Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Translator: True Detective
Chapter 3: In the Helvid Northern Territory (2)
The mercenary group known as the Blue Wolf Corps was, naturally, rough and strong.
When I first heard the name, I thought it was just a crude but symbolic name fitting for the North, but the mercenary corps I actually faced was exactly like its name. People who prioritized survival over discipline or formality, humans whose actions were faster than words.
And beasts who would unhesitatingly tear out an enemy's throat with their raw teeth if it was for victory.
Indeed, it was a mercenary corps equipped with organizational power and skill that proved the capture of the Northern Barbarian Chief was not luck.
That's why a clumsy Summoner couldn't possibly satisfy their eyes.
"Not a single callous on his hands."
"First time living as a mercenary? Then just breathe quietly in the back."
"How did that guy get in?"
The entrance exam was simple.
No, to be precise, the document screening was simple.
There was a simple Q&A in the admission room I visited with my application, and perhaps thanks to the skill called Summoning Arts, I received the acceptance stamp without difficulty.
Of course, I was realizing only now that it wasn't the end.
That the current accompaniment was, in modern terms, an interview after the document screening.
...The difference would be that the interview is done in actual combat, and elimination could be directly linked to death.
Anyway, moving with the members, setting up camp, passing countless nights; although there were no major battles, I was enduring day by day in the North.
At first, it was a mess.
I was clumsy at packing, and didn't know the knack for enduring the cold. My steps were slow, and I lacked the eyes to read the terrain. I fell countless times and got scratched all over, but each time, the members of the Blue Wolf Corps neither laughed nor comforted me.
That was the way here.
Instead, I did my best at what I could do.
As soon as we entered the campsite, I drew a summoning circle. Instead of making a large fire, a small fire elemental that maintained heat for a long time. An earth elemental to block the wind. A surveillance summon to stand guard all night.
As the youngest, and as a Summoner, I devoted myself to the seniors' rest and safety.
Holding onto my sanity that was about to snap from the cold and hardships I was experiencing for the first time in my life, I gritted my teeth to take responsibility for my share.
I didn't speak.
I just showed results.
As time passed, the members' gazes changed. The number of personnel standing guard decreased by one, and fatigue was noticeably less.
Then one day, the Vice-Captain silently distributed my share of food in the same amount as the others.
"Eat."
That was the final acceptance notice.
Since that day, I quickly shed the shell of a noble.
I was the mercenary Iden.
Life in the Blue Wolf Corps was fast in everything, and frankly, it was extremely arduous. Waking up at dawn to move, acting as a porter during the day, and being responsible for camping at night.
Calluses formed on my hands like theirs, and my body became harder than before.
And my Summoning Arts changed too.
It didn't become flashier. Rather, it was the opposite.
Use less, last longer.
Summon fewer, make it certain.
When a battle broke out, the summons didn't step to the front. They blocked the flanks, created retreat paths, and moved the wounded. From some point, the members felt uncomfortable if I wasn't there.
"Iden, you take the watch tonight."
"If he does it, I can sleep with my legs stretched out."
It was different from the past where I was despised for not meeting someone's expectations. Here, usefulness was trust. Neither a noble name nor a family crest was needed.
I was becoming a proper mercenary scrap whose only necessities were a comrade's back and food for the day.
I learned how to read the cold, and came to distinguish between beasts and humans by footprints. I learned how to avoid dangerous paths, and how to recognize moments when a fight was unavoidable.
I learned how to assimilate into the group, and how to be acknowledged.
"Learns fast."
"Thought he'd run away in a few days, but his persistence is useful."
"What makes those noble bastards so great that they ostracize Summoning Arts? When it's this useful."
"They claim it's a type of Voodoo used by ancient barbarians. The reason must be that it looks primitive in the eyes of those snobs."
"Pfft, really no other idiots like them."
Gradually, I was becoming a Blue Wolf of the North.
One year in the North felt like several years in the South.
Already one year since entering the Blue Wolf Corps. I had unknowingly left the position of a rookie. My body and judgment were completely attuned to the North, enough that the title of elite soldier wasn't awkward.
Adaptation was surprisingly fast.
How to endure the cold, the speed of setting up camp, even preparation before battle. At first, I thought I had simply gotten used to it. But as time passed, I felt this wasn't simple 'adaptation'.
Perhaps the life in the Rivan Count family, which was more barren and cruel than the North.
The siblings' mockery, the position where no expectations were held, the days of always being a subject of comparison.
I thought that perhaps the experience of Edom Rivan, who learned how to breathe under that pressure, was supporting the current Iden.
At least, it's different here.
The comrades of the Blue Wolf Corps didn't exalt me with words. Instead, they called my name when needed, and entrusted me with tasks to be entrusted.
"Iden. Can't you take the watch tonight? Instead, I'll cook you your favorite roasted reindeer leg tomorrow."
"If this guy does it, I feel at ease."
"Stop talking nonsense. Did you forget Iden took charge of the forward search today? Tonight's watch is Berry, Ridka, you two take it."
The moment those words flowed naturally, I had already become a 'trustworthy guy' among the members.
As the night deepened, my Summoning Arts shone brighter.
Summons that aren't flashy but melt into the darkness. Spirits and beasts moving without sound. Enemies had their positions revealed before they could even fight, and fights became shorter.
Was it thanks to that? There was a nickname attached after just one year of mercenary life.
Summoner of the Dark Night.
I laughed it off when I first heard it as an alias quietly spreading among the mercenaries of the Northern Territory, but after hearing the same title a few more times, it felt real.
That now I am completely moving away from the periphery of a Romance Fantasy.
From some point, even the fact that this world is a 'Romance Fantasy' began to blur. The female lead, the set development, no longer occupied an important position in my head.
Instead, what came to mind were terrain, supply routes, troop movements, and the coming war.
Sitting by the campfire, I looked at the Northern night. A cold, quiet, and realistic night. Here, there are no confessions of love, no fateful meetings.
There are no fierce battles of wits to win a woman's heart, nor the gloomy nights of the youngest young master who was treated like leftovers.
I liked that.
A life moving with all goals and purposes fixed on this one thing: success.
I liked that a life pioneered solely by my own strength was shaping me into a proactive and enterprising person, unlike the past days.
I also liked the feeling of becoming a part of this world.
The pathetic past name of Edom Rivan was being pushed further and further into the past.
The name of the beautiful female lead, the names of the male leads who conflicted fiercely.
The meaning of the Romance Fantasy worldview faded, and what remained was the coming war, and myself who would survive in it.
Another year passed.
The time left until the outbreak of the Northern War is now one year. In the meantime, the name of the Blue Wolf Corps had spread throughout the Northern Territory. Monster subjugation, annihilation of barbarian tribes, clearing dangerous areas deep in the snowy mountains—now the Blue Wolf Corps was not a simple mercenary group.
With a little exaggeration, we were becoming the pride and envy of the Northern Territory residents.
People spoke without hesitation.
"The best mercenary corps in the North is the Blue Wolf Corps."
And that praise began to come from everyone's mouth starting from the successful raid on the 'Northern Monster Tribe' garrison three months ago.
The Monster Tribe Chief died, the garrison was annihilated, and only the surviving crumbs fled.
The Northern Monster Tribe, which secretly nested in a valley deep in nameless snowy mountains and constantly harassed and plundered nearby areas, was properly taught a lesson.
Especially since the damage to the members was minimal, the joy grew double and triple, and we received enormous rewards and honor from the Western Commander Demitri, who was responsible for the security of the western Northern Territory.
That night, the Captain arranged a gathering.
It was a party renting out an entire pub in the center of the city.
From the moment the door opened, noise poured out.
The sound of clinking glasses, laughter, shouting, footsteps thumping on the floor. A crude song unique to the North started with someone's drunken voice, and soon spread like a chorus.
"Hey, shouldn't Iden be buying? That guy alone received a special reward!"
"No, the Captain said he's paying today!"
"Where did our Summoner of the Dark Night go! Today you have to drink!"
My name was called several times.
Since I made a distinguished contribution to the death of the Monster Tribe Chief and received a special reward from the Western Commander as well as the Captain, it was natural to be the subject of somewhat envious gossip among colleagues.
I wasn't absorbed into their commotion but sat leaning against a wall in one corner of the pub, quietly raising my glass.
I was used to this kind of commotion now.
Should I say I've adapted to the cold warmth of the North?
It's a day where it wouldn't matter to drink heavily and let loose, but I just didn't act carelessly for the set goal.
Knowing the future.
Because I didn't want to blow away that unique advantage with carelessness.
In one year, the Northern War breaks out.
I considered making every preparation for the coming opportunity as something one with ambition should naturally endure.
The night only deepened, and the inside of the pub filled with heat. Lights flickered, and people's shadows moved along the walls. Mixed in the laughter was the relief of safely passing the battle, and the reality of being alive.
At that moment, the Vice-Captain approached.
He held oak mugs that likely contained beer in both hands.
He approached without a word, handed me a glass without a word, and sat next to me. And unlike the surrounding commotion, he spoke very quietly.
"Enjoy it just for today."
Those words weren't a speech to everyone.
It was a suggestion quietly offered to me.
The Vice-Captain must have been watching me, who always emptied glasses alone at the edge, for a long time.
He probably didn't move because the act of taking care of me might look skewed to the long-time members, but as he said, 'just for today', he held out a glass to me.
It was a meaning I couldn't refuse.
It meant that the first step recklessly taken into the North was successful, that I had now become family of the Blue Wolf Corps, and that the foothold for the next leap was well paved.
"Cheers."
A short resonance.
I immediately raised my glass and celebrated today with a refreshing toast with the Vice-Captain.
The oak mugs clashed as if to break, making a crude sound, and the beer surging within flowed down the esophagus, pleasantly stinging the stomach.
"Keep this to yourself."
The Vice-Captain spoke in a low voice while staring at the campfire.
The topic thrown by him, who was usually taciturn, would surely drag something unusual.
"In a few days, you, Viden, Celina, Brock, Dantel, and the Captain will form a team and head North."
It was as expected.
"Yes?"
My voice rose slightly, but fortunately, the drunken members were just chatting among themselves and didn't listen to this side.
"You will be taking on the mission of capturing the Northern Barbarian Chief alive. The Western Commander commissioned it directly. It seems he was quite pleased with the completion of this Monster Tribe mission. He said he would speak to the Grand Duke of the North to prepare a reward that won't be disappointing."
"...!"
At those words, my heart beat faster.
The Blue Wolf Corps succeeding in capturing the Northern Barbarian Chief alive.
Although it was content that ended in a single short paragraph in the original work, it was effectively the starting point and pivot of all my plans.
If the mission succeeds, a connection with the Grand Duke of the North is created.
An opportunity to fully utilize the information about the future I possess might arise.
No, it will definitely arise.
Haven't I put in blood-tears effort until now for that?
Suppressing my pounding heart, I took a sip of beer.
"Is that so."
"Of course, we don't have to bring him back alive. The Western Commander probably attached the condition wondering if he could bet on our ability. Since if he's alive, even like a frozen fish, negotiations can be attempted."
"Isn't the Northern Territory a land that doesn't care about things like negotiations?"
"Doesn't that mean the Grand Duke of the North also wants to end the war with the Northern Barbarians? Since the name of the Grand Duke was even mentioned in the reward payment."
"...I see."
"Then rest well for a few days."
Finishing his words, the Vice-Captain tapped my shoulder once and rose from his seat.
And silently walked away towards the members.
Watching his back, I strengthened my resolve.
The Northern Barbarian Chief, no matter what happens, I will capture him alive.