Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: Frostland Natives (2)
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Under the night sky of the Gray Mountains, a massive bonfire blazed, dyeing the ashen blizzard red.
The ice valley that had once been the Frost Dragon's nest was now filled with triumphant cheers.
Imperial soldiers and giant warriors stood shoulder to shoulder, clinking their crude wooden mugs together.
"To the brothers of the Empire!"
"To the sons of the North!"
The deadly chill that had blanketed the Gray Mountains melted away like spring snow beneath the roar of victory.
With the Frost Dragon's massive corpse looming behind them, the imperial soldiers and giant warriors linked arms and raised their cups in celebration.
The priests dispatched from the Papal Court also held mugs of warmed mulled wine, blessing the miraculous success of this alliance.
And at the center of the festivities stood another ivory miracle, now hailed as a hero who had conquered the North's bitter cold.
"Kraa! That's the stuff!"
"Meat's gotta be dipped in this white stuff!"
The giants dunked chunks of roasted wyvern meat straight into tubs of mayonnaise, shoving them into their mouths alongside beer airlifted from the Empire, grease dripping without a care.
The rough texture and rich meaty aroma met the smooth, nutty flavor of the mayonnaise, plunging them into an ecstatic new taste sensation they'd never experienced before. They roared in delight.
"This subjugation was truly blessed by the Lord's grace. Alongside your valor, there was another miracle that sustained us."
An elderly military priest spoke by the bonfire, generously spooning white mayonnaise over a lump of cold boiled potato. At his words, nearby soldiers and a few giant warriors nodded in agreement.
A young imperial soldier wearing a fur hat pulled low seized on the priest's words.
"A miracle, Father? You mean that rumor from the capital?"
"Oh ho, the news has reached even here already?"
The priest asked in surprise, and the soldier shrugged while chewing on bread slathered thickly with mayonnaise.
"It's less a rumor and more a legend now. The story of the Saintess who saved those struck down by poison."
At those words, the ears of everyone gathered around the bonfire perked up.
The giant warriors, in particular, widened their eyes as if hearing the tale for the first time.
"Saintess? You mean the humans' female shaman?"
Frostfang Sten asked gruffly.
The elderly priest shook his head with a gentle smile, unperturbed by the rude phrasing.
"Not a shaman, Brother Sten. She is the Empire's holiest, acting as the Lord's love incarnate. And word has spread from the capital all the way here that she performed a miracle after eating this very mayonnaise not long ago."
The priest lifted a small dish of mayonnaise as if handling a holy relic.
"They say it was a moment of despair, when vile poison scattered into the arrabbiata kindly provided by the Imperial Family and Papal Court felled countless people. Even the Saintess collapsed from exhaustion while trying to save them..."
The priest paused to catch his breath, confirming all eyes were on him before continuing.
His voice soon filled with awe as he pressed on.
"They say the Saintess rose again from the heart of that despair. A dazzling golden radiance burst from her entire body, enveloping all those on death's door. Like an angel unfolding six pairs of pristine white wings."
"And then, with cheeks faintly flushed, she spoke: 'In the saint who sought to create a heavenly taste so that even the lowliest might not hunger, and share it with all, I beheld this miracle.'"
"Even His Imperial Majesty the Emperor and His Holiness the Pope were moved, joining hands to praise this great miracle."
The elderly priest's voice brimmed with reverence, nearly drowning out the bonfire's crackle.
The imperial soldiers nodded in awe, despite having heard the rumor before, while the giant warriors exchanged incredulous glances and murmured among themselves.
Frostfang Sten dunked a chunk of wyvern meat deep into the mayonnaise tub and grumbled.
"So, that female shaman worked a miracle? It tastes good, sure, but from eating this?"
He stuffed the generously coated meat into his mouth and chewed.
The flavor was still wondrous, but linking it to a miracle stretched his rough common sense.
The priest kept his smile despite Sten's rudeness, nodding as if the question hit the mark.
"It wasn't merely eating it, Brother Sten. The Saintess beheld, within that taste, the noble intent of an unnamed saint who crafted a heavenly flavor so the lowliest would not hunger and shared it with all. And in resonance with that intent, the Lord's power dormant within her awakened."
The priest lifted the dish of ivory cream once more. In the bonfire light, its contents gleamed softly.
"Thus, this mayonnaise is no mere food. It is the miraculous feast that awakened the Saintess, akin to a holy relic infused with that unknown saint's benevolent will. There is reason His Majesty calls it the 'ivory miracle' and His Holiness the 'Saintess's miracle.'"
A young imperial soldier's eyes sparkled as he chimed in.
"Then Father, what we're eating now... could it be?"
The priest smiled kindly at him.
"The Lord's miracles are ever with the faithful heart, brother. Just as with the Saintess, if through this food we too find hope in despair and share warmth in the bitter cold, what is that if not a small miracle?"
The priest's words were no empty sermon.
They were solace and hope that touched the hearts of soldiers and warriors battling death daily in this frozen land.
One giant warrior muttered as he absently popped a mayonnaise-laden potato into his mouth.
"If they eat this... could our young ones make it through winter safely...?"
The other giants and imperial soldiers nodded at his words.
They began projecting their own desperate wishes onto the ivory cream.
Victory in battle, survival on frozen ground, the well-being of families left far behind.
A warm, soft form of hope blooming amid the despair of bitter cold.
The bonds shared with comrades who had conquered the colossal terror of the Frost Dragon together. And the blessing that the Saintess's miracle would surely befall them too, granting their desires.
The air around the bonfire had changed.
In place of the previous rough, boisterous cheers of victory flowed a quiet but profound empathy.
Imperial soldiers and northern warriors were no longer strangers; sharing the same cold, the same food, they had become brothers dreaming the same hope.
Frostfang Sten silently lifted the mayonnaise tub.
He poured the remaining cream thickly onto the empty plate of the nearest imperial soldier, Corporal Gunther.
"!"
Gunther stared in surprise, but Sten merely jerked his head gruffly.
"Brought too much. Waste it, and you'll be cursed."
At that curt kindness, Gunther chuckled and broke his hard bread, pushing it toward Sten.
"Dip this at least, big guy."
What was this if not the true miracle? Strangers sharing hearts at one table.
Though their origins, cultures, and sizes differed, sharing everything.
Gazing at the miracle blooming brilliantly in the cold where nothing else could, the priest smiled quietly and made the sign of the cross.
A few days later, in the giants' royal palace at the heart of the North.
The audience chamber of massive ice pillars brimmed with the fervor brought by Frostfang Sten.
He knelt before the white-haired giant king Frostmane Ulfgarr, seated on his throne.
"...Thus, the Empire's new provision 'mayonnaise' has proven not mere food, but the lifeblood to sustain our tribe through winter."
Sten reported the full account of the Frost Dragon subjugation and the miraculous effects of the mayonnaise without omission.
As his report ended, the chamber filled with low murmurs.
King Ulfgarr narrowed his deeply wrinkled eyes, gazing down at Sten. His voice was low and heavy as winter wind.
"Your feats are highly commended, Frostfang. Yet to claim a mere white cream made by humans decides our tribe's fate as a life source... Is your tongue embellishing from victory's joy?"
"By no means, Great Frostmane."
Sten replied with conviction, signaling a nearby attendant.
Moments later, a massive tub of mayonnaise gifted from the Empire was brought before the king.
King Ulfgarr eyed the ivory cream suspiciously.
He descended from the throne and dipped his own thick finger into it for a taste.
All giants in the chamber held their breath.
"...!"
The king's white eyebrows twitched ever so slightly.
In his deep eyes, a primal sensation long forgotten stirred to life.
The instinct for survival. The deep-seated craving of a leader guiding his tribe through bitter cold.
The king slowly looked down at his thick finger that had scooped the cream moments ago.
Then he scooped a larger dollop and brought it to his mouth. His throat bobbed heavily.
The chamber's silence was suffocating. Even Sten swallowed dryly, awaiting the king's words.
At last, King Ulfgarr slowly spoke.
His voice carried no prior doubt or cynicism, but a deep resonance laced with inexplicable awe.
"Sten."
"Yes, Great Frostmane!"
"This is no mere condiment."
The king's voice now rang with certainty.
"This is the power to defy winter itself. The essence of life that warms frozen flesh and thickens the bones of our young."
He reseated himself on the throne, solemnly surveying Sten and all the tribe's leaders.
"The Frost Dragon was a great threat, but our true enemies have ever been 'hunger' and 'cold.' And this white cream can be the weapon to conquer both."
At his declaration, one tribal elder cautiously spoke.
"Yet Your Majesty, it hails from human lands. How shall we obtain it reliably? We cannot entrust our tribe's fate to the Empire's whims."
"Nay, there is a way."
The king's eyes gleamed cold as ice.
He turned, calling his most trusted warrior, Frostfang Sten.
"Sten."
"Command me."
"Go south once more and convey to the Empire."
"-What we lack and desire, we Frostmanes shall lead to provide what the Empire lacks but desires."