Chapter 45
Chapter 45
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: 15. Before We Knew It, the Harsh Winter Was Upon Us (2)
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"Permission granted for all soldiers except the existing perimeter guards to take a break. You're free to come down from the walls. But maintain minimal armament."
Even after his uncle's words, none of the soldiers immediately descended from the walls. They stood frozen, their eyes fixed on the distant wolf riders.
"Tch."
His uncle clicked his tongue and ordered the command staff nearby to pull the soldiers back. The officers dashed along the battlements, kicking soldiers in the rear and yanking them by the scruff of the neck.
"Why aren't you asking?"
As he stared at them intently, his uncle spoke up.
"Asking what?"
"Why we didn't save them."
A Quad Chain knight could have rescued the rangers, or at least sending out the castle knights might have saved them. Weren't you curious?
"The trap was obvious. What more is there to say?"
His uncle didn't deny it.
Wolf riders moved as fast as cavalry. The very fact that rangers had returned alive from the mountains to the castle vicinity didn't make sense from the start. Unless they'd been deliberately released.
"Exactly. They planned to devour any forces that came out, and if the chance arose, charge straight for the gates."
Vincent, who had appeared at some point, approached and elaborated on his words.
"If the gate's open, they rush in. If they spot a gap, they tear into it. Common sense doesn't apply to them, and wiping out a few units means nothing. Attrition warfare is precisely what they crave."
Vincent's face was grim. He seemed to feel heavy responsibility for failing to save his own squad members. Yet his resolve remained firm.
"Winter has only just begun. We can't move recklessly."
This was why battles against monsters were so exhausting. Their warfare differed from humans' from the very purpose onward.
To monsters, a siege was something else entirely.
A chance to kill more enemies and feast more heartily. That was all.
Even if the food burned their mouths or their clumsy knife work cut their own hands, it was an irresistible feast.
That was how they saw Winter Castle.
"Besides, the snowfield looks barren at a glance with nowhere to hide, but in truth, much more lurks unseen."
Vincent's expression grew grave.
"We can't rule out the possibility of orcs hiding behind that ridge..."
"Wolf riders approaching!"
Before Vincent could finish, someone shouted.
Peering closely over the wall, he saw the wolf riders who had trampled the rangers charging toward the castle.
The rangers' corpses dangled pitifully from the wolves' maws.
The wolf riders halted. Just beyond arrow range.
Thud.
The wolves spat out the rangers' bodies like half-chewed food.
"Huh? What?"
The soldiers atop the wall cried out upon seeing the corpses.
"They're alive!"
A few of those thought to be corpses among the rangers were still breathing. The soldiers buzzed at the sight of the blood-soaked rangers crawling on the ground.
He let their murmurs flow in one ear and out the other as he gazed down at the base of the wall.
Wolf riders were visible setting the rangers down on the ground. They didn't stir, as if waiting for something.
A brief wait revealed what they awaited.
Another group of wolf riders appeared. Their wolves also carried something in their mouths.
They were Winter Castle's rangers, sent out on reconnaissance.
Thud.
The wolves tossed the rangers to the snowfield. Bloodied and ragged as rags, but unmistakably alive.
More groups of wolf riders arrived one after another, each adding to the number of rangers dumped onto the snowfield.
Thirty-six corpses, and twenty-two living rangers.
"This winter truly is unusual."
His uncle's voice was oppressively heavy.
"Such despicable tricks."
Vincent's tone matched his father's gravity. The soldiers felt it too.
Their hearts were plain to see.
If the survivors died, would it count as falling in battle, or being abandoned by allies? How would the soldiers take it?
A dilemma.
Rescuing them meant inevitable losses; ignoring them risked unrest among the troops. Winter Castle's veterans would understand the command's decision.
But morale would suffer. And demoralized soldiers moved sluggishly, their blades dulled.
That could never be good for Winter Castle.
"It's too fast, even accounting for variables. For orcs to press in so aggressively and swiftly is unprecedented."
"The mountain battle, the wolf riders—everything's off."
His uncle referenced the recent mountain clash.
That brought the damned elder high elf to mind.
Sigrun. Had that cursed elf meddled again?
But no.
A roar pierced his ears—not human, but like a beast's guttural bellow.
He looked down. An orc astride the largest wolf among the riders glared up at the walls, bellowing.
"Commander Excellency. Make your decision!"
The command officers urged his uncle. It looked like an execution; if they were to save them, now was the time.
"No."
He flatly rejected their view.
They weren't staging an execution. He declared it before them.
"What do you..."
"Commander Excellency! No time for this! Any longer, and we won't be able to save them!"
An impatient knight brandished his sword, ready to leap down at any moment.
His uncle raised a hand. The clamoring officers fell silent and stood at attention. Having quelled the uproar, his uncle turned to him.
"Then what do you see them doing?"
Instead of answering, he peered down from the wall.
The massive orc held a blood-red banner from who-knows-where. Its emblem was all too familiar. The orc bellowed.
To humans, mere savage beastly roars. But not to him.
Fight. Fight honorably and reclaim the legion's name.
Ancient orcish, faded even from his memory, poured from that foul maw.
"Grraaaargh!"
He watched the orc wave the banner and froth at the mouth. Memories of his talk with Sigrun surfaced.
[Deep in the mountains lies what Your Highness needs.]
[An ancient being slumbers within.]
[If sung in verse, it'd make a magnificent poem.]
He now knew what she meant—what he needed.
For the great king!
That noisy orc had proclaimed it several times.
"So you're saying the orcs are holding hostages and challenging us to a duel."
He nodded, and his uncle sighed.
An orc invoking honor for a duel was odd; a human understanding orc speech, odder still. His uncle's face said he'd never heard of such a thing.
The others wore similar expressions, varying in degree.
Not even a question of where he'd learned orcish. They simply didn't believe him.
He had no intention of convincing them with words. He knew a better way.
"Krack! Krarak! Krakshy!"
Leaning over the wall, he shouted at the orcs. A grating, metallic language scraped from his throat.
The orcs jolted in surprise. The leader, that wolf rider, pointed at him and yelled.
Roughly translated:
『A human speaking the clan's tongue?』
A sensible reaction for an orc. He ignored it and shouted back.
『We accept the duel. All except the duelists withdraw 200 paces and dismount.』
The leader orc blustered noisily.
Do you bear clan blood? Come to the horde, we'll welcome you.
Useless prattle dragged on.
『Not a half-breed! Not joining you! So, what's it gonna be?!』
He bellowed.
Only then did the leader ponder. Far too thoughtful for an orc.
『So be it!』
Finally, the leader spoke. Threats of punishing any who sullied the honorable duel followed.
As if. If they broke the pact, he'd be back in the castle with the rangers by then. What could they do?
"What in the world are you doing..."
His uncle's words made him turn. People stared like he was mad.
"Believe me now?"
He gestured toward the orcs.
The wolf riders, save five duelists, were withdrawing. His uncle and the officers gaped in shock.
"Th-that..."
"What is this..."
Even after dozens of winters at Ballerhard, this was a first, they clamored.
Orcs being reasonable? A human speaking orcish? Hard to accept.
Tch. They'll drive me crazy.
Stepping in, he relayed the orcs' demands.
"Five duelists. Must be those who fought in the mountain battle. Note: drag it out too long, they kill them all."
With their patience short, his uncle and officers began selecting participants.
Vincent selected first, then a Triple Chain knight who'd fought that day.
"I'll go! Avenge our rangers!"
An eager knight joined.
"I too bear grudges against orcs..."
"Stop."
His word silenced the knights mid-rant about old vendettas. To their why, he replied, "Two spots are taken."
Him and Arwen—reserved from the start.
The knights and officers protested the danger, but he ignored them as always.
"Anyone else speaks orc?"
"At least the last spot..."
He glanced at Arwen amid their pleas.
"Don't wanna."
How could she back out now with them counting on her?
"Where'd you learn orcish anyway? Never heard orcs were the talking type."
His uncle asked. He smirked.
"Hit the books."
Study a few centuries, and you'd understand not just orcs, but even mole speech.
『Hurry up!』
The leader orc outside urged.
Coming right down, he replied, turning to see his uncle lost in thought.
"Don't overthink if words could've solved past issues too."
His uncle's eyes wavered, caught.
"This is special."
True. Not all orcs were the same; not all reasoned. Only nobles serving the clan king spoke the ancient tongue.
That leader was one.
Ironic.
Just as he emerged, an elf delegation—including an elder high elf—visited the uninterested kingdom.
And in the north, an orc king appeared. First in 400 years.
Coincidence?
"Hardly."
True coincidences were rare. They just masqueraded as such. Especially when great beings stirred.
"Talk later. After."
No time for rumination now.
Time to fight.
Creak, creak.
The gates opened.
Beyond the pristine snowfield waited the wolf riders.
"Let's go."
He led the knights forward. The soldiers watched the sudden sortie in confusion and anticipation.
Savoring their hopes, he stepped out.
Human aspiration and will—the finest fuel for transcendence.
Even if borrowed, today their hopes were his.
"I'll take the biggest one."
"That one's mine."
Having eyed opponents en route, Vincent and the knights claimed theirs. They eyed him expectantly, like an interpreter.
He relayed to the orcs as requested.
The orcs dismounted. Gripping blades, they faced their foes.
"Y-Your Highness? That one's mine..."
Vincent fussed. He ignored him again.
Before him stood the leader orc.
The strongest naturally fell to him.