Chapter 127
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 127
Chapter Title: 29. Northern Region (2)
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Allen Mercenary Corps had to prepare to head back north just two days after returning to Vermandua. It was a situation with barely any time to rest, but since their trip to the capital last time had been little more than a nominal outing, they got ready to leave without a word of complaint. ... They had been taking pay without doing any work for three straight months anyway, so they were feeling a bit self-conscious about it.
Since it was a journey that called for forced marches, they didn't bother finding a merchant caravan to tag along with for some pocket money. A group that large would inevitably slow them down.
And so, exactly three days after returning to Vermandua, in the early hours of dawn, the mercenaries set off toward the north.
The general view of the north among continentals went something like this.
Barbarians.
Poverty.
Cold.
Snow.
Aside from the experienced Kallisman, none of the other members had any experience in the north. So their imaginations weren't far off from the typical continental's.
"They say up there, instead of rain falling from the sky, this white powder-like stuff comes down. And when it piles up, everything turns white ..."
When the hairy Gis recited this about northern snow, the balding youngest, Kory, scratched his head—sending white flakes like snow flying—and asked,
"But why aren't the northern villagers' skins all white? They're all copper-colored."
"The snow reflects sunlight like a mirror and burns everyone."
"Whoa, that's crazy interesting."
Allen chuckled and added,
"Snowy areas are even farther north up there. Hardly anyone lives in those parts. It's tough to make a living."
"I see."
"You might see some light snow now and then, but you won't see it piled up thick. We won't have any reason to go that far anyway."
Over half the northern region was untouched wilderness, unspoiled by human hands. There was no reason or spare resources to develop it in the first place. On top of that, the coniferous forests blanketed in snow year-round were dens for unidentified monsters, so people avoided them unless necessary.
With limited arable land for farming, the north had once been the continent's hotspot for wars. Things weren't exactly amicable between groups even now. ... Honestly, a territorial skirmish could break out at any moment without anyone batting an eye.
Countless wars had left the region short on men, so northern women took on all sorts of grueling work without hesitation. It had the highest ratio of female warriors on the continent, too.
For northern women, the highest virtue was to receive the seed of a fine man and bear as many children as possible. So a sturdy man taking multiple wives wasn't a scandal—it was a point of pride.
...... These resilient northern women were full of vitality, but as women, they ranked as the continent's least popular. Even among northern men. The reason? They lacked femininity—way too much of it. It came from growing up in such harsh conditions. That was why northern women fetched a tier lower even in brothels.
Of course, Allen wasn't heading north for sex—he was there to work—so what did he care about northern women?
"Like I said before, we're going to cure devil plague. No telling how powerful the demon beast might be."
The one who reacted most sharply to "devil plague" was, predictably, the gum-chewing swordswoman Natasha. Her eyes burned with determination to eliminate that demon beast and cure the plague. Mission or not, it stemmed from a shared ordeal.
Still, Allen figured as long as Ingmar was alive, a cure wasn't impossible. ... Natasha had survived half a year of energy drain, after all—surely the tiger of the north wouldn't croak already!
If he really died, that would truly be a lack of mental fortitude.
···
A month after leaving Vermandua.
They finally reached the massive waterway dividing the central region from the north: the Marg River. Fed by melting northern snow, its waters were frigid. Bathing naked was out of the question.
A huge stone bridge spanned the river, dotted with floating ice chunks. It was the only direct crossing between central and north. Without it, you'd have to loop way around via the east or west. In other words, a key transportation hub.
A fair number of wagons were crossing right then. Allen's group trailed behind a line heading north.
Not far across the bridge lay the great city of Marby, the only one ruled by a ducal house in the north.
The mercenaries rested there for exactly one day, then set off again the next morning. Destination: northeast from the city.
Two days after leaving the metropolis, Allen Mercenary Corps saw snow for the first time in this world. White flakes fluttered down from gray clouds heavy as if about to pour rain—a spectacular sight. Its mystique even drew a gasp of awe from the tough female swordsman Natasha.
Of course, Allen had seen plenty of snow back on Earth, but experiencing it here felt different, more profound.
Unlike other regions, nights in the north meant worrying about freezing, not bandits. The western deserts got chilly at night, but nothing like this bone-chilling cold. Every camp reminded Allen of brutal winter training from his army days. That intense.
"Fucking hell ... Never coming back to the north."
Hairy Gis shivered, swallowing snotty mucus every morning and cursing the cold. The others looked much the same.
From what he heard, this happened to be the coldest time of the year. ...... Talk about rotten luck.
Enduring the cold for five more days, they finally arrived at their destination: the mid-sized city of Varnamo.
A stone fortress rose starkly against fields lightly dusted with snow. No frills, all function—a building fit for a land of warriors.
Unlike Vermandua's melting pot of races, everyone here screamed "northern stock." Burly men and women who looked ready to declare, "I'm a warrior."
Street kids, boys and girls alike, were lost in war games, and even peddlers were hard to spot with their guts hanging out.
The mercenaries stopped at a depot near the guild house. The moment they dismounted, countless stares poured their way. Northerners rarely saw outsiders.
The northern youth Aidaar led Allen Mercenary Corps briskly to his hideout, not far from the guild house.
Andelson, sub-leader of Ingmar Mercenary Corps—which occupied an entire two-story building—greeted Aidaar's returning crew with fanfare after months apart.
"Oh, Aidaar!"
"Sub-leader!"
The northern youth embraced the sub-leader warmly, then introduced the group following behind.
"This is Leader Allen. Introduced by Leader Viola."
A man vouched for by the mighty 10-strong Viola? His skills were beyond doubt.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Andelson Kolji, sub-leader of Ingmar Mercenary Corps."
"Allen, leader of Allen Mercenary Corps. Pleased to meet you."
They shook hands and exchanged greetings.
Aidaar asked if the others sent elsewhere had returned.
"The western group came back first. But they were useless."
He muttered a curse at the boastful mage. Allen caught a whiff of deep-seated magic phobia.
"Leader Allen has a track record of curing devil plague."
"Is that so?"
"That's right."
The sub-leader pleaded urgently with Allen.
"Could you take a look right now?"
"That urgent?"
"Yes ... pretty much."
Just then, a hearty "Ha ha!" laugh boomed through the hall.
"Urgent my ass—what's so urgent!"
The man who appeared was gaunt and withered, but his piercing eyes still burned with life.
"No need to make a fuss over a little illness."
"Leader!"
Allen gave a slight nod to the middle-aged man who appeared. He had a good idea who it was.
"Pleased to meet you, Leader Ingmar. I'm Leader Allen."
"Ingmar here. Sorry you had to see this mess."
The mercenary leader representing the north.
The tiger of the north.
The valiant northern warrior.
Ingmar Garbo.
"You've come a long way—rest up first. Seeing me tomorrow won't be too late."
"But Leader ...!"
The northern youth called worriedly, but Ingmar shushed his fussing subordinate with an "Eh-heh."
"One more day won't kill me. Don't worry. Take care of our guests first."
It was the pride of the north incarnate.
Allen didn't refuse. The man didn't look like he'd drop dead in a day. Exhausted from the cold and poison himself, Allen was dying for some rest anyway.
"Then, until later."
"Indeed."
That was Allen and Ingmar's first meeting.