Watchers of Winter (1)
When he looked up, he saw a cabin.
He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there.
Lawrence had already pushed beyond his limits with excessive spellcasting.
There was a blank space in his memory.
When his half-dazed mind finally returned to him, he was sitting in a chair.
Lawrence closed his eyes and steadied his breathing.
The headache gnawing at his skull was still there.
Still, thank the heavens there were no bugs writhing in his vision.
The lingering pain clinging to him like a bad afterimage did not permit magic.
If I force it, I doubt I’d be completely unable to use it...
He might not be able to manage Shadow Spear, but basic magic was still within reach.
That didn’t change the fact that he had gone past his limit.
Judging by how he felt, it would be better not to use magic for a while.
The half-collapsed blur of his sight gradually recovered its original clarity.
Once he confirmed there was no red light in sight, he lifted his head.
The fire in the hearth drove away the chill.
The man who had fed the fire sat down opposite him.
He drew a cigarette from inside his coat.
The gesture of bringing it to his mouth was almost unnervingly natural.
Lawrence studied the man slowly.
A black cloak, the symbol of the Watchers.
On the collar was the mark of White Fang, a crest resembling a wolf.
The weapon set beside the chair was a dark, heavy greatsword.
Seeing that greatsword, Caelo came to mind at once.
One of the Four Knights of the Promise.
Compared with the jet-black greatsword wielded by Invincible Caelo, this one was dull, almost blunt-looking.
There was none of the keen, elegant sharpness one expected from a sword.
If he had to compare it to anything, it felt closer to a club or a mace.
It looked like a weapon meant to crush rather than slice.
By appearance alone, the man was handsome.
Unfortunately, his face was covered in scars that had never properly healed.
Countless sword marks and old injuries. The roughness behind his face made his otherwise mild-looking features seem severe; it was the mark of a warrior’s life.
The skin on the face behind the cigarette was pale and drained.
Was his complexion simply white because of the northern climate?
Or was there something wrong with his health?
Lawrence wasn’t sure which.
What was strange was that the man looked oddly familiar.
The cigarette smoke drifted upward.
After releasing a satisfied breath, he finally spoke.
“I was told a sherpa had come looking for the Wall.”
“......”
When he tried to speak, only a harsh metallic rasp came out instead of a voice.
Lawrence winced at the stabbing pain that split his throat.
The man held out a waterskin.
After wetting his throat, Lawrence felt a little more like himself.
“I was told a sherpa had come looking for the Wall.”
“First, I’d like to thank you for helping me.”
“Don’t misunderstand. We didn’t help you. This is Watcher territory. We merely brought in an unauthorized intruder.”
Not an escort, then. A capture.
Was that why Pete wasn’t here?
For a moment, Lawrence found himself worrying about him.
“I asked Pete to guide me here.”
There was no reason to deny it.
After all, the reason he had sought the Wall in the first place was to meet the Watchers.
The man watched Lawrence in silence for a moment, then set a bag on the table.
It was a familiar bag.
Looking down, Lawrence realized the bag that should have been hanging at his waist was gone.
He had simply failed to notice because he’d been half-unconscious.
Now that he looked, it seemed they had taken all of his belongings and checked them.
“You may take it back.”
A bad feeling crept over him.
Lawrence checked the contents of the bag.
His neatly folded vestments and black Holy Cross.
The saint’s stole and holy water. His mercenary plate.
Lurizisa’s study book, Wyona’s history text.
But the spellbooks that should have been there were nowhere in sight.
“......”
Not the Water spellbook he’d received from Lurizisa.
Not the three spellbooks Emily had given him.
Not even the Telekinesis spellbook he’d bought in Mistra.
And, most importantly, not even the Key to the Spirit World.
“Where are the books?”
The words came out in a hard, brittle voice.
The man exhaled the cigarette smoke trapped in his mouth.
“The spellbooks were all burned.”
He had deliberately said books, and yet...
The man answered as though telling him not to try any cheap tricks.
“Burned?”
“Spellbooks from the Magic Tower are all under tracking magic. We can’t allow dangerous things like that inside the Wall.”
For a moment, Lawrence’s mind went blank.
Tracking magic?
Come to think of it, he felt as if he’d heard something like that at the Magic Tower.
The Magic Tower’s spellbooks all bear tracking magic without exception. If one of them ever leaves the tower and ends up somewhere else, a relentless pursuit will begin.
Suddenly remembering Malcolm’s words, Lawrence frowned.
He’d been careless.
Because he’d thought of them as gifts, he had failed to consider the possibility.
If they really were marked with tracking magic, then the Magic Tower would have a detailed report of his movements.
“There should have been one more especially thick book in there.”
“Well. They were all thick to me.”
“It wasn’t something from the Magic Tower. Give it back.”
“......”
A snort escaped the man.
He reached into his coat and produced a single book.
“I don’t know what you did, but this one wouldn’t burn. Is it perhaps some holy scripture imbued with miraculous power?”
Lawrence took back the Key to the Spirit World.
Lemegeton and Codex Gigas.
Thankfully, the grimoire with the sealing clasp was intact.
“We know who you are. A pilgrim of the Holy Cross Order. The shadow magician Lawrence.”
“So you looked through my mercenary plate as well.”
“Your mercenary plate? Hah. Don’t underestimate Watcher intelligence. We knew who you were the moment you set foot in the north.”
The reply came laced with cold amusement.
“What brings a mage of the Order to the Wall?”
“Strange. I thought you said you knew everything.”
“Mage. You are in no position to speak carelessly.”
The man fixed him with a frosty stare.
“Know your place. This is not a question. It is an interrogation.”
There was something utterly overbearing in that voice.
The gratitude he had felt for having his life debt repaid had already begun to fade.
“I have no conversation to share with you. Bring me your superior.”
Lawrence’s own voice naturally turned cold as well.
“Don’t test our patience, mage. Not if you still value that fleeting little life of yours.”
“......”
The absurd threat stirred his resistance.
He hadn’t entered Watcher territory unlawfully in the first place.
He had set foot on this land properly, under the guidance of Pete the sherpa.
He had no reason to be treated this way.
Lawrence met the man’s gaze without flinching.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
So there was no reason for him to look away.
For a while, they only stared at one another in silence.
After taking another pull from his cigarette, the man finally spoke.
“What is your relationship with the Raynald Family?”
Had he checked even the handkerchief?
Or perhaps he had seen the crest on the pocket watch.
Lawrence’s expression soured even further.
“Then what is your relationship with the Valentina Family?”
There was only one answer he intended to give.
“If you bring me your superior, I’ll answer.”
The man set the cigarette down.
Instead of smoke, he let out a deep sigh and said briefly, “The superior you want to see is me.”
He looked Lawrence straight in the eye.
“One last time. Shadow magician Lawrence. Why have you come to the Wall?”
“Very well. But before I answer, I’d like you to promise me one thing.”
That was his ultimatum.
The man took a step back.
Then this time, it was Lawrence’s turn to yield.
“Pete only guided me here at my request. If you promise to send him back to the village safely, I’ll answer your question.”
“You are in no position to make demands of me.”
“Pete is a sherpa from Reindeer Village.”
That wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear.
“If you’re truly the commander of this unit, then guarantee his safety.”
He put force into his voice.
What he wanted here was a clear answer.
He understood the relationship between the Watchers of Winter and the northern tribes.
Even if Lawrence didn’t, the Watchers could not afford to threaten Pete.
“Very well. Watch Commander Killian swears before the heart of the Eternal Winter that I will guarantee the safety of Pete, the sherpa from Reindeer Village.”
Footsteps rang out twice in quick succession.
It must have been a signal of some kind, because another Watcher opened the door and entered.
“Release the sherpa.”
“I will obey the Watch Commander’s orders.”
The Watcher left the room behind.
“Now it’s your turn. Shadow magician.”
Keep your promise.
At Killian’s voice, which seemed to carry those words, Lawrence said, “I’m personally acquainted with the Raynald Family. This matter has nothing to do with them. They simply showed me a few favors.”
“That isn’t the answer we’re looking for. For instance, did the Raynald Family order you to do something?”
“That’s a rather insulting question. It’s the Raynald Family. Do you even know what kind of family they are?”
One of the most prestigious houses in the kingdom.
The family of Sword Saint Sevitia.
It wasn’t the same as back when he knew nothing about noble society.
Francois had once explained in detail exactly what place the Raynald Family held within the kingdom.
The Raynald Family is the very house that guards the border with the Sultaniya Kingdom. I’ve heard the warriors of the sands, who still cling to old grudges, continue trying to cross the frontier even now, but every time they do, they’re stopped and driven back by the Raynald Family.
The guardian god of the kingdom.
The hero who saved the nation. A Sword Saint’s name carried that much weight.
“Just as the Watchers of Winter protect the north, the Raynald Family protects the kingdom’s east. No one can question their loyalty.”
Killian seemed to realize his mistake and frowned at the corner of his mouth.
“I apologize for speaking too rashly. The Sword Saint’s lofty reputation echoes even into these far northern wastes. Still, we have our own duties and our own mission to protect. You would do well to remember that.”
Lawrence nodded.
The Watchers of Winter had their own brand of justice.
He was not foolish enough not to understand that.
“This was given to me by a survivor of the Valentina Family.”
Lawrence took out the handkerchief Francois had given him.
A hawk soaring through the sky.
For a moment, perhaps only because he wanted it to be true, he could almost smell her scent.
“I can’t reveal the name. The Valentina Family has fallen, and I can’t guarantee that the person who showed me kindness won’t be put in danger.”
Killian brought the cigarette back to his mouth.
He took the silence as understanding, perhaps.
“I came here looking for a survivor of the Valentina Family.”
Even Pete, the sherpa, didn’t know where the northern lord’s palace was.
Now the only thing he could rely on was a survivor of the Valentina Family, who might have become a Watcher of Winter.
“You crossed from the center all the way to the Wall for that? To find a survivor of a fallen family that may or may not even exist? And you’re a mage of the Order?”
Lawrence nodded.
“Are you making fools of us?”
Killian let out a laugh of disbelief.
“If we hadn’t been patrolling, you’d already be dead.”
“That’s not something you can know.”
“Don’t get cocky just because you survived by sheer luck.”
“There’s no such thing as coincidence in this world.”
What was meant to happen would happen.
“So that’s the will of your precious goddess, is it?”
“It wasn’t the goddess who saved Pete and me.”
It was one person saving another person’s life.
There was no need to wrap it in prettier words.
Killian looked at Lawrence in silence.
How long did they stare at each other?
With a long sigh, he set the cigarette down.
“Fine. I think I’m beginning to understand what kind of man you are.”
Footsteps rang out twice, slower this time.
The Watchers waiting outside came into the room one by one.
There were eight of them in total.
Their uniform blackness gave them a strange, oppressive presence.
“Lawrence, shadow magician of the Holy Cross Order. Watch Commander Killian speaks to you. From this moment on, everything you have seen and heard will be under the control of the Watchers of Winter.”
Killian rose from his seat and looked down at Lawrence.
“The Watchers of Winter are watching you.”
The evenly measured voice followed after him.
The owners of that single united voice were the Watchers of Winter.
“Swear before the heart of the Eternal Winter that you will leave everything you have seen and heard on this land beneath the ice of the frozen north.”
“......”
The jailers watching over the Eternal Winter stared back at Lawrence.
They had their own justice, too.
Their duty and mission was to guard the Wall and the kingdom from the enemies of the north.
There was only one thing he could say in the face of such steady, unwavering gazes.
“I swear before Goddess Belche that I, the pilgrim Lawrence, will entrust everything I have seen and heard on this land to the heart of the Eternal Winter.”
Killian tapped his left breast twice.
“Your oath has been heard by the winter brothers gathered here. Remember the vow you have placed before the heart of the Eternal Winter. The Watchers of Winter will always stand behind you.”
“The Watchers of Winter are watching you.”
The Watchers of Winter in the room did the same.
Taking their hands off their sword hilts, they tapped the left side of their chests twice.
* * *
When he woke, the sun was already high in the sky.
The numbers on his pocket watch showed that it was past noon.
Apparently, an entire day had already passed.
The stiff bed had been a blessed place of rest for a body burdened by travel.
When he sat up, the thin blanket slipped from his shoulders.
Was a blizzard raging outside?
The wooden bed attached to the wall trembled uneasily.
Lawrence looked around.
The room he had spent the night in was bleak and bare.
A bed connected to the wall by iron chains.
A hearth giving off faint light and warmth.
Two wooden chairs set opposite it were the only other furnishings.
For some reason, the solitary cell he had stayed in at the Shrine of Sorrow came to mind.
He looked toward the door, unable to shake a small feeling of unease.
It’s not locked, is it?
As if to sweep that fear away, Watch Commander Killian entered the room.