Chapter 55
Chapter 55
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: Deepening Hatred
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Governor Ogmar, who had buried thousands of Northerners alive, didn't stop his atrocities there.
Instead, he issued an order that would drag the entire North into ruin, as if daring everyone to watch.
'Kill every human taller than a wagon wheel.'
It wasn't punishment or subjugation—it was a command for slaughter.
The few chieftains who clung to their reason sought confirmation of the order once more, but Ogmar demonstrated his savage resolve by beheading the messenger.
Disobey, and die.
Faced with this heavy madness that went beyond mere ruthlessness, the camp chieftains had no choice but to obey.
Of course, they felt no guilt themselves, so they took up their weapons without hesitation.
'Kyaaack!'
'Please spare us! Please, have mercy!'
Whether they had aided the Northern army or not, villagers and refugees were massacred alike.
The rebels who had come to help were forced to retreat before this ferocious onslaught, and the mountains and rivers were dyed red with the blood of the dead.
But in stark contrast, the orcs from the camps—now freed from the rebels' guerrilla warfare—began gathering one by one under Ogmar's muster order.
Ironically, Governor Ogmar's reckless gambit, signaling the end of Northern colonization, had become the key to overcoming their dilemmas.
The orcs, prepared for mutual destruction, lit their own counterfire.
Centered around Ogmar, the camp chieftains accelerated their preparations for war to drive out the rebellious Northern army.
Of course, the Northern army didn't just sit idly by watching the orcs' horrors unfold.
Though Governor Ogmar's actions had far exceeded expectations, they too had completed ample preparations.
'Run this way!'
'Keep going straight, and you'll reach the hideout.'
Broken Sword actively utilized the influence networks and Ash Remnants he had expanded in the meantime to finally push forward with merging the long-delayed rebel forces.
He did his utmost to protect the Northerners, guiding wandering refugees from the fierce battle zones into the safety of his sphere of influence.
One side sought to kill.
The other, to save.
The two forces clashing across the North engaged in dozens of skirmishes each day, naturally dividing the map into north and south.
Deepening hatred, pre-war tension erupting into flames of war.
Orcs and Northerners instinctively knew it.
There could be no more coexistence on this Northern land between them.
And so, the war stained with hatred began hurtling toward its climax. ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Sometimes, to gain something essential, one had to sacrifice something else.
Of course, such choices—intended or not—brought responsibility to the decider.
Responsibility toward those sacrificed.
Guilt.
On that night when the horrific mass burial left everyone speechless, only the Gray Wolf kept his reason and comforted me.
'It's not your fault, Broken Sword.'
I should have anticipated it.
That a cornered rat would bite a man, that Governor Ogmar might resort to such extremes.
But I hadn't, and I had to hear the dreadful news that thousands of Northerners, utterly unrelated to the war, had been sacrificed.
I couldn't hide my devastation.
I knew all this tragedy stemmed from the war we had waged.
What wrong had they truly done?
If bowing one's head to survive was reason enough to die, then I should have died eight years ago.
I quietly embraced Snow-Covered as she wept in secret from the others, firmly promising her there would be no more such tragedies.
But we couldn't stop.
Stagnant water freezes solid.
The next day, having shaken off our grief, we personally took up arms and led our troops.
For the refugees still wandering, we sortied dozens of times a day.
And when I could no longer remember how many people we'd saved or how many orcs we'd slain, I completed my final sortie and returned to Spring Lord.
Clop, clop, clop, clop!
Snort!
"Open the main gate! It's our lines!"
"The cavalry's back!"
Dismounting and removing my helmet, the pent-up sweat poured down in streams.
Having fought for over five hours straight, I hadn't even had a moment to wipe it away.
But proving the sweat wasn't wasted, countless refugees followed behind me in small groups, entering the base.
While out on perimeter patrol, I'd rescued them from an orc pursuit squad.
The refugees, whose lives I'd saved, collapsed in relief, offering heartfelt thanks to the one who had spared them.
"Well done, sir!"
Catching my breath raggedly, I poured the water the deputy offered over my head to cool the sweat.
My overheated muscles and nerves chilled, and my mind cleared.
I asked the saluting deputy,
"Where's the Gray Wolf?"
"He subjugated an orc scout unit and arrived just moments ago. Heading straight to the command post?"
"Yes, can't keep him waiting. Do you know where His Majesty is?"
"Haha, same place as always."
"......Can't be helped."
I couldn't assign a dignified heir to mere scouting or subjugation, so I'd tasked Snow-Covered with miscellaneous admin work.
But she insisted on being useful, volunteering for the ration distribution everyone hated most.
'Please mind your dignity!'
'I don't care!'
No matter how much I scolded her to maintain decorum, she'd sneak out and startle people.
And since she handled even the admin I'd requested perfectly, I couldn't complain.
What must the people feel, taking soup from the girl who'll be queen?
Shaking my head, I ended the chat with the deputy and trudged toward the bustling civilian ration area.
Murmur, murmur.
"No cutting in line!"
Their daily ration was one warm hunk of bread and a generous bowl of soup.
The rye bread was coarse, and the mass-produced soup a bit bland, but in the North, it was practically a feast.
I passed the eagerly waiting residents and walked to the front of the line.
There, amid the busy kitchen ladies, our king came into view.
"Enjoy your meal!"
"Th-thank you!"
No matter her worn work clothes, her radiant beauty couldn't be hidden.
Snow-Covered, who'd grown strikingly lately, was almost unrecognizable from before.
Hmm, the village youths smitten by that sight won't sleep for days.
Glaring at the lads swarming like bees, I cleared my throat.
"Ahem......"
The framework for kingdom reconstruction was finally taking shape.
Which meant Snow-Covered's coronation wasn't far off.
The great King of the North!
With so many eyes watching, even a mentor must observe propriety.
Clearing my throat again, I called softly,
"Your Majesty, it's time to go."
"Ah, oops."
Startled by my call, Snow-Covered hurriedly untied her apron.
She straightened her clothes, then bowed to those who'd worked with her.
Grace and humility are the virtues of a king.
With a faint smile, I dismissed the soldiers escorting her back to barracks.
"Return to your posts."
"Yes, sir!"
The soldiers left, and so did we.
All the Northerners crowding the ration station silently saw us off, lips pressed tight.
It wasn't discomfort or awkwardness—it was genuine respect for their king.
Walking away, the ration station slowly receded.
Spring Lord had ballooned into something like a full fief.
We had to hustle.
Passing the bustling crowds, Snow-Covered and I quickened our pace toward the command post in the inner keep, far in the distance.
Voices already buzzing beyond the door—everyone must be there.
We passed the guards and opened it.
Creak!
"Oh! There you are at last!"
The command conference room, empty for so long, was packed for the first time in ages.
The massive influx of refugees had finally tapered, just as the largest rebel group and the Ash Remnants fully merged.
My chest swelled with emotion.
Word was many former knights had joined—perhaps rebuilding the Northern Knights was imminent.
But I tamped down the excitement and stepped aside.
No matter how joyful, protocol must be upheld.
I positioned Snow-Covered at the forefront, then bellowed at the surging crowd,
"Show your respects!"
"- - - - - - - -!"
The veteran knights and soldiers startled.
But fortunately, forewarned, they swiftly dropped to one knee in salute.
Gulp.
Snow-Covered, known as the Knight King's heir.
Facing the legend in the flesh, they knew the rumors weren't exaggerated.
That unique aura couldn't be faked—it was something only those who'd seen the Knight King could discern.
"This one is......"
I worried for a moment as she opened her mouth.
Snow-Covered still fumbled with formality; she might wilt before these seasoned veterans.
"I've heard you've endured great hardships. How can I ever repay this debt?"
But as if proving my fears unfounded, she revealed another side, stunning us all.
"Ah......!"
Her clumsy demeanor vanished, replaced by a king radiating pure white light and gentle warmth.
And that king personally took the hands of the kneeling Ash Remnants, helping them rise.
"No need to kneel—it's too much for me to accept. That'll be fine for today, right, sir?"
"......As you wish."
Having fled and suffered every trial and malice, the Ash Remnants constantly suspected and vetted every word for betrayal or sincerity.
Yet even they couldn't doubt this girl, who seemed freshly descended from heaven.
The king was worried for them, grateful— with untainted sincerity.
Snow-Covered greeted every Ash Remnant there with a bright smile.
"Rest easy today, no worries. This place will be your home now."
Mark my words: in a few hours, she'll be giggling and challenging them to arm-wrestling.
But she knew the fine line between friendliness and rudeness perfectly.
She's a natural in the field, after all.
Savoring the fresh emotions, I walked with her to the room's center.
"Hahaha—!"
"No way, is that who I think it is?"
"Red Iron got married?!"
The mood lightened considerably.
Once the formalities passed, laughter and chatter erupted, and Snow-Covered blended in naturally.
But I slipped away, weaving through the throng.
I spotted a lone young man hovering awkwardly and approached slowly.
Unlike the Ash Remnants, he had a proper face—a fine youth.
Definitely the one from the letter.
"You're Handman?"
"Yes, that's me! An honor to meet you, sir!"
The leader of the largest rebel group, the man who'd briefly allied with Rough Oat.
Word was all Ash Remnants had joined, and Handman had tagged along late.
But something felt off.
Beside the tense Handman, one knight who should have been there was missing.
Scanning around, I asked,
"Where's Sir Rough Oat? The letter said you came together."
I'd ordered full muster.
Normally, Rough Oat would report in here and transfer to the knights.
"Pardon? Didn't the knight tell you......?"
"I heard nothing."
But Handman countered as if puzzled, then blurted what he'd last heard of Rough Oat's movements.
"He definitely told me he had to fetch someone called the Prime Minister......"
The Kingdom's Prime Minister—Remembering Bird.
That name echoed through the conference room, plunging it into utter silence.
No—frozen solid.
"W-was it a secret, by any chance?"
I gazed at the near-tears Handman, then let out a deep sigh.