The Golden Pickaxe
Two days had passed since my return to Bolda Fortress.
As I rode Yetev, the scent of the wind mixed with something familiar.
Lotte had been sniffing at the air since earlier.
As we drew closer, dark smoke began rising around the fortress fence.
A little nearer and the smoke still lingered, yet the flames had clearly been tamed.
I dismounted from Yetev with Lotte, and the two of us entered the open fortress gate.
There were scattered signs of fires deliberately lit along the way, along with the bodies of patrol soldiers, frozen wolf corpses, and a large, bright-gray snow bear that Ion had never seen.
―Woof!
Lotte suddenly bounded off as though she had found something.
“...Ugh!”
Upon spotting a patrol soldier groaning in pain with blood dripping from his head, I knelt and rolled him onto his side.
No other wounds were visible on his body.
I poured water into the soldier’s mouth; his lips trembled as he drank, and soon he regained his senses.
“...Ugh... wha...?”
“Are you feeling better?”
“...Who...?”
The soldier frowned, struggling to focus his hazy eyes.
“It doesn’t matter who I am. What happened? Where is the commander?”
Recognizing my armor, the soldier recalled the events and answered.
“...Ah. M-monsters came. Ice wolves, snow bears... and even frost trolls attacked the fortress.”
“They took you down? That’s why the fires broke out?”
“...Ah! No. Monsters I’d never seen before appeared. They were made of snow.”
That was the snow elemental Roman had described.
The monsters had descended, and Ion had warned Commander Josip, but he had not expected them to arrive so quickly.
“The snow elemental. The one that throws snow, right?”
“Yes! That’s it! Even when we attacked, it kept reforming, so we couldn’t finish them off. That’s why...”
“You set fires to melt the snow?”
“Exactly. As the snow began to melt, the core inside became visible, and we were finally able to destroy them.”
It seemed like a reasonable strategy—ignite a snow elemental with fire.
Yet this Bolda Fortress had been burned so badly that even the fence and buildings had to be reduced to ash. It looked like the damage had only worsened since then.
“But you destroyed them too late.”
“...That’s right. The wolves and bears kept attacking even while we were setting the fires.”
Ion glanced around while the soldier spoke.
A few people hobbled by, but no one was visible gathering the survivors or caring for the wounded.
“Do you know where Baron Josip is?”
The soldier’s eyes darkened at my question.
“...The commander! The moment the snow elemental appeared, he ran away!”
“Ran... away?”
“I saw the last of it—several of his men fleeing toward that direction with him.”
There were indeed cases of fleeing commanders, but the thought of a fortress commander abandoning his post had never crossed Ion’s mind.
Of course, the northern fortress was small in scale and population, and its commander held only the title of baron. Still, someone in that position was no different from a lord of a minor domain.
Even a cowardly man would find it difficult to choose flight so easily.
The soldier rose to his feet.
“I... I must find my surviving comrades.”
Ion handed the soldier a pouch containing hemostatic herbs and painkillers.
“This should help. Take it.”
“Thank you.”
The soldier took the pouch, bowed, then limped off to sit beside his injured companions and began treating them.
Even a single patrol soldier knew to care for his comrades, yet the commander had fled. That was more surprising than anything.
“Clearly, a problem isn’t just one problem.”
Ion set off in the direction the soldier indicated, searching for traces.
There were plenty of marks left by monsters and humans alike.
“Remember the fortress commander? We need to find that man.”
At Ion’s words, Lotte barked with a confident air.
She lowered her nose to the ground, sniffed, and then began running.
·
·
·
She had fled quite far.
During the pursuit, Ion found the corpses of dead horses, frozen wolves, and snow bears scattered about, along with patrol soldiers killed by monsters.
The traces gradually thinned until only a few frozen wolves and one human remained.
Among the bodies he passed, there was no sign of Josip.
In the center of the snowfield stood a large tree, surrounded by dead frozen wolves.
Baron Josip Vissotsky of Bolda Fortress leaned against it, blood dripping from his wounds.
Josip hung his head as though half-delirious, then swung his sword weakly when he heard footsteps approaching.
“...Go... away...”
Ion looked down at him.
“You ran far.”
“...W-what...?”
Josip struggled to lift his head and saw Ion.
“Y-you... you’re still alive.”
“You sent me too little.”
“I... I sent you for nothing! If those bastards had been there, I wouldn’t be in this state...!”
“No. You would have survived if you had only fought the remaining patrol soldiers. There were survivors in the fortress.”
Josip looked even more shocked than at the sight of Ion.
He had fled knowing his men would be wiped out, thinking only of saving himself—yet here he was about to die alone. No wonder he was stunned.
Josip asked in disbelief.
“S-survivors? You stopped the snow elemental?”
“Yes. I found a way to stop them. You ran away and missed it.”
“P-please save me! I’m... the commander of a northern fortress! A baron! I’ll... I’ll pay any reward you ask!”
“Even without a monster attack, I came to kill you, but I have no intention of doing so.”
Josip had never expected much from his story in the first place, so he sighed at Ion’s words.
“...When I entered the fortress, I should have killed you.... Did you kill Igor?”
“No. I left with the villagers.”
“I knew it! Something felt off! You... you lied to complete the quest! You’re no better!”
“The quest itself was a lie. I didn’t bother to argue about that, but... shall we continue?”
In the end, the one with nothing left to say was always the one who kept pressing the point. Josip’s greed was truly endless.
“...”
Josip clamped his mouth shut, and Ion drew his sword.
He could leave him to die here, but that would mean dying as comfortably as sleeping in the cold. Ion hated the idea of a man who abandoned his subordinates receiving such an easy end.
Ion drove the sword into Josip’s chest.
“Remember how shameful it is to flee and die while abandoning your subordinates!”
“S-save... gah!”
Josip’s breath stopped, and Ion resumed his walk back toward the fortress.
·
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·
I helped clean up the survivors at Bolda Fortress for several days after my return.
No further monster attacks occurred, and after seeing people from other domains and fortresses begin organizing the cleanup, I left the fortress ten days later.
I traveled for another ten days to reach Yetev Estate, the place I had originally intended to go to.
During the journey, I had forgotten about the ten patrol swords I had recovered after fighting them. They were loaded onto Yetev.
The patrol weapons were engraved with names, so I headed to the blacksmith to handle them quickly.
The north was divided into the islands of Norberg and Berg. Berg was the dwarven kingdom.
The entire northern region had once been the dwarven kingdom, but with such a small population, the dwarves’ territory shrank as human lands expanded, leaving only one island.
Yet the dwarves worked as miners digging everywhere in the north or as master blacksmiths in the forges.
Ion quickly found a dwarf blacksmith working in the northern forge.
The master dwarf blacksmith Dvalin Kultahaku looked at the patrol swords Ion had set down and frowned.
“You know these are the patrol soldiers’ weapons, don’t you?”
“Yes. Of course, since they attacked us.”
“The names are engraved on them, so they can’t just be sold. We’d have to melt them down and make new ones.”
“Calculate the iron at the same weight. That should be enough.”
“I can only offer that much anyway.”
Black iron swords were valuable; melting them into iron made them far less so.
Dvalin took out three silvers in payment for the iron, studying Ion’s appearance closely.
“What brings a knight here? You don’t look like someone from the north.”
“I came from the central region to see the Ice Wall.”
“Just a giant frozen wall. It feels massive and overwhelming, but it’s essentially an ice wall.”
“Yes. That’s what I came to see.”
Dvalin smiled as he asked Ion.
“On the way here, did you have any plans to earn money?”
“Do you have a job for me?”
Dvalin gestured at the patrol swords.
“With these weapons and no other gear, your skill must be considerable. Seeing you heading to the Ice Wall suggests you’re not in a rush for time. These might take some time, but are you interested?”
“What kind of job?”
Let’s hear the details first.
Ion nodded and explained.
“Dwarves each have a specialty. I’m a blacksmith, so naturally my specialty is iron. Others specialize in mining ore, while some excel at fighting. In the middle, there are those who are best at either mining or fighting.”
Ion had not seen dwarves before his regression, nor had he entrusted them with work or engaged in long conversations, so he did not know about such specialties.
In truth, dwarves were all thought to be blacksmiths.
“Our family mostly searches for special minerals in mines. At some point, we could no longer mine properly. That’s because the family heirloom, the Golden Pickaxe, disappeared.”
“Kultahaku means ‘golden pickaxe,’ doesn’t it? That’s how important it is to us.”
“You’re asking me to find it?”
“I know where it is. I searched for a long time before finally locating the spot.”
“Where is it?”
“There’s a mine five days north of here. It’s an abandoned mine with collapsed entrances and tunnels. The pickaxe is there.”
A mine tunnel would naturally be narrow, and collapsed sections would need to be cleared.
Ion wondered whether the pickaxe or shovel would even help, but he doubted the dwarf would want him exerting unnecessary strength.
“I’m a knight, so I’m not suited for clearing mine tunnels. Still, if you’re telling me this, does that mean monsters are there?”
“A giant spider has taken up residence.”
As expected, there were monsters.
Insect-type monsters were repulsive, yet they posed no problem in combat.
“So this is my second attempt?”
“No, the third.”
“Then why did the first and second fail?”
“The first time I didn’t know there was a spider. The second time I brought mercenaries from afar, but it failed. I took too many people and they were weak. That’s why I want you to go with me this time.”
“Sending a small, elite group isn’t bad, but how do you know my strength?”
At Ion’s question, Dvalin pointed to the sword sheath at Ion’s waist and his eyes gleamed.
“If my eyes aren’t wrong, your sword isn’t an ordinary one. How about it? Isn’t my guess correct?”
“Correct. It’s a sword named ‘Pain’.”
“Oh! Really! May I see it for a moment?”
“Yes. Here you are.”
Ion undid the sheath and showed it.
A dwarf blacksmith was, by definition, a master craftsman; Ion wanted to hear his opinion on the sword.
Dvalin drew the sword and examined ‘Pain’ with sparkling eyes.
“One of the three twin swords forged by a legendary giant blacksmith from ancient times. No one has yet succeeded in replicating a sword like this. Perhaps none ever will.”
“Why is that?”
“The giant blacksmith was not only an extraordinary blacksmith but also an extraordinary magician.”
Ion had never heard this story from witch Lina either.
It seemed impossible for a blacksmith to be a magician as well.
“He poured magic into the iron while hammering. Every single strike on this sword carried magic, and the repeated enchantments created it.”
Any blade could cut through anything if it received only the wielder’s strength, provided it never broke. Such a legendary tale made perfect sense.
“Now that magic is only wielded by those chosen by fate, such swords will never appear again.”
Ion glanced at the sword with a trace of regret, then returned it to its sheath and handed it to him.
“Still, if you and I go together quietly, I think the odds are in our favor.”
“Hmm... All right. I do want to see that Golden Pickaxe. What reward will you give me?”
“The armor you’re wearing—does it use steel we produce?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll make it even tougher for you.”
Ion was already using strong steel armor. Making it even tougher here would be a welcome change.
And of course, he was curious about the legendary Golden Pickaxe.
“All right. Let’s go together.”
·
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·
I did not book a room at an inn. I slept at Dvalin’s house attached to his forge and woke the next morning.
Then I bought dried meat and fruits from the market to prepare for climbing the mountain and returned.
Soon after.
―Meeeh!
Dvalin returned with a strangely shaped animal.
It resembled a white goat but was nearly the size of a horse, with a saddle already strapped to its back.
“A frost goat.”
“A goat?”
I thought it was just an oversized goat, but he called it a frost goat.
Goats and frost goats—what was the difference?
Dvalin explained as though he could read Ion’s thoughts.
“Exactly. It looks like a goat, doesn’t it? Unlike goats, it has no long beard. Frost goats are large, but regular goats also lack beards.”
Ion had not realized the difference was the presence or absence of beards.
“I see. This one seems intended for riding.”
“That’s right. You’ll need to ride it. Your horse can’t go. The mountain is rugged, with no trails, and it will only get colder the higher we climb. Your horse won’t last.”
“Is that so?”
“I’ll leave your horse here and arrange for someone to care for it.”
“Understood.”
Since entering the north, Yetev had begun to struggle.
So Ion had planned to leave Yetev somewhere and travel to the Ice Wall, but a new mount had appeared.
“This fellow is only newly acquired. Get used to riding it. I’ll even name it for you. Ah, it’s a female and six years old.”
“Yes. Understood.”
Ion stood before the white frost goat for a moment in thought.
“A name...?”
While Ion was pondering, Lotte sniffed the goat’s scent and explored.
―Meeeh!
The frost goat sounded displeased as Lotte approached, thrusting its long horned head forward in threat.
“Niel! Your name is Niel.”