Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Serpent's Whisper and Inherited Blade
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The first siege battle, where all forces clashed in a brief but intense confrontation, had a profound impact on both camps.
It instilled hope in the Northern human forces that they could hold their own, while filling the orc camp with wariness that their foe was no pushover.
However, the orcs who had invaded this remote frontier weren't the type to retreat after a single defeat, nor were the Northern humans the sort to grow complacent after one victory.
And so, the orcs encircled the stockade, crafting siege ladders as they prepared for their second assault.
The soldiers, humbly accepting their victory, were doing their utmost to repair the stockade.
"Just like the lord said, those orcs really tucked tail and ran! Heh... And right there, I—"
"Oh, come on, drop the bragging and be more careful next time. Got it?"
The leadership had urged maximum restraint, but the thrill of victory was impossible to contain.
And that fire spread even further through the soldiers who had taken turns visiting their families,
as names of those who shone in the defensive battle endlessly passed from lip to lip even now.
"— — — — — — — —."
But amid the general excitement, one man couldn't join in the chatter.
It was Barley Ear, glaring with bloodshot eyes at the couple who had just passed by.
Gulp, gulp.
Barley Ear wasn't just away from his assigned post without permission—he was brazenly swigging liquor in the midst of critical wartime conditions.
The bottle of strong spirits was already half empty, and his eyes were pitch black with thick, filthy emotions.
The reason for Barley Ear's state was simple.
It stemmed from his venomous jealousy toward Snow-Covered and his resentment toward his master, Gray Wolf.
'Still not calling me master, huh.'
At first, everything had been perfect.
He possessed a radiant appearance and talent, and his teacher, Gray Wolf, was the world's greatest hero.
People praised him just for existing, reached out whenever he walked by.
To Barley Ear, this territory was an exhilarating playground, a earthly paradise that fed his innate vanity.
But then those two arrived, and everything changed.
Uninvited guests had crashed into Barley Ear's destined saga as the greatest king.
Broken Sword, a half-baked knight who couldn't wield aura, yet strutted like a hero.
Snow-Covered, that vixen who wagged her tail and monopolized his master's attention.
They were riddled with flaws.
Given just a little time, he could have surpassed them, crushed their spirits anytime.
But his master's attitude toward them grew ever warmer, while the looks he gave Barley Ear brimmed with disappointment each time.
'This isn't a battlefield for you, Barley Ear.'
'Learn humility first!'
Conflicts, disputes, rash emotions.
Yes, it had all led to this.
He, who should have become the great king, had been shoved into the drainage ditch where no one paid attention.
Gulp, gulp.
A serpent had coiled within Barley Ear's heart.
Small in size, but ready to bare its fangs—a grotesque malice.
"Oh? What are you doing here, Sir Barley Ear?"
"......Get lost."
"Pardon?"
"I said get lost!"
Crash!
A village girl he often saw approached Barley Ear amiably.
But Barley Ear, long since shed of his kindly mask, hurled the bottle at her.
The girl screamed in shock, and Barley Ear staggered to his feet.
Clutching his sword—the last remnant of his pride—he stumbled into a deserted alley.
Then, faintly in his ears, came the voice of the administrator who had sneaked to see him last night.
'Want me to lay it out straight? You and me, we'll both be out once this war ends.'
'What? No way? You must not have heard the rumors going around among the villagers.'
When the administrator's initial atrocities first came to light, Barley Ear had ignored it thoroughly, fearing entanglement.
But harboring a grudge, the administrator had visited him in secret, threatening mutual destruction with ledgers of bribes Barley Ear had accepted.
At first, he was furious, of course.
His already turbulent emotions boiled over at being hounded by a man as good as dead.
Yet as time passed, the administrator shifted from threats of defense to proposals of coexistence.
'It all happened because of that wench anyway. Kill her, and all your worries about succession vanish.'
'A way? Why wouldn't there be? I'll lure the orcs in—you just open the drainage path. Play it off as an accident and clean up!'
The shelter and drainage entrance under Snow-Covered's watch were not far apart.
And both in the safe rear, guarded by minimal forces.
What did that imply?
If the village's rear drainage ditch opened for some 'unknown' reason, Snow-Covered's shelter would be in peril.
Gulp.
It was the devil's whisper.
A horrific proposal that wouldn't be out of place if it plunged him straight to hell.
But Barley Ear thought.
What if he let in only manageable foes, then cleanly exterminated them after Snow-Covered died?
He could pin it all on the escaped convict administrator anyway.
Corpses can't speak truth.
Stroking his neck where Snow-Covered had once aimed her sword, Barley Ear twisted into a grin.
It was a ghastly visage, revealing how deeply a mere human could fall and self-destruct.
Thwuk! Fwoosh!
In the dark night, an orc archer hiding behind a shield wall loosed fire arrows.
But the waiting soldiers smothered the flames on the stockade with wet hides the moment they hit and retrieved the embedded arrows.
This marked the 21st minor raid already.
Raids in name only—mostly attempts like firing arrows or sneaking over the stockade under cover of darkness, as just now.
The orcs' scheme was obvious.
To wear down the soldiers' strength and morale for a prolonged siege.
Fortunately, Gray Wolf and I, with our wealth of defensive battle experience, knew how to counter such predictable tactics.
It came down to an organic response manual, a rapid mobilization system, and rotations to minimize fatigue.
Of course, it meant sleepless nights for me and the leadership,
but we could at least keep the war's grim atmosphere from fully permeating the village.
The village well was intact, and the communal food stores, stockpiled by conscripting all residents, were ample.
But the orcs, who had rushed here thinking it a short campaign, were not.
The barren Northern wilderness offered scorched-earth tactics.
The longer it dragged, the worse off they would be—not us.
The leadership and I sensed the decisive all-out battle was imminent.
"Broken Sword."
Tonight, I was on stockade duty, sitting alone atop the empty watchtower, observing the orc main force.
Yet Gray Wolf, who should have been resting in his tent despite it not being shift change, climbed up with steady steps.
"......Gray Wolf?"
Had some emergency arisen?
I rose with a puzzled look, hurriedly scanning the stockade.
But Gray Wolf gestured calmly for me to sit again, as if nothing was amiss.
"Sit easy. I came to talk."
Talk? Was there more to discuss about the defense?
I plopped down beside Gray Wolf, who had settled into the watchtower.
Chirrr, chirrr.
Once the pesky orcs firing arrows withdrew, the crickets that had hushed resumed their noisy chorus.
But it felt less like noise and more like a lullaby easing the war's fever.
Gray Wolf was silent for a long while.
He simply listened to the crickets, reflecting on the deepening night.
The prolonged silence stretched.
Finally, Gray Wolf spoke.
"We'll win this war."
An arrogant declaration.
Yet from Gray Wolf's lips, it rang anything but arrogant.
The current situation favored us greatly, and the leadership and soldiers retained strength enough to win the coming clash.
As Gray Wolf confidently stated, if we safely passed the crises during the war, we could repel this invasion intact.
But strangely, he wasn't looking at the war with the orcs—but what came after.
As if gazing at ashen ruins where nothing remained.
Gray Wolf asked again.
"But I can't see beyond that."
"After the war?"
"Yes, after it ends."
Once the war concluded, I'd likely finish Snow-Covered's interrupted aura training.
Then, as planned, return to the village and hurriedly prepare for next winter's unification war.
But I hadn't deeply pondered Gray Wolf's path post-war.
For eight years, as always, our pact would end, and we'd part ways.
Of course, Gray Wolf knew that better than anyone; he wasn't asking for an answer.
He was questioning himself.
"It could all have been prevented. A trivial issue I could have fixed with a little attention. But I was detached, indifferent."
"Your fault......"
"No, it's mine. Don't make me lie before those who died by my failing."
I didn't blame Gray Wolf, knowing it was cruel fate.
But he genuinely felt guilt for plunging the village into crisis.
He too was one who bore responsibility for many,
a hero who had lived for humanity.
No matter the eight wasted years, his essence hadn't changed.
"But you were different. You quietly did the hardest work from the lowest rung. Not like a fool like me who only knew how to swing a sword."
"Perhaps that's why the king believed in you—your steadfastness. The other flashy heroes lacked it."
"You truly cared for us. Just because we're human."
Gray Wolf's eyes burned hot.
A flood of raw emotion unseen in past wars or our pact.
Gray Wolf asked me.
"What is a king to you?"
"One who embraces all."
Heavy curtains of moonlight draped thick, fierce winds howling from the North as if watching.
Gray Wolf rose quietly, like a full-sailed galleon, and asked.
"Broken Sword! Then, is Snow-Covered true king material?"
"......Yes. I'll make her so."
"I heard it. Broken Sword vowed as much."
Great kings aren't born of blood.
That nobility must be forged in the cradle we craft, not a mother's womb.
Gray Wolf gazed wordlessly at the sky.
The fierce winds from all sides echoed his howling wail.
A wolf who had lived a brutal life.
Beneath the North's raging waves, he gritted his teeth and drew his massive sword in one breath.
Shing! Thud!
The tremors and winds ceased.
As I looked up to meet Gray Wolf's eyes, the drawn sword was planted in the watchtower floor.
But the hilt, scarred by wounds and years, pointed not to the wolf—but to me.
Right before me.
"Then, take my sword."
My eyelids drooped shut involuntarily.
This time, not from outside, but a belated storm surging within.
The heroes scattered after the king's death.
I had endured these lonely years thinking I'd never stand with them again.
"Lead the people tomorrow!"
But it was an illusion.
All our efforts, our praise for humanity, had piled like fresh snow into massive results.
The reason the king believed in me, of all people.
As Gray Wolf entrusted me his heart's sword, the distrust and sorrow that had tormented me for eight years melted away.
Shing, clang!
I drew my sword at once.
And quietly crossed it over the future Gray Wolf had planted.