Chapter 44
Chapter 44
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: 15. The Harsh Winter Begins (1)
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Tap tap. The bird pecked at the window with its beak, then hopped back sharply. It was a gesture that seemed to beg me to open the window. Despite the creeping unease, I opened it anyway.
I had a pretty good idea who had sent that bizarre bird.
The moment the window swung open, the bird fluttered inside with a flurry of wings. Perched on the corner of a chair, it stared at me fixedly before parting its beak.
A fresh, vibrant voice burrowed into my mind. It belonged to someone all too familiar.
The bird was a messenger from the foul-tempered Elder High Elf, Sigrun.
"Gift?"
Sigrun's messenger turned its head. At the end of its gaze sat the orc standard I had claimed as spoils of war.
Only then did I grasp what she meant by her "gift," and I scowled.
"So it was your doing."
How infuriating it was, her unleashing a hundred ferocious orcs on the battlefield and calling it a favor.
Her voice whined like a child seeking praise. There was no trace of mourning or regret for the dozens of rangers who had died because of her.
This was why I despised elves.
I knew better than anyone just how twisted their "kindness" could be.
But the elves' attention was even more horrifying for another reason.
They were chronic voyeurs.
Sigrun had surely been watching me from somewhere.
Perhaps through the eyes of this bird, or some other beast. Or maybe with her own eyes.
Either way, it was unwelcome.
The thought of a millennium-old mad elf lurking and spying on me sent chills down my spine.
"Hoo."
My head throbbed. Rubbing my pulsing temples, I thought.
There was nothing stupider than lashing out at an elf. They never understood or empathized with others' anger. Ranting would only churn my own guts.
"Cut the nonsense and get to the point of your visit."
Watching the bird bow its head sullenly made my face stiffen.
Wait a hundred or a thousand years. That day would never come.
"Hmph."
As I snorted, the bird gazed at me steadily before speaking again.
I didn't respond. I didn't want to be swayed by her words.
But that resolve lasted only a moment.
Her next words made my ears perk up.
Sensing my interest, the bird chirped excitedly, flapping its wings.
The bird's form began to crumble bit by bit as it sang.
The bird's beak cracked open. Blood oozed from the tip, and its eyes bulged grotesquely.
The bird's body swelled rapidly before exploding with a pop.
Feathers scattered across the room. I reached out and snatched one from the air.
What had been a beautiful bird moments ago was now a grotesque pile of flesh chunks.
"A magnificent poem..."
An Elder High Elf wouldn't call some frivolous verse "magnificent." It meant the being deep in the mountains possessed at least the stature of a hero.
"A heroic epic..."
I already knew why she was sharing this information with me.
She hoped to savor an even deeper flavor through me three years from now.
The higher the caliber of my poetry grew, the richer the taste.
Her intentions were transparent.
Elves could sing, but they couldn't compose new songs.
They could recite, but they couldn't create new poems.
Elves were audience and performers, never originators.
What the Elder High Elf Sigrun desired from me was a new song.
"This time, I'll play along."
I decided to dance to her tune, just this once.
* *
As always, Adelia came to my room at the crack of dawn.
"Your Highness?"
She tilted her head at the sight of me sitting blankly on the sofa. Then her eyes widened as she spotted the white feathers strewn everywhere.
Her gaze locked onto one corner of the room.
Her eyes grew wider, her face paling. There lay the bird's desiccated remains, shriveled overnight.
"Could you clean that up?"
At my words, she gathered the feathers into a pile. After hesitating, she wrapped the corpse in cloth.
I watched her silently.
It was a stark reminder of what became of those who caught an elf's interest.
"Hoo."
With Adelia's help, I washed up and dressed. I threw on a fur cloak and left the room.
I headed to the barracks to find Vincent.
He was at the rangers' lodging.
"Your Highness."
Vincent spotted me and bowed lightly. It was more curt than our first meeting, but that made it feel more sincere.
He was treating me like a comrade-in-arms, at least giving me that much respect.
"Inside the mountains, you say?"
I asked Vincent about the monsters dwelling deeper in the mountains.
Orcs, goblins, trolls, kobolds... a list of monsters poured out. But none matched what I sought.
I was looking for something worthy of a heroic epic.
"Even deeper in?"
When I inquired about those even further in, Vincent's face hardened.
"Rangers treat the mountains like home, but only the outer edges. No one who's ventured deep inside has ever returned alive."
He could only speculate that far greater beasts than orcs lurked there.
"No one at all?"
"None. Even our best rangers avoid the depths. Our duty is to stop monsters coming down from the mountains, not explore them."
I double-checked Vincent's words.
"So, no one's ever gone in there, and no one knows what's inside?"
"That's correct."
No matter how many times I asked, his answer remained the same.
The mountains' depths were a complete unknown.
"I thought they'd all been wiped out, but one lingers after all."
Knights who had reached transcendence in the past had scoured the world, depleting its mysteries and wonders.
Mighty otherworldly beings were exterminated, forbidden realms conquered.
Yet one such forbidden place remained here. Coming to Ballerhard had been a brilliant choice.
"Just to be sure, I'm warning you."
I snapped out of my thoughts at his sharp tone.
"Whatever you do, don't even think about going in there."
Vincent cautioned me.
"Yeah, I won't."
Not yet.
* *
A couple more subjugation operations followed after that. But I sat them out.
Petty small fry held no interest for me.
My mind was fixed on the mountains' depths.
What could be waiting in there?
Just imagining it made my heart race.
Perhaps the Orc King, whose line had died out four centuries ago. Or something entirely new.
Either way, it promised thrilling encounter.
I suppressed the urge to charge in right away.
I wasn't ready yet.
I needed more battles, more victories.
To fully claim the extraordinary caliber now within my grasp.
Fortunately, Ballerhard overflowed with exactly what I craved.
Bwoooo!
A horn blared.
Rangers dozing lazily in the sunlight bolted up, grabbing bows. Soldiers mid-rant froze mid-sentence.
Bwoooo!
The horn sounded again. The soldiers sprang into frantic action.
Rangers poured from the barracks, racing up the stairs to the ramparts. Soldiers with swords and spears assembled in ranks before the gates.
"Archers, hold position!"
"Recall the field forces!"
Commanders barked orders. Signal flares whooshed in all directions with sharp whistles.
"We need more arrows here!"
"Who the hell took the catapult ammo?"
"Move it, faster!"
On the walls, soldiers and officers shouted themselves hoarse.
"Start boiling the oil!"
The castle's air thrummed with tension.
"Your Highness!"
Arwen called to me. Uncle was summoning me.
"He's on the ramparts!"
I flew up the stairs.
Numerous rangers hugged the walls. Clutching crossbows and bows, they stared motionlessly beyond.
Uncle was among them.
"Uncle."
"You're here."
Positioned atop the gatehouse, he pointed into the distance.
Somewhere beyond the plains, I narrowed my eyes.
"Ah..."
A dozen rangers raced across the snowy expanse.
Their armor torn and rent, swords and shields broken, Winter Castle's elites were battered wrecks fleeing from something.
Pheeeew! Boom!
A signal flare burst overhead.
That was the signal. Flares shot up from spots across the mountains.
Bwooo, bwooooo!
Horns blared.
The rangers atop the walls breathed harder. Anxiety flickered in their eyes as they watched their comrades sprint across the snow.
"Hurry up, you bastards!"
"Run! Faster!"
A few shouted.
Hearing them, the battered rangers picked up speed.
At that instant, a massive wolf crested the ridge they'd just crossed.
"Wolf riders!"
Atop the wolf rode a rider in dusky green.
"Just a bit more!"
The rangers drew their bowstrings. But they were still out of range.
Awooooo!
The wolves howled. They were already on the rangers' heels.
"Ah..."
A few rear-guard rangers turned. To buy time for their comrades, they drew weapons and faced the wolf riders.
But the wolf riders trampled them effortlessly.
Blood sprayed across the snow. Rangers fell.
The survivors ran and ran. But soon they halted, realizing they couldn't shake the pursuit.
"No! You idiots!"
"Come on! Get closer!"
The wall-top rangers yelled.
The battered group glanced our way, then turned and charged the wolf riders, clutching broken swords and dented shields.
Crimson flowers bloomed on the snowfield.
"Ah..."
The rampart rangers released their taut strings, bows drooping.
Thud.
The gates slammed shut.