Chapter 67
Chapter 67
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: The Crowning of the Human King
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'Croak... croak.'
The frog that had awakened from hibernation was stunned.
It had risen thinking spring had arrived, only to find the snow unmelting and the chill unrelenting.
This can't be! I must leave descendants behind!
Blaming its own foolishness, the frog froze to death amid the biting early spring cold.
Gack!
But it was no fleeting death.
The lesson from that dim-witted frog proved a great boon to the farmer who had dreamed only of sowing.
One day of patience, two days of waiting.
Thus, after a fortnight passed, true spring arrived, painting the North in verdant green.
The season of sowing had dawned.
'Thank you, Mother North.'
The farmers tilled their fields diligently.
And barefoot across the damp soil, they scattered the seeds that would become life.
Farming was always grueling labor.
Yet no one grew weary of sowing for the future.
To the people of the North now, lush spring was no longer a season of exploitation and despair.
No urging or prodding was needed.
The snow-blanketed white earth had turned to brown fields sown with seeds, and laughter never left the lips of the farmers wielding their plows.
Of course, behind that hopeful atmosphere stood the prime minister who had spearheaded the grand national projects.
Like the remembering bird, he had begun reforming the North's constitution after nine years as a plundered colony.
'To draw a grand plan, envision it across a millennium.'
Soil surveys commenced.
Crude farmlands and fallow fields were properly redistributed based on the findings,
and crops like luxury grains and indulgences that devoured the soil's fertility were boldly excluded from cultivation.
Abundant natural resources could not be overlooked.
Under the kingdom's lead, vast logging camps and sawmills sprang up, mobilizing all surplus manpower to produce endless timber.
With the North reclaimed, what was there to worry about?
The carpenters, who had built only camps until now, could finally construct homes for the kingdom's people, not the orc scum.
Thwack! Crack!
Hey! It's tipping! Hold it steady!
From the palace overlooking the capital, the cityscape was changing by the day.
The former jewel of the North was still absent, but the hope of rebirth made even that vista beautiful.
Now, at last, one solid step forward.
Beneath the foundation they had built, the once-foggy path to kingdom reconstruction sharpened into view.
And as dainty flowers began to bloom across the greening Northern lands,
we sensed the moment had come.
The spring dream I had woven had taken wing as a butterfly.
Step, step, step, step!
Hooray—!!
The Northern Army, departing from the barracks on the capital's outskirts, marched down the central boulevard toward the palace.
To spread the majesty of the new Knight King far and wide, they held a grand parade at dawn.
Naturally, the capital's residents poured into the streets to witness the first such display since liberation, cheering the stalwart soldiers without restraint.
Beautiful flowers rained from all sides, and children laughed as they scampered about.
The carefree revelry that had supplanted solemnity seemed to proclaim the values and nation Snow-Covered sought.
Step! Step! Step!
"Battalion, halt!"
But that was the end of it.
The soldiers, who had marched smiling amid the crowds, froze at the command of their leader, Rough Oats, as if it had never happened.
Unyielding as steel in formation.
The street revelers shrewdly fell back, climbing to rooftops for a clear view of the palace.
The coronation was about to begin.
Excitement and joy sparkled in the citizens' eyes like morning stars.
Creeeak, thud!
Step! Step!
The firmly shut palace gates swung open.
In that instant, the standing Northern Army raised weapons in their left hands and offered precise salutes of respect with their right.
Tap, tap, tap.
Small strides across the pristine white marble floor, black hair swaying with each movement.
The gleaming white plate armor, forged tirelessly by Red Iron day and night, caught the light and shimmered,
and the king's sword bestowed by her predecessor illuminated the world alongside it.
What a dazzling sight.
What an overwhelming moment.
The girl who had once been a mere slave, Snow-Covered, stood proudly before her army and the masses.
'I shall defy fate alongside you.'
A long warm breeze lifted the wildflowers strewn across the ground.
It was as if a floral rain fell from the heavens.
"Hoo..."
Now it was our turn.
The assembled party waited in the hall, then followed behind Red Iron carrying the crown of pure gold through the dim front gate corridor.
Thud, thud, thud.
To think this day would come.
Even my comrades, still in disbelief, kept an uncharacteristic silence.
But the stern-faced Gray Wolf opened his heavy mouth as if this one thing must be said.
"Sword Saint."
"...Speak."
"You were right."
What had been the true answer?
Which path had been correct?
Every journey was a chain of choices, and each choice had always blocked my way forward.
Yet before my tattered dream, I found the genuine truth.
It lay not in these old, worn hands, but with the child who had kept her promise to become queen to the end.
Thud, thud, thud.
I took a step.
And continued onward, finally escaping the dark tunnel of my wanderings.
Fading light haze.
The end of the shadowed passage.
I boldly crossed the grand gates, facing the light and throngs head-on.
An involuntary sigh escaped my lips.
"Ah..."
My heart raced, breath quickened.
More painful than any agony, the outsider's chrysalis shed one layer in this instant.
"Master."
Snow-Covered approached quietly.
Still calling me master, she knelt on one knee.
Not to receive the crown, but in reverence to the man who would lead a new era.
Soon, our gathered companions and knights knelt before me as well.
Snow-Covered spoke,
and behind her stood the Knight King.
"Honorable Sword Saint, receive my respects."
'Noble Sword Saint, accept my homage.'
"You alone followed the king's final command."
'You bore the heavy duty alone.'
"Only you."
'Only one knight.'
"Fulfilled that final duty."
'Kept the oath to the end.'
I extended my trembling hands.
And raised the crown, gleaming with Northern light, high to the sky.
No cheers, no clamor.
As if I alone remained in the world, the heavens felt closer than ever.
The pent-up sorrow of nine years flowed free.
The cloudless sky blurred with tears, and the fulfillment of achievement finally drew a smile from me.
Now I understood.
Why the Knight King had entrusted me with such a burden, why he had sent me on that distant path.
Through flowing tears, I released all the accumulated grief and pain.
And for the reborn North and the newborn Knight King, I cried out gladly.
"Your shed blood proves your lineage, your sweat your legitimacy! On this land where countless ancestors fell, arise as king! Let those who swore draw their swords here and now!"
I lowered my careful hands, placing the radiant white crown atop Snow-Covered's head for this new birth.
In that moment, her hazy form melted away like snow, revealing the new Knight King promised on that snowy day.
Shing!
The Knight King drew the king's sword without hesitation.
She gripped the hilt with both hands, gently pressing the shining blade to her forehead.
White Aura surges forth.
From hilt to blade, it engulfs the king's sword, etching a vivid Martial Name like a seal.
The North's fate bore another name.
The kingdom's master smith, Red Iron, slowly rose and approached the sword.
In the moment all prayed for earnestly,
Snow-Covered asked the world.
"What is my Martial Name?"
Martial Name and fate.
Fate and Martial Name.
Having risen above the past, what destiny lay before her?
Snow-Covered implored the heavens.
Then Red Iron, reading the Martial Name, trembled at the eyes and let out a chuckling laugh.
The Martial Name revealed today would be her truth for life.
He swore beneath the sky and spoke.
"Mother North has passed judgment. The name of this newborn Martial Name is unerring truth."
Greatness is not forged by bloodlines.
The successor the late Knight King so desired ascended the throne in this very moment.
"Long live the King!"
The age of barbarism ended; the era of humanity dawned.
Ding-a-ling, ding.
Kyahahaha!
Precious elven wine, worth a fortune, flowed like a brook.
Miraculous fruits said to heal the ailing in moments littered the ground like pebbles.
Beautiful harps played by bards, a lavish banquet where laughter never ceased.
Truly, this paradise of a forest lacked nothing.
But alas, it was no haven for the kind and faithful.
For in the elven kingdom, even paradise existed for the royals alone.
And at its heart sat Ellenor, the eternally youthful Elf Queen.
Lounging and accepting grapes, she questioned the priest who had come to her.
"Is it true?"
"Yes, the patrols confirmed it."
"Haha, those orc idiots. Calling themselves an empire, yet wallowing like pigs still."
Rumors of the Northern Kingdom's rebirth had spread even to the western forests of the elves.
Unlike the varied orc reactions, the queen regarded it with calm detachment.
After all, the Northern Kingdom, not bordering their lands, held no means to threaten the elves.
What could they do at worst? Sail the seas?
To elves who treated all oceans as their backyard, humans were mere prey for exploitation, never a threat.
"Amusing."
Knowing this full well, the Elf Queen summed up her thoughts in one word.
But unlike her brief remark, intrigue began swirling in her eyes.
Ptoo.
She had been craving some diversion.
The queen spat a grape seed carelessly from her meal and addressed the bowed priest.
"Once enthroned, we must send congratulatory envoys."
"Pardon? What do you...?"
The North and elves were enemies.
The one who had driven the Knight King to death was none other than the elves' Immortal King, now slumbering beneath the World Tree.
Yet the queen, aware of this, intended to send envoys to the Northern Kingdom.
"Send them by sea. As for gifts... hmm, yes. The Knight King's banner will do."
The elves who had slain the Knight King in past wars and seized his banner.
The queen proposed sending the Northern Kingdom's shame alongside the envoys.
It was provocation tantamount to war.
The pale-faced priest countered.
"Surely they'll rebel? The envoys' heads might roll."
"As if. If they've learned from history, they'll grovel."
"Ah! As wise as ever!"
They would have to swallow the humiliation.
Lest they repeat the folly of a divided front twice.
Brandishing swords foolishly was the worst recourse.
True elven royal deterrence unfolded through such refined elegance.
The smirking Elf Queen reclined languidly once more, parting lips gleaming with greed.
A forced-smiling slave fed her a sweet grape.
Crunch.
"Ptoo!"
"Ah...! Aaaah!"
But within the grape was a hard stone shard hidden in the sweet flesh.
The queen grimaced, and the slave who had fed it turned ashen.
With mood soured, the queen flicked her hand dismissively.
"I-I'm sorry, Your Majesty! Mercy, please! Mercy, pleeeee— Kyaaack!"
For a mere mistake, the queen slew the slave, then lay back with an irritated scowl.
The lingering grit in her mouth felt oddly persistent, no matter how she spat.