Back to Coldon
A few days after the threat to Afterglow Fortress and Present had finally been put to rest, Karem was at last able to board a carriage heading back to Winterhome.
Wasn’t it a bit hasty, considering there had been a siege?
If anything, they were already running late.
“So when exactly do you plan on stamping the provisional contract?”
“You’re already leaving? At least enjoy the banquet first—”
“Even if we leave right now, it’ll be cutting it close.”
“Ah…”
If they did not depart soon, they would be stuck spending the winter at the northernmost tip of Iceland. Reminding Richard of that fact finally allowed Catherine to secure formal approval for the provisional contract that had already been negotiated in advance. And unlike their journey north, the procession was now far larger in scale.
The reason was simple.
Rewards for their contributions in battle.
Catherine, who had bought time so the enemy archmage could not cast; Gordon, who had joined the strike force and slain the enemy Sword Master in a decapitation operation; and Karem, who had preemptively eliminated a threat the fortress might have faced had that strike failed.
On top of that, everyone from the escort knights down to the servants who had been mobilized received at least a small reward—even Mary, who had firmly declined at first.
In addition, Richard had foisted upon them the byproducts of three mammoths as a gesture of sincerity: meat, hides, bones, and more.
Given the scale and the season, uninvited guests were bound to appear, but even that had been prevented in advance. Richard had provided carts and escorts.
Thanks to that, despite the enlarged procession, their speed was no slower than on the way there.
The atmosphere in the convoy was not bad. No one disliked being rewarded for their efforts.
That was why Catherine, munching on the walnut cookies Mary offered while wearily touching a tightly sealed box, could afford to be generous as she warned Karem, who was kneeling and slyly trying to bend his arms.
“Hey now, arms down. You know what you did wrong, don’t you?”
“…But it all turned out well in the end, so how about a little forgiveness? It’s been days since we got in the carriage!”
“You think your crime is that light?”
At that, Karem had nothing to say. The sin of carelessly tossing a holy relic into the well to brew holy water without a second thought had been that grave. Even with the relic properly recovered and hanging around his neck, the guilt remained.
Freed from coachman duties thanks to the provided escorts and carts, Gordon lightly clicked his tongue.
“At the very least, you could’ve put it in a pouch or a bucket and lowered it with a pulley.”
“Ugh. I won’t make excuses.”
“No, I’m saying you should make excuses.”
“I absolutely refuse to speak!”
“Just how grand is the reason that you’ve sewn your mouth shut?”
Karem avoided Gordon’s incredulous gaze, straining his eyes and trembling his arms. Of course, what Gordon had just said was something Karem himself had thought of—after Mary had warned him later, that is. He had regretted not thinking once or twice before acting on pure spinal reflex as he always did, but the deed was already done.
“But that sword at your waist looks different from before!”
Karem quickly changed the subject. Gordon shot him a look that said you little… but snorted a laugh and nodded.
“Well, it’s the spoils I got this time.”
“Was it a sword the enemy used?”
“A sword used by a Grizzly Beaver that had reached the level of Sword Master, of all things.”
“Is that so—wait, what? A Sword Master?”
The powerful term clashed so badly with the species that doubt came first. At Karem’s words, Gordon nodded firmly.
“It drew such clear aura right in front of my eyes—what else could it be but a Sword Master? Though its experience was a bit lacking, so it was easy enough to handle.”
As he spoke, Gordon deliberately grasped the scabbard at his waist.
Shiiing—
With a clear, ringing sound, the blade revealed itself. Fixed to a hilt carved from some unknown bone, the blade looked as if it had been carved from a single piece of obsidian. Mysterious characters densely inscribed from tip to hilt glowed with a black light whenever the sword shone, lending it an enigmatic air.
For a moment forgetting the pain in his limbs out of curiosity, Karem marveled.
“Whoa, it gives off quite the impressive vibe. A magic sword?”
“It’s a magic sword for now. Does it look that way to you too?”
“But not quite on the level of Lady Catherine’s staff, right?”
“What—ah.”
Choking up, Gordon looked at the staff Catherine had leaned nearby and felt absurd.
“Hey, compare apples to apples. This is an unidentified magic sword made of obsidian, and that is a relic of a fallen ancient civilization. Reproducing that would be impossible!”
Gordon tilted his head slightly toward Catherine.
“Mage, it would be impossible, right?”
“It’s not wrong, but somehow that pisses me off.”
“See, she says it’s impossible!”
“Hey.”
But brushing off Catherine’s words, Gordon plucked a hair and held it to the blade. The moment the hair touched the edge, it was cleanly sliced in two.
“Is it because it’s obsidian? It’s ridiculously sharp.”
“Then wouldn’t it break after a few cuts?”
“As befits a magic sword, some magic must be on it—it’s holding up fine. So I was thinking of getting it appraised—”
Gordon glanced at Catherine.
“I’ll take a fee, of course.”
“Of course. But no friend discount?”
“Ha. A discount.”
“Mage, aren’t we pretty close, including Karem?”
“I’ll charge a proper consultation fee.”
“Why!”
“That’s why you’re still just a mercenary.”
Even after that, the noisy atmosphere of the carriage continued with their bickering, unlike when they had left Winterhome. Thanks to Gordon having traveled all over, topics never ran dry.
There was nothing boring, and with so much snow falling, Karem was free even from sparring—yet he still had one complaint.
To have such supposedly delicious mammoth meat and not be able to eat it!
His dissatisfaction was immense.
Hearing this complaint of Karem’s, Gordon had something to say.
“Be honest. You’re not really of serf origin, are you?”
“Gordon, may I ask what you mean by that?”
“Whoa, why the sudden extreme honorifics?”
Gordon hurriedly waved his hands at Karem as if he couldn’t get used to it. Each time, the beef stew in the bowl he held sloshed.
“Anyway, on a journey with a tight schedule, do you think even a non-noble could eat proper food like this? Right now—”
“Pardon me, but you’re a baron, aren’t you? Lord Baron of Bolton.”
“Ah, right.”
Karem stirred the stew pot with bottled-up resentment. Of course, Karem knew there was nothing to be done. The mammoths were already frozen solid on the tundra plains. Even when processing the byproducts, heavy equipment had been used, and they had been loaded onto the carts completely frozen, so there was simply no way to prepare them during the journey.
Moreover, with time short, they had been boiling stew with only beef, chicken, and pork for days on end—wait a minute. Why had he forgotten this?
“Gordon can butcher it.”
“Huh? Me?”
“Yes. You.”
“Butcher what?”
“The rock-hard frozen mammoth meat?”
“How am I supposed to butcher that?”
“With aura.”
“…Oh?”
Downing the remaining broth of the stew in one go, Gordon stuck out his lips and narrowed his eyes. Certainly, if he used aura, cutting frozen meat wouldn’t be impossible. The other aura users in the escort? Cutting it? There was more risk of shattering it.
I am curious about mammoth meat myself, to be honest.
Mammoth meat. Unlike other byproducts like phoenix eggs, cockatrice meat, or mandrake that were valuable not only for taste but for special effects or uses, mammoth meat held equal status purely for its flavor alone. Moreover, since mammoths lived only in the cold northern regions, more people froze to death before even seeing one. Even among the gourmets of the fallen Palatino Empire, it was said to have been traded for gold of equal weight—Gordon knew that much. Of all the many attempts to recruit him, mammoth meat had never been offered as hospitality.
“But I’m not really craving it.”
“Why not!”
“Hmm.”
Filling his empty bowl himself, Gordon downed the stew with the chunks in one gulp.
“How should I put it. It’s mammoth meat, you know. I want to eat it properly prepared in a proper setting.”
Though used to mercenary life, Gordon was no stranger to fine dining. No, in some ways he prided himself on knowing more than the average mercenary. Of course, it wasn’t something he had become familiar with by choice. It was all the fault of the powerful who had tried to recruit him. But because a Sword Master’s senses had remembered every delicacy he had been treated to, Gordon had unintentionally become accustomed to gourmet food. As a result, everyday foods tasted relatively bland, which was a pain, but not to the point he couldn’t endure it.
“In that case, I have no choice but to persuade Lady Catherine!”
Leaving the pot and Gordon behind, Karem headed straight for the carriage. Gordon would probably finish off the beef stew, but that was fine. Karem had already eaten his fill while cooking, and Mary had finished her meal long ago. Catherine would eat one bowl and make do with snacks for the rest.
What mattered now was the mammoth meat. Though frozen solid, Catherine was a great mage specializing in ice magic. Surely she could thaw it.
Opening the carriage door, he found Catherine as expected, looking weary as she enjoyed shortbread cookies and honeyed milk under Mary’s attendance.
“Hm? Already done eating?”
“I ate while cooking. No, that’s not it. Lady Catherine.”
“…What outrageous thing are you about to say this time, looking so solemn.”
He periodically blindsided her with methods beyond imagination. Catherine eyed Karem suspiciously.
“You said ice magic was your specialty, right?”
“Yes. I doubt you’ve forgotten that. The reason you bring it up—”
“Then the frozen mammoth meat loaded on the carts following us. You can thaw it, can’t you?”
“Thaw? I can melt it fresh as if just hunted.”
Karem unconsciously raised a fist toward the sky. Of course, not everyone was pleased by Catherine’s bold claim.
“Contractor. Are you really going to eat that?”
Mary’s eyes twitched, unable to hide her suspicion. Eating a corpse that had been undead—if anything, it was a natural reaction.
“Yes. Well, I understand how you feel. Eating a corpse that was undead. Normally only a starving monster or another undead would do such a thing.”
But Catherine could be confident.
“The corpse of a mammoth that froze to death alive. The period it spent as undead was less than a month, and after the caster died, it was thoroughly purified with rituals and holy water. You saw it yourself, didn’t you?”
Purification rituals and holy water. Things that melted undead on contact. Conversely, if it remained fine after contact, it was safe. There was no need to worry about freshness either. The butchers and the fortress cooks had also certified it as safe to eat.
“But not now.”
“Then please—huh?”
“No, I explained poorly. I can’t use magic right now.”
Catherine said quietly, as if there was no helping it. Deep fatigue clung to every word and gesture.
“You can’t use magic? What do you mean by that?”
“If I had just swung magic around like attacking that old coot, it would be one thing. But I established a domain and exercised dominion to prevent the opponent from using magic. It’s a relief it ended at this level.”
“Ah, so that’s why you’ve still been so tired?”
“Yes. Now that the tension has snapped, even circulating mana is difficult.”
“Uuuugh—”
Truly, truly, truly, truly, truly, truly, truly regrettable, but Karem let out a deep sigh. Certainly, he had never seen Catherine this exhausted before. And she would never lie over something like this. He had never seen her lie, either.
“But I feel like your clothes have gotten shorter.”
“Huh? Whose? Lady Catherine’s?”
“As if. Yours, kid. Yours.”
Catherine tilted her head this way and that, gesturing at Karem. Though bewildered, Karem stood straight and spread his arms as indicated. Cold air touched his wrists and ankles.
“Oh, did I really grow?”
Karem turned his head. From his thickly layered arms and legs, only the wrists and ankles peeked out.
“Indeed, the clothes have gotten smaller than before.”
Mary hummed softly as she carefully examined Karem from head to toe.
“You’ve grown taller.”
“No wonder my joints all over have been aching these past few days. Sometimes even my heart.”
“Most children grow rapidly at that age, so it’s normal. We’ll have to get you new clothes when we return. But your heart?”
“Well, maybe from being tired?”
His body acting up when overworked was familiar even from his past life. As a student, the fatigue had been so severe that his heart often hurt too. Damn exam life, damn group projects, damn midterms and finals. The aching joints as well—feeling them after so long was almost nostalgic.
“I’ll leave the clothes to you.”
Briefly recalling past memories, Karem promptly bowed his head toward Catherine. He had dressed casually in his past life too, and this life was no different. Mary managed all of Karem’s clothes.
Thus the halted procession only started moving again toward Coldon after the horses and snow runners had finished eating, even after the packing was done.
*** Attachment ***
— Beef Stew —
A picture ChatGPT drew for me.