Chapter 36
Chapter 36
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 036
Chapter Title: Winter (1)
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Night fell, and though the temperature plummeted, the wind mercifully died down. Horses and men, worn out by the cold, slept like the dead. The command staff, exempt from labor, was naturally the exception.
Arun, Landiv, Nil, and Yains sat facing each other around a campfire.
"Any risk of wolves showing up?"
"This used to be wolf territory, but ever since the orcs appeared, they've been wiped out."
Nil waved his hand dismissively, as if sick of the topic.
"From pack hunts to scavenging rotten meat, their food sources overlap completely. Wolves don't stand a chance. Some even get captured and raised as orc riders."
"So, we're safe either way?"
"Where's safe up north? The cold just overwhelms every other danger."
Arun paid no mind to the rude tone. Landiv, ever the stoic one, merely twitched his scarred face.
"Any issues with the schedule?"
"Earliest is tomorrow afternoon, latest is early morning the day after. Blizzard's the wildcard."
A gale mixed with midwinter snow was called a blizzard—the north's worst natural disaster.
"Snow's stopped, and what's piled up has blown away. We're good for now."
"How's the men's condition?"
"They've rested plenty, and they're all at that hot-blooded age. No worries about colds."
"Smooth sailing, then."
Nil Carpenter, in command, exuded the confidence and ease of a man who'd spent his life riding through the north. A few more questions and answers wrapped up the day's business.
The campfire crackled and flared.
"Didn't bring any brandy. Care for some?"
"Brandy to warm the gut? Pass."
Gulp, gulp.
Arun took a swig of the hard liquor and passed it to Landiv.
"Good work. Take a sip and rest."
"Grr."
Landiv wiped his mouth and handed it to Nil, who shook the bottle before draining the last drops straight from it.
"Urk. Kinda light. Got more?"
Landiv stood first.
"Then I'll head in."
"Me too—gotta be up early running around."
Nil glanced at Yains, who was licking the bottle regretfully, then beckoned a sentry over for a quiet word before ducking into his tent. Moments later, the sentry returned with a fresh bottle of liquor and went back to his post.
"Cavalry captain, right? Generous guy."
"No manners, but sharp as they come."
"Wouldn't have it any other way. You could stomach cocky, but never stupid."
"Guess I was like that back then."
The wind made the flames dance, so Arun tossed on the last log.
"Finish that story from earlier. I'll listen till the fire dies."
What had started as an interrogation had shifted to 'If you insist, I'll hear you out.' Yains shook his head inwardly.
"Appreciate it. It began with my father's late remarriage."
Arun pictured his elderly father and half-brother nearing forty, swallowing the curse rising in his throat. No point getting mad now.
"I'd already secured my position as heir, so no real threat. Just that her dowry went into Northguard, and she meddled constantly."
"Making you a puppet?"
"Think I'd let that happen?"
Yains smirked and took another pull from the bottle.
"But slack off for a second, and it was straight off the cliff. Things dragged on like that until the Wave hit."
"Fell apart from the inside, huh?"
"Complicated story, but yeah, in short. Stepmother ditched my ailing father for her homeland, the Setters Duchy. Half of Northguard's supplies and men went with her. And I..."
Yains Main Caminity spread his hands wide.
"Was backed into a corner where every choice came too late."
History was full of unity fracturing when it was needed most. Yet humans repeated the same mistakes despite the inevitable outcomes.
"That's the gist. No need for the long-winded details."
"Tch."
Arun clicked his tongue in place of voicing his tangled thoughts and snatched the bottle from his friend.
Gulp, gulp.
Yains, who'd seized the heirship through sheer ability, lost everything. Arun, pushed out of the succession race, survived.
'No— the dragon saved me.'
The realization that humans could only cling to luck in the face of trials drew a sigh from him.
"Was I just lucky?"
"Holding out till luck arrives is skill too."
Yains tossed back the unexpected reply and continued.
"No one's strong alone. People gather around the strong—which means even the mighty need allies. Got good ones around you?"
"Good men die young. I need ones who'll stick around long-term."
"What about me?"
"As a friend? Or a neighboring lord?"
Yains shook his head.
"They say everyone gets a moment to choose who they become. But I wonder—what am I?"
"Why ask me? You choose yourself."
"What if I choose wrong?"
"You've already made wrong choices. What's one more? No need to suffer alone. Humanity's about to follow our footsteps anyway."
"No time or need to agonize, then?"
Arun grinned.
"Pretty much. No more peaceful, boring world."
His friend's serene smile amid humanity's crisis—against the flickering flames and even teeth—sent a chill down Yains's spine.
The campfire gradually died down.
The snow-cleared plains howled with wind through the dawn. Weary soldiers snored while pale moonlight comforted the lonely sentries outside the tents. Time passed, and the east brightened.
"Rise and shine."
"Up. Eat and ride."
A cavalryman's day began with feeding the horses. They melted snow as before, boiled hay, and fed the mounts. Only then did they brew soup for themselves.
"Tents down once you're done eating."
"Careful. Tear the waterproof cloth, and it'll come out of your pay."
Soldiers dismantled tents, unwrapped the insulating leg wraps from the horses for massages, while others hitched the wagons.
"Move it. Kick the sleepyheads in the ass—better than falling off."
Arun couldn't stand it anymore.
"Ease up. We've got time."
"That's not for us to decide. Damned gods could drop a blizzard anytime."
"Fair enough."
Nil was still cocky, still right—and when he crossed a line, he'd snap at the cavalrymen to deflect.
"Quit dawdling. First squad, move out."
"Moving."
Clop, clop.
Three squads of ten rode out at ten-minute intervals. The third still trailed with command and wagons.
"Wish I could ride up front."
"Fight breaks out, you can. No denying you're the strongest fighter here, my lord. But taking the first sword swings is the lads' job."
"I agree with Sir Nil."
With even Landiv chiming in, Arun fell silent.
The journey resumed.
Squads of ten spread to five kilometers max before closing to visual range, repeating the pattern. Around noon, they regrouped for a meal, then charged on till dusk, scouting camp spots.
And day broke again.
"Move out."
Thud thud thud.
Same order, same cold, same scenery. Finally, they reached their destination—day three since leaving Westguard.
The wind-swept landscape was desolate.
Withered grass clumped and tumbled, kicking up dust. Beyond a frozen stream stood crumbling fences, bleak and foreboding.
"Grook, grrruk. Cold."
The orc smashed a human shinbone against the ice.
Crack, crack, crunch.
Ice shattered along with the bone. The orc tossed the pieces aside without regret and filled its waterskin. As it hoisted the skin and turned, something caught its eye behind.
"Gruk?"
Its eyes widened. It dropped the waterskin and bolted toward the ruins.
"Gruk, grrruk! Humans! Humans on horses!"
"Chiiik, chiiiik."
Orcs poked heads from burned houses, collapsed walls, sagging roofs.
"Krook, Ultan—what's up?"
"Gruk—humans! Lots! Too late to run."
"Krook—grab weapons, quick."
A wind-cutting whistle, and the messenger orc crumpled, arrow in the back of its skull.
Clop clop.
Whish, thud.
Hoofbeats heralded grapples flying into the fences.
"Got it. Pull."
Neighhh.
Crunch, rrrumble.
Cavalry charged through the gap with nets ready.
"Gruk! Axes! Bring axes!"
Thud thud thud, bang. Crunch.
"Kweeeek, kweeeek."
An orc bowled over by a horse twitched, then burst under the stampede.
Splatter.
An orc leaping from an alley dropped, forehead caved in.
"Whoa, whoa. Don't kill 'em all. Capture alive."
"What do you do when they charge right at you?"
A rider eyed fleeing orcs, gauged distance and direction, then hurled a shoulder-slung net.
Worst case.
"Kweeeek, kueeek."
"Got two. Hya!"
Clop clop.
Netted orcs dragged behind the horse.
Some trailed in family-like chains.
"Kuiiik, kuik."
"Shut it, or else."
Thwack, thwack.
Rebels got clubbed mercilessly.
Many died or were captured; a few escaped the ruins. But none slipped Nil's sight.
"Pursue."
"Yes, sir. Reserve squad, go."
The drive began—pairs of riders unfurling nets.
Thud thud thud.
Whish.
"You first. I'll... krook."
A spear pierced the defiant orc's torso. The staggering runner got netted as the horse overtook it.
"Kuik, kuiiik."
Similar scenes played out everywhere.
"Going smooth."
"Humans outmatch orcs in weapons, tactics, strength, speed."
"Yeah."
Arun nodded at Landiv's response.
"But numbers are the issue—the terror of orcs swarming horizon to horizon."
Orcs' endless breeding as long as food lasted overwhelmed all weaknesses. Against equal numbers of humans, they crumbled easily.
"Kweeeek, kueeek."
The orc village, stained with human blood, was razed anew.
Already ruined homes burned again, black smoke trailing bound orcs dragged out in lines.
Some resisted fiercely. Bigger than the rest, rippling muscles and wrinkled face spoke of age and experience.
The elder elite orc stepped from the ruins and bellowed.
"Krook! Humans! Come at me!"
Snort, whinny.
Arun's horse pawed excitedly.
"Whoa, whoa. Looks like it's not our turn."
"I'll handle it."
Landiv dismounted, grabbed his mace, and strode forward.
As they faced off, captures wrapped up successfully. Riders dismounted, forming a semicircle around the penned orcs. Beyond them, Landiv entered view.
"All done. No casualties."
"Good work. We'll eat after your finale, Landiv."
Arun swigged liquor and passed the bottle.
Gulp gulp.
Nil downed it like he'd been waiting, then handed it to Yains beside him.
"Ah, thanks."
"Don't mention it."
Nil Carpenter, suddenly more polite, and the unpretentious noble Yains Main Caminity both turned. Their gaze fixed on the human knight clashing with the elite orc.
A massive axe whistled past his ear—that hair's breadth was Landiv's margin.
"Hah!"
Thud.
"Krook."
Landiv's mace struck heavy too, but not like the orc's two-handed greataxe. Shoulder smashed, the orc lunged with a body slam instead of retreating.
Landiv twisted away as if expecting it, gripped the mace two-handed, and smashed its back.
Thud, thud, thud.
The bout ended with the orc's body pulped, head spared.
"Boring. Real elite orc?"
"Overwhelming gap."
Soldiers looked disappointed at the quick finish. Per Nil's order, some fetched Landiv's mace and dragged the limp orc over.
Then came the "interrogation"—torture by another name.
"Kweeeek, kueeeek."
"Kweeek, kwiiik."
"...Krook, stop. I'll talk. What I know."
Monsters were cruel, but humans no less to other races. The elite orc, body in tatters, gasped ragged breaths.
"Krook. Great One fears. Georgrg. Rests for now. Gamelorg opposes."
"Georgrg? Gamelorg? Who's the lord?"
"...Two. Same."
"Two lords?"
No more answers from the dead orc.
Arun rubbed his temples, brow furrowed.