Chapter 58
Chapter 58
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: The Remembering Bird's Return
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A middle-aged man who had been scouting outside for quite some time finally entered the cave they were using as a hideout.
His wife carefully laid down the sleeping slant-eyed child and turned to her husband.
"How's it out there?"
"Orcs are swarming everywhere. Looks like war's finally breaking out."
"Of all times..."
The couple, originally from a remote slash-and-burn village, had been fleeing the flames of war for a good while.
But the caravan they were traveling with had been ambushed by orcs lying in wait.
By some stroke of luck, they managed to escape, only to find their detour blocked, trapping them inside this cave.
Having fled in haste, they had barely any food left. They couldn't risk a fire, so they had no choice but to endure the biting cold of the northern winter.
The situation was far too dire to wait out a war of unknown duration.
Yet even in this desperate moment threatening their survival, the couple never forgot they were human.
"Isn't she just precious?"
"Yeah, she really is."
"If our daughter had lived, she'd be just about this age. Her hands are so tiny."
The couple, who had barely survived and fled into the forest, had stumbled upon the slant-eyed child wandering lost after losing her parents.
By all rights of survival, they should have turned a blind eye in such a dire situation. But having lost their own daughter in the past, they couldn't abandon the child.
How heartbreaking.
The woman gently stroked the face of the blind slant-eyed child and said softly,
"She kept calling for her mother."
"You know what the situation was like out there."
The child kept calling for her mother.
But from the words she sobbed out, it was clear her birth parents had made an inevitable choice to save her life.
Left alone in this brutal world overrun by slaughter and despair.
The couple decided to take in the child, as if it were fate sent from the heavens.
"Let's take care of her."
"...Yeah."
Just a little longer, and they'd make it.
The couple, who had tenaciously survived in their slash-and-burn village, shared their body heat to fend off the cold.
Even amid a war that killed everything in its path, one human was doing everything to save another.
The snow fell and fell again.
The North, where winter's mother coughed endlessly, seemed to be weaving an unknowable fate for them.
"Hey, you bastard! Can't you drive that stake in deeper? If your comrades die because of it, it's on you!"
"N-no, sir!"
"Less talking, more hammering!"
The rookie startled at the grizzled senior soldier's menacing approach and barked orders.
But he quickly realized his mistake and swung the hammer with all his might into the stake he hadn't driven deep enough.
Just as the senior said, if that stake gave way, the shield wall would crumble under a cavalry charge.
The soldiers gripping their hammers worked diligently, as if building their own homes.
Thwack! Thwack!
Right on target!
Ogmar, the superintendent who had mustered every orc in the camp, was finally marching north at the head of his great army.
Of course, the Northern Army had been waiting for just that move and swiftly marched south, this time pitching camp atop a sloped hill unlike the previous battle.
The longer they dragged it out, the worse it would be for the enemy.
Sensing winter growing even harsher, I opted for defensive tactics, openly forming a circular formation and ordering the defense line fortified.
'Heavy as a mountain.'
Sharp stakes were densely driven into the ground before the shield wall to prevent cavalries from charging recklessly.
Behind the camp, barricades were set up so archers could dodge incoming arrows.
This naturally shaped our lines into defensive ranks hugging the perimeter, resembling a small log fortress.
But huddling defensively didn't mean we lacked ways to strike back at the enemy.
We had the White-Horned Deer Cavalry, ready to shatter any careless foe in an instant.
'Fierce as blazing flames.'
I steadily expanded the White-Horned Deer unit sent from Northflame by integrating cavalry riders.
I even temporarily attached the newly joined veteran knights, keeping them hidden inside the formation for a swift sortie.
For the orcs, who loved hammer-and-anvil tactics, this would be infuriating.
A frontal assault meant dealing with the hill and archers; bypassing the flanks was impossible with our circular setup.
Yet despite such thorough preparations, we couldn't be overconfident about victory.
Ogmar's army, having gathered all orcs, had enough troops to overturn any disadvantage in one fell swoop.
One mistake, and it was all over.
With so much achieved and hope now alive, the fear of failure weighed heavier.
But it wasn't panic.
We trusted our brothers-in-arms and our new king, Snow-Covered, who had wrought the miracle of rebuilding the Northern Kingdom.
'We are one.'
The Northern Army prepared for war, holding their assigned posts with steadfast resolve.
The only glimpse of their iron determination was the grim resolve etched on their faces.
In the final late-night meeting,
the Gray Wolf spoke up.
"We've really come this far."
Preparations for war had gone smoothly, but paradoxically, there were many opinions on the strategies for the decisive battle.
The enemy's numbers were vast, and the terrain offered countless variables.
Full frontal assault? Hold the Spring Road for a siege? Or take the offensive ourselves?
With commanders of varied temperaments gathered, opinions abounded.
Of course, minimizing losses was our top priority, so we adopted a safe, conservative midline strategy like our current setup.
But one lingering regret remained: Snow-Covered, the sole commander without a personal opinion.
I recalled yesterday's exchange.
'I still lack experience.'
'Everyone starts somewhere.'
In the end, the final plan synthesized all the commanders' inputs.
It was time-honored tradition; no need to feel burdened or hold back.
Yet Snow-Covered remained cautious, as if deep in thought.
'This is a crucial moment. I'm afraid I might cloud your judgment.'
'...If that's how you feel, so be it.'
Snow-Covered sometimes showed wisdom beyond her years.
There must be a reason here too, so I didn't press and ended the meeting.
"Nothing more to report?"
The gathered officers fell silent.
As if the moment had truly arrived, they donned their helmets from the table and moved to return to their posts.
Clop! Clop! Clop!
But in that instant, urgent hoofbeats echoed from outside the silent tent.
The familiar face of the guard captain rushed in on a borrowed deer.
"Forgive me for interrupting the meeting! I have urgent news and came straight here!"
The day was nearly done.
The commanders eyed the unannounced captain with puzzlement.
Catching his breath after a long pant, he bowed hastily and spoke.
"Sir Rough Oats has returned!"
"...What?"
"And he has a companion. She said to tell you 'the bird that remembers'."
Sir Rough Oats had finally brought the prime minister.
The atmosphere froze like ice, and the stunned officers all glanced at me.
Why now, on the eve of war?
I let out a deep sigh, struggling to maintain cold rationality.
Fine. It was a problem that had to be dealt with eventually.
I didn't want to unsettle Snow-Covered and the commanders with needless emotion.
I asked the captain,
"Who knows she's here?"
"Just me and the sentries."
"...Bring her quietly to the back of the tent. I'll meet her there."
"Understood!"
Soldiers handling it themselves is best.
To resolve this quietly, I dismissed everyone except Snow-Covered and the Gray Wolf to their personal tents.
As I stepped out with a hardened face, Snow-Covered looked at me with sorrowful eyes.
One day in Snowgarden, during the final stand, the Remembering Bird who visited my room had asked me,
'Sword Saint, if you hadn't followed the Knight King, what would you have wanted to do?'
'Why ask something like that?'
Back then, I thought it a pointless question from the prime minister.
Or perhaps, with the kingdom deteriorating, I hated everything in the world.
I gave her a curt reply and soon headed back to the fierce battlefield against the orcs.
'Prime Minister?'
But the kingdom I returned to the next day was cold.
The Remembering Bird vanished from my sight after those words.
If only I'd asked her in return then, might she have stayed?
I wanted to forget that memory even as I regretted it to this day.
Resentment, sorrow, gladness, joy.
I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to contain the whirlwind of emotions.
But reunions are always like that.
Whether desired or not, they blow in like the wind, appearing unbidden.
She was that for me.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
"I'm truly sorry, my lord."
Sir Rough Oats knelt on the snowy ground.
He squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting punishment for acting without orders.
But my gaze wasn't on him—it was on the woman beside him.
The Remembering Bird, the prime minister reunited after nine years, stood before me.
"................."
Time hadn't changed her.
She remained noble and beautiful, gazing straight at me just as she had that day.
But one thing alone—
The keen, all-encompassing brilliance in her eyes had dulled like a rusted blade.
Something had happened.
A profound change that had uprooted the very core and soul she once possessed.
Sir Rough Oats, kneeling, spoke up.
"My lord, allow me to explain."
"No. I'll hear it from her."
This was my past alone—not Sir Rough Oats's, not Snow-Covered's, not the Gray Wolf's.
Steeling myself, I decided to hear everything and judge here and now.
And she seemed to feel the same, approaching with faltering steps.
Thud.
"...Noble Sword Saint."
She knelt.
But she didn't stop there, pressing her forehead to the dirtied snow and ground in the highest bow a human could make.
"I beg forgiveness for my sins."
Her voice was hoarse, her feet bloodied.
She had cast aside her most precious dignity and pride.
The onlookers gasped,
and tears streamed down the Remembering Bird's face.
"I am a coward who betrayed my brethren and a sinner who turned from the kingdom's fall. And now, I return irresponsibly, wallowing in past regrets."
Thump! Thump!
"I deserve death. Even hanging wouldn't lighten my crimes. But... but shamelessly, I beg you."
Her face wet with tears, she banged her forehead against the hard ground, pleading her guilt.
My eyes trembled.
Not wanting to hear what came next, I squeezed my eyes shut.
"I have a daughter. My only blood kin, the reason I fled. Sword Saint, if she must die, kill me instead. If she must live, please spare my innocent child."
'If you hadn't followed the Knight King, what would you have wanted to do?'
'Why ask something like that?'
I should have asked then.
What she wanted.
'I wanted a family.'
The bird cradled a child.
It had weakened her, yet allowed her another life.
Feeling my insides rot, I looked up at the heavily falling snow.
Nine years of regret and pain turned to an emptiness I couldn't share with anyone.
She should never have spoken.
Bury it as an eternal secret, so even I could remain ignorant until death.
Unable to bear the torment, I touched her cold forehead with trembling hands.
No matter how I tried to shake it off, the crushing emotions wouldn't let me be.
"Please... I beg you."
No answer came.
Mistaking it for refusal, the Remembering Bird crawled slowly forward in her low bow.
And at last, she sought to kiss my boot, begging for mercy.
Don't. Don't defile my beautiful, longed-for past like this.
I reached out to stop her from casting everything aside.
Grab!
But it wasn't me who caught her—Snow-Covered had moved first.
"Please don't."
"Ah..."
The Remembering Bird cautiously lifted her tear- and dirt-smeared face.
There, a child identical to the Knight King in her memories gazed down.
Snow-Covered now firmly grasped both my hand and the Remembering Bird's.
It was a bond on the verge of breaking—a child's courage stepping in for me.