Castle held that same profound meaning.
A sacred, noble duty bestowed upon their house by the kingdom. Yet now, cold water had been thrown on that unassailable pride.
The infamous wastrel 1st Prince was coming to this hallowed ground their forebears had defended with their lives. And not quietly—he was dragging a trail of filthy rumors behind him.
Exiled for the king's disdain, they said. Fleeing after committing some grave crime, others whispered.
For Vincent, who had cherished guarding Winter Castle as his life's calling and honor, it felt like an outright insult.
This was a bastion for true warriors willing to cast their lives away like straw for noble conviction. Not an exile's dumping ground for royal outcasts.
"Why in the world...?"
Vincent couldn't comprehend it.
His father had already declared a complete break from his wastrel nephew. And the father Vincent knew was not one to lightly retract his words.
Yet that very father had reversed course. Not just a minor shift—he had flipped it entirely.
A formal declaration of support for the wastrel the old man had practically disowned himself.
When Vincent first heard the news, he couldn't believe it. He knew better than anyone how his father had always viewed that scoundrel.
He dismissed it as baseless rumor-mongering. But no.
The rumors were true.
His father had become the wastrel 1st Prince's official guardian. And the wastrel was indeed heading here. All of it, real.
"The soldiers are growing restless."
"They're worried the royals might see this place as some prison for convicts. Everyone's anxious."
Frontline officers came to him, voicing concerns about the rumors.
"We feel the same. If the crown truly views House Ballerhard this way, there's no greater insult."
"How can they trample on the devotion and sacrifices we've made?"
"We fear the court and nobles, basking in summer's warmth, have forgotten winter's brutality."
The officers looked as if they'd been personally slighted.
Vincent understood their worries and anger. He felt the exact same.
But now wasn't the time to bicker over an unwanted guest.
Winter was coming. A season so merciless that those enjoying summer's sun could scarcely imagine it.
"Inspect the fortress and bolster defenses. If needed, dispatch additional Ranger patrols. I leave routes and schedules to you."
It wasn't time yet, but one could never be sure. Monsters sometimes acted unpredictably.
He kept his nerves on edge, listening intently to Ranger reports.
No sign too small to ignore. Even the slightest suspicion prompted Rangers to verify thoroughly.
Rumors be damned—for now, holding the fortress until his father arrived was paramount.
Fortunately, just as full winter began, his father returned through the blizzard.
But his father's face was a sight.
His once-vital eyes were sunken, cheeks gaunt and hollow. The man who stood firm through days of battle looked utterly drained.
It had to be that wastrel's doing.
Vincent eyed the uninvited guest at the castle.
He looked nothing like the rumors.
Swaddled head to toe in thick furs, his build was hard to gauge—but at least he wasn't the bloated pig of legend.
Probably Father's influence.
Narrowing his eyes further, Vincent belatedly noticed the wastrel's entourage.
Incredibly, the 1st Prince had arrived with women in tow.
"Hah, showing up with women."
"One's a maid, the other's a lover, maybe."
Soldiers atop the walls buzzed. Some sneered, wondering if he'd mistaken the place for a noble resort.
"That's a Royal Knight's uniform."
Someone pointed out the dazzlingly beautiful woman was a royal knight, but no one bought it.
Idle nobles dressing lovers to their tastes was infamous. That outfit was surely the prince's whim.
Vincent scowled.
Utterly ridiculous. He was dumbfounded.
"Shouldn't you go down, sir?"
Only at his adjutant's words did Vincent realize he was glaring down from the wall.
He hurried down the stairs and stood before his father.
"Vincent Ballerhard! As of today, I relinquish acting commander duties and return to Ranger company command!"
He saluted crisply, handing back the acting commander role his father had entrusted.
"We sincerely welcome Commander Excellency's return!"
"I commend your hard work. Well done, Company Commander."
With the formal handover complete, his father strode forward and embraced Vincent.
"Well done, Vincent."
"I'm relieved you're safe, Father."
As they shared their reunion's warmth, an irritating voice cut in.
"What, Uncle? You have a son too?"
It was the wastrel.
Vincent frowned.
Privately his uncle, publicly a grand lord and 3rd Legion commander. The wastrel's tone lacked even basic respect—exactly as rumored.
"What, you thought at my age I'd have no kids left under my roof?"
Yet his father brushed off the jab nonchalantly.
"Vincent."
His father gave a look. Vincent swallowed his reluctance and dropped to one knee.
"Ballerhard Ranger Company Commander Vincent Ballerhard greets Your Highness the 1st Prince."
"Uh, nice to meet you."
The wastrel replied haughtily, eyes wandering like a cow's. No word to rise—appearance aside, his nasty temper matched the tales.
Vincent knelt on the icy ground for ages until the wastrel whined about the cold.
"Let's head inside."
He rose subtly, arranging rest for the prince and his group.
"Father, what in the world is going on?"
Alone with his father at last, Vincent demanded answers.
"It's as you heard. I've decided to become Idrian's guardian, and he'll stay with House Ballerhard for the time being."
"Isn't His Majesty disowning the wretch? And didn't you yourself once harshly criticize his worthless nature as a lost cause?"
"People change."
Vincent was confused. Did that mean his father had changed? Or the 1st Prince? He couldn't tell.
His father sighed and recounted events in the capital.
"Hah."
After hearing it all, Vincent let out a hollow laugh.
The wastrel survived death's door, lost his memories, and became a new man? It was the stuff of cheap tavern tales.
But coming from his proud father, he couldn't dismiss it.
"I ask only one thing of you."
His father gazed out the window before speaking.
"Watch him without prejudice."
"No, after all he's done, that's not so easy..."
Vincent clutched his chest in frustration, but his father remained steadfast.
Just watch. See what kind of man the 1st Prince really is.
He repeated it several times, nothing more.
* * *
In the tense fortress thick with war clouds, I was invited not to a welcome ceremony but a modest dinner.
Leaving Nicole—who'd collapsed from travel fatigue—I headed to the mess with just Arwen and Adelia.
"How goes the cleanup of the monster villages?"
"We've steadily thinned them out, but plenty remain. Now that Father's here, we can move in earnest."
When I arrived, Uncle was deep in serious discussion with the others.
"Ah, whatever. Just sit."
I stopped Vincent and the commanders from rising and plopped into the nearest seat. Adelia and Arwen took spots right beside me.
The commanders' eyes widened at Arwen. Even in Winter Castle, her beauty—beloved by the Iron Lions—remained undimmed.
"Tch."
Uncle clicked his tongue. The startled commanders stood and introduced themselves. I gave vague replies while devouring the spread to sate my hunger.
As I chowed down, snippets of Uncle and the commanders' chatter reached my ears.
Which village's monsters to hit first, how many troops to send—plans to strike preemptively before monsters rampaged fully.
Familiar names like goblins poured out endlessly.
"Then we'll have the Ranger company handle these."
The listed villages weren't few. Yet Vincent's face was impassive, as if small fry like that weren't worth notice.
"The orcs are the problem."
My ears perked at "orcs."
"A small band of under twenty has settled at the mountain fringe. Likely scouts come ahead. If we don't deal with them first, it could cut off Ranger retreat paths later."
"That size, arrows alone won't cut it."
"So we're selecting knights from the castle garrison..."
Vincent trailed off, spotting me approaching.
"Your Highness? Something to say...?"
I scanned their map instead of answering.
Tiny figurines depicting various monsters dotted it endlessly.
"This one."
I picked one up.
"I'll take it."