Chapter 49
Chapter 49
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Veterans Return
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Prurruk!
Tak tak!
I leaped off the deer before it came to a full stop.
Then I straightened my posture, properly adjusted my disheveled scabbard, and brushed the dirt off my clothes.
Thank goodness I was wearing the black bear armor supplied to the commanders—it was a stroke of luck.
I fussed a bit over my appearance for no real reason, then walked steadily toward the main gate.
Murmurs rose from the crowd.
At the base's main gate, the soldiers who had been managing incoming wagons were gathered, buzzing with excitement.
But it wasn't unrest or hostility—it was simple curiosity toward the visitors.
"Sir!"
A familiar face.
As soon as I appeared, the deputy in charge of the gate hurried over with an anxious expression.
Unlike the murmuring soldiers, he seemed to have been desperately waiting for a superior to sort things out.
I reassured the deputy and asked just in case,
"Any clashes?"
"None, sir! We've just secured their weapons for now."
"Good work."
In the midst of the chaotic atmosphere, it would have been easy to forget their duties.
But the deputy guarding the gate had followed procedure to the letter.
I made a mental note of his face.
With a brief word of praise for the deputy, I walked toward the gate.
The murmuring soldiers scattered, revealing the men who called themselves veteran soldiers.
"- - - - - - - -."
Weathered old faces, shabby clothes and appearances that spoke of hard lives.
Those who had fled and survived after the kingdom's fall clearly bore the marks of their hardships.
Yet the disciplined way they stood at attention, their eyes fixed on me, was unchanged from the old days.
In a trembling voice, I said to the deputy,
"......Return their weapons. Quickly!"
The weapons they brought were rusted relics, unfit for use.
Yet even after eight years, they had hidden them away like family heirlooms, evading the orcs' eyes.
For the day of return.
For the day of rebuilding when these old weapons and aged bodies would be needed again.
"The rumors weren't lies, sir. We've lived waiting for this day."
Someone recognized me.
To spot my changed appearance meant he had held a key position at least.
The deputy handed me a weathered sword.
I took it and faced a middle-aged man approaching slowly.
"......Were you a knight?"
"Yes, sir. Nothing special."
I'd suspected as much, and it was true.
The middle-aged man was a knight from the Northern Knight Order.
Steadying my shaking heart, I returned the confiscated sword to him.
"Doesn't look that way to me."
Even after so much time, his hands bore calluses and scars.
It meant he'd kept training with the sword relentlessly, preparing even after the kingdom fell.
Nothing special, he said.
The knight order's legacy endured thanks to men's stubborn resolve like his.
I extended my hand for a shake.
"Heh, embarrassing. From the Oak Shield Wall, sir. Just a foot soldier—you wouldn't know."
"No, it's an honor."
"Served in the cavalry. Not sure if my riding deer are still around."
"Don't worry. I'll give you one of mine if needed."
The retired knight 'Rough Oat' had lived in hiding like a hermit in the northern west.
Even in seclusion, he'd kept in touch with fellow veterans sporadically.
Uncertain rumors alone had drawn Rough Oat across this vast distance, and the veterans had followed without complaint.
They shook my hand with relieved smiles, as if they had no regrets left even in death.
"Eaten yet? Come on in quick! Plenty of folks inside who'll be shocked to see you."
These were battle-hardened veterans who'd spent their lives on the front lines.
Their joining wasn't just a boost in numbers—it was an infusion of experience, blood for our young Northern Army with its short history.
I led the beaming veterans—faces lit up at the mention of food—through the gate.
But Rough Oat walked beside me, as if he had more to say.
"Sir, there's something I'd like to tell you privately."
"Something that couldn't wait? If it's about uniforms, don't worry about that here......"
"No, it's not that. I know the whereabouts of one of the scattered heroes."
I stopped dead.
My joyful expression hardened.
The heroes who left the kingdom, those whose news had cut off.
For a moment, joy and sorrow mingled in a strange feeling.
I'd tried my best to forget.
I understood why they'd left, so I hadn't blamed them.
But the pain I'd endured alone had left a deep scar, preventing me from facing old comrades with a smile.
Hiding my tangled emotions, I asked the bowing Rough Oat,
"Who?"
"......Lady Remembering Bird."
The Great Sage, Remembering Bird.
A woman who appeared out of nowhere at twenty, becoming prime minister through overwhelming talent.
Every foundation of the Northern Kingdom—administration, laws, systems—owed its existence to her genius.
Yet when the Knight King died and the kingdom fell, she vanished. Even I, searching for heroes, couldn't find her.
Thank goodness she's alive.
Recalling how she'd read books to me so often, I quietly asked,
"Where is she? Have you seen her?"
"......Secluded in the deep mountains. Met her once a year ago."
The deep mountains in the northern west.
Yeah, no wonder I couldn't find her.
I scratched my head, wishing I hadn't heard.
We needed her unmatched administrative skills more than ever.
But my reason strongly warned against seeking her out.
I'd decide after the war ended.
Thanking him for telling me, I hurried after the veterans ahead.
Rough Oat followed, his face darkened, asking in a gloomy voice,
"Do you resent her?"
"......There was a time."
It'd be a lie to say I felt no betrayal.
She was the mentor who turned a sword-swinging fool into an administrator, the friend I'd bared my soul to.
But as my body and heart grew numb, so did that sense of betrayal.
Both I and the North had aged too much to vent rage at Remembering Bird.
"I soured the mood. Come on, hurry. They're waiting."
"Understood, sir."
As always, I shook off my head to bury the emotions.
Only the tasks ahead and the path forward remained clear.
I comforted the saddened Rough Oat and quickened my pace.
"Thank you, Sage!"
"I don't hurt anymore, hehe!"
The child who'd suffered from stomach pains recovered swiftly after drinking the medicine the sage prepared.
The slash-and-burn farmers who came seeking her marveled at the miraculous effect, as always.
"Truly fortunate."
The woman known among the people as the Forest Sage.
Unlike her youthful looks, she knew everything and lent her wisdom selflessly whenever asked, without discrimination.
Hadn't they passed this year unscathed thanks to the beautiful and wise Forest Sage?
The child's parents bowed deeply, offering bundles of grain they'd brought.
"I-it's oats from the autumn harvest. Only the plumpest grains, please accept them......"
No matter how precious food was in the North, it wasn't worth more than a life.
The parents bowed apologetically, as if ashamed it was so little.
The sage smiled and accepted the oats.
"We keep imposing on you."
"No! We're the grateful ones!"
The sage and the farmers coexisted in mutual benefit.
She didn't refuse the oats, and the parents left with bright smiles, pleading only that she eat them well.
The warm atmosphere even eased the chill in the house.
After exchanging blessings with the sage, the parents prepared to head home with their child.
"Oh, right!"
But then the child's father paused, as if remembering something.
It was about a rumor the Forest Sage hadn't heard.
"Sage, have you heard the talk?"
"Pardon?"
"A big uprising near the lower village. Word is, it's no small matter. Be careful, Sage."
"......A revolt?"
"No, a bit different. Folks dismiss it as nonsense, but there's this weird story going around that the Northern Army has returned."
The father, a hunter, roamed widely beyond the village.
Hearing outside news from him each time, the sage nodded quietly, suddenly thinking of one person.
"Thank you for the concern."
"Of course. Our village is debating evacuation too...... If you're interested, come to the village anytime."
The Forest Sage mastered herbs and medicine, curing any illness.
If she'd join their village because of this, it'd benefit everyone.
"Thank you. Safe travels."
But today, too, the Forest Sage politely declined with a bow.
The father left the hut with his family, a disappointed look on his face.
As they closed the door, orange dusk hung over the mountainside.
"......Northern Army."
The Forest Sage, Remembering Bird, murmured the long-unheard name softly.
Emotions she'd thought forgotten began to stir her slowly.
Could he have returned again?
Thinking of the one hero still pursuing his destiny even now, Remembering Bird closed her eyes.
Thick guilt seemed to well from her trembling eyelids.
But soon, as the house quieted, a hidden attic door creaked open.
Clunk!
"......Mommy, did they leave?"
A young girl emerged from the attic, calling for her mother through sniffles.
Startled, Remembering Bird hurried to her, gently wiping the dust and tears from her face.
"Sorry, Mommy was late."
"Yeah......"
Her one and only daughter, Sunken Eyes.
This child, growing to resemble her more each day, was a treasure beyond anything else in the world.
But she was also the reason.
The reason she'd forsaken the old kingdom and comrades to hide in these deep mountains.
Remembering Bird quietly embraced her birth daughter, blind from birth.
'I'll never try again.'
The king was dead, and everything ended.
The Northerners paid for their resistance, men, women, and children slaughtered without mercy.
Remembering Bird had seen it.
The screams of the dying, the mountains of corpses piled high.
She couldn't let her precious daughter get caught in such horrific war and flames.
Having cast aside her heavy duties, she now held her tear-streaked child and whispered,
"Shall we have some mountain berry jam?"
"Yes!"
She'd gathered spring berries from the mountains and made jam.
Meant for winter rations, but seeing her crying child made her think of the ceiling drawer.
Her daughter, helpless without her.
Remembering Bird walked slowly to the kitchen with her beaming child.
'War, evacuation.'
This war was no ordinary one, they'd said.
With a troubled face, she began pondering a safe place to flee.