Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Smooth Progress
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Development was progressing smoothly.
To put it in specific terms, everything was unfolding exactly as planned, without a single hitch.
Of course, we weren't exactly prosperous, safe, or free from enemies who were still very much alive and kicking.
But we were undoubtedly preparing for the future, facing our tremors and fears head-on.
The first thing we did was rebuild the palisade.
In terms of results alone, it reduced the usable land and shrank our activity range—it was true.
But with a double-layered front palisade clearly separating the outer and inner fortifications, it became far easier to protect supplies and villagers.
The watchposts were spaced closer for tighter surveillance, and the watchtowers were built to prevent anyone from casually climbing over.
Red Iron had appraised the village with, "Now it's pretty damn decent." It was the first-ever palisade stronghold built by slash-and-burn folk in these parts—something you'd never see around here.
Naturally, people started flocking in.
Some of the slash-and-burn refugees who'd fled from the barbarians, along with the small villages that had barely hung on, all expressed their desire to join us.
"Please, help us out too."
The village population, which had been on a downward curve, began a steep climb upward.
Just as naturally, chronic issues like supply shortages and turf tensions cropped up, but the decisive advantages of these newcomers were no small matter.
These were people who had survived the harsh northern extremes with nothing but their bare bodies.
Give them food and a warm bed, and they'd gladly offer their labor for the community. The village developed at a rapid pace.
Now, the ones getting anxious were the barbarians.
Neither their night raids to unsettle us nor their periodic human hunts were working anymore. For those stalled foes, retreat was the only option left.
The cold winter seemed to foreshadow all-out war.
As I filled in my blueprint for northern reconstruction, one sheet at a time, I pondered deeply.
"— — — — — — —!!"
But those thoughts were shattered by a sharply flying sword.
Clang!
Snow-Covered boldly mixed in a feint, targeting my lower body while in an upper stance.
But I'd already read her intent and deflected the blade, nullifying the attack.
"Still too shallow—deeper!"
I guided her with a loud voice.
But unlike my stern tone, my face was beaming with a full smile.
It was heaven-sent talent.
After changing her training method, Snow-Covered was mastering Northern Swordsmanship at a breakneck pace.
No master ever disliked their disciple's achievements.
Especially when they came at such an astonishing speed.
"Hyaah!"
While I was briefly lost in thought, Snow-Covered gripped her sword with both hands and let out a mighty shout.
Matching the path I'd shown her, she boldly thrust her shoulder and blade forward.
Whoosh!
Deep and sharp.
If I'd been some ordinary sword-wielding commoner, that diagonal slash would've killed me on the spot.
In that short moment, she'd understood the path I'd taught and applied it in real combat.
But instead of praise, I twisted my sword hilt to edge-on.
Ting!
"Ah..."
Blade met blade with a fierce clash.
At the same time, Snow-Covered lost her grip, and her flying sword embedded itself in a nearby snowdrift.
I could see her palm was scraped and bleeding.
If I didn't force an end to the spar like this, she'd swing that sword all day.
I made a calming gesture to call it off and picked up her fallen sword, handing it back.
"Good work. Your stamina's improved a ton."
Unlike other skills, stamina fed only on persistence and effort.
If you slacked off even once, it showed more than anything else.
But Snow-Covered, training Shield Wall formations alongside the raw recruits, had built up stamina incomparable to when we started.
She knew it better than anyone, too—though she tried hiding her pride, bowing her head to me.
Time to wrap up the dawn training.
I sheathed my sword and pulled a clean cloth and pre-melted water from my bag.
"Your hand."
"I-I can do it myself..."
"No backtalk."
She hesitated at my command to extend her hand.
But with a firm voice, I snatched it and quietly wiped the bloody palm with clean water and cloth.
Her palm looked painful just to see—torn and healed over repeatedly.
She'd never complained of the hurt while swinging her sword.
Once back in the village, I should fetch some good healing herbs and apply them.
I tended the wound in silence, planning to end our brief daily training session.
But then Snow-Covered spoke up.
"...Master."
"?"
Snow-Covered always grew quieter than usual once training began.
She rarely spoke first, and I'd grown used to it.
But today, unusually, she opened her mouth before dawn practice ended.
I tensed slightly, waiting for her question.
"Thank you."
My tension deflated in an instant.
Her serious face had me thinking it was something major, but it was just her usual gratitude.
An awkward moment.
I pondered how to respond for a good while before finally nodding curtly.
Snow-Covered broke into a beaming smile.
* * *
"Is this length good?"
"Shorter. We need consumables we can throw in bulk."
Since these weren't for facing shields, there was no need for long, narrow pilums.
Better to have shorter ones with crude tips that we could throw en masse.
Red Iron would understand my intent.
I quietly mulled over unit organization while eyeing the growing pile of handcrafted javelins.
The village population had long surpassed 350 by rough count.
By the standards of the northern kingdom at its peak, this was a solid outpost worthy of the "large village" label.
Of course, about thirty were already classified as Shield Wall infantry in training,
and another thirty or so were on standby as auxiliary forces in this quasi-wartime state.
Numbers like that would've been impossible without our culture's common mixing of men and women—and without it being wartime.
But securing combat personnel didn't mean I could be purely optimistic.
For next year's plans, I needed to redirect this labor elsewhere—and fast. Which meant ending this damn war quickly.
I alternated glances between the auxiliary reserves and the javelin piles, heading back to the training grounds.
But just then, someone from the bustling village center called out to me in urgency.
"K-Knight! Big trouble!"
"Another raid?"
"It is a raid, but..."
Since their night attacks failed, the barbarians had been steadily sending forces to provoke us.
And today, someone whose group had been hit outside came looking for me.
No need to call the soldiers.
I grabbed my sheathed sword and brushed past the villager who wanted to say more.
By the time I reached the palisade and main gate, chaos was in full swing.
"Run! Hurry, hurry!"
"Argh, don't close the gate!"
Something was off.
Normally, when those bastards raided, the watch would signal and we'd shut the gate.
But now, the gate was wide open—unlike usual—and villagers who'd been working gathered near it, murmuring.
What the hell were they doing?
I approached to yell at them to scatter.
Until that sound reached me from the gate.
Purrr—!
"?"
I looked up to see two flustered hunters fleeing into view.
Trailing them was no barbarian or beast, but a single white figure snorting steam.
Fur white as fresh snow, a massive body.
Antlers branching beautifully skyward like an ancient tree.
The one chasing the hunters and disrupting the village gate was a wild White-Horned Deer, untouched by human hands.
Shing!
"...Everyone, fall back."
"Phew! Thank you, Knight!"
I drew my sword.
As I strode toward the gate, the rampaging White-Horned Deer halted its attack on the hunters.
Had it sensed my presence?
Larger than a typical White-Horned Deer by two or three times, it fixed me with obsidian eyes, watching quietly.
I asked the hunters,
"Did you shoot at it?"
"Are you insane? It seemed like a spirit beast, so we tried to quietly get out of the way..."
In this vast north, there were a few things you never touched.
Like smaller animal or bird young than an arrow, beasts fiercely guarding territory.
And the mountain spirits called "spirit beasts."
A good hunter was a long-lived one.
Folk living off nature wouldn't miss such basics.
I sent the injured hunters inside the village and pointed my sword tip at it.
"Why'd you attack first?"
Anyone watching would call me mad for talking to an animal.
But anyone standing here facing the deer wouldn't say that.
Because it...
Purrr!
...clearly understood my words.
"Oh! Look at it shaking its head!"
"It's really a spirit beast..."
Great, an audience.
I sighed heavily at the villagers gawking instead of fleeing.
Lucky it had no more intent to attack—otherwise, it could've gored half the villagers with those antlers.
But its mystical beauty kept them rooted.
"Alright, everyone back off!"
"What are you doing, acting like kids? Back to your posts!"
The belated militia sorted the crowd.
On my signal, they herded all outdoor workers inside the palisade and began closing the open gate.
Now it was just me and the beast at the gate.
I quietly lowered my sword.
"...Sorry if we encroached on your territory. It won't happen again."
I couldn't spill a spirit beast's blood.
I apologized sincerely to the calming creature and backed away.
Purr!
It seemed to accept, giving a soft snort as it retreated too.
The White-Horned Deer surveyed the human village with eyes like it had seen the world entire.
Now I noticed the myriad scars beneath its beautiful fur—proof of battles fought.
Clop, clop, clop!
Whoosh—!
It turned with dignified poise and bolted back toward the forest.
Then the silent woods erupted in clamor as a massive herd of White-Horned Deer followed, filling my vision.
"Ah..."
Someone's awed exclamation.
The white wave through the winter forest was an untouchable majesty.
This sight would live on as a mystical tale among those who witnessed it today.
But unlike the others, I harbored different thoughts.
Click.
I sheathed my sword.
And stared at the distant herd thundering away in formation.
At least fifty? No, easily over a hundred—an immense scale.
I'd never seen such a large group even near the southern plains.
Could they be tamed?
Suddenly, I recalled a legion from the kingdom's most glorious days, one the Knight King had led like a tempest.
Northern Cavalry.
How could I ever forget those who commanded battlefields atop White-Horned Deer?
I swallowed quietly, eyes burning with an elusive longing.