Chapter 42
Chapter 42
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 042
Chapter Title: Early Spring
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The balcony door rattled in the wind, but the room inside was warm.
Unlike the rumors, the young lord was soft-spoken and kind. Only then did she relax enough to properly look at his face.
"Is there something on my face?"
"Ah, my apologies. You're just so pretty—er, handsome."
For a moment, the lord's face seemed to twist, startling Paulina. Fortunately, what followed wasn't a scolding but laughter.
"Heh heh heh. I had a friend who used to tease me about being pretty when I was a kid."
"Gulp."
The young lord Arun shrugged his shoulders.
"Don't worry. We're still friends."
"Phew."
Seeing Paulina wipe her chest in relief, he smiled.
"Good. You look just the same as ever."
"Pardon?"
Arun faltered for a second but tried not to show it.
"Um... If I may ask an impertinent question, do you know me?"
"The key to good relations with nobles is not asking impertinent questions."
"Ah, thank you for the lesson."
"Not at all."
'Glad she's still the same cheerful girl.'
The meal that followed was relaxed.
Arun used tongs to serve her salad and personally sliced the meat, checking if it was done. Paulina was a bit flustered at first but accepted it once she realized it was kindly meant.
By the time the meal ended, their conversation had grown much more natural.
"That was a wonderful meal."
"I'm glad. I hope it leaves you with good memories."
"Thank you for the hospitality. I only came to say hello."
"Some guy asked me a favor. Said there's this naive girl he's worried about and to keep an eye on her."
"......"
Paulina's pupils trembled.
Tears welled up in her once-bright eyes.
"......Brad."
She covered her face with both hands and burst into sobs.
"Cry it out. No one's going to say a word."
"Sob, ughhh."
Paulina chewed her lip before wailing outright. Tears dripped between her fingers.
Arun handed her a handkerchief.
"Hic, thank you. Sniff."
"Ugh."
The well-mannered man flinched.
"Sniff, sorry. I didn't expect it to hit me like that."
She finally stopped crying, but with her nose tip red and lips quivering, she still looked unsteady. Time was the only cure for that.
A moment later, the calmed Paulina offered the handkerchief back.
"Should I wash it for you?"
"Keep it. Consider it a gift."
Arun averted his eyes from the tear- and snot-soaked cloth.
Having cried her fill, Paulina was serene.
"I'm sorry for my lack of manners again. I'd love to learn if I could."
"Those with power don't need manners. So make a lot of money. That's power."
"But that takes time. The thought of being called a rude barbarian until then is awful."
"Hahaha."
Arun laughed heartily for the first time in a while.
"Manners vary slightly by house. It's just mimicking those above you. Imperial etiquette is the standard, but following it is a matter of manpower and time beyond budget. So the smart ones don't need manners."
"Play it by ear, apologize for what you can't?"
"That's exactly your style right now."
Arun scratched his cheek.
"If you're still set on learning, I'll send someone. Six months or so should be plenty for my squire Pendersen to teach you well."
"Oh, thank you!"
"Not at all. Happy to help."
"Me too. Just say the word from now on."
"Ho, anything?"
As Paulina leaned forward, shadows fell across her face, shifting the mood. She lowered her voice.
"Hesitating over face-saving? Don't worry. I'll handle it."
"Hahaha."
"Hehe."
With the awkwardness gone, her wit and charm shone through. Laughter echoed late into the night.
The winter night after the snow had a cozy hearth glow.
The next day, Arun personally saw Paulina off.
Escorting her beyond the south gate, he spotted the Paulina Merchant Company's sleds in view.
"Sleds, huh? Why didn't I think of that?"
"Efficiency's no good."
Paulina explained knowingly.
"Winter's cold, but snowy days don't last months. Snowy paths break constantly anyway. And taming those beasts is harder than wild horses."
"Hm."
Arun stroked his chin with a frown.
'True, how often do you need to punch through snow to hit enemies?'
Yet armies pursue efficiency while embracing ultimate inefficiency for victory.
"There's a man named Moheni Lorn from Brennenton Merchant Company. He'll bring people and supplies from the capital. You pick them up."
"Oh, really?"
"Of course, with conditions."
"Anything."
Arun asked about the number of tamed reindeer the Paulina Merchant Company had and ordered measures to increase them—give and take.
"We have plenty of hands. Oh, and Grandpa said he'll visit at the right time."
"No need. Tell him everything agreed with Sir Brad will be honored."
Paulina brightened.
"He was getting anxious with age. I'll pass that on."
As she turned, Arun grabbed her.
"One thing I want to ask..."
"......?"
Paulina blinked her big eyes silently at his hesitation. Realizing it was the etiquette he'd taught her, Arun smiled wryly inside.
"What kind of man was Brad to you?"
"A good man."
The answer came unexpectedly direct.
"No explanation could top that."
"Honest answer. Thank you."
"Then I'll be off."
Paulina bowed and turned.
A hesitant man and resolute woman—enough from afar to spark misunderstanding. And such sad premonitions never missed.
His loyal squire Pendersen shook his head with a long sigh.
'Looks like spring's still far off for Master.'
Of course, he didn't voice it.
Months passed since New Year's, but spring felt distant.
"Scouts inbound. Open the gate."
The sentry's signal raised the palisade gate.
Thud thud thud.
Leather-clad cavalry thundered through. They wheeled around, slowing to form up in the camp parade ground.
Neigh!
"Huff, huff."
Amid ragged breaths from men and horses alike, Nil ordered dismissal.
"Good work, all. Register your spoils and rest. Messenger! Where's the messenger? This to Sir Benjamin."
"Whoa, whoa. Good job."
Whinny, snort.
Soldiers soothed weary warhorses and unloaded orc hides from behind the saddles. Rushed work left muscle tissue ragged and bloody, but the men paid it no mind.
"Five Kaiman hides. Right?"
"Aye. Thanks."
While the merchant noted quantities, the soldier set down the hides and dragged his tired body to the barracks.
"Next."
As the line shortened, orc hides piled up on one side of the parade ground.
The new year changed nothing for the biting northern winds.
Yet Westguard steadily stabilized the surroundings.
Nil handpicked elites for scout teams, and Benjamin fully deployed native cavalry. They competitively struck every orc outpost they found.
Small victories piled up with minimal losses.
Encouraging, yes—but to watchers, progress dragged. The growing hide piles couldn't thaw frozen hearts.
This unease channeled into support for command, a virtuous cycle.
"Huff, huff."
Arun ran the main road, shirtless with sandbags strapped on.
Benjamin, Landiv, and others trailed him, similarly attired.
"Huff, huff. Tenth lap. You're done—head back."
"Pant, yes, Sir Landiv."
Stragglers broke formation, stopping at the roadside.
The squire candidates jogged in place to cool down, then collapsed on the ground or leaned against walls to avoid passersby, catching their breath.
"Pant, gonna die."
"Huff, huff. Feel dead already."
Shoulders heaving in agony, their breaths gradually steadied.
"Feels like we've got some breathing room now."
"Breathing room? This?"
The one bracing on his knees shot back.
"Remember your first day, Heights? Carried out on a stretcher?"
"Kekeke, yeah. Faceplanted in snow last week, couldn't get up. Today you're at least standing."
"Heh heh heh."
"Damn brats, barely fist-sized."
"Gotta take those hits. No one here dodges your punch."
"Hahaha."
"Time for another lap. Let's go."
"Gotta check gear for sword training."
"I'll prep. Scout."
"Sure sure. Ilap, your pronunciation's improved."
"Hey, who's watching the kid?"
Hayts eyed the foam-mouthed boy sprawled on the road—Schmidt Miramount—shook his head, grabbed a leg, and dragged him off.
Scraaaape.
As they vanished into the alley, Arun, Benjamin, and Landiv appeared.
"Huff, huff. Recovering one lap early."
"Pant, saw them chatting till we caught up."
"Landiv picked good squire candidates. Don't drop any I'd freelance with later."
"Yes, my lord. I'll pass it on."
"Us too, wrap up."
The three, warmed up, headed for the drill hall.
Even inside the yard, Landiv kept running.
'Overwhelming stamina is the start and end of force.'
He'd become a devotee of Arun's astonishing endurance.
"Tell that one to run more. Come on."
"Yes, then."
Shing.
Benjamin drew his real sword, well aware of Arun's prowess.
But no spar ensued—someone charged through the main gate.
Clop clop.
Neigh!
"Sir Nil's scouts are back. Message here."
"Outpost 120km southeast? They've come far."
Pocketing the wooden tablet, Benjamin saluted and turned.
"He left me work. I'm off."
"Southeast 120km's Kaminy River estuary marsh. Pack plenty of spikes for ice."
"Thanks for the advice."
Arun glanced at the departing Benjamin, then at the runner in the yard.
"Landiv, enough stamina show. Grab a sword."
"Yes, my lord. Huff, huff."
Sparring resumed.
Thus training, scouting, and strikes became Westguard's routine—like spring creeping in with languid warmth.
People overlooked how this seemingly dull approach effectively halted the orcs' southward push. Hearts remained frozen.
The spark that would ignite them came from an unexpected quarter.
"H-hey, procedure—"
"Emergency."
The messenger brushed off even Pendersen's protest. The news stunned.
"Sherwood outpost fallen."
"Sherwood Forest—Springgarden border? Orcs that far?"
"Relief force says a halberd-emblazoned flag was planted."
"......Wh-what."
Silence fell.
"Those damn Hasseldorfs."
"Argh, you donkey-fucking bastards."
Ray Schumacher, mellowed since knighthood, raged coarsely. Even cool-headed Nil clutched his head.
"Barely holding orcs, now territory war."
"Send riders to Brennenton and the capital now."
Landiv shook his head.
"Different from orcs. His Majesty doesn't intervene in domain disputes. Just ratifies the outcome."
"Brennenton our only hope?"
"Grr, those scum timed it."
"I'll gut those cowards."
Ray and Nil couldn't hold back curses.
Struggling with orcs, they couldn't expand the front. Wars aren't just, but House Hasseldorf picked the perfect moment.
Peak human selfishness—yet a provocation with assured victory.
"No choice but full force."
"They proved retreating won't bring peace."
"......"
Arun sat silent, steadying command.
"I'm angry too, but let's make contact."
"Nngh."
"Cool off first. War or not after."
The strong lean on none, make no fuss—just guard their worth quietly. Until fury shows.
'Knew a day like this would come...'
His gaze slowly turned west.